#Niki nishimura

[enhani-ki]

my biggest opp - reader x ni-ki

warnings : smut, nsfw, cursing, etc.

read part two

"suck my dick." "eat my ass."

you and ni-ki exchanged filthy words to each other at the same time, your voices were sharp and loud enough to turn your other coworkers heads. and even though they had long grown accustomed to your rivalry, they always still look at the two of you in shock.

it's like the office practically lived in fear whenever the two of you were around,

and it got to a point where the HR was already forced to intervene.

you both found yourselves sitting across from a visibly exhausted HR rep after a particularly heated argument during a department-wide meeting.

"l/n, nishimura... this is really out of control." they said while rubbing their temples. "you're sabotaging projects, disrupting meetings, and making the workplace hostile."

"tell her that. she started it." ni-ki pointed out.

you rolled your eyes.

"effective immediately, you're being reassigned to different departments."

and it should've ended there but somehow, despite being on separate teams, you both still found ways to make each other's lives miserable. you found loopholes and more ways to sabotage each other without making it obvious.

ni-ki took every ounce of restraint not to strangle you, and you might've run him over in the parking lot already if it weren't for security cameras around the building.

that late night, the office was already empty. you thought everyone had clocked out except for you.

you were also ready to leave, your bag is already over your shoulder but something was missing.

the important file, you knew you had just printed it.

"looking for this?"

it was the first time you saw ni-ki again. he's standing across the room, holding the folder between his fingers with a serious expression.

your stomach dropped. no fucking way.

"you're so fucking dead," he shook his head. "say goodbye to your career."

"gi-give me that!"

he held it high, stepping back when you tried to take it.

you almost had it but he made it more out of reach.

the folder has the confidential criteria of the next manager promotion, he knew you're a bad person but he didn't know that you'll just fucking cheat.

"yes, i'll give this back," he scoffed and nodded. "right to our manager."

your desperation turned to rage, that paper would literally ruin you. your eyes landed on a thick book sitting on a nearby desk, and you could've just explained and asked nicely to give it back but hell no, so you grabbed the hard thick book and threatened to swing.

ni-ki panicked, he looked around for a weapon of his own and in a split-second decision, he grabbed a cup off the desk and threw it at you...

very cold water splashed all over you and your clothes.

your jaw dropped. "you-"

"i- i didn't-"

then your foot slipped on the wet floor, ni-ki reacted fast, catching your head before you could crash to the ground but the momentum sent him stumbling too.

you groaned, his hands braced against the floor to keep himself from completely crushing you and next thing you knew, you were on the floor, your back against the cold tiles, and ni-ki was right on top of you, with his face buried on your tits.

he slowly moved, his eyes locked onto the view in front of him... your soaked blouse sticking to your skin, making your black bra and cleavage very much visible.

ni-ki cleared his throat before turning his head away from you. he was about to grab the scattered papers but you were quicker, you grabbed onto his collar, pulling him before he could escape.

"let go!"

"not a chance."

he struggled, trying to push you off but you were holding onto him so hard that the buttons of his shirt ripped, exposing his toned chest and abs.

you smirked slightly when you noticed ni-ki stopped pushing you away and his breaths became heavier.

he's still a guy after all.

your fingers roamed around his exposed chest, teasing him just to test something, to see if you could turn the tables,

you could feel his muscles tensed under your touch and ni-ki closed his eyes when you leaned close to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

the sound your lips made as they parted was too sexy so he leaned in to kiss you just to hear it again.

the kiss deepened, it became hurried, hard, aggressive, and messy.

like all his hate had nowhere else to go except right here.

ni-ki groaned against your lips, hands gripping on your waist.

you fingers slid down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin more beneath the open shirt again and before you knew it, you were helping him remove his shirt off completely, tossing it aside like it meant nothing.

"this is unbelievable." he thought, while his fingers worked hastily, unbuttoning each one from your blouse with urgency, making your heart race even more.

"you're impatient." you whispered, breathless.

"just wanna get this over with." he said before his lips crashed into yours to shut your annoying voice.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he easily lifted you, his other hand sliding down your back to remove your bra.

ni-ki watched the way your boobs bounce and spread free right in front of his eyes.

he lay you down on a nearby couch, removing your skirt and stockings so he can have you naked completely.

you arched on his touch but ni-ki grabbed your wrist and pulled you on top of him with no effort.

and even though you won't openly admit or say it, you knew everyone found your coworker is attractive but damn, he's this big too?

so now it made it harder to stop all this and it's been so long too since you had sex, you already forgot how it felt.

you watched ni-ki slicked himself with his own spit, barely easing what was about to come because just as you suspected, the stretch really hurts.

maybe it just the tip but it was already too much. your nails dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto.

ni-ki started moaning, his entire body tensing as he felt the way your walls squeezed around him. it's so tight, so impossibly hot too like you were already milking him for everything he had and his cock's not even fully inside yet.

"fuck," he groaned, "you're sucking me in."

yes, ni-ki hates you and even though he wanted you to suffer for everything you did to him, he would never be cruel when it came to sex. his own self-control was also hanging by a thread, yet he still moved carefully, pushing in slow and deep, letting you feel every inch of him.

your head tipped back, moaning too as you adjusted to his size, tightening more around him involuntarily.

ni-ki smiled, probably the first time he did. "there you go," he thought, watching your reaction as he rolled his hips up to meet yours, slow while keeping your legs in it's place.

you couldn't even think now already, the way he filled you up, the way his body pressed against yours, it was overwhelming. your nails raked down his back as he picked up the pace, going deeper, and deeper that you just might pass out.

and when the pain faded into pleasure, your body moved on its own, you rolled your hips until you found a good rhythm, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down, to take his dick even deeper inside you.

ni-ki threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut as you rode him with no mercy, your warm, soaked walls dragging over his cock at a pace that was too much. it felt like he had no control anymore, he could barely think.

"y/n, slow down-" his voice broke, desperate and strained but you ignored him, rolling your hips even more fast because then maybe you'll get to see him snap.

his whole body was trembling beneath you, muscles tensed as his breath came out in sharp, ragged gasps. he already came once, and it had already been so deep inside you but you just wouldn't stop.

"you wanted to fuck me, right?" you taunted, your thighs were shaking from how much pleasure was coursing through your overstimulated body. "then just take it."

ni-ki buckled up into you too, he's so close again, teetering on the edge, but he refused to give in to your words.

"you- you're one to talk," he rasped, "when you're so fucking soaked."

and he was right, you could feel how drenched you were, could hear how messy and filthy it sounded every time your hips met his.

the pleasure became too much again, unbearable ache building deep inside you it felt like you're going to pee anytime soon, you pulled his hair for support as your rhythm started slowing down.

ni-ki noticed even through his dazed, wrecked state before smirking again. "gonna fall apart on me?"

his hands held your hips down, forcing his cock so deep inside you that your vision blurred, a sob tore from your throat as the pressure snapped, crashing through your body so intense that you couldn't even moan.

your lips parted, body trembling uncontrollably as you came hard on his lap.

you didn't know how but somehow now, he had you on your hands and knees, chest pressing against your back as he drove into you, relentless, unforgiving.

"n-no, fuck!" you sobbed, your arms nearly giving out as he buried himself inside you again and again, ni-ki's lips trailing over your shoulder, hot and ragged.

and your pussy clenched around him again, he started losing it.

his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling it to where your back can press against his chest, his other hand gripping on your throat.

he cupped your tits, you could feel his cock twitch inside you, the thrusts of his hips turned frantic as he chased his own release.

...now the office fell silent but the reality of what just happened started creeping in slowly between the two of you.

you reached for your discarded clothes, your limbs were feeling heavy as you clumsily pulled your skirt back on. ni-ki, still catching his breath, sat up to and started buttoning his ruined shirt though half the buttons were missing, making it completely useless.

then, he held something up between his fingers.

"can i keep these?"

your head turned towards him, eyes widening when you realized he was holding your panties.

you snatched it from his grip. "are you fucking sick in the head?" you hissed, slipping them back on as quickly as possible.

he just laughed and shook his head.

maybe he's sick, after all, he just slept with the worst person he ever knew.

next day you and ni-ki sat across from each other in the office, both unusually quiet. no bickering, no scheming, everything was just... gone.

your coworkers noticed but ignored it, just enjoying while it's happening.

ni-ki exchanged awkward glances with you before quickly looking away.

your lips were still tingling from last night. you swore that your body still felt him, and every time you move in your chair, the memories just keeps on flooding back to your head. "stop... please... oh, my god."

he wasn't doing any better too, he can't stop smiling and running a hand through his hair, his knee were bouncing under the desk every time his eyes landed on you.

then he caught you alone.

you were at the copy room, trying to focus on literally anything else when suddenly, you felt him.

ni-ki pressed up behind you, my dick misses you, is what he wanted to say. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

you blushed, your fingers were curling into the edge of the machine. "p- printing, what else?" you stuttered.

"y/n..." his hands found your waist, squeezing lightly. "you don't miss it?"

you swallowed hard before turning around to face him, "keep dreaming, psycho."

liar.

the asshole ni-ki you know would never say these things and if he did, the old you would've punch his mouth and punching it once once so you'd make sure it'll bleed.

so what happened?

"remember, i still got the files."

you hushed him, "give that shit back," you whispered.

he hummed, tilting his head. "it's at my house. you can come get it."

"just bring it here!"

"like i said," he dragged the word out, stepping closer, "come get it."

you still found yourself standing outside his apartment later that night even though knew it was probably a trap.

ni-ki opened the door, leaning against it with that same smug expression like he knew you'd be here... he's wearing nothing but a loose bathrobe.

you looked down. is he naked underneath? he's this pervert? then you quickly shook your head, forcing yourself to look back up. "where is it?"

he sighed, stepping aside to let you in. "hmm, i put it somewhere over there," he murmured.

you shoved him away before he could try anything, making him chuckle.

so you started searching, bending down to check under his sofa and through the mess on his coffee table.

ni-ki stood behind you, watching. no, he was checking you out.

his tongue slipped to wet his lips, looking at your ass and if he stared any longer, he knew his dick will get hard.

you stood and stomped your foot. "just give it back!"

ni-ki sighed and fixed his hair. "okay, fine!" he said, "i already shredded it. you don't have to worry."

"how do i know you're not lying?"

he didn't answer right away. instead, he leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, legs spreading slightly as he pulled you closer between them.

"because... you fucked me so good, i destroyed every single thing i have that could ruin you."

you swallowed hard, chest rising and falling hard as you look into his eyes then you looked down, and... oh.

his cock twitched beneath the thin fabric of his robe, already straining against it, making his arousal painfully obvious.

the air grew heavier as you both watched him get harder, completely shameless.

your lips parted slightly, heat creeping up your neck, but then you shot him a glare. "can you put some damn clothes on?"

ni-ki smirked, playing with the belt of his robe. "but you came all the way here…" he said. looking at you with his needy eyes.

he didn't finish his words, you just reached forward, curling your fingers around the soft fabric, and dragged it off his shoulders, inch by inch.

your eyes followed every reveal, his sharp collarbones, the defined lines of his shoulders, the smooth, lean muscle of his chest.

his eyes were locked onto your lips, red, and swollen from the night before. that's his doing and it looked so good.

his fingers traced along your jaw, his other hand gripping your waist as he captured your lips in a slow, deep kiss. his body was already hot beneath your touch, tense, waiting for you to take control and do him however you wanted.

you knelt between his spread legs, dragging your hand over his thighs, watching the way his muscles flexed under your touch.

you wrapped your fingers around his cock first, stroking him slow, letting your palm glide smoothly over him. his cock twitched in response with a shaky breath slipping past his lips.

you leaned in and pressed a slow, wet kiss to his tip. ni-ki's grip in your hair tightened but not pulling, just holding, like he needed something to ground him.

and when your lips wrapped around him, he lost all of his sense of control. you took him deeply that your cheeks were hollowing while letting your tongue glide over every inch of his dick.

you pushed even lower, forcing him down your throat, stretching yourself around him until your throat clenched, gagging as you choked when he hit the back of your mouth,

"more, more... more..." ni-ki bit his lip.

and you let yourself struggle, deep throathing his cock that spit started pooling at the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin, and all over your hands.

you heard him swore in Japanese under his breath so you can't help but chuckle, vibration sent another set of pleasure through him before you pulled away, letting his cock slip from your lips with a pop, thin strand of spit still connecting your mouth to his tip.

ni-ki's hips bucked, desperate for your mouth again but you just smirked, dragging your tongue along the side of his cock, slow and teasing, before wrapping your lips around him again... only to pull away the second he's about to cum.

"y/n- stop... that." he warned but you ignored it. instead, you just wrapped your hands around him, stroking him slow and lazy.

"you were close, right?"

"you think you're funny?" he panted.

you started sucking his dick passionately again, enough to make him think you were finally giving in but only to pull away again at the last second, lips barely brushing his tip, making him fucking ache.

his voice cracked, "you're so fucking evil-"

"you sound so desperate right now." you teased, dragging a single finger along his length, feeling how hot and hard he was in your grasp.

"you're not gonna make me cum?" ni-ki asked before pining your hands above your head, he had you completely spread out beneath him,

he's too far gone to even remember why he hated you in the first place.

and he went on you so hard that night, you couldn't even move the next day. you would fall the second you tried to stand, and the soreness between your thighs made you collapse back with a frustrated whimper.

a deep chuckle rumbled beside you, raspy from hours of groaning, moaning, and going crazy.

you glared at him weakly, when you tried again and failed, ni-ki carried you in his arms. you yelped, clinging to his shoulders as he carried you towards the bathroom.

he really did a number on you.

"think we can handle another round here?"

now he had your cheek pressed up against the cool, fogged-up glass of the shower. ni-ki's hands were everywhere, his large palms gripped the soft flesh of your tits, squeezing, pulling, and rolling your nipples between his finger, making your body arch back into him.

you just hoped that it wouldn't leave bruising prints on your skin.

you breathed hard, fogging up the mirror. ni-ki groaned against your shoulder, your fingers kept slipping against the tile for balance, wet slap echoing through the steam-filled bathroom.

"i could fuck you for days..." he declared, his teeth grazing your shoulder before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His fingers dug into your hips, pressing you harder against the glass.

the water kept shifting from icy cold to blistering hot, and it's so hard to breath, like you were both drowning.

next morning, your body ached in ways you didn't think were possible, ni-ki groaned into the pillow beside you, his arm draped over your waist, refusing to move.

your phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably an alarm or a message about work. you glanced at the time, then at ni-ki, who peeked at you with a smile.

"we're not going in, are we?" he asked, still sleepy.

you sighed, already knowing the answer. "nope, i can't."

he grinned and rolled over, grabbing his phone to call in sick.

"i gotta go home."

he hummed, nuzzling against your neck. "mm. or you could just stay here with me."

his hand slid over your thigh.

"i'm so sleepy," you mumbled, voice muffled against the pillow.

ni-ki's fingers were already trailing down your side so you hissed.

"what?" he murmured against your shoulder, pressing a warm kiss there. "i'm just holding you."

"you're not."

sighed, eyes fluttering shut. "i need sleep."

...but he can fuck you back to sleep.

ni-ki hummed, pretending to think. he rolled on top of you, pinning you beneath his weight.

"just five minutes." he agreed, lips brushing your ear. "if not, i'm waking you up my way."

later, just as you were drifting into actual sleep, something heavy landed on the bed, startling you both awake.

your eyes snapped open, only to be met with a pair of little eyes glaring at you.

a dog.

a small, fluffy thing that was currently growling at you like you had personally offended it.

"what the?" he muttered, scrambling back. "oh, bisco..."

"your dog?"

"that's my child."

you blinked at him. "i didn't know you we-"

"yes," he replied, reaching to ruffle the dog's fur. "i'm a single father."

you squinted at him, then at the dog, who was still very much growling at you.

"oh, come on," you huffed, sitting up. "what's your problem?"

the dog barked in response, stepping protectively over ni-ki's chest. "bisco thought you were hurting me last night."

"excuse me?"

the dog growled again, and you shot ni-ki a glare. "are you gonna stop it?"

ni-ki reached out and pulled you against him, ignoring the dog's outrage.

"bisco," he called out, "you'll get used to her."

bisco did not look convinced. "i think it can sense your evil attitude," he teased, rubbing the dog's ears.

ni-ki looked completely at ease... messy hair, lips still a little swollen from earlier, and worst of all, smiling.

like actually smiling.

you swallowed hard, your face heating up.

was this really the same guy who had spent months making your life a living hell? the same guy who stole your reports, sabotaged your presentations, and threw every possible insult your way?

the same guy you swore you'd never tolerate, let alone you expect to wake up next to?

it really doesn't feel real.

you sat there feeling like your whole world just tilted sideways and yet, here he was, laughing softly as bisco licked his face, as if he wasn't the biggest opp you have.

ni-ki looked at you, "what?"

you scoffed, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over your head. "nothing..."

ni-ki only chuckled, moving closer, "tsk, don't tell me..."

and you kicked him under the blanket, smiling like an idiot.

a/n: i need to write smut better omfg, thank you @greenparties for this request. and if you're a MOA and BEOMGYU is your bias here's another coworker/enemies to lovers fic of mine: coworker || c. beomgyu x reader

masterlist: マスターリストm.list || my biggest opp part ii

taglist 𖤘: @dolliewon @ziiao

[yeonmuse]

CHAPTER 21 | why does this feel like a breakup?

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[uppersidedreaminnn]

DAISUKI ★ N.RK

SYNOPSIS: in which you surprise your boyfriend by speaking japanese.

PAIRING: nishimura riki x fem! reader

GENRE: fluff, established relationship, humor

WORD COUNT: 1.0k

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. let me know your thoughts!

“kuso.” riki mutters under his breath, causing you to turn your head toward him.

the two of you are sprawled comfortably on the couch, riki focused on his game, clicking rapidly at the buttons of his controller, completely immersed. while you scroll mindlessly on your phone, both of you exist in your own little bubble.

“what does that mean?” you ask, curiosity piqued at the word you've heard riki mutter multiple times. though you already have a vague guess.

riki glances at you briefly before slowing down his movements on the controller. “nothing,” he brushes off, returning his gaze to the screen. you hum not don’t pushing it further.

the night drags on, and soon, the two of you decide to watch an anime together—a movie you’ve both been waiting to release for some time now. nestled comfortably in each other’s arms, you watch as the story unfolds. before you know it, the credits roll. the two of you done for the night, you both get ready for bed.

waiting for riki to finish up in the bathroom, you lie alone in bed and remember the moment earlier. ever so curious, you grab your phone and search for the word riki often mutters under his breath. no doubt it was in his mother tongue, japanese.

the search results make you chuckle, confirming your suspicion—the words he often whispers are curse words. falling into a rabbit hole of japanese vocabulary, you practice the words that show up silently.

“daisuki?” your eyes scan the screen as you scroll down a beginner’s guide. “'daisuki' is a japanese word and expression that means to like or love something a great amount.” your gaze lingers on the next line.

“it's often used to say you love someone.”

hmm. these words might come in handy. 

the following days with riki are chaotic, to say the least. your boyfriend always keeps you on your toes, constantly teasing you, play-fighting with you (seriously, are we ten?), and worst of all, stealing your food. after a long day of dealing with his hyper energy, you sigh, in desperate need of a time-out.

your eyes trail to the couch and the controller left unattended on the coffee table, practically calling your name. you plop down, turning on the game, controller in hand. before long, you’re fully immersed, fingers gripping the buttons tightly as gunfire and other game sound effects echo in the room. the victory chime rings, and a smug grin spreads across your face. clicking start, you prepare for another round—

until a hand swiftly snatches the controller away.

“riki,” you whine, standing from your spot to reclaim it. agile and a lot taller than you, he swiftly dodges your movements.

“nu-uh,” he tuts, shaking his head in amusement as he moves further away. rounding back to the couch, he plops down. “it’s my turn now.”

you roll your eyes, huffing in annoyance at having been cut off short of your game.

“uzai.” you mutter the japanese word foreign on your tongue, sending a death glare in riki’s way, sitting comfortably in your spot.

you knew the word would elicit some sort of reaction, and you were right.

“what?” riki looks at you immediately, his expression unreadable, though amusement flickers in his eyes.

you take a few steps forward, arms crossed. “i said,” you repeat slowly, “uzai.” you try to sound confident in your pronunciation, though you barely remember the proper way to say it from the japanese guide you read.

riki chuckles, his confusion morphing into pure amusement. “hontou ni?” he replies, clicking start on his game. his response making you annoyed at yet another phrase you had no idea the meaning to.

“where’d you learn that word?” he asks as he begins his round, eyes still locked onto the screen.

“google. where else?” you shrug, plopping down beside him, watching intently as the game unfolds.

riki doesn’t respond to your sarcasm, too focused on his game. you smirk, seizing the opportunity and snatching the controller from his grasp.

“hey!” he exclaims, frowning at you, lips tugging into a pout as he watches you start playing.

you only chuckle. “you started it.”

things wind down as the night progresses, the two of you tangled on the couch, exhaustion finally settling in. an anime plays softly on the screen, but neither of you pay much attention. you snuggle closer to riki, sighing in contentment at the much more peaceful atmosphere.

just as you feel yourself slipping into sleep, riki speaks.

“since when did you start speaking japanese?” his voice is low, curious.

you hesitate, suddenly feeling shy. “uhm…” you start, trying to find the words. “you say things i don’t understand all the time.” you explain. “so, naturally, i got curious and looked them up.” you shift slightly. “i guess i just picked some up. don’t blame me.” you finish off your explanation.

riki lets out a soft laugh, his chest vibrating beneath your cheek. “that really caught me off guard, baby.” he tilts his head down to look at you. another thought crosses his mind. “what other words did you learn?” he asks, interest piqued. secretly, just wanting to hear you speak japanese again. even, if it’s just to tell him off.

you hum, feigning sleepiness. “there is this one word,” you murmur, a smirk ghosting your lips as you remember its meaning.

riki watches you, anticipation clear in his eyes.

you pause for a second, recalling the pronunciation as best as you can.

“daisuki?” your voice is soft, hesitant.

riki freezes. did he hear that right?

“again?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. the atmosphere shifts, the teasing laced with something more intimate.

this time, you say it firmly. “daisuki.” you lift yourself from his chest to meet his gaze, a soft smile playing on your lips.

riki groans, heat rising to his cheeks. “such a menace.” he mutters, looking down at you fondly.

finding the effect of the word on him amusing, you tease further. “daisuki, riki.” you say clearer. 

his breath hitches. he drags a hand through his hair before shaking his head, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips.

“daisuki.” he says back to you. this time it was his time to make you flustered as he pulled you even closer.

“guess i should learn more words now,” you muse, laughing softly against his chest.

[mrsjjongstby]

"You are NOT taller than me." - N.RK

P: idol!Niki x tall!reader Synopsis: Your boyfriend argues that he is taller than you by few inches. but you being you, argue back saying it doesn't matter and that his chunky af sneakers are the reason for the extra few inches he's talking about. but no matter what, at the end of the day, you are made for him and he'll do anything to make sure that you stay his. WordCount: 737

After a particularly long day practicing, Niki came back home. Shoulders slouched, head dropped down with a look on his face screaming nothing but exhaustion. Closing the door behind him, he called you. 

“Y/n?” 

No response.  

Frowning he let his bag fall onto the ground beside him and walked into the bedroom with his sneakers on. There, he found you standing Infront of the huge mirror applying moisturizer, which generally indicates that you are about to head to bed.  

The exhaustion in him immediately fades away the moment he has his eyes on you. Smiling softly, he goes behind you with his arms circling around your waist. You look up in the mirror, already acknowledging his presence.  

“Tough day?” you ask noticing the slight stiffness in his shoulders.  

He hums and replies, “Not anymore.” 

You smile, “Get freshened up.”  

“I will. I will.” he says but the arms around you only tighten.  

You chuckle shaking your head and put your eye patches on, the coolness immediately hitting your undereyes making you feel relaxed. You continue doing your night routine as your boyfriend admires you doing your thing even though he has seen you do the same routine a thousand times.  

Maybe it's the exhaustion of his busy schedule creeping up or the fact that he missed you badly after being away from you for a long time, he just wanted to lock you in his arms and never let go away.  

He leaned his head down and started kissing your neck. Small wet kisses placed all over your neck. “My small, little baby.” He mutters into your neck and places a firm kiss at the same spot right after that. 

Your hands stop midway on your cheek as you blend the face cream in. “Little? Baby, take your chunky ass sneakers off and say the same thing.” you say with no real bite, just another reminder to him that his girlfriend isn't as short as he thinks.  

He exhales dramatically as if the fact alone physically pained him.  

“We’re literally the same height.” You can't help but add another line to throw him off. 

He removes his head from your neck (not before placing one last kiss) and looks at you in the mirror. “Hey! We're not the same height. I'm taller than you-”  

“By a few inches.” you cut him off with a teasing smile on your lips. 

“So? I'm still taller!” he says with a very serious expression as if he’s discussing about politics which makes you break into laughter. 

“Keep telling yourself that, baby.” You say laughing as he whines and pouts. He’d never say it but if teasing him made you laugh like that, then he’ll gladly hire a bunch of professional rappers to diss his height. He loves you, and seeing you laugh, that too, cause of him, makes him feel like he succeeded as a man.  

Later that night, the two of you lay in bed, tangled under a shared blanket. Your limbs fit against his perfectly—your noses practically level, breath synced, knees brushing, no one needing to stretch or shrink. Just… right. 

“I still think I’m taller,” Niki whispered suddenly. 

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “Drop it already.” 

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Fine. Fine.” 

Silence fell again. And then he murmured, almost like an afterthought— 

“You were made for me.” 

You blinked. 

He blinked. 

Pause. 

You pulled back slightly to look at him. 

He was already looking at you, eyes wide like he didn’t mean to say that out loud. 

“I—uh,” he stammered, his cool-guy act cracking. “Like—physically. I meant—our—our cuddling form is optimal. Like scientifically.” He made a vague hand gesture. “Symmetry.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Cuddling form?” 

“Don’t twist my words!” 

“You said I was made for you.” 

“I said—our—cuddles were made—form-fit—I—" He shut his eyes. “Okay. Fine. Maybe I meant it.” 

You smiled, letting your hand rest gently on his cheek. “Good.” 

His eyes fluttered open again, confused. “Good?” 

You nodded, snuggling back into his chest, forehead pressed right against his. 

“Because I think I was made for you too.” 

This time, he didn’t speak.  

He just held you tighter with a stupid grin on his face and a content heart. 

He just slipped into his dreamland- and didnt bring up your height ever again. (Well, not that night.) 

A/N: wellllllll, i wrote this in like twenty mins and its not proofread so sorry if its messy! i also feel like there arent much fics with tall girly reader so, i hope this compensates something to the tall girlies community hehehehehe ALSO i hope @yourarabkogal likes this!!!!!!

[wonio]

try me ‎ ‎ ‎﹔‎ ‎ ‎ nishimurariki

fem! reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ✴︎ ‎ ‎ ‎fluff rivals to lovers school au wc 1.9k

you've always thought riki was annoying. too smug, too loud, too there⎯especially when you're around. always with a comeback, always with that look on his face like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. and maybe he does. because somehow, every group project, every paired event, every unlucky seating chart⎯he's there. right next to you. tonight is no different. you're both stuck in the student council room finishing decorations for the school festival. it's past 9pm. everyone else left. just you, a playlist playing faintly in the background, and him⎯tapping his pen like he's got nothing better to do than test your patience. "you're doing that wrong," he says, not even looking up. you snap, "i know what i'm doing, thanks." he leans back, arms crossed, smirk growing. "sure you do." "god, why are you always like this?" "like what?" "like.... impossible." he just shrugs, eyes scanning you too slowly. "maybe you bring it out of me." your heart skips, but you shove it down. you don't like him. he's the kind of boy who makes fun of you for fun. who calls you "perfect" with that tone that makes it sound like an insult. who's been bothering you since the first day of high school. but then silence stretches. and he's not teasing anymore. "you ever wonder," he says suddenly, voice quieter now, "why we fight so much?" you glance at him. "because you're infuriating?" he laughs. a real one. and then says, "maybe. or maybe it's just easier than saying what i actually think."

your breath catches. "what's that supposed to mean?" he doesn't answer right away. just looks at you, serious now. a little nervous. "it means i don't hate you. never did. not really." he steps closer. "i think i just... didn't know how else to get your attention." you stare. your heartbeat is stupid loud. "riki ⎯" "let me finish," he says. "i like you. okay? i know it probably sounds crazy after how much we fight, but i do. and if you don't feel the same, fine. i'll back off. but i couldn't not say it." you blink. then, without really thinking, you grab his lanyard and pull him down into a kiss. it's a little clumsy. a little too fast. but he kisses you back like he means it. when you pull away, his eyes are wide. "was that⎯?" "to shut you up." you say. but your cheeks are warm. and your hands are still holding onto him. "do it again, then," he says, grin creeping back. "i might need a few more." you roll your eyes⎯but you don't say no. not this time. by wonio

[plutowon]

CHACONNE suspicious

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[chrysanthemums-andstars]

I Wanna Be Yours

Ni-ki Nishimura x Trainee!Reader

Inspired by: I Wanna Be Yours by Artic Monkeys (go listen to the song please)

Description: After bumping into Ni-ki in one of the practice rooms late at night. You begin to rethink some of your life choices.

Warnings: Slight angst, though mostly fluff. Does use some lyrics from the song. Reader is kept gender neutral. Y/n is swapped for (your name). Reader might have insomnia. Reader is younger than Ni-ki by a year, so like 18. Slight ooc Ni-ki? Maybe. Names for reader’s group are purposefully kept gender neutral names. This is barely romantic and is more open ended tbh. Divider Credit here by cafekitsune

Sometimes when you couldn’t sleep, you would sneak out of your dorm room and spend the night in one of the practice rooms. Just training. It wasn’t often, but sleeping just didn’t come to you as naturally. Your group was set to debut that month. So stress was high for you and all of your members.

Once you had arrived at the practice room, you pretty much zoned out. Practicing song after song until you were sure you had it memorized. And even then you kept practicing. Hours passed by like minutes and you weren’t sure if it was 1AM or if it was 5AM. Though you could honestly care less. It wasn’t until someone else walked into the practice room that you realized you may have pulled an all nighter. And that someone was Ni-ki Nishimura. Your senior and a member of the group ENHYPEN. One of HYBE’s more well known groups. He noticed you the minute he walked in. “Oh hey, it’s you. (Your name), right?” You didn’t know each other very well.

The only time you had ever spoke to him was probably when your group would walk by him in passing. And because your group member NoVa was a big fan of ENHYPEN, always talking about them. “Hey.” You greeted back. He looked as if he had just woken up to practice. “You been up all night?” He asked, setting his bag off to the side to start practicing as well. “Yeah, couldn’t sleep.” You replied. He nodded back. Things were a bit awkward between you two. Mostly because you were a trainee and he was an idol. Though there was some sort of shared attraction the both of you felt, no matter how much you tried to push it down.

“So. Big day’s coming up. You nervous? Debut week isn’t easy, I know that.” You both sat down for a break after practicing. He had even went and gotten you both coffee. “Sort of. But I’ll manage.” He hummed and handed you your cup. “Wasn’t sure if you liked your coffee hot or not, but I could just go grab some ice cubes if you want it cold.” He joked. Your hand brushed over his while grabbing the cup, and you both froze. His cheeks were now tinted pink slightly. Maybe secrets you had held in your heart were harder to hide than you thought. You looked up at him and sighed. “What is this? What are we? What do you want?” You whispered. Ni-ki stared right back at you. “I want to be yours.” He leaned in and kissed you. You kissed back and leaned into his arms. Once you broke apart he ran a hand through your hair and smiled at you. “We’ll be fine. Don’t worry. It’ll all be okay.”

[ninisdollie]

kiss it better - nishimura riki 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“In which reader teaches her dear friend how to treat a woman right. Or in which reader teaches ni-ki how to give head” 

‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ Content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x ni-ki, friends to lovers, usage of riki and ni-ki, oral sex (f. rec), masturbation (f), reader is in charge, fingering, spitting, face riding, needy! ni-ki, pussy drunk! ni-ki (he’s a mess) grinding, coming undone, slight voye.

hate comments will be deleted and blocked !! likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

Summer trip was always fun with your friend group. But this year was one of your favourites, there was nothing like spending the day on a tanning bed beneath the burning sun, chewing on fresh watermelon after a dive in the beautiful clear waters of the ocean, surrounded by your favorite people in the whole world. 

The hotel pool glowed under the summer night, wrapped in string lights and the kind of drunken laughter that only came when everyone forgot about the world outside vacation. Music pulled from a speaker, bass steady. The air smelled like sunscreen and chlorine and you were tasting something fruity on your tongue from the drink you just finished. 

You had just slid back into the water, the chill clinging to your skin as you moved through the shallow end. Your bikini hugged your body, still damp from earlier, and your hair stuck to your shoulders in soft waves. Most of your friends where on the deck now, draped across pool chairs or sprawled on towels, passing a bottle of tequila back and forth and yelling about nonsense. 

Ni-ki was the only one still on the water. 

He floated on his back with his eyes closed, legs lazily moving to keep him afloat, looking so relaxed like he didn’t have a single care in the world. So him. 

You swam closer, water swirling around your waist, and nudged his side with your hand. 

“You’ll drown” 

“Let me.” He murmured, not even opening his eyes “Feels like a good way to go.” 

A small laugh left your lips. 

“Dramatic.” 

Ni-ki opened one eye then, just enough to flash you a lazy smile 

“Says the girl who almost cried when we splashed on her drink.” 

“That was an expensive drink.” 

“You’re expensive” He shot back, quickly. 

That caught you off guard, and you blinked. 

It wasn’t even that serious, just Ni-ki being Ni-ki. But still, it stuck. Hit something strange and sudden in your chest. Maybe it was the way he said it, or the way his gaze lingered a bit too long before flicking away. You’d always thought he was cute. Objectively, anyways. It wasn’t like you were blind, Ni-ki was tall and lean and had that perfect face that made even simple hoodies and cotton sweatpants look good. He was your friend, sure, you’d known him for years now. The same friend that threw up on your lap in Sunghoon’s backseat last summer, the same friend that stole your notes because he never did his homework on time. But that never stopped the thoughts that stuck in your head sometimes, thoughts you never let stay. 

But for some reason, tonight felt different. 

He ducked under the water suddenly, disappearing from your view. You barely had time to react before strong hands grabbed your waist from behind and lifted you with a splash, so easily. 

You shrieked, laughing, trying to escape. 

“Ni-ki!” 

He just laughed, breathless and smug as you turned and splashed him back, right in the face. You were both soaked now, your bikini clinging tighter to your tanned skin, water streaming down your neck. 

Ni-ki was still close, enough to feel the warmth radiating off him even in the cool water. His hands already dropped from your waist, but you could still feel them. 

You felt your breathing shake as your eyes met his. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite name. Like heavy and charged. 

Then he blinked, swam backwards, and said casually. 

“Alright. I’m bored.” 

You barely had time to ignore the feeling before Heeseung called out from his chair, arms spread like he was announcing something big. 

“Let’s play a game.” He said “Truth or dare.” 

Jake made a face. 

“We always do that. I’ve lost the count on the amount of times I’ve licked Sunghoon’s neck” 

Your friends laughed at him, and you chuckled under your breath. 

“Never have I ever then. Loser has to buy all our drinks tomorrow.” 

Groans followed, but no one said no. You all gathered near the edge, some wrapped in towels and half-drunk already. 

You ended up sitting next to Ni-ki, still damp, still trying to ignore the echo of his hands on your waist. 

The game started innocent as always. 

“Never have I ever lied to a date.” 

“Never have I ever faked an orgasm”

“Never have I ever cheated” 

The group slowly loosened between sips, laughter and more laughter, getting louder and messier by the second. 

“Okay, I have one.” Heeseung then leaned in, grinning. “Never have I ever gone down on someone” 

A few hands went up, including yours. 

You didn’t look around, didn’t think much of it, but then you noticed that Ni-ki didn’t move. 

He just sat there, calm, fingers tapping slowly on the ground. Then you turned your head. 

“Wait, seriously?” 

He looked at you, then shrugged. 

“Yeah.” 

Heeseung just stared. 

“Wait wait wait - you’ve never gone down on a girl?” 

Ni-ki shook his head. 

“Nope.” 

Sunoo gasped, hand flying to his chest 

“What? Riki, oh my god!” 

Heeseung was already laughing 

“Bro. That’s practically illegal.”

Jake leaned in like he was interrogating him. 

“You scared of it or something?” 

Ni-ki scoffed and pushed him. 

“Shut up.” 

Sunghoon smirked

“So, what’s the reason?” 

Ni-ki leaned back on his elbows, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look embarrassed, but he didn’t look thrilled by their teasing either. You didn’t expect it, to be honest, Ni-ki wasn’t exactly a playboy, but he wasn’t a saint either, you’d seen him a thousand times shoving down his tongue in random girls throats at parties. 

“I just haven’t found the right person yet.” 

That only made the boys laugh louder. Heeseung clutched his chest and someone said something about how he was a “certified mouth virgin”. 

You watched Ni-ki stay still through it all, quiet. 

Something in your chest pulled tight, and you sat up a little straighter. 

“Okay, enough.” You said, cutting through the noise “What are we? Twelve?” 

The group quieted a little, eyes turning to you. 

“He’s just waiting for the right person, that’s not a bad thing.”  You glanced at Ni-ki, met his eyes again. He looked back at you like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or grab your hand. “It’s not that deep. Honestly, most guys think they know how to do it, just doing it doesn’t mean you’re good at it.” 

Ni-ki still hadn’t looked away from you. 

But as the group moved on, laughing at the next prompt, the air between you didn’t shift back. It felt heavier.

The hotel was quiet now, after the chaos of earlier. You could still hear faint laughter from somewhere down the hall, someone’s speaker muffled behind the closed doors, but for the most part, you started to settle. 

Your skin smelled like sunscreen and coconut from your body spray as you stood at the sink in your oversized tee and underwear, hair half-damp and twisted into a towel, the bathroom mirror foggy from your shower. Your limbs ached in a satisfying way that only summer could bring. 

You were just about to crawl into bed when the knock came. 

One, two, three soft raps, hesitant. 

You froze for a second, staring at your reflection wondering who could it be this late at night. Then you padded across the room and peeked through the peephole, opening the door without thinking. 

Ni-ki stood there, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, hair damp and curling slightly around his ears. 

“Hey.” He said. 

You blinked, a bit surprised about his visit and the unsettling look on his face. 

“Hey. Everything okay?” 

He nodded, but didn’t move. 

Then you stepped back, opening the door a little wider.

“Wanna come in?” 

He didn’t answer, just walked in, quiet, his presence filling your small hotel room instantly. You shut the door behind him, suddenly too aware of how you were dressed, and the silence between you two. 

He looked around, then sat on the edge of the bed like he’d done it a thousand times before. 

But now it felt different. 

“You good?” You asked again, crossing your arms trying to play it cool. 

He nodded again, slower this time. 

“Yeah. I just… couldn’t sleep.” 

You leaned against the dresser, watching him. He was staring at the carpet, then at his hands. Then up at you. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.” He admitted and your heart thudded. 

“What part?” 

“That it’s not about doing it, it’s about knowing how to treat someone.” He paused. “No one’s ever said that to me before.” 

You swallowed, his voice was lower now, like each word was deliberate. 

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you” you said. 

“I wasn’t embarrassed.” He replied “I just… never talked about it out loud.” 

There was a long pause, and you waited, but he didn’t look away. 

“I think that’s why I came here.” 

Your pulse skipped. 

“To talk?” you asked, even thought you were sure that wasn’t what he meant. 

He smiled a little but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Kind of.” 

You stepped a little closer before you could overthink it, the soft carpet sinking under your feet. You were standing between his knees now, and he was looking up at you from the edge of the bed. 

“Riki” You said softly “Why did you come here?” 

You knew the answer.

But the silence that followed cracked open something between you, something thick and heavy and real. You felt it settle over your shoulders, wrap around your ribs. Your skin prickled with awareness, his breath, your proximity, the weight of what you weren’t saying.

“Because I want to know what it’s like.”

Your breathed deep. 

“What what’s like?”

His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. 

“To be with someone who actually wants to teach me. Who doesn’t think I’m weird for not knowing. Who… wants me to get it right.”

You stared at him.

He wasn’t smiling now. He wasn’t teasing. He looked serious, vulnerable, even. And it did something to you. Twisted something deep in your stomach. This was your friend, that not only trusted you enough to ask you this but you also thought he was cute and hot and perfect. 

The room felt hot. Too small. Too quiet. His thumbs rubbed slow circles into your thighs now, and you realized he hadn’t looked away from you once.

“Okay,” you breathed. “Then come here.”

Ni-ki shifted before he could even think, his hands sliding up to your hips like instinct. And when he leaned forward, lips brushing yours, it was cautious at first. Feather-light. Testing.

You tilted your head and leaned into it.

The kiss deepened slowly, like water spilling over the edge of a full glass. His mouth was warm, hesitant but eager, lips moving with just enough pressure to make your knees weaken. You could feel the tremble in him, like he was holding back, waiting to be told it was okay to want this. To want you. So you gave it to him. One hand slipped into his hair, anchoring, and the other trailed down his jaw, guiding him as your mouths melted into each other. His breath hitched against your lips when you sucked gently on his bottom one, and he made the softest, most desperate sound, half whimper, half groan. He opened his mouth and his tongue crashed with yours, wet sounds as you tasted his saliva on your own, sighing softly against him feeling how his fingers dig into the bare skin of your thighs. 

You pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth.

“Get on your knees, Riki.”

He blinked up at you, dazed, lips red, eyes wide.

And then he obeyed.

His hands slid down your thighs as he sank slowly to the floor in front of you. Kneeling. Breath shallow. Waiting.

Completely at your mercy.

He looked up at you, already breathless. You could see it in his face, that eager, desperate curiosity masked by restraint. Like he was doing everything he could not to touch. Not to beg.

You didn’t say anything at first.

Just reached for the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, intentionally slow. You felt his gaze drag over every inch of skin as it was revealed, your bare breasts in front of him, nipples hard the second the cold air of the room touched them. His pupils were already blown wide, jaw clenched like he was trying so hard not to react. You dropped the shirt beside you, left in just your panties. 

The overhead light was off, but the warm hotel lamp behind him painted your skin gold, throwing soft shadows along your collarbones, the curve of your stomach, the tops of your thighs.

Ni-ki looked like he’d stopped breathing.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

He nodded too fast. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I just—fuck.”

The sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Rough and a little hoarse, like it had scraped his throat just coming out.

You slipped your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear.

His eyes dropped instantly.

You swore you saw his fingers flex again, digging into his jeans like it physically hurt not to reach for you.

You slid them down slowly, stepping out of them with a grace that felt foreign even to yourself, because god, the way he was looking at you was doing something to your head. Like you were the first naked girl he’d ever seen. Like he didn’t know what to do with the sight of you. Your bare intimacy was in front of him now, and you were dripping, glistening arousal that you hadn’t even noticed until that point, pulsing and needy and wanting him. 

When you stood fully bare in front of him, you saw his throat bob as he swallowed. Hard.

“Still okay?” you asked again, voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up at you like you were unreal. Like you weren’t even part of the same world.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he breathed out, like it slipped from him without warning. “I don’t—what the fuck.”

Heat crawled up your chest. You weren’t used to being looked at like that. Not with that kind of reverence. Not like he was wrecked by just seeing you.

“You wanna learn how to do this right?” you asked, stepping closer until your knees touched the edge of the mattress.

He nodded, already breathless. 

“Yeah. I want to learn everything.”

You smiled, heart pounding, then gently climbed onto the bed.

“Then watch me,” you whispered against his lips, not kissing him yet. “And listen to me. I’ll show you exactly how it’s supposed to feel.”

Settling back against the pillows until you were laying flat, you parted your legs just enough to keep him staring.

His breath audibly caught.

From below, he had the clearest view. Your skin glowing under the dim bedside lamp, the soft rise and fall of your chest, your thighs spread open with nothing hidden. Your dripping, swollen pussy. You watched his eyes flick from your face to between your legs, and stay there.

“You still with me?” you asked, your voice low and teasing.

He nodded slowly. “I’ve never—fuck, I’ve never seen anyone like this. Like you.”

Your core tightened at the way he said it, raw, reverent.

You bent one knee, dragging your heel up onto the mattress, spreading yourself more for him, breathing heavily, your heart pumping against your chest and your pussy pulsing under his gaze.

“Then pay attention,” you murmured, bringing your fingers between your thighs. “I’m gonna show you how I like it.”

Ni-ki looked wrecked already, and you hadn’t even touched yourself yet.

You started slow, fingers gliding down to part yourself gently. Your other hand gripped the sheets beside your ribs as you circled your clit, slow and lazy. Soft breaths fell from your lips.

You let your eyes drift shut for a moment, focusing on the warmth building low in your stomach. But you could feel his eyes on you. Could almost hear the tension in his throat as he swallowed thickly, breathing uneven.

“Can you see?” you asked, voice hazy, cracked at the edges.

“Yeah,” he said, too fast. “Yeah, I can see everything.”

You glanced down at him through your lashes. He looked dazed. Kneeling obediently between your legs, jaw tense, his hands fisted at his sides like touching himself would break whatever spell you’d put him under.

“Does it make sense now?” you breathed, dragging your fingers lower to gather slick and bring it back up, circling with a bit more pressure. “It’s not about being rough. It’s about paying attention.”

Ni-ki exhaled hard. 

“You’re fucking unreal.”

A faint smirk tugged at your lips. You were soaked already, turned on by your own touch—but also by him. The way he looked at you. Like he was watching something sacred. Like he’d get on his knees for you again and again if it meant seeing you like this.

You kept your eyes on him as your fingers moved, lazy, deliberate circles that made your hips twitch every now and then. You weren’t putting on a show. This was real. You wanted him to see what it looked like when it was good. When someone took their time. When someone cared.

And judging by the look on his face, Ni-ki was already on the edge of losing his mind.

Still on his knees, his jaw was tight, lips parted like he kept forgetting how to breathe. His hands had fisted into the hem of his hoodie, knuckles pale from the grip. You could see how tense his thighs were. You could see the bulge against his jeans, hard and throbbing. How his chest rose and fell too fast.

You tilted your head, voice smooth and low. 

“You want to touch me, don’t you?”

His eyes shot up to yours, wide and ruined. 

“So bad.”

You let out a soft hum, letting your fingers slow, just enough to keep the pleasure alive.

“I know,” you said. “You’ve been staring like you’re starving.”

“I am,” he groaned, frustrated. “You’re—fuck, you’re driving me insane.”

You gave him a slow, lazy smile. 

“Good. That means it’s working.”

He let out a strangled breath, his hands twitching again, like he didn’t know whether to beg or fall apart.

“Can I… please?” he tried, his voice rough. “Just a little—let me touch you.”

“You are touching me,” you said sweetly, dragging your fingers through your slick just to show him. You brought them to your mouth, tasting yourself on them before sliding them between your legs again “With your eyes. Can’t you feel it?”

He looked like you’d punched the air out of him.

“Don’t worry,” you added, voice a little lower, “I want you desperate.”

He exhaled shakily, dropping his gaze to your thighs again. His whole body was tense, on edge, like he was fighting every urge in his body to crawl up the bed and ruin the distance between you.

“You said you wanted to learn,” you reminded him. “So listen when I tell you this, Riki.”

He looked up again. Waiting. 

“Pussy isn’t about technique. Not really. You can memorize all the tricks, flick your tongue every direction—but none of it matters if you’re not obsessed with the way she tastes. The way she feels when she’s shaking under you. The way she moans when you find the spot that makes her legs tremble.”

He blinked like he wasn’t breathing again.

“And if you’re not ready to worship her,” you whispered, dragging your fingers slow and deep between your folds, “then you’ve already failed.”

“Holy fuck,” he choked out, his voice barely a sound.

Your smile turned wicked. 

“I haven’t even let you touch me yet and you’re falling apart. What do you think’s gonna happen when I put your mouth here?”

He groaned and tilted forward slightly on his knees, like the weight of your words pushed him closer.

You paused your hand and raised a brow. 

“Getting needy?”

He nodded quickly, voice rough. 

“Please. You’re killing me.”

Your chest rose with slow, smug satisfaction. He was so close—so close to breaking.

“You wanna taste me that bad?” you asked.

He licked his lips. 

“So bad I think I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

You let your hand drop from between your legs and spread your thighs a little wider, baring yourself completely for him, your wetness dripping between your folds until you were soaking the bed beneath you.

“Then come closer,” you said softly.

He crawled forward the second you gave him permission, kneeling between your legs like it was the only thing in the world he wanted to do. His hands hovered just above your thighs, like he still wasn’t sure if he could touch you yet. You reached down and threaded your fingers into his hair, gently tugging until he looked up at you. 

“Slow,” you murmured. “I want you to take your time.” 

He swallowed hard. 

“Okay.”

 “Start soft,” you said. “Don’t rush. Just… taste.”

He nodded, breath catching like he was trying to anchor himself, but his hands were already trembling as they finally landed on your thighs. His touch was reverent, almost like he thought you’d vanish if he wasn’t careful. He leaned in slowly, plump and wet  lips brushing the inside of your thigh first, and you gasped at the contact. Just a kiss. Just barely there. But it lit up your nerves like a fuse.

The warmth of his breath followed, and your skin prickled with goosebumps. His mouth moved again, pressing another kiss, this time closer. He wasn’t rushing. He was listening. To your voice. To your breathing. To the way your thighs tensed when he got nearer to where you really wanted him.

You threaded your fingers tighter into his hair, guiding him, not forcing, just showing him you were there.

He looked up once, like he wanted to be sure, and when you gave the smallest nod, he lowered his head again, mouth finally dragging over your pussy, hot and open.

It was slow.

So slow it burned.

The first lick was cautious, just a flick of his tongue, but you moaned softly anyway, hips twitching up toward him. You could feel how his breath hitched in response, how the small sound you made seemed to fuel him. 

His lips parted again, tongue sliding a little firmer now between your soaked folds, tasting like he’d never tasted anything before. Like he was memorizing every part of you. The way your thighs shook. The way your breath caught. The way your fingers gripped tighter at his scalp when he hit the right spot, tongue licking wet and hot and perfect over your swollen clit. 

“Good,” you whispered. “That’s good… just like that.”

He let out a low sound against you, something desperate, something needy. His hands slid up to your hips like he couldn’t help himself anymore, holding you in place, mouth pressing deeper. The flat of his tongue moved in slow, indulgent strokes, and your stomach clenched, your toes curling against the sheets beneath you.

You exhaled shakily, fingers still buried in his hair, the sight of him between your legs already enough to keep your head spinning. He was trying, so hard, too. Tongue warm, mouth open, but a little unsure still, like he wasn’t convinced he was doing it right even though your thighs kept clenching around his ears.

“Riki,” you murmured, voice a little breathless, “slower—press your tongue flat. Yeah, like that.”

You felt him pause, adjust, and then try again, this time dragging the full weight of his tongue through your folds, slower, deeper, like he was tasting you properly now. Your hips lifted off the bed without meaning to.

“Mhm, fuck—just like that,” you whispered, your voice catching as a sharp pleasure lanced through your core.

You kept your eyes on him, watching the way he reacted to every sound you made. Like he was feeding off them. His lashes fluttered, lips shiny and swollen now, and when he glanced up at you, it was like he needed more. Needed to hear it from you.

“Circle your tongue around,” you whispered, tugging gently at his hair to keep him exactly where you wanted him. “There… slower. Keep it soft. I want to feel everything. Spit on it baby, get me soaked.”

His groan vibrated against you as he obeyed, the wet glide of his tongue sending another wave through your stomach, and then a thick string of saliva fell on your already soaked pussy. His hands clutched your thighs tighter now, nails pressing into your skin just enough to ground himself, like he was getting lost in it. In you.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, letting the praise drip from your lips. You saw the way his eyes rolled back slightly when you said it. How his movements got a little more confident, a little messier, but somehow still just right. “Taste me—really taste me. Don’t just lick, use your mouth.”

He obeyed with a quiet desperation, sucking gently on your clit, tongue slipping lower before dragging back up again, slow and thick, like he wanted to devour every inch of you.

You gasped. Moaned. Tugged harder at his hair.

“Fuck, Riki—don’t stop—”

He didn’t. If anything, he got hungrier, greedier. His tongue started moving with more pressure, his lips sucking softly at the spots that made your thighs shake.

You didn’t even have to look down to know he was gone.

You could feel it, in the way his mouth moved, in the way his grip had turned bruising on your thighs, in the low, desperate sounds he kept making every time his tongue dragged through you like he couldn’t help himself.

But when you did look down, your heart almost stopped beating.

Riki’s eyes were barely open, glossy and wild, lips swollen, wet from you. His face was flushed, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and he was panting between licks like he physically couldn’t get enough.

And he kept talking.

Mumbling between mouthfuls, between kisses to your soaked skin, between long, obscene licks like he was drunk on the taste of you.

“Fuck—you taste so good…” he breathed, voice hoarse and wrecked. “S’fucking good… I can’t—god, I can’t stop.”

You moaned softly, hips rolling toward his mouth, and he whined into you. Actually whined.

“It’s the best,” he said again, more to himself this time, like he couldn’t believe it. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever had. I swear—fuck, I need—need to keep tasting you.”

His tongue flattened again, dragging up, slower this time, like he wanted to savor it. He licked you like it was holy.

You gasped, gripping his hair, pulling him tighter to you.

And he loved it.

Didn’t even flinch. He moaned loud into your cunt, licking deeper, rougher, sloppy now, his mouth messy and wet and insistent. Every word he slurred out came like a prayer, like he was in some trance.

“I wanna eat you every day,” he groaned. “Fuck, please let me—I’ll be so good for you, I’ll learn everything—just don’t make me stop—”

Your head fell back against the pillows, legs shaking. He wasn’t even listening anymore, just moving off instinct, tongue flicking exactly how you taught him, sucking just enough to make your stomach twist with heat.

“You like it that much?” you teased, your voice barely holding steady, but it was still firm. Still in control.

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused but burning.

“I love it,” he said immediately.

Your legs trembled around his shoulders, and still—still—he didn’t stop. His tongue was relentless now, messy and hot and wet against you, every slow stroke making your stomach twist tighter, your breath hitch faster. But you wanted more. You could feel your body hovering right on the edge, just one touch away from snapping completely.

You slid one hand down, gently brushing your fingers through his hair, guiding him just enough so you could breathe. 

“Riki,” you panted. He blinked up at you, dazed and glassy-eyed, his mouth still open, his chin glistening. “Use your fingers too.”

He nodded without hesitation, licking his lips like he didn’t want to waste a drop.

“I—I don’t wanna mess it up,” he said, breathless, hand twitching at your thigh. “Just tell me what to do.”

You grabbed his wrist gently, brought it between your thighs, your own fingers wrapping around his to help him feel you.

“Start with one,” you whispered. “Slow. Let me open up to you.”

He swallowed hard and did exactly that—one long finger slipping into your heat, careful, reverent. The moment he did, a soft sound escaped your lips, your walls fluttering around him.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, almost choking on the words. “You’re so warm. So—fuck—tight. Is that okay? Is that good?”

“So good,” you gasped, voice trembling. “Now curl it—just a little. Mhm… yeah, right there.”

He groaned at the way you clenched, and then his mouth was on you again—tongue working in tandem with his finger now, stroking inside while he sucked and licked and moaned like he was starving.

You let out a high, breathy moan, your hand still guiding his wrist, helping him learn the rhythm. Your hips rocked up to meet both touches, tongue and finger now perfectly synced, and he responded instantly, desperate to give you exactly what you needed.

“Add another,” you said, your voice shaking but firm. “You can take it.”

He hesitated only a second before easing a second finger in, slowly, and when he felt your body stretch around him, another broken groan left his throat.

“Fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice wrecked. “You feel so perfect—I wanna stay here forever.”

Your back arched, thighs trembling around his head, and he fucked you with his fingers just like you taught him, curling them right, keeping his mouth exactly where you needed it, letting you grind against his tongue shamelessly.

“That’s it, baby,” you moaned. “Just like that. Keep going—you’re gonna make me come.”

And the second those words left your lips, Riki lost it again, messy, moaning into you, thrusting his fingers harder, tongue flicking faster. You felt your climax building like a wave you couldn’t stop.

His lips were slick and red, cheeks flushed, hair clinging to his forehead. But it was the way he was moving that really undid you, hips rocking slowly against the mattress beneath him, grinding like he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Like he physically couldn’t stop.

He was moaning into you, low, broken, filthy sounds muffled by your thighs, and every time you tugged his hair or praised him, his hips pushed down harder, desperate for friction.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your whole body twitching under him. “You’re so needy, baby. Can’t even control yourself, can you?”

He moaned again, loud and desperate, and nodded just barely, face still buried in you.

“I—can’t,” he slurred between licks. “You taste too good—I need it—need to make you come—please, I can’t stop—”

The grind of his hips sped up, his fingers curling perfectly inside you while his tongue flicked your clit again and again, completely in rhythm, completely feral. His thighs were trembling from the way he was using the friction beneath him, like he was getting off just from serving you. From the taste. From your voice.

From the fact that he was the one making you fall apart.

“That’s it,” you groaned, hips bucking up toward his mouth. “Keep grinding, baby. Fuck yourself while you eat me. God—look at you…”

But he wasn’t looking anymore.

His eyes were squeezed shut now, brows furrowed in focus, mouth and fingers soaking wet, hips stuttering with every moan. And from the way his body was shaking, you knew, he was so close. Without even being touched.

You were shaking, heart hammering, your breath catching in short, ragged gasps. Every flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers sent sparks rushing down your spine, your thighs trembling around his head. Ni-ki didn’t slow down, if anything, he was more focused than ever, like every sound you made fueled him. Like he needed to pull you apart, needed to feel you break for him.

You could barely keep your eyes open, barely breathe with how good it felt, how intense it was. His hands gripped your thighs like lifelines, grounding himself there, mouth working like he was starved and you were the only thing he’d ever wanted to taste.

Your hips jerked. You were so close it hurt.

“Riki,” you gasped, your voice cracking. “I’m gonna—”

“Come, please, need to feel you come on my mouth baby” He whispered, breathless, sucking your clit so hard that you cried out.

That did something to him. He moaned again, deep and wrecked, and it vibrated against you, just enough to push you over.

Your back arched off the mattress, your fingers tightening in his hair as the world blurred and broke around you. The orgasm tore through you in waves, sharp, warm, overwhelming. You cried out his name, legs closing around him, but he didn’t move, didn’t stop. He held you through it, mouth still soft, slow, working you gently as you came down. 

 When your muscles finally stopped trembling and your breathing slowed, he looked up at you.His lips were swollen, eyes glassy, flushed and ruined, and he was still panting because he came too, hard and soaked and messy against his jeans from just eating you.

You reached down and stroked your thumb over his cheek.

“You did so good,” you whispered, still breathless. “So, so good.”

And the look in his eyes when you said it? Like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted to hear.

You were sure you created some kind of monster. 

It was like something had snapped open between you and Riki that night, something hungry and undeniable. He hadn’t touched you in front of anyone since, but you could feel it: the way his gaze followed you when you walked past in your bikini, the way he’d bite his lip when he thought no one was looking.

But it was worse when you were alone.

Because now, it wasn’t just once. Now he wanted you constantly.

You hadn’t even made it out of the hotel earlier that morning without him pulling you back into the bathroom, dropping to his knees like it was the only place he belonged. He’d barely said a word, just looked up at you with those dark, desperate eyes and mumbled something about “missing the taste of you.”

It had been messy. Rushed. You had to muffle your moans into your hand and clamp your thighs tight around his head just to keep quiet.

Now, three days later in the afternoon, you were sitting under a beach umbrella with a drink in your hand, pretending like you weren’t still flushed from the memory. Pretending like your legs weren’t shaking.

Ni-ki was stretched out on a towel a few feet away, sunglasses on, the sea breeze lifting his hair. He looked calm to anyone else—maybe a little too calm—but you saw the truth. The tension in his jaw. The slight curve at the corner of his mouth when he caught your eye.

And then he mouthed something at you across the space between your friends.

Please.

You blinked. 

What?

He glanced toward the beach showers. Then back at you. And mouthed it again:

Please. Just five minutes.

Your heart stuttered.

You shook your head. Barely. But your thighs pressed together instinctively, heat blooming low in your belly. He tilted his head, still pleading, like he was barely holding it together.

He wanted it again.

He wanted you again.

And it hit you then, this wasn’t just about curiosity anymore. This wasn’t a one-time thing.

Ni-ki was hooked.

The sun was beginning to dip lower, casting everything in a hazy gold, and the breeze off the ocean carried laughter and music from your friends further down the beach. You were pretending to still be sipping your drink when Ni-ki brushed past you, close enough that your knees touched for a second.

No one noticed. Or so you hoped.

He didn’t say anything, just walked towards the showers without looking back.

But you followed.

Your heart pounded as you crossed the sand, the faint sound of water trickling from a half-open faucet masking your footsteps. The beach shower area was quiet, stone walls, open-air, private enough if you were quick.

You slipped inside, and there he was.

His back was against the tiled wall, hair tousled, lips parted, like he’d barely been breathing since he left you on that beach chair.

“I thought you said five minutes,” you whispered, stepping in closer.

He shook his head, chest rising and falling beneath his shirt. 

“That was a lie.”

You raised a brow, teasing.

“So you dragged me out here to lie to me?”

“No,” he said, voice low, hoarse. “I dragged you out here because I need you.”

And that was all it took.

You kissed him first, quick and hot, stealing his breath. But he dropped to his knees before you could blink, already pushing your swimsuit bottoms down your legs with shaking hands, reverent and hungry.

“Wait,” you breathed, glancing toward the open side of the shower. “Someone could—”

“I don’t care.” His voice was wrecked, hands firm as he pulled your thighs over his shoulders. “I’ll be fast. I promise. I just—fuck, I missed you.”

And then his mouth was on you.

The rush of it stole your breath. The contrast of the cool tile behind you and the burning warmth of his tongue had you clutching the stone wall for balance. He moaned into you, shameless, like the taste of you alone was enough to undo him. You bit your lip, trying not to make a sound, failing as a gasp slipped out when he flattened his tongue and really got into it.

“God, you’re so good,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “So greedy—”

He groaned, grinding against nothing, his fingers digging into your thighs as he pulled you impossibly closer. His mouth was wet, messy, insistent, and every time you tried to look down at him, you saw how gone he was, red cheeks, glassy eyes, flushed and panting like he needed this more than air.

“Riki,” you warned, breath hitching as the pressure built again, sharp and fast. “We don’t have long—”

“I don’t care,” he mumbled against your skin. “Let them see. I’d still stay right here.”

That nearly ended you.

You didn’t even hear the footsteps pass nearby over the sound of the waves and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You just held his face, riding the edge, knowing it wouldn’t take long.

By the time you stepped out of the beach showers, your legs were still trembling.

You’d tried to fix your hair in the tiny mirror, smooth out your expression, but your mouth was swollen and your swimsuit still clung awkwardly to your damp skin. Riki walked a few steps behind you, his shirt thrown over one shoulder, cheeks still flushed, his lips a little too red.

And worst of all, he was smiling.

You elbowed him as you walked, muttering under your breath, 

“You’re being obvious.”

“I am obvious,” he said softly, brushing your fingers with his as you passed a stray towel on the sand. “And you liked it.”

You glared at him—only half-serious—and picked up the pace, ignoring the way your thighs still ached.

When you reached your friends, Jake was the first to spot you.

“Well, well, well,” he grinned, raising his sunglasses. “Look who finally decided to rejoin society.”

“We weren’t gone that long,” you said quickly, dropping your towel back down like nothing happened.

Jake squinted. “You guys missed the watermelon. And Sunoo was telling this insane story about—wait.” He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “Why do you look like that?”

Your stomach flipped. Riki coughed behind you.

Sunghoon glanced up from where he was drying his hair. 

“Yeah. You guys look kinda… flushed.”

“Hot out,” Riki mumbled.

“Hm,” Jake said slowly, like he didn’t quite believe it.

You sat down quickly on your beach chair and took a sip of your drink, trying to will your heart rate back to normal. But Riki flopped down next to you, casually propping his sunglasses on top of his head, lips still a little too pink.

You glanced at him. 

“You’re enjoying this.”

He smirked. 

“A little.”

“Don’t say anything.”

“I won’t.” He leaned closer, voice dropping so only you could hear. “Unless you want me to tell them how good you taste when you—”

“Riki.”

He grinned wider and leaned back like nothing happened.

You tried to look normal. Innocent. Unbothered.

But the looks your friends kept throwing your way said one thing clearly:

They knew something was up.

And if they didn’t know now, they would soon, because Riki’s knee was already brushing yours under the towel, and the second you leaned towards him, he gave you that look again.

Hungry.

Summer trip this year had just started. 

[enhaflixer]

hogwarts time travel au! traveling to the future and waking up MARRIED PART 1

slytherin!riki x gryffindor!reader PART 2 HERE

warnings: time travel, sex, kissing, lots of kissing, kinda angsty, they have two kids, there are pranks and rivalry and its just real cute im ngl

-

The library had been blissfully quiet for exactly forty-three minutes. You'd counted. Forty-three minutes of peaceful study, undisturbed concentration, and actual progress on your Transfiguration essay. Which meant you were overdue for—

A paper crane swooped down from nowhere, circling your head three times before unfolding itself atop your carefully organized notes. The parchment fluttered open to reveal a doodle of what appeared to be you with steam coming out of your ears and your hair standing on end. Beneath it, elegant script that you unfortunately recognized immediately:

Looking a bit tense today, Gryffindork. Did someone hide your color-coded study schedule again?

You closed your eyes and counted to ten, but only made it to four before the sound of poorly suppressed laughter broke your concentration. Across the library, lounging in a chair as though he owned the place, sat Nishimura Riki. The bane of your existence for seven consecutive years.

"Real mature," you muttered, crumpling the parchment and tossing it over your shoulder.

The paper froze mid-air, reversed direction, and neatly unfolded itself before landing back on your textbook.

"That's littering, you know," Riki called, just loud enough to make Madam Pince shoot you both a warning glare. "Not very environmentally conscious of you."

You stabbed your quill into your inkpot with unnecessary force. "Some of us are trying to study for our N.E.W.T.s like responsible seventh-years."

Riki stretched, his Slytherin tie deliberately loosened, black hair artfully tousled in that way that made half the school swoon and made you want to hex him bald. "Ah yes, another thrilling evening of revising information you memorized three months ago. Living the dream."

"Not everyone coasts by on natural talent and family connections," you shot back.

Something flashed in his dark eyes – irritation, perhaps – but his smirk never faltered. "Is that what you think? That I don't work for my grades?"

"I think," you said, gathering your belongings with precise movements, "that you spend more time planning elaborate pranks than studying, yet somehow maintain your position as second in our class."

"Second only to you," he said with an exaggerated bow. "Though not for lack of trying."

Your academic rivalry was legendary – seven years of trading the top spot back and forth, never more than a few points separating you. It would have been admirable if he wasn't so insufferable about it.

"Well, some of us can't afford to waste time," you said, shoving your books into your bag.

Riki pushed off his chair and sauntered over, dropping into the seat across from you without invitation. "You know what your problem is?"

"Currently? You're sitting at my table."

He leaned forward, undeterred. "You've forgotten how to have fun. When was the last time you did something just because it made you laugh?"

"I laugh plenty," you insisted, though the defensive tone in your voice betrayed you.

"At jokes in textbooks, maybe." He twirled his wand between his fingers – a nervous habit he'd had since first year. "You're seventeen going on seventy."

"And you're seventeen going on seven," you countered. "Wasn't it your enchanted water balloons that flooded the third floor yesterday?"

His grin widened. "Can't prove it was me."

"Professor Flitwick literally said, 'Impressive charm work, Mr. Nishimura, but please reserve it for your classwork.'"

"He appreciates creativity," Riki shrugged, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. "But that was nothing. Tomorrow's prank will be legendary."

Despite yourself, curiosity piqued. "What are you planning now?"

"Concerned for my academic future?" he teased. "Worried I might finally surpass you if I get expelled?"

"Worried about innocent bystanders," you corrected. "Your last 'legendary' prank turned the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team purple for a week."

"That was an accident," he protested, though his smile suggested otherwise. "The color was supposed to fade after twenty-four hours."

You rolled your eyes and stood up. "Well, whatever you're planning, leave me out of it. Some of us have actual goals beyond being remembered as Hogwarts' most annoying student."

His laugh followed you as you headed for the exit. "Come on! You know you'd be much happier if you loosened up a little!"

You resolutely ignored him, which was your standard approach to Nishimura Riki. Seven years of practice had proven it was the only way to maintain your sanity.

You should have known ignoring him wouldn't work. It never did.

The next morning, you woke to find every single one of your quills had been enchanted to write nothing but love poems. About him.

Eyes dark as midnight, smile sharp as wit, Nishimura Riki, quite the perfect fit...

"That's IT!" You stormed into the Great Hall, marching directly to the Slytherin table where Riki sat surrounded by his usual admirers. You slammed the offending quill down in front of him.

He looked up with infuriating innocence. "Problem?"

"Fix. My. Quills." Each word came through gritted teeth.

He inspected the quill with exaggerated care. "I'm flattered, truly, but I don't think I inspired this passionate declaration. Perhaps you've been harboring secret feelings?"

Several of his friends snickered. Your cheeks burned, but whether from anger or embarrassment, you refused to analyze.

"This isn't funny," you hissed. "I have a Charms practical in twenty minutes."

"Hmm." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "That is a problem."

"A problem you created!"

"I suppose I could fix it..." he mused, "for a price."

You crossed your arms. "What price?"

His smile turned mischievous. "Admit that I'm the better duelist."

This was an ongoing point of contention. You'd been evenly matched in Defense Against the Dark Arts since third year, much to both your frustrations.

"Never," you declared. "I beat you fair and square last week."

"You caught me off-guard with that modified Impediment Jinx."

"Which is called strategy," you countered. "Something you might understand if you spent more time studying and less time being an insufferable prat."

He clutched his heart dramatically. "You wound me. And here I thought we were friends."

"We are not friends," you said firmly. "We have never been friends."

Something shifted in his expression – so briefly you might have imagined it – before his usual smirk returned. "Fine. I'll fix your quills because I'm magnanimous and mature."

You snorted.

He flicked his wand, muttering an incantation under his breath. "There. Crisis averted. Though I was looking forward to Professor Flitwick reading poetry about my 'raven locks' and 'quicksilver reflexes.'"

"You're impossible," you said, snatching back your quill.

He winked. "Yet somehow you put up with me."

"Not by choice," you grumbled, turning to leave.

"Oh, by the way," he called after you, "pink is definitely your color!"

You frowned, then caught your reflection in a silver platter. Your hair had turned bright, bubblegum pink.

"NISHIMURA!"

-

It took three counter-charms to fix your hair, making you late for Charms and costing Gryffindor five points. Which was exactly what Riki had intended, no doubt. Your houses were neck-and-neck for the cup, and every point mattered in these final weeks.

Retaliation was necessary. And for once, you decided to beat him at his own game.

It took careful planning, timed precisely to the Slytherin Quidditch practice. A specialized color-changing potion in his shampoo (courtesy of a reluctant Slughorn, who thought you were doing "extra credit research"). By dinner, every Slytherin at the table was staring at Riki's violently pink hair and robes.

The best part? The potion was keyed to only activate for clothing in Slytherin colors and hair of his exact shade. No innocent bystanders.

His expression when he realized what had happened was worth the three nights of sleep you'd sacrificed to perfect the potion.

"Well played," he conceded when he cornered you after dinner, his robes still resolutely pink despite numerous attempts to change them back.

You allowed yourself a satisfied smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"This means war, you know." But he didn't sound angry – if anything, he seemed impressed.

"We've been at war since you turned my cauldron into a toad in first year," you reminded him.

"Good times," he sighed nostalgically. "Though I think you're forgetting that I never leave a prank unanswered."

You shrugged. "Do your worst, Nishimura. I'll be ready."

-

You were not, in fact, ready.

Three days later, whispers followed you through the corridors. Students giggled behind their hands as you passed. Even the professors were giving you strange looks.

It wasn't until Luna Lovegood approached you at lunch with her dreamy expression that you discovered why.

"I think it's very brave of you to be so public with your feelings," she said, patting your hand. "Though the singing Valentine might have been a bit much."

"What singing Valentine?" you asked, a sense of dread building.

She blinked owlishly. "The one you sent to Riki Nishimura this morning. With the cherubs and rose petals? It performed in the middle of the entrance hall."

Your blood ran cold. "I didn't send—"

But Luna had already drifted away, leaving you to face the horrified realization that Riki had successfully framed you for sending him the most over-the-top, public declaration of love in Hogwarts history.

The smug look on his face when you found him confirmed everything.

"That was LOW," you growled, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Even for you."

He captured your finger, gently pushing it away. "Just giving the people what they want. Half the school already thinks we're secretly in love, given how obsessed we are with each other."

"We are NOT—" you spluttered, then lowered your voice when you realized people were watching. "We are not obsessed with each other."

"Seven years of elaborate pranks suggests otherwise," he pointed out.

"Seven years of you being an absolute menace," you corrected.

He leaned against the wall, studying you with unexpected seriousness. "You know, anyone else would have reported me to McGonagall years ago. Yet you always retaliate instead. Why is that?"

The question caught you off guard. Why hadn't you ever reported him? It would have been the sensible thing to do.

"Because," you said finally, "that would be admitting you've won."

His slow smile was different from his usual smirk – smaller, more genuine. "And we can't have that, can we?"

"Never," you agreed, finding yourself smiling back despite everything.

The moment stretched, something unspoken passing between you before you broke the spell. "This isn't over, Nishimura. I'm going to make you regret that Valentine stunt."

"Looking forward to it," he called as you walked away.

-

Your opportunity came sooner than expected. You discovered quite by accident that Riki had been working on a modified time-distortion spell – not an actual Time-Turner, but a charm that created the illusion of time passing. His plan, according to the notes you'd "borrowed" from his bag during Potions, was to make you think you'd slept through your Arithmancy N.E.W.T.

Clever, but not clever enough.

You spent a week developing a counter-charm, designed to reflect the spell back on its caster. It was advanced magic, beyond N.E.W.T. level really, but the thought of beating Riki at his own game was too tempting to resist.

The night before the Arithmancy exam, you stayed up late in the library, knowing he'd make his move when you were exhausted and vulnerable. Sure enough, just after midnight, you detected the subtle shimmer of disillusionment as he crept toward your table.

You pretended to be dozing on your textbook, wand concealed but ready beneath the pages.

You felt rather than saw the moment he cast the spell – a strange ripple in the air, the whispered Latin incantation. In one fluid motion, you raised your wand and cast your counter-charm.

"Tempus Reflectum!"

Your spells collided in midair with a sound like shattering glass. Golden light erupted between you, blinding in its intensity. You felt a strange pulling sensation behind your navel, similar to a Portkey but stronger, as if something was yanking you through dimensions rather than mere space.

The last thing you saw was Riki's shocked face, his hand reaching toward you as the magic engulfed you both.

Then darkness.

You woke to sunlight on your face and the unfamiliar sensation of high-thread-count sheets against your skin. Your head pounded viciously, like the aftermath of a poorly brewed Wit-Sharpening Potion. Groggily, you rolled over, burying your face in a pillow that smelled of lavender and something else – a woody, spicy scent that was strangely familiar.

"Five more minutes," you mumbled, pulling blankets over your head.

Wait. These weren't your Gryffindor dormitory blankets.

Your eyes snapped open, heart racing. This wasn't your bed in Gryffindor Tower. The room was unfamiliar - spacious with burgundy accents and photographs you didn't recognize.

Worse, you weren't alone.

A warm weight pressed against your side. You turned your head slowly and froze. Nishimura Riki - your sworn enemy - was asleep next to you, his dark hair tousled, face relaxed in sleep, looking several years older than he should.

"What the—" you started, voice dying as your brain struggled to process the impossible sight before you. This wasn't right. This couldn't be happening.

Riki stirred beside you, mumbling something incoherent. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first. Then he blinked rapidly, confusion washing over his features as he registered the unfamiliar surroundings. When his gaze finally landed on you, he froze.

"Wait..." he said groggily, rubbing his eyes like he might be dreaming. "What's going on?"

You scrambled backward, nearly falling off the bed in your haste. "Why are you— Where are we—" The questions tumbled over each other, none completing themselves.

Riki seemed equally disoriented, looking down at his own body, touching his face. "I feel... different. Older?" His voice was deeper, his shoulders broader. This wasn't the lanky seventeen-year-old who'd been tormenting you yesterday.

"This isn't Hogwarts," you whispered, taking in the room. "This isn't my dormitory. Why are we in a bed? Together?" Your voice rose with each question.

Realization dawned on his face, horror quickly replacing confusion. "No. No way. Tell me this isn't..."

The fog of sleep dissipated completely, replaced by rising panic. "You!" he finally accused, pointing a shaking finger. "What did you do? Where did you bring us?"

"ME?" Indignation cut through your shock. "You think I did this?" You grabbed a pillow and threw it at his head with all your strength. "This is clearly one of your stupid pranks gone wrong!"

"My pranks are never stupid," he shot back automatically, then looked wildly around the room at the photographs, at the clothing visible in the open wardrobe, at the obvious signs of a shared life. "And I definitely wouldn't prank myself into... whatever this nightmare is."

You noticed a wand on the nightstand - your wand, but somehow more worn - and lunged for it. As you did, something gold caught the light. A wedding ring on your finger.

"No," you whispered, staring at your hand. "No, no, no."

Riki noticed his own matching band and went pale. "This isn't possible."

You rushed to the mirror and gasped. Your reflection was you, but older - mid-twenties at least, with different hair and a confidence in your eyes your seventeen-year-old self had never possessed.

"If this is your idea of funny, Nishimura—" you began, whirling back toward him.

"For the last time, this isn't me!" he snapped, running a hand through his hair. "I was trying to prank you with a time-distortion spell, not..." he gestured between you wildly, "whatever nightmare this is!"

"Time-distortion?" Your eyes narrowed. "That spell you were working on in the library! The one I countered with—"

"You countered it?" Riki jumped to his feet. "What did you use? What exactly did you cast?"

"A reflection charm. It was supposed to bounce your stupid prank back at you!"

"You interfered with experimental magic?" He looked genuinely appalled. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you! The walking disaster who once turned the entire Great Hall ceiling into a swamp!"

"That was brilliant spellwork and you know it!"

Your shouting match escalated until you barely noticed the small figure appearing in the doorway. It wasn't until you heard a heartbroken sob that you both fell silent and turned.

A little girl stood there, maybe three years old, with tears streaming down her chubby cheeks. She had Riki's deep, dark eyes—so dark they were almost black—but your nose and mouth. Her black hair fell in messy waves to her shoulders, with a stubborn cowlick at the crown that somehow looked familiar. She wore mismatched pajamas—a Holyhead Harpies top and bottoms covered in tiny golden snitches. She was clutching a well-loved stuffed dragon, its once-vibrant green scales faded from countless hugs.

"Mama, Dada, no fight," she hiccupped, her lower lip trembling so dramatically that your heart clenched in response. "No fight, please."

The raw distress in her voice hit you like a physical blow. This child—your child, somehow—was devastated by your argument. And though your rational mind insisted she was a stranger, something deeper, more instinctive, recognized her as yours.

You caught Riki's expression changing from confusion to concern, his usual smirk melting away completely. His entire body language transformed in an instant—shoulders relaxing, voice softening to a tone you'd never heard him use before.

"Hey, it's okay," he said gently, approaching her with cautious steps and kneeling down to her level. "We're not fighting. We're just... talking loud."

His hand reached out to smooth her hair in a gesture that seemed so natural it startled you. The tenderness in his touch was nothing like the Riki you knew—the prankster, the rival, the perpetual thorn in your side.

"Loud scary," she whimpered, clutching her dragon tighter. Its head was tucked under her chin in a practiced motion of self-comfort. "Suki no like." Her voice broke on the last word, fresh tears spilling down her already damp cheeks.

Something powerful and overwhelming surged through you—a fierce, protective instinct you'd never felt before. Without thinking, you moved toward her, your body acting before your mind could catch up. It felt like gravity—like you physically couldn't stay across the room while she was crying.

You knelt beside Riki, your shoulders almost touching as you both hunched down to her height. "We're sorry we scared you, Suki," you said, your voice coming out gentle and soothing, as if you'd comforted this child a thousand times before.

She looked up at you with those big, tear-filled eyes—Riki's eyes, unmistakably—and something twisted in your chest. Recognition flashed between you, soul-deep, impossible to explain. You'd never met this child before today, but your heart knew her.

Your hand reached out of its own volition to wipe a tear from her soft cheek. The moment your skin touched hers, a rush of emotion flooded through you—love, protectiveness, and a bone-deep certainty that whatever else was happening, this connection was real.

"Dragon scared too," she said solemnly, holding up the stuffed toy. Now that you looked more closely, you noticed the dragon had a tiny Gryffindor scarf around its neck, clearly handknitted. "Puff needs hugs when scared."

"Puff?" you asked softly.

"Short for Puffskein," Riki explained automatically, then looked surprised at his own knowledge. "I think... I gave it to her on her second birthday."

Suki nodded vigorously. "Daddy said... said Puff keeps bad dreams away."

Your eyes met Riki's over her head, a moment of mutual bewilderment passing between you. How could he know that? How could either of you feel such instant recognition of a child you'd just met?

"Well," you said, finding your voice again. "Puff is right. Hugs do help when you're scared."

Suki looked at you hopefully, arms lifting in an unmistakable request. The gesture was so innocent, so trusting, that you couldn't refuse. You gathered her small body against yours, surprised by how naturally she fit in your arms, how right her weight felt. She smelled of baby shampoo and that indefinable sweet scent that seemed to belong only to children.

When she reached one arm out to include Riki in the hug, you watched his face cycle through confusion, hesitation, and then surrender. He moved closer, completing the circle, his arm brushing yours as he embraced both you and Suki.

For one strange, suspended moment, the three of you stayed like that—a tableau of family comfort that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. You caught Riki's eyes over Suki's head, and the confusion in them mirrored your own, but there was something else there too—a vulnerability you'd never seen before.

Suki's small hand patted your cheek. "Better now?" she asked, her tears already drying as children's often do, her resilience astonishing. She looked between you with such hope, such complete faith that her parents could fix anything, that you felt a lump form in your throat.

"Yes," you managed, though nothing was better, nothing made sense. "Much better."

Riki nodded, his voice slightly hoarse when he added, "All better, Suki."

She beamed then, her whole face lighting up with such joy that it physically hurt to look at. Her smile—your smile, undeniably—transformed her tear-stained face. "Suki fixed it," she declared proudly, patting her own chest. "Suki good helper."

"The best helper," Riki agreed, with a sincerity that sounded strange coming from him.

She wiggled out of the embrace, suddenly energized now that the crisis had passed. "Hungry now," she announced, as if the emotional storm had never happened. "Pancakes? With chocolate?"

"And berries," you found yourself adding, the words coming from nowhere. "You need something healthy with all that chocolate."

"Always saying that," Suki said with a dramatic sigh that was so reminiscent of Riki's that you almost laughed despite everything. "Boring."

Riki smothered what might have been a chuckle. "Some things never change," he murmured, so quietly only you could hear.

Suki grabbed both your hands in her small ones, tugging with surprising strength. "Come on! Sara waiting!"

As she mentioned the other child, another voice called out from somewhere down the hall—a younger, less articulate voice that nevertheless commanded attention.

"MAMA! DADA! UP!"

Riki's eyes met yours again, a silent question passing between you. Neither of you had to say it aloud: how could something feel so wrong and so right at the same time? How could these children be strangers and yet feel like they were pieces of your own heart?

Suki tugged more insistently. "Sara awake. She hungry too."

You allowed yourself to be pulled to your feet, noticing as you rose that Riki's hand lingered near your elbow, steadying you as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He snatched it back when he realized what he was doing, but not before you felt the warmth of his touch—so different from the antagonistic shoves and playful jabs you were used to exchanging.

"We should..." he began awkwardly.

"Yeah," you agreed, equally uncomfortable. "The other one—Sara—she sounds..."

"Impatient," Riki finished, a hint of his usual wry humor returning. "Wonder where she gets that from."

"Certainly not from me," you retorted automatically, falling into your familiar pattern of banter before you could stop yourself.

Suki looked up at you both, her dark eyes narrowing with that uncanny perceptiveness again. "No more fighting," she warned, squeezing your hands. "Promise?"

The way she said it—like she was the parent and you were the children—made something catch in your throat. This tiny person somehow had the power to make you feel both chastised and protected.

"Promise," you said softly, and meant it.

"For now," Riki added with a ghost of his usual mischief, but when Suki's eyes narrowed further, he quickly amended, "I mean, yes, I promise too."

Suki nodded, satisfied with your compliance. "Good," she declared. "Now pancakes."

She pulled you both toward the door with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where she was going and expected the rest of the world to follow. And somehow, despite everything—the confusion, the impossibility of the situation, the fact that you were in a strange house with the person you'd spent seven years despising—you found yourself following her lead.

As you passed through the doorway, your arm brushed against Riki's, and instead of flinching away as you normally would, you felt an odd sense of reassurance from the contact. You were both lost here, both confused, but at least you were lost together.

"Temporary truce?" you whispered to him, just low enough that Suki couldn't hear.

"Absolutely," he agreed, his voice equally soft. "But for the record, I still think this is somehow your fault."

"And I'm certain it's yours," you countered, but there was no real heat in it.

Suki glanced back, caught you whispering, and gave you both a look of such knowing approval that you wondered if she'd somehow orchestrated this whole bizarre situation. For a three-year-old, she seemed remarkably in control.

"Come on, slow pokes!" she called, tugging you forward. "Sara waiting!"

The voice from down the hall called again, more insistently this time:

"DADA! UP NOW!"

You followed in stunned silence, wondering what cosmic joke had landed you in a future where you and Nishimura Riki had not only married but created this earnest little peacemaker and her baby sister.

-

After a chaotic breakfast involving Sara wearing more pancake than she ate and Suki demonstrating her surprisingly advanced levitation skills ("No, Suki, we don't float the syrup to the ceiling"), you finally managed to settle the children with enchanted coloring books in the living room.

"We have approximately seven minutes before disaster strikes again," Riki muttered, watching Sara scribble with determined focus. "Let's use them wisely."

"We need to search the house," you whispered. "Find anything that might explain what happened or how to reverse it."

You split up, Riki taking the study while you explored the sitting room. The cottage was larger than it appeared from outside—clearly magically extended—with comfortable, lived-in furnishings that blended wizarding and Muggle styles seamlessly.

The walls were covered with photographs—magical ones that moved and Muggle ones that didn't. They told the story of a life you couldn't remember living: graduation from Hogwarts (standing suspiciously close to Riki), your wedding (looking disgustingly happy), Riki in formal Auror robes receiving some kind of commendation, you in professor's robes surrounded by students.

You paused at a series of photos displaying Suki's early days. There was one of you in a hospital bed, looking exhausted but radiant, cradling a newborn bundle while Riki sat beside you, one arm around your shoulders. The look on his face—pure wonder mixed with what could only be described as adoration—was so unlike any expression you'd ever seen him wear that you had to look away.

"Found something," Riki called softly from the study. "Photo albums. Lots of them."

You joined him, settling on the floor as he spread several leather-bound albums before you. Each was meticulously labeled in what appeared to be your handwriting: "Wedding," "Suki's First Year," "Sara's Birth," "Family Holidays."

"This is surreal," you muttered, opening the one labeled "Sara's Birth."

The images inside showed a progression: you with a rounded belly, Riki's hand resting on it with a proud smile; you in labor, gripping Riki's hand so tightly his fingers were white (that one gave you a small satisfaction); and finally, Riki holding newborn Sara, tears streaming unashamedly down his face while Suki peered curiously at her new sister.

"I look...happy," Riki said quietly, touching the edge of the photo.

"We both do," you admitted reluctantly.

You flipped through more pages, watching your impossible family life unfold. Holidays at what appeared to be his parents' home in Japan. Suki's first steps. Sara's naming ceremony.

"Look at this one," Riki said, pointing to a photo of both of you asleep on a couch, Suki as a baby nestled between you. The image captured pure exhaustion, but also undeniable contentment.

"This can't be real," you whispered, but the evidence was overwhelming. "How did we go from hexing each other to...this?"

Riki closed the album carefully. "More importantly, how do we get back to our time?"

You stood abruptly, pacing the study. "There must be something in this house—your research notes, my lesson plans, anything that might explain the magic that sent us here."

"Or how to reverse it," Riki added, rising to his feet.

"Exactly," you agreed, turning too quickly and colliding with him. His hands automatically steadied you, fingers wrapping around your upper arms.

You jerked away. "Don't touch me, Nishimura," you hissed. "Get your filthy fingers off me. God knows where they've been."

Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, perhaps?—before his usual smirk reappeared. He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't know about God, but judging by these photos, I think I know where you'd like them to be."

Your face burned. "You're disgusting."

"And yet, apparently, you married me," he countered, gesturing to the ring on your finger. "Enthusiastically, from the looks of these albums."

You were about to deliver a scathing retort when a small sniffle from the doorway froze you both. Suki stood there, clutching Puff, her bottom lip wobbling dangerously.

"Mama and Dada fighting again?" she asked, voice trembling.

Pure panic flashed across Riki's face—the same feeling coursing through you. You had exactly two seconds to prevent another meltdown.

Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Riki's waist, plastering what you hoped was a convincing smile on your face.

"Not fighting, sweetheart," you said quickly. "Dada and I were just...playing."

Riki, to his credit, recovered quickly. His arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you close against his side.

"That's right," he agreed, smiling down at Suki. "Mama and I were just being silly."

Suki didn't look entirely convinced. "No more loud voices?"

"No more loud voices," you promised.

She studied you both with those unnervingly perceptive eyes, then nodded slowly. "Okay. Sara made mess. Big mess."

You exchanged an alarmed glance with Riki before hurrying to the living room, where you discovered Sara had somehow gotten hold of a pot of Everlasting Ink. The black liquid covered the toddler, the carpet, and most of a nearby armchair.

"How—" you began.

"I left for one minute!" Suki defended herself. "One minute!"

You bit back a laugh at her indignant tone—so reminiscent of your own when dealing with Riki's pranks—and turned to assess the damage.

"I'll take Sara for a bath," Riki offered, gingerly lifting the ink-covered toddler. "You tackle the furniture?"

You nodded, surprised by how easily you both fell into problem-solving mode. "Suki, can you show me where we keep the cleaning supplies?"

The crisis was half-managed when a bright silver light burst through the window. A tabby cat Patronus landed gracefully on the coffee table, fixing you both with a stern, familiar gaze.

"Mr. Nishimura. Miss L/N ]," came Professor McGonagall's voice from the ethereal cat. "Or should I say, Professor and Auror Nishimura? I am aware of your...temporal predicament. Report to my office at Hogwarts immediately. Without the children, if you please. Eight o'clock this evening. Do try not to destroy anything else in the meantime."

The Patronus dissolved, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.

"She knows," you whispered.

"Of course she does," Riki said, Sara squirming in his arms, leaving ink stains on his shirt. "She's McGonagall."

"But how? And what did she mean 'destroy anything else'?" A thought struck you. "Merlin's beard—what if our spell did more than just send us through time? What if we changed something important?"

Riki frowned. "Or broke something magical."

"The timeline itself, perhaps," you suggested, feeling sick.

"Well," he said, shifting Sara to his other hip, "at least we don't have to figure this out alone now."

You looked around at the chaotic scene—the ink-stained room, the confused children, the evidence of a life neither of you remembered building—and felt a wave of hysterical laughter bubble up.

"What's so funny?" Riki asked, eyebrows raised.

"Just picturing McGonagall's face when we have to explain that this all started because you tried to make me miss an exam."

He opened his mouth to argue, then shook his head with a rueful smile. "We are so getting detention. For a month. Possibly the rest of our lives."

Suki tugged at your hand. "Who was the cat lady?"

You knelt down to her level. "That was Headmistress McGonagall. She's...an old friend."

"The scary one from your stories?" Suki asked, eyes wide. "The one who can turn into a cat?"

"Exactly that one," Riki confirmed.

Suki considered this information solemnly. "She mad at you?"

You exchanged a look with Riki. "Probably," you admitted.

"Definitely," he corrected.

"You need timeout?" Suki asked seriously.

This time, when your eyes met Riki's, you couldn't help it—you both burst out laughing, the tension of the morning finally breaking. Suki looked between you, confused but pleased that her parents were laughing instead of fighting.

"Yes, Suki," you managed when you could speak again. "I think Dada and I are in a very long timeout."

"The longest," Riki agreed, his smile—his real smile, not the smirk you were used to—making something flutter strangely in your chest.

You quickly looked away, focusing on the ink stain. Whatever was happening, whatever McGonagall knew, one thing was certain—you needed to fix this mess and get back where you belonged. Before you started getting used to Riki's genuine smile, or the way Suki's hand felt in yours, or the strange sense of rightness that kept creeping in despite your best efforts to ignore it.

Because this wasn't your life. It couldn't be. No matter what the photographs showed or how natural it sometimes felt.

...Could it?

Meeting with McGonagall had been exactly as intimidating as expected. Even as adults—or at least, in adult bodies—you both found yourselves fidgeting under her stern gaze like first-years caught out after curfew.

"Of all the reckless, irresponsible applications of magic," she'd said, pacing her office while portraits of former headmasters watched with varying degrees of amusement. "A temporal displacement caused by a schoolyard rivalry. Albus would have found this terribly entertaining." Her tone made it clear she did not share this sentiment.

McGonagall had explained, with remarkable patience, that your spell collision had created a rare but not unprecedented magical phenomenon. You had essentially switched places with your future selves—who were now presumably navigating your teenage lives at Hogwarts.

"So does that mean we can go back?" you'd asked hopefully.

Her answer had crushed that hope. "The magic will resolve itself naturally in approximately four weeks. Any attempt to force a reversal could cause irreparable damage to both timelines."

"Four WEEKS?" Riki had choked out.

"Consider it an educational opportunity, Mr. Nishimura," McGonagall had replied, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips. "A chance to see where your choices lead. Perhaps it will inspire better decision-making in your youth."

And with that decidedly unhelpful advice, she'd sent you both back to your cottage and your borrowed life, with instructions to maintain your professional obligations and "try not to destroy the timeline."

Which was how you found yourself standing in front of a classroom of third-year students the next morning, trying to remember anything useful about shield charms beyond the basics you'd learned in fifth year.

"Professor?" A Ravenclaw girl in the front row raised her hand. "You said last week we'd be practicing against minor hexes today."

"Right," you said, stalling. "But first, let's review. Can anyone tell me the three key principles of effective shielding?"

Thank Merlin for eager students. As they rattled off answers, you discreetly consulted the lesson plans you'd found in your desk drawer. Apparently, your future self was exceptionally organized—each lesson meticulously planned with notes on individual students' progress.

Meanwhile, Riki had reluctantly departed for the Ministry, armed with a crash course in current Auror protocols courtesy of a surprisingly helpful portrait of a former Head of Magical Law Enforcement hanging in McGonagall's office.

"Just act important and delegate everything," the portrait had advised with a wink. "Standard procedure for department heads after a vacation."

Department head. Apparently, Riki had risen quickly through Auror ranks to lead a specialized unit focused on magical smuggling and illegal enchantments. Your respect for your future husband's abilities had increased considerably—not that you'd admit it aloud.

The day passed in a blur of classes, staff meetings, and trying not to reveal your temporal displacement to colleagues who clearly knew you well. By evening, you were mentally exhausted but strangely exhilarated. You'd always secretly considered teaching, and discovering that you'd achieved that ambition was oddly satisfying.

Riki returned home via Floo just before dinner, looking shell-shocked but intact. The children greeted him with enthusiasm, Suki launching herself at his legs while Sara babbled excitedly from her high chair.

"How was it?" you asked once the initial chaos subsided.

"Terrifying," he admitted quietly, accepting the cup of tea you offered. "I'm apparently in charge of seventeen Aurors and coordinating with magical law enforcement across Europe. Me. The guy who once transfigured all the Slytherin common room furniture into rubber ducks."

"Well, you always were good at transfiguration," you pointed out, surprising yourself with the compliment.

He looked equally surprised. "Did you just acknowledge one of my skills without adding an insult?"

"Don't get used to it." But you found yourself smiling anyway.

Suki, ever watchful, observed this exchange with obvious approval. "Dada catch bad wizards today?" she asked, climbing onto his lap.

"Sort of," Riki answered, automatically adjusting to accommodate her. "Dada mostly signed papers and pretended to know what he was doing."

"That's what you always say," Suki giggled, clearly accustomed to this joke.

You watched them together, struck again by how naturally Riki had adapted to fatherhood. The boy who'd once charmed your quills to write nothing but love poems about himself was now patiently listening to a toddler's detailed description of her day at magical daycare.

"Miss Penny let me feed the pygmy puffs," Suki was explaining earnestly. "And I didn't even squeeze them too hard this time."

"That's my girl," Riki said, genuine pride in his voice. "Always improving."

Later, after you'd managed bathtime (Sara could apparently generate tsunamis with minimal water) and bedtime stories (Suki insisted on three, with different voices for each character), you and Riki faced the awkward reality of sleeping arrangements.

"I'll take the sofa," he offered, hovering in the bedroom doorway.

"Don't be ridiculous," you said practically. "That sofa is barely long enough for Suki. We're adults. We can share a bed without it being... weird."

Both of you knew this was a lie, but neither acknowledged it.

You established firm boundaries—a pillow wall down the center of the mattress and strict adherence to respective sides. You changed in the bathroom, emerging in pajamas you'd found in a drawer (thankfully modest), while Riki wore sweatpants and a t-shirt that he'd clearly transfigured to be baggier than its original fit.

"Goodnight," you said stiffly, turning your back to the pillow barrier.

"Goodnight," he replied from his side. "Try not to snore."

"I do not snore!"

"How would you know? You're asleep when it happens."

Just like that, you were arguing again—the familiar pattern a strange comfort in this unfamiliar situation.

You must have eventually fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew, you were waking to a small voice and the mattress dipping slightly.

"Mama? Dada? Bad dream."

Suki stood beside the bed in her Holyhead Harpies pajamas, Puff clutched tightly to her chest, eyes wide and frightened in the dim wandlight that automatically illuminated at her distress.

Riki sat up immediately, all traces of sleep vanishing. "What kind of bad dream, Suki-bean?"

The casual endearment slipped out so naturally that neither of you remarked on it.

"Monsters," she whispered dramatically. "In the closet. And under bed. And in curtains."

"That's a lot of monsters," you said, sitting up as well.

"So many," she agreed solemnly. "Need both Mama and Dada."

She was already climbing onto the bed, worming her way directly into the center—right over your carefully constructed pillow barrier. She settled between you, looking from one to the other expectantly.

"Both stay," she insisted. "Both keep monsters away."

Riki met your eyes over her head, silently communicating in that strange way you'd developed over the past few days. You nodded slightly.

"We'll both stay," he promised. "No monsters allowed."

"That's right," you agreed. "Mama and Dada are scarier than any monsters."

Suki considered this, then nodded decisively. "Mama has scary voice when Sara draws on walls."

Riki bit back a laugh. "She certainly does."

You elbowed him lightly, but couldn't help smiling. Suki snuggled down between you, one small hand gripping your pajama top, the other clutching Riki's shirt.

"Night-night," she murmured, already drifting back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that her parents would keep her safe.

You lay awake long after her breathing deepened, acutely aware of Riki doing the same on the other side of your daughter. Your daughter. The thought still sent a jolt through you.

"This is strange, isn't it?" he whispered finally. "How quickly this starts feeling..."

"Normal," you finished when he trailed off. "I know."

"I'm not as terrible at this as I would have expected," he admitted.

"And I'm not hexing you every five minutes, which shows remarkable restraint on my part."

His low chuckle vibrated through the mattress. "Perhaps we've matured. A little."

"Apparently enough to create this," you said softly, gently brushing a strand of hair from Suki's forehead.

"She's pretty amazing, isn't she?" The naked pride in his voice made your throat tighten.

"Both of them are."

Silence fell again, but it was different now—contemplative rather than awkward. Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, the last sensation being Suki's warm weight against your side and, just beyond her, the steady rhythm of Riki's breathing.

-

The next few days established a strange new routine. You taught Defense Against the Dark Arts by day, gradually growing more comfortable as muscle memory and your future self's excellent notes guided you. Your colleagues clearly respected you—Professor Flitwick even mentioned your recent paper on practical defensive applications of Charms work published in Transfiguration Today.

Riki adapted to Auror work with surprising skill, his natural talent for thinking outside conventional boundaries apparently serving him well in investigating magical smuggling operations. He returned home each evening with increasingly fewer looks of panic and more stories of actual accomplishment.

The children attended Little Sorcerers, a magical daycare in Hogsmeade run by a cheerful witch named Penny Clearwater who had apparently been a few years ahead of you at Hogwarts. Suki was in the "Developing Wands" group for magical children showing early signs of ability, while Sara stayed in the "Baby Beasts" room.

Domestic life fell into place with unexpected ease. You discovered household charms you'd never known, apparently perfected by your future self. Riki, much to your surprise, was an excellent cook—another skill his future self had developed.

"My mother always said cooking is just like potions, but with less chance of explosion," he explained one evening as he expertly charmed knives to chop vegetables. "Usually less chance, anyway."

One week into your strange displacement, you were sitting at the kitchen table grading essays while Riki played with the girls in the living room. His patient voice floated through the doorway as he explained, for what must have been the thousandth time, why Sara couldn't ride the toy broomstick Suki had received for her birthday.

"Because she's too little, Suki. Remember when you were her age and tried to ride Uncle Jake's broom? What happened?"

"I falled in rosebushes," Suki recited reluctantly. "And needed ouchie potion."

"Exactly. So Sara needs to wait until she's bigger, just like you did."

You found yourself smiling at the exchange. The Riki you knew from Hogwarts had never shown this kind of patience. But then, you'd never really looked for it either, had you? You'd been so busy competing, bickering, retaliating for pranks, that you'd never considered there might be more to him.

Later that night, after the children were asleep, you found yourself lingering in the study, examining framed certificates and photographs. Your teaching credentials from a specialized Defense mastery program. Riki's Auror certification, with honors. A joint commendation from the Ministry for some collaborative project.

Riki found you there, two mugs of tea in hand. He offered one silently, and you accepted with a nod of thanks.

"Strange to see what we become," he said finally, examining a photo of you both at what appeared to be a Ministry function.

"Not what I expected," you admitted.

"No?"

You gestured around the study. "Look at all this. Professional success. Academic recognition. A home, a family..." You trailed off, not quite able to complete the thought.

Riki did it for you. "Everything we secretly wanted but were too proud to admit?"

You looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, suddenly looking vulnerable in a way the seventeen-year-old Riki never would have allowed. "I never hated you, you know. I was just..."

"Competitive?" you supplied.

"Immature," he corrected with a rueful smile. "And maybe a little intimidated. You always knew exactly what you wanted and how to get it. I just knew what I didn't want—to follow my father into the diplomatic service, to be serious all the time."

"So you became the class clown instead?"

"I became whatever would get a reaction." His honesty surprised you. "Especially from you."

You weren't ready for this conversation—this glimpse beneath the surface of your carefully maintained animosity. So you deflected.

"Well, apparently it worked out for both of us." You gestured to the evidence of your successful careers. "Though I still can't believe I married someone who once enchanted my hair to glow in the dark during exams."

"In my defense, you looked incredible. Like a vengeful goddess."

Despite yourself, you laughed. "I was so furious. I couldn't figure out how to counter it for three days."

"I know." His smile turned reminiscent. "McGonagall finally took pity on you. But not before I got to admire my handiwork for half a week."

The ease between you was new and unsettling. It felt like a betrayal of your properly antagonistic relationship, yet it also felt... right. As if your bodies remembered a friendship—and more—that your minds hadn't yet experienced.

"We should sleep," you said abruptly, uncomfortable with the direction of your thoughts. "Early classes tomorrow."

Riki nodded, the moment broken. "Right. Of course."

You both headed to the bedroom, maintaining the pretense of the pillow barrier even though Suki had demolished it the past three nights in a row, inevitably climbing into your bed with complaints of monsters, bad dreams, or simply "missing Mama and Dada."

But as you lay in the darkness, listening to Riki's breathing slow on the other side of the useless barrier, you couldn't help wondering: If this was your future—a respected career, beautiful children, and an unexpectedly supportive partner—was it really something you wanted to undo?

The thought followed you into dreams where seventeen-year-old Riki laughed as he turned your hair pink, but adult Riki smiled as he helped you wash it out, his fingers gentle against your scalp and his eyes holding something you weren't ready to name.

-

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains as you carefully extracted yourself from the bed, trying not to disturb Riki. Over the past ten days, you'd fallen into an uneasy routine—you rose early to prepare for your classes while he handled the nighttime wake-ups with Sara, who still wasn't sleeping through the night.

Today you had a particularly early staff meeting to review the upcoming O.W.L. practical examinations. You gathered your teaching robes and had just started toward the bathroom when a loud chiming sound filled the room.

A glowing orb materialized above the dresser—something like a remembrall but larger and pulsing with magical energy. You approached it cautiously, poking it with your wand.

The orb expanded, revealing the face of a woman you didn't recognize—though she clearly knew you, judging by her broad smile.

"Fucking finally! I've been trying to reach you since yesterday!" the woman exclaimed. Her curly hair was piled haphazardly atop her head, and she appeared to be wearing pajamas. "Did you get my message about Friday? Because Marcus is taking the kids to his mother's, and I'm desperate for a girls' night."

You froze, desperately trying to place her. This must be a friend of your future self—possibly your best friend, given her casual manner.

"I, um—" you stammered.

"Oh shit, did I wake you? What time is it there?" She squinted, then gasped dramatically. "Is that Riki in bed behind you? Sorry! Although..." her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "since I've got you both, I might as well ask. That thing you mentioned last month? The tongue thing?"

Your face burned as you realized what kind of "thing" she was referring to.

"I tried it with Marcus but I must be doing something wrong because he just looked confused, and honestly, after three kids you'd think I'd have figured out how to keep things interesting," she continued, seemingly oblivious to your discomfort. "But you always seem to have Riki thoroughly fucked—he practically glows every time I see him—so clearly you're doing something right."

You heard a muffled sound from the bed and glanced back to see Riki stirring, his eyes opening with confusion that quickly transformed to interest as he caught snippets of the conversation.

"I mean," your friend continued, lowering her voice even more, "last time we talked, you said it was all about the pattern you use with your tongue and how you have to maintain eye contact the whole time? And something about using a specific angle? I tried but Marcus kept laughing and saying it tickled."

Riki's eyebrows shot up, and he propped himself on his elbows, now fully awake and listening intently.

"And then you mentioned that thing with the ice cube beforehand? Did you mean like directly on his—"

"I REALLY need to go," you interrupted desperately, but your friend was on a roll.

"—because that seemed extreme, but then again, your sex life is legendary. Remember at New Year's when you two disappeared for an hour and came back looking like you'd been mauled by something? And Riki couldn't stop smirking for the rest of the night? Merlin's balls, whatever you did to him must have been spectacular."

At this point, Riki had both hands clamped over his mouth, his entire body shaking with barely contained laughter.

"Anyway," your friend continued, blissfully unaware of the chaos she was causing, "I just need a refresher. When you grip his thighs, is it more about the pressure or the—"

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" you finally shouted, frantically tapping the orb, trying to end the call. "I'M ABOUT TO BE LATE FOR A MEETING!"

"Oh! Sorry!" she said, finally noticing your distress. "But just quickly—that position you mentioned, the one where you—"

"SILENCIO!" you bellowed, finally succeeding in muting her. But the call continued, her lips moving silently as she enthusiastically mimed what appeared to be a particularly athletic maneuver.

Behind you, Riki had lost his battle with composure. He was now howling with laughter, rolling on the bed and clutching his stomach.

"Holy shit," he gasped between fits of hysterical laughter. "Eye contact the whole time? Ice cubes? What the fuck do our future selves get up to?"

You finally located the deactivation rune and jabbed it violently. The orb vanished with a small pop, leaving mortified silence in its wake.

Well, silence except for Riki's continued uncontrollable laughter.

"I will hex you into next week," you threatened, your face burning hot enough to fry an egg.

"The fucking tongue thing!" he wheezed, tears streaming down his face. "And apparently I get 'thoroughly mauled' at New Year's? No wonder future-me always looks so damn pleased with himself!"

"Would you SHUT UP?" you hissed, grabbing a pillow and launching it at his head.

He caught it mid-air, his Quidditch reflexes intact even as he gasped for breath between laughs. "I can't—I can't breathe—"

"Good! Die, then!"

"Aww, don't be embarrassed," he teased, finally regaining some control. "Obviously our future selves enjoy fucking each other. We have two tiny munchkins as proof of that." He gestured toward the nursery with a grin. "Concrete evidence of at least two very successful encounters."

"This isn't funny, you absolute ass!" But your embarrassment was being overtaken by reluctant amusement at the absurdity of the situation.

"It's extremely funny," he countered, sitting up and wiping tears from his eyes. "Your face when she started mimicking that position—"

You launched yourself across the bed, determined to silence him before he could continue. Your hand clamped over his mouth as you landed half on top of him, using your body weight to pin him down.

"Not. Another. Goddamn. Word." You glared down at him, trying to look intimidating despite your undoubtedly bright red face.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, amusement evident even with his mouth covered. But then something shifted in his gaze—the laughter fading into something warmer, more intense. You suddenly became acutely aware of your position: straddling his lap, one hand over his mouth, your faces inches apart.

His breath was warm against your palm. You should move. You should definitely move. But your body seemed frozen, caught in the magnetic pull of his gaze.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from his mouth. The casual strength in his grip sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

"Is this how you keep me thoroughly fucked and satisfied?" he murmured, voice pitched low in a way you'd never heard from seventeen-year-old Riki. "Pinning me down until I submit?"

Your breath caught. The air between you felt charged, crackling with a tension that had nothing to do with your usual animosity.

"I—" Whatever you might have said was lost as a piercing wail erupted from the nursery monitor on the nightstand.

"DAAAAADAAAA!" Sara's voice shattered the moment. "UP! UP NOW!"

Riki closed his eyes briefly, a mixture of frustration and resignation crossing his features. "Fuck. Perfect timing, as always," he muttered.

You scrambled off him, nearly falling in your haste to put distance between your bodies. "I should—shower. Meeting. Early."

Eloquence had apparently abandoned you entirely.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "I'll check on Sara."

"Right. Good. Yes." You edged toward the bathroom, clutching your teaching robes like a shield.

At the door, he paused, throwing you a look over his shoulder. "You know we're going to have to continue this conversation eventually."

"What conversation?" you asked, aiming for innocent and missing by several miles.

His smile was slow and knowing. "The one about all the ways our future selves apparently enjoy fucking each other. And maybe that tongue thing. Seems like valuable information we shouldn't waste."

With that parting shot, he left to tend to Sara, leaving you leaning weakly against the bathroom door, your heart racing and your mind filled with images you had no business imagining.

-

You'd just finished putting Sara down for her nap when the distinct crack of apparition sounded from the front garden. Wand instantly in hand—a reflex from your Defense teaching—you moved cautiously toward the window.

A petite Japanese woman in elegant midnight-blue robes stood at your gate, a large ornate box floating beside her. Her hair was pulled into a sleek knot at the nape of her neck, and though she must have been in her fifties, she had the posture of someone half her age.

"Riki!" you called, recognizing her from the family photos. "Your mother's here!"

There was a crash from the kitchen, followed by a string of muffled curses.

"My WHAT?" he hissed, appearing in the doorway with a look of undisguised panic. "Why? Did you know she was coming?"

"How would I know that?" you whispered back frantically.

"You're the one who's apparently been married to me for years! Don't you have a schedule or something?"

Before you could argue further, an imperious knock sounded at the door. You both froze like guilty first-years caught out after curfew.

Suki, oblivious to your distress, came barreling down the hall. "GRANDMA!" she squealed, reaching for the doorknob before either of you could stop her.

The door swung open to reveal Riki's mother, her stern expression instantly transforming into a warm smile at the sight of her granddaughter.

"Suki!" she exclaimed, setting down her floating package to sweep the child into her arms. "Have you been practicing your Japanese?"

"Hai, Grandma!" Suki replied proudly.

"Good girl." She kissed Suki's forehead before setting her down, then turned her attention to you and Riki, who was hovering awkwardly behind you.

"Darling," she greeted you with unexpected warmth, moving forward to embrace you. "You look tired. Is my son helping enough with the children?" She didn't wait for an answer before turning to Riki. "Riki! Your hair is a mess. Are you still sleeping until noon? You have responsibilities now!"

Without warning, she reached up and slapped the back of his head—a feat requiring her to almost stand on tiptoe, given the height difference.

"Mom!" Riki protested, rubbing his head. "It's good to see you too."

"Is it? When was the last time you visited?" She grabbed his ear and tugged, pulling his head down to her level. "Do I need to remind you of the importance of family?"

You bit your lip, trying desperately not to laugh at the sight of fully-grown Auror Riki being treated like a naughty schoolboy. The look of helpless resignation on his face suggested this was a regular occurrence.

"We've been busy with work, Mom," you intervened, taking pity on him. "Please, come in. Would you like some tea?"

She released Riki's ear and beamed at you. "Always so polite. This one knows how to show respect, Riki. You should learn from your wife."

"Yes, Mom," Riki muttered, rubbing his ear.

"Grandma bring presents?" Suki asked hopefully, eyeing the box that had resumed floating beside her grandmother.

"Just one special delivery today," Hana replied, guiding the box into the living room with a flick of her wand. "For your parents."

You led everyone into the kitchen, where you busied yourself preparing tea. Riki, clearly trying to behave, pulled out a chair for his mother.

"Such good manners," Hana observed with mock surprise. "Did your wife teach you that, too?"

"Mom..." Riki began with a long-suffering sigh.

"I'm teasing, Riki," she said, but slapped his arm anyway. "Mostly."

You placed a teacup in front of her, grateful that your future self apparently knew how she took her tea.

"Now," Hana said after taking a delicate sip, "about the item you asked me to find."

You exchanged a quick glance with Riki, neither of you having any idea what she was referring to.

"I've brought it, just as promised," she continued. "Though why you couldn't have asked for it during your visit last month instead of by owl, I don't understand."

"Work has been... unpredictable," you improvised, hoping it was a plausible excuse.

Hana made a dismissive gesture. "Always work with you two. But I suppose that's why you're both so successful." There was genuine pride in her voice, despite her criticisms.

"Suki," she said, turning to her granddaughter who was attempting to climb onto Riki's lap, "would you show me your new drawings? The ones you told Grandma about in your message?"

Suki nodded eagerly. "In my room! I drawed a dragon eating ice cream!"

"Drew, Baby," Riki corrected automatically.

"That's what I said, Daddy," Suki replied with the confidence of a child who could never be wrong. She took her grandmother's hand and began tugging her toward the stairs.

"I'll just be a few minutes," Hana said, allowing herself to be led away. "Riki, make yourself useful and start dinner. Your wife works all day teaching those hopeless children to defend themselves. The least you can do is feed her properly."

"Yes, Mom," Riki replied with practiced patience.

The moment they disappeared upstairs, he turned to you. "What the hell is going on? What did you apparently ask her for?"

"How should I know?" you whispered back. "Maybe it's in that box she brought?"

You both turned to look at the ornate package still floating in the living room. It was wrapped in deep blue silk with silver constellations that actually twinkled and shifted across the fabric.

"Whatever it is, it's fancy," Riki observed. "And apparently important."

"We can't open it until we know what it is," you said reasonably. "Your mother might expect a specific reaction."

"I haven't seen her this... pleasant... in years," Riki admitted. "Usually there's at least twenty minutes of criticism before she even considers smiling."

"She seems quite fond of me," you couldn't help noting with a slight smirk.

"Of course she is," Riki grumbled. "You're exactly the type of person she wanted me to be—studious, responsible, organized. You probably color-code your lesson plans."

"I do not!" you protested, then caught yourself. "Well, future-me might, but that's beside the point."

Before you could continue, Hana reappeared, sans Suki. "She's showing Sara her drawings now," she explained. "That child could talk for England in the Olympics."

"Wonder where she gets that from," you said, giving Riki a pointed look.

Hana laughed. "Exactly what I was thinking." She moved to the box and gestured for you to join her. "Come, I'll show you what I found. Riki, start the rice. The women are talking."

Riki rolled his eyes but obediently moved to the kitchen, muttering something about "impossible women ganging up on him."

Hana drew you to the far side of the living room, lowering her voice. "I wanted to give this to you privately first," she said, untying the silk wrapping. "So you can decide how to present it to him for your anniversary."

Anniversary? Your heart rate picked up. Exactly how close was this supposedly important date?

The silk fell away, revealing a carved wooden box with the Nishimura family crest inlaid in mother-of-pearl. Hana opened it carefully to reveal a stunning platinum pocket watch nestled in velvet.

"It belonged to his grandfather," she explained, lifting it gently. "Riki adored it as a child. Used to beg to hold it, would sit for hours watching the constellation dial shift with the seasons."

She opened the watch's case, revealing an exquisitely detailed night sky in miniature, with tiny stars that glittered and moved in real-time. The craftsmanship was breathtaking.

"His grandfather promised it to him when he became a man worthy of it," Hana continued, a soft smile playing at her lips. "But he passed before Riki finished Hogwarts."

She pressed the watch into your hands. "When you wrote asking if I still had it—if I would consider letting you give it to him for your fifth anniversary—I admit I cried. You understand my son in ways I never could."

Fifth anniversary. The words echoed in your mind. You and Riki had been married for five years in this timeline.

"I..." you began, genuinely moved by both the gift and the sentiment behind it.

"No need for words," Hana said, patting your hand. "I know you'll present it perfectly. Just promise me you'll take a photograph of his face when he sees it."

"I promise," you said sincerely, carefully returning the watch to its case.

"Good. Now hide it away before he—"

"Before I what?" Riki asked, returning from the kitchen with a dish towel over his shoulder.

Hana moved with surprising speed, snatching the box and thrusting it behind you. "Before you stick your nose where it doesn't belong!" she scolded, reaching up to tug his ear again. "Honestly, Riki, eavesdropping at your age!"

"I wasn't—" he protested, bending awkwardly to accommodate her grip on his ear. "Mom, please!"

"Go back to the kitchen," she commanded. "The rice will burn."

"It's in a spelled pot, it can't burn," he argued.

She released his ear only to slap the back of his head again. "Don't contradict your mother. Go. Shoo."

Riki shot you a pleading look, but you merely shrugged, hiding your amusement poorly. He slouched back to the kitchen, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "traitor."

Once he was out of earshot, Hana handed you the box again. "Hide this somewhere he won't look. Do you have such a place?"

You thought quickly. "My lesson plan cabinet. He'd rather face a Hungarian Horntail than look through teaching materials."

Hana nodded approvingly. "Smart girl. This is why I always said you were too good for him."

"I don't know about that," you said, surprising yourself with the sincerity in your voice.

Hana's expression softened. "Neither does he. That's what makes you perfect together." She straightened her robes briskly. "Now, I should supervise his cooking before he ruins dinner. His father was the same way—brilliant man, hopeless with domestic spells."

As she marched toward the kitchen, you heard her exclaim, "Riki! What are you doing to those poor vegetables? Here, let me show you again..."

You slipped the box into your teaching bag, mind reeling. Five years of marriage. A thoughtful anniversary gift that Riki would apparently treasure. A mother-in-law who clearly adored you and whom you called "Mom" with ease.

This life—this future—kept revealing layers that made it harder and harder to dismiss as a nightmare or a prank gone wrong. Because parts of it, if you were being honest with yourself, didn't feel wrong at all.

They felt alarmingly, confusingly right.

From the kitchen came the sound of Riki's protests, followed by his mother's firm instructions and what sounded like another light slap. Despite everything—your displacement in time, your confusion about your feelings, the lingering embarrassment from this morning's call—you found yourself smiling.

Some things, apparently, never changed. Even in a future where everything else had.

-

Two days after Hana's visit, you were grading essays in the study when the fireplace flared green. Instinctively, you reached for your wand, still not entirely comfortable with the casual magical security of your future home.A man's head appeared in the flames—mid-thirties, with an easy smile and close-cropped hair. "Riki! You home, mate?" he called.

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Thankfully, Riki appeared from the kitchen, and you were surprised to see genuine delight spreading across his face.

"Jake!" He rushed to the fireplace, the dish towel in his hands forgotten. "Merlin, it's good to see you."

The relief in his voice was palpable—this wasn't just recognition of someone from this future timeline, but someone he genuinely knew.

"Good to see me? You saw me three days ago at the office," Jake's floating head laughed. "Listen, just checking about tomorrow night. Seera's been on my case all week about what time you two are arriving."

Riki blinked, momentarily thrown. "Tomorrow night?"

Jake's expression turned exasperated. "The department dinner? Don't tell me you forgot. You RSVPed weeks ago."

"Right. The department dinner," Riki repeated, shooting you a panicked glance.

"Unbelievable," Jake said, but his tone was affectionate rather than annoyed. "I've been reminding you about deadlines since you were nine, and you still forget. Good thing I called. Seera would hex me into next week if you two didn't show—she's been looking forward to catching up with the professor here." He nodded in your direction.

You gave a small wave, noting how Riki seemed to relax into the familiar dynamic with Jake.

"It's just..." Riki began, running a hand through his hair, "with the children and everything—"

"Don't even start," Jake cut him off. "You already arranged for Molly Weasley to watch the girls. You told me yourself last week. Said it was your anniversary gift to yourselves—an evening without sticky fingers and bedtime tantrums."

Your eyes met Riki's, a silent message passing between you. He looked both relieved to be talking to someone from his past and confused by the new information.

"Right," Riki said, recovering his composure. "Sorry, just a long week. What time is it again?"

"Seven for drinks, dinner at eight," Jake replied. "At Theodesia's in Diagon Alley. The private room upstairs." He paused, then added with a knowing smirk, "Formal dress. You know how the boss loves any excuse for everyone to get fancy."

"Great," Riki said with more genuine enthusiasm now. "Looking forward to it."

"You'd better be. Seera's been practicing her speech all week." Jake winked. "She's determined to toast the department's most disgustingly perfect couple on their anniversary milestone."

"Our... right." Riki's hand went back to his hair—a nervous tell you'd noticed over the past weeks. "Wouldn't miss it."

"Excellent! See you both tomorrow, then," Jake said. His head started to withdraw, then popped back. "Oh, and Riki? Wear the blue dress robes. Your wife once told Seera they make your ass look fantastic."

With that parting shot and a laugh, he disappeared, leaving the fireplace ordinary once more.

Riki stared at the empty fireplace for a moment, a complicated mix of emotions crossing his face.

"You know him," you said, not a question but an observation. "From before all this."

"Jake Sim," Riki nodded, sinking onto the sofa beside you. "He lived down the street from us when I was a kid. Seven years older than me, but he always let me tag along when his friends played Quidditch. Taught me how to fly, actually." His voice softened with fondness. "Kind of the big brother I never had."

"That must be nice," you said carefully. "Having someone familiar in all this strangeness."

"It is," he admitted. "Weird to see him so much older, though." He glanced at you. "Apparently he works in the Auror department with me. That explains a lot—he always said he wanted to be an Auror."

"So," you said, returning to practicalities, "department dinner tomorrow."

"Apparently." Riki looked less panicked now, almost reassured by the connection to his past. "Formal. With at least one person I actually know."

"And a toast to our anniversary." You groaned. "Perfect."

"Let me check the details," Riki said, summoning his work organizer from his bag and flipping through to tomorrow's date. "Here it is. 'Annual Auror Division Recognition Dinner. Special achievement acknowledgments.' And in smaller writing: 'Jake and Seera Sim confirmed, Table 3.'"

"Recognition dinner? Is your future self getting an award or something?"

"I have no idea." Riki looked genuinely alarmed by the possibility. "I'm still trying to figure out where to find case files in my office."

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache forming. "So now we have to attend a formal dinner with people who know us—our future selves—well enough to comment on how your ass looks in dress robes, make anniversary toasts, and possibly present you with some kind of award."

"Don't forget we apparently arranged childcare with Molly Weasley," Riki added. "Whom neither of us has spoken to in this timeline."

"Shit." You dropped your head into your hands. "This is getting more complicated by the day."

Riki was quiet for a moment, then said thoughtfully, "Maybe we should look at this as an opportunity."

You raised your head. "An opportunity for what? Public humiliation?"

"Information gathering," he corrected, looking more confident than he had in days. "Jake knows me—the real me. And he obviously knows our future selves well too. He might be able to help us understand how we ended up... here." He gestured vaguely between you. "Plus, if this is some kind of work event, I might learn more about what my job actually entails."

He had a point. And if you were honest with yourself, you were a bit curious about your social circle in this future life—especially this childhood friend who had clearly remained important to Riki into adulthood.

"Fine," you conceded. "But we need a strategy. Signals if one of us is getting into conversational quicksand."

"I'll step on your foot if you start heading into dangerous territory," Riki suggested.

"And I'll spill my drink on you if you do the same."

"Seems fair," he agreed, then glanced at the clock. "Should we... call Molly? Confirm the childcare arrangement?"

"As much as I'm dreading it, probably," you admitted. "We also need to figure out what to wear to this thing."

Riki stood up. "I'll check the wardrobe for the allegedly ass-flattering blue robes. You handle Molly."

"Why do I get the hard job?" you protested.

"Because she already loves you, Professor," he said with a grin. "Everyone does, apparently."

You threw a quill at him, which he dodged easily as he headed upstairs.

After an awkward but ultimately successful Floo call to Molly Weasley—who indeed seemed already aware of your childcare needs and waved off your attempts to confirm details with a cheerful "Of course, dear, just bring them over before six like usual"—you headed upstairs to assess your own formal wear options.

The master bedroom closet revealed an impressive collection of teaching robes interspersed with more formal attire. Near the back, you found several elegant dress robes and gowns that your seventeen-year-old self would never have imagined owning.

You were examining a particularly stunning deep green gown when Riki emerged from the bathroom, holding up a set of formal midnight-blue dress robes with silver embroidery along the cuffs and collar.

"Found them," he announced. "Think these are the ones that make my ass look fantastic?"

"I wouldn't know," you said primly. "I've never made a habit of assessing that particular feature."

"Liar," he said with a smirk. "I've caught you looking."

"I have not—" you began, then stopped at his triumphant expression. "You're just trying to get a rise out of me!"

"And succeeding." He grinned, then nodded at the green gown in your hands. "That one. It's phenomenal."

You glanced down at the gown, surprised by his comment. "You think?"

"I know." His voice had lost its teasing edge. "You wore something similar to the Yule Ball in fourth year. I remembered thinking..." He trailed off, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

"Thinking what?" you prompted, curious despite yourself.

"Nothing important." He focused intently on his dress robes, inspecting them for non-existent lint. "Just that you looked... nice."

The admission hung in the air between you, unexpectedly weighty. You'd gone to the Yule Ball with a Ravenclaw boy whose name you barely remembered now. You hadn't even realized Riki had noticed you that night.

"Well," you said, trying to sound casual, "I suppose this will do, then."

"We should probably practice," Riki said abruptly.

"Practice what?"

"Acting like... you know. A couple." His cheeks had colored slightly. "If these people know us well, they'll expect certain behaviors. Interactions."

"Like what?" You weren't sure if the flutter in your stomach was anxiety or something else.

"I don't know, exactly. But probably more than the awkward distance we've been maintaining." He gestured between you. "People who've been married for five years don't flinch when they accidentally brush hands passing the salt."

He had a point, loath as you were to admit it. Your attempts at playing happy couple in front of the children were unconvincing enough; fooling adults who knew you well would be even harder.

"What did you have in mind?" you asked cautiously.

"Just... getting more comfortable. Small things." He stepped closer, tentatively reaching for your hand. "May I?"

Your heart stuttered as you nodded, allowing him to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm, slightly calloused—Auror training, perhaps, or years of Quidditch.

"See? Not so terrible." His voice had dropped to a lower register that sent an unexpected shiver through you.

"I suppose not," you managed.

He took another half step closer. "At an event like this, I might... put my arm around you." Slowly, telegraphing his movements, he released your hand and slid his arm around your waist.

You tensed briefly, then made yourself relax into the contact. It felt strange—Nishimura Riki touching you without it being part of some prank or competition—but not unpleasant.

"And you might lean into me a little," he suggested. "Like it's natural."

Hesitantly, you shifted your weight, allowing your body to rest slightly against his. He was solid, warm, his familiar scent—sandalwood and something uniquely him—enveloping you.

"Better," he murmured. "Almost convincing."

You looked up, intending to make some sarcastic remark, but the words died in your throat. His face was much closer than you'd realized, his dark eyes studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

"People might expect us to..." he began, then paused. "That is, married couples usually..."

"Usually what?" you whispered, though you knew perfectly well what he meant.

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes. "Dance," he finished, stepping back abruptly and breaking the moment. "We should practice dancing. For tomorrow."

"Right," you said, ignoring the confusing pang of disappointment. "Dancing. Good idea."

"I'll, um, let you finish looking through your options," he said, backing toward the door with his blue robes still clutched in one hand. "Need to check on the girls anyway."

He disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone with a racing heart and the lingering sensation of his arm around your waist.

You turned back to the closet, fingers brushing against the green fabric of the gown. A formal dinner with colleagues who knew your future selves intimately. An anniversary toast. And Riki in robes specifically noted for how well they fit him.

Tomorrow night promised to be interesting, to say the least.

part 2

TL: @ziiao @seonhoon @beariegyu @somuchdard @ddolleri @zzhengyu @annybah @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3 @jakewonist @azzy02 @addictedtohobi @cherrybeomm @urmomdotcom5678 @jaeyunsbimbo @yongbokified @changbinniescurlyhair @en-whims

[leechqnsgirl]

ᓚᘏᗢ your lips, my lips, apocalypse

notes: based off of this ask | can be read as a part 2 to this

-- niki comes home drunk one night. drunk and desperately horny. or in other words, your first time making him cry out for you.

18+ | niki x fem!reader | wc: 1.7k | smut, mini fluff/crack at the end | masterlist

warnings: language, jake makes a small appearance, niki's drunk and kinda subby??, kissing/making out, use of good boy, piv, overstimulation

****

your boyfriend was out with his friends the whole day.

he had let you know a few days earlier about the planned celebration that they would be having. so when the day came, you didn't mind his absence.

but you couldn't help but get a bit worried. it was nearly eleven pm and he still wasn't home.

you shot him a text.

no response.

was his phone dead? did he not have it on him? you had no idea.

you had just finished your night routine, sitting down on the couch with some snacks to watch a movie as you waited for niki.

twenty minutes into the movie you heard harsh knocks at your door.

"what the hell?" you muttered, standing up to peek through your peephole.

it was niki. and he was...hanging off of jake's shoulders?

you opened the door and jake was just about ready to throw niki at you.

"god, take him." he huffed out.

you giggled as you pulled niki into your apartment by his jacket.

"good luck, he's a mess. all fucking night we've had to hear about how much he misses you and shit." jake rolled his eyes, "never allow him to drink freely again. please." jake pleaded with the most tired expression and tone one could have.

you nodded, "okay...let me get him inside."

after you locked the door, and niki was practically falling over trying to get his shoes off, you took him over to the bathroom.

"okay, honey, take a shower and i'll be right outside waiting for you."

he was sitting on the toilet seat, staring at you as you placed his clean clothes on the sink for him to wear after his shower. he groaned and shook his head.

"c'mere." he said in a quiet voice.

you made your way over until you were standing right in front of him.

he pulled you into him for a hug, his hands wrapped tightly around your back as his face was resting right in your chest.

he breathed out contently. you brought a hand over to rest on his head.

you felt flustered, a bit shy even. your boyfriend wasn't usually this clingy or affectionate. he preferred to show his love for you in other ways.

you felt him press a kiss against you through your thin sleep shirt, "mm...I missed you." you smiled to yourself, one hand still in his hair and the other rubbed circles on his back.

"I missed how you care for me.." he turned his head, so now his cheek was resting on your chest instead of his forehead.

when you looked down at him, you could see his eyes were glossed over. he seemed like he was silently pleading for something.

"what's wrong?" you asked, the hand that was in his hair traveled down to his jaw, pulling his face away from you.

his eyes were everywhere but looking at yours.

"riki..." you urged gently. soon enough his eyes met yours. he sighed through his nose softly.

"I..." you knew he was drunk, so you gave him his time to speak. "ineedyoureallybad." he hastily whispered in one breath.

you chuckled, "niki, what?"

he dropped his head, rubbing his face with his hands. "I didn't just, like, miss you. okay? i-i missed you."

you hummed, understanding what he meant now.

"so..you're horny is what you're trying to say..?" he nodded his head.

"can we go to your room?"

--

he gave you no chance to breathe once you made it to the room, he pushed you down onto the bed and went straight for your lips.

he took one of your hands, still kissing you, and brought it down to the front of his jeans.

he wanted you to feel what you do to him.

he broke away for just a second, eyes darting all across your face, "fuck, I can't wait." he gave you one more kiss before pushing back to take off his clothes.

fully naked, he moves to your body now, taking off your clothes. starting with your shirt, slowly at first before getting impatient and eventually tugging down your pants and panties.

he ducks his head down to your tits, sucking on one while his hand gropes and tweaks the other.

you moaned out, arching your back. he switched his mouth to the other side, you put one hand into his hair, tugging at it.

soon enough he pulls away, dragging a hand down to your cunt.

he rubs your clit gently at first, his hand shaking a bit.

he puts that hand on your thigh now, muttering something under his breath.

"w-what?" you asked breathlessly.

"said I needa taste you, sweetie." he brought his head between your legs, both arms hooked around your thighs.

he wastes no time, sucking your clit harshly. your hand, yet again, finds its way to his hair. moaning when you would occasionally pull his hair.

"f-fuck, niki, hold on-" he cut you off by sticking two fingers into your pussy.

"mm, no." he said quickly, going back to making out with your cunt.

you could feel your orgasm building up, but you didn't want to cum. not yet, at least.

"fuck! niki, baby, please," he finally lifted his head, meeting your heavy eyes.

wordlessly, he stood on his knees, lining himself up with your hole.

he had one hand beside your head, and one on his cock, leaning down to whisper into your ear, "all day..." he pushed his tip into you.

"the whole time i'm out with the boys, I couldn't stop thinking about your sweet fucking pussy, baby." he was halfway in now.

"popped a fucking boner in the middle of the bar 'cause of you." he groaned when he bottomed out, "y-you know how I am, don't you? you know I can't last a few fucking hours without my girl." your nails dug into his back.

he trailed rough kisses on your neck when he started thrusting into you.

"t-tried to rub one out in the bathroom...but it didn't work. I felt like a fucking horny virgin, getting hard at the thought of my pretty girlfriend."

his words only egged you on, feeling yourself get closer. he started moaning, knowing he wouldn't last too long either.

he pulled out of you for a second, rubbing his tip against your clit. "w-why'd you stop?" he didn't answer you right away, catching his breath.

"can you ride me? fuck baby, please, i-i can't stop thinking about last time."

as soon as he said that, all the pieces connected in your head.

every time the two of you have had sex from that moment on, it always seemed like he wanted to ask something of you. like he was holding something back.

now you know what it is. and now you know that your boyfriend only has the confidence, or willingness, to tell you when he's drunk out of his mind.

you quickly switched position, sliding back down onto him now.

niki threw his head back, moaning loudly. it was like he didn't care anymore. and god, did you love that.

his hands were gripping your waist as you fell down and came back up on him.

continuing, you never let up, it wasn't until you felt a twitch in his legs that you knew he was getting close.

"I'm so close, so close." he whined out. "yeah? come on, baby, I'm c-close, too.” you moaned, pressing your lips against his.

even in the kiss he was whimpering and moaning.

who knew that niki, who's always so composed, would only need alcohol and your tight cunt around him to be so loose.

you did your best to move your hips faster, feeling like you're seconds away from your climax.

he gave your ass a light spank, groping the area of it afterwards. felt yourself cum, relief washing over your whole body as your hips came to a slow stop.

niki came at the same time you did, his orgasm hitting him hard.

you were about to move off of him when he suddenly held you down by your hips.

"j-just a little more, o-okay?" he sounded like he was convincing himself more than you.

you furrowed your brows, "baby, you don't wanna at least take a break?" he shook his head, "p-please?" he stuttered out, "you just feel too good baby," he raises your hips up a bit now, thrusting upwards.

you gasp, you didn't actually think he would start again.

he's moaning the whole time, loudly too.

you still couldn't believe that this was your boyfriend, your niki. he never showed himself to you like this.

barely a few minutes passed when he dug his face into your neck, spewing out nonsense into your ears. half of it you're hearing and the other half you can't hear over the pleasurable pain of your own overstimulation.

"fuck, you're so warm baby. I can't," he nearly sobbed out. "I love you, s-so much, f-fuck!" he groaned, his hands having a bruising and unmoving grip on your hips.

your heart warmed, "oh, baby, I love you too." your nails were running up and down his back, "are you gonna cum now? hm? you wanna be my good boy and cum?"

and that's what made him shoot his sticky load right inside you, both of you moaning and whimpering at the feeling of your second climax.

he dropped on his back, pulling you down to lay atop him.

--

it was niki's alarm that woke him up.

he reached for his phone to turn it off and put his head back on the pillow, he threw an arm at the opposite side of the bed, seemingly searching for the warmth of your body.

but, you weren't there?

he opened his eyes a bit, scratching his head as he sat up.

"y/n?" he called out, voice still deep with sleep.

you walked back into the room, a glass of water in your hand.

"morning, ki." you said quietly, unsure how bad his hangover headache is. "come on, be a good boy and drink up, okay?" you said, biting back a smile.

he looked at you confused at first, before he widened his eyes. "shut up." he grumbled, covering his face. but that did nothing for him as you could see the tips of his ears turn a shade of red.

"come on! take a joke." you laughed, pushing his shoulder lightly before placing a kiss to the crown of his head. 

[shyoko]

✧Too late. She moans my name now ✦༺⊹

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. 𓂃

✦ 1.2K words * Masterlist˚ Taglist₊‧ ✦𓂃 

Ni-ki x fem!reader ⚠️ CW: +18, jealousy, possessiveness, rough intimacy, dirty talk, choking, oral (m receiving), spanking, marking, phone call humiliation, creampie, breeding kink, emotional tension.

He wouldn’t touch you. Not after all the fights. So you begged. Now he’s fucking you hard enough to make your ex hear every moan.

The room was silent. Only the dim glow of the bedside lamp lit the outline of his body, naked on the bed, giving you a perfect view of every tense muscle, every shadow that defined his broad back and narrow waist. Ni-ki hadn’t looked at you once since he entered the room. He hadn’t spoken to you. Hadn’t touched you. Nothing. And you couldn’t take it anymore.

Days without a single fucking touch. No affection. No kiss. Just arguments, shouting in the middle of the night, doors slammed shut… all because of your stupid ex who kept calling like he still had a claim on you. And you, with that naive sense of calm, had tried to de-escalate. Had tried to explain to Ni-ki that the other guy meant nothing, that he wasn’t part of your life anymore. But Ni-ki couldn’t stand it. And you couldn’t stand the silence either.

You walked slowly to the bed. He still had his back to you. The silence between you felt like concrete. “Ni-ki…” you whispered, but he didn’t answer. You moved closer, reaching out, your fingers barely grazing his skin.

He turned around sharply, his eyes burning with restrained rage. “Don’t start. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to fight anymore.”“I’m not here to fight…” you whispered softly, almost trembling. “I came to say I’m sorry.”

Ni-ki closed his eyes tightly, like your words only made things worse. He turned away from you again. “Do you really think a damn ‘sorry’ is going to erase what you defended? What you excused?”You bit your lip. Pride hurt, but your need for him hurt more. “I just want to be with you… I just want you to look at me like before.”

You moved in from behind, wrapped your arms around his waist. He tried to push you off with one hand, sighing heavily. “No. Don’t touch me right now.”“Then tell me you don’t love me anymore,” you murmured, kissing his shoulder blade. “Say it, and I’ll leave.”

Silence. His jaw tightened. “Don’t provoke me.” His voice was low, tense, dangerous.

But you kept kissing him, lower, softer. Your lips drifted to his neck, and his breathing hitched. His hand caught your arm, this time tighter—but not to push you away. He held on. “What if I just want you to hold me…? What if I just want to prove I belong to you?”

That broke him.

Ni-ki turned abruptly, grabbing your wrists and pushing you down on the bed. His eyes were full of anger, yes, but also the desperate kind of need he tried to hide. His lips crashed into yours—brutal, messy, hungry. He kissed you like he hated how much he wanted you, his hands trailing over your body like he needed to make sure you were still there, still his.

His lips devoured you. Nothing soft. Nothing sweet. Just raw frustration. He bit, sucked, held you down with a grip he only used when control slipped through his fingers. His hips pressed against yours, and his tongue forced its way between your lips, like he needed to erase any trace of someone else.

He yanked your underwear off without hesitation. The fabric didn’t stand a chance before it hit the floor. You were left wearing only his oversized t-shirt—too big, too his—and that seemed to set him off even more. “Look at you…” he growled against your neck. “My shirt. My bed. But you’re still acting like you’re not completely mine.”

His fingers slammed into you, two at once, fast, deep, impatient. He fucked you with them hard, hitting that spot inside that made your whole body shake. “You’re so fucking wet… and I’m the one who’s supposed to be angry?” he scoffed, his tone mocking. “Pathetic.”

You moaned beneath him, clinging to his neck as he gave you no space to breathe. His mouth dropped to your chest and bit down through the shirt, leaving a harsh, burning mark.

“Don’t pull away,” he growled when you squirmed. “Don’t you dare tell me to stop. Not tonight.”

Your mind was gone. Your body was melting. Your thighs trembled, your pussy pulsed violently around his fingers. Suddenly, he lifted you with ease and dropped you to your knees in front of him. His erection strained against his pants, bulging, ready to snap. Ni-ki pulled them down, and his cock sprang free, hard and heavy, the tip flushed and dripping.

“Do what you’re good at,” he muttered coldly. “Have your fun. Like it’s the last fucking time.”

He gripped your hair and forced you to look up at him. You didn’t speak. You just opened your mouth and took him in. The taste, the heat, the weight of him—he filled your mouth and your senses all at once. “That’s it…” he groaned through clenched teeth. “My pretty little slut.”

He fucked your mouth without mercy. Each thrust deeper, faster, pushing past your limit. Tears streamed from your eyes, saliva coated your chin, and still, he didn’t stop. His hands were tight in your hair, guiding you like a toy.

Then your phone rang again. The name on the screen: your ex.

Ni-ki froze. He pulled out of your mouth, a thick string of spit trailing. He grabbed the phone, glared at it, and answered.

“Listen, asshole,” his voice was sharp as a blade. “Call again and I’ll break your face. She’s not yours. Never was. She’s on her knees for me, swallowing it like she fucking needs it. And now you’re gonna hear exactly what it’s like to be irrelevant.”

He tossed the phone on the bed—still connected. He shoved you onto the mattress and flipped you over, pulling your hips up roughly. No warning. No pause. He slammed his cock inside you with one brutal thrust.

You screamed, your voice tangled in spit and moans and heat. He started moving fast, punishing, every thrust deeper than the last, smacking into you like he was trying to make a point. “This what you wanted, huh?” he grunted in your ear. “You want him to hear how fucking needy you get for me? Let him know this pussy only gets wet for me.”

A harsh slap landed on your ass. Then another. Your skin stung, your walls clenched. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to leave you breathless as he kept pounding into you.

“You’re mine,” he hissed against your back. “Mine. And I’m gonna fill you so deep you won’t be able to hide it.”

The phone was still on. Still active. Moans, cries, his name over and over. Then, finally, the line cut off.

Ni-ki smirked darkly. “Coward,” he murmured. “He knows he lost.”

He leaned over you, biting your shoulder, his hips snapping into yours with more power, more fire.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his voice ragged. “And I’m giving it all to you.”

He spilled inside you with a guttural groan, shaking as he emptied himself deep. He didn’t pull out. Just stayed there, catching his breath on your back.

“Don’t take it out,” he ordered, breathless and rough. “I want it to stay in. I want you dripping with me so everyone knows what happens when someone tries to take what’s mine.”

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, his lips brushing your ear with a final, vicious whisper:

“I’m gonna put a baby in you, princess. So that fucker finally gets it—you’re mine. Only mine. Fuck.”

✦N/a: Hiii, I hope you all liked it a lot! I love you so much, my loves!

✦Taglist: @lezleeferguson-120 @nuki-riki @ijustwannareadstuff20 @vvenusoncasual @miellette @enhacolor @xxkatsusjinsux @somieverse @ourshin @han-to-my-minho @douqhnxtss @nuggets4lifers @mitmit01 @highway-143

[enhani-ki]

fuckboy!ni-ki x reader

warnings : smut, nsfw, cursing, mentions of killing, etc.

read part two

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki likes to lie and waste time.

a game player, smooth talker, and a liar when it suited him.

ni-ki knew exactly what to say to get what he wanted. he'd tell a girl she was the only one, that she was special, that he couldn't stop thinking about her, only to turn around and send the same message to someone else.

when he got what he wanted? he gets bored.

it was always the same: a few weeks, maybe a month if they were lucky, then he'd just start pulling away. no more sweet words, no more playful texts, it's dry responses and distance until they finally took the hint.

girls will cry, get angry, some even tried to plot revenge... but ni-ki? he never felt guilty.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki doesn't believe in love.

he won't date and won't do relationships. he wasn't interested doing those late-night calls or good-morning texts, and the thought of commitment made him want to laugh.

he just likes a little flirting, a little fun, love songs, fucking then moving on before things got too serious.

they liked the chase, thinking they could be the one to change him, and the idea of being the exception.

but there are no exceptions. he'd rather catch a body than catch feelings for somebody he barely knows.

ni-ki was always clear about what he wanted, even if they refused to believe him.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki was impatient.

he's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and tight jaw. his fuck buddy is late and he hates waiting. it's not his style to sit around for anyone.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. then, he spotted a familiar silhouette approaching.

finally.

and without hesitation, he reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into the shadows.

"you took your sweet time." he muttered, his lips already brushing against your ear. "i should make you pay for making me wait, don't you think?" then ni-ki started talking dirty.

your body stiffened in his grasp.

ni-ki smirked. he loves it when someone gets shy because of him but something was off.

there's no giggle or eager hands slipping on his body... only silence.

ni-ki pulled back, his eyes locked on your wide, terrified eyes.

you're a face he had never seen before.

"who the fuck are you?!" he blurted out.

"i- i'm sorry!" you stammered, breathing heavily in shock.

ni-ki's mouth opened to say something but before he could, you ran away, you ran so fast that your belongings spilled onto the floor in your rush to escape.

ni-ki cursed under his breath, running a hand down his face.

fuck.

not only he's not gonna have sex but he also accidentally just harassed a complete stranger.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki got mad, completely ghosting and blocked his fuck buddy's number.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki wasn't the type to dwell on things. if he ever made a mistake, he moved on. he's that simple.

but what happened with you? that bothered him.

maybe it was the way your eyes looked at him, it was pure fear, like he was some kind of monster... or maybe it was because he had never been the kind of guy to force himself onto someone.

he's cocky, sure. shameless, absolutely. but he never needed to resort to shit like that and now, he just left a random girl traumatized.

great.

ni-ki took your abandoned things from his bag, staring at them in irritation. he could've just tossed this somewhere and let you deal with it but it's the least he could do, right?

he looked for you everywhere and when he finally spotted you walking down the hall, he didn't hesitate to approach.

"hey."

your body stiffened instantly when you saw him, you gulped and turned, ready to leave.

ni-ki rolled his eyes and reached out, catching your wrist before you could escape. "relax," he sighed. "i'm just here to give you these…"

you hesitated but quickly grabbed your things and muttered, "thanks."

he let go but he's also expecting you to run again and he's not letting you off easily.

his fingers wrapped around your wrist again, "i'm not done..." he said. "why are you in such a hurry?"

"i gotta go…"

"oh, really?" ni-ki scoffed but released his grip. "fine. look, i'm sorry about earlier. i thought you were someone else."

"your girlfriend?"

ni-ki chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "no, i don't do girlfriends." he teased but it wasn't meant to joke or seduce. "you forgive me?"

you smiled slightly before nodding but then you tilted your head, curious. "...but why would you say something like that to someone who isn't your girlfriend?"

he smirked and leaned in again, so close you could smell his cologne.

"mind your own business, won't you?" he said and walked away.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki found you at his playground.

parties were all the same. loud music, flashing lights, people pressed up against each other like they forgot what personal space was.

ni-ki was used to it, it's his playground.

he's sitting with his friends. there's a smirk on his face while some girl clung to his arm, twirling her hair and giggling at everything he said even though he wasn't even trying to be funny.

"so, ni-ki..." she purred, leaning in close, "when are we getting out of here?"

ni-ki exhaled, he's not in the mood yet and he's ready to give a half-assed answer until his eyes flickered to the entrance where you walked in.

"huh."

you walked in, looking... insanely good wearing a dress that hugged all the right places that it made ni-ki's fuck boy brain short-circuit for a second.

the girl beside him was still talking but he wasn't listening anymore, his interest became completely derailed.

"wait here..." ni-ki muttered, removing the girl's arms off of him without another word.

she sputtered in protest but ni-ki was already gone, slipping through the crowd, with eyes locked on you.

he "accidentally" bumped into you, almost knocking you off balance then his hands instinctively gripped your waist to steady you.

"wow… you're-"

you covered yourself quickly, you crossed your arms over your chest and sent him a glare before he could even think about finishing that sentence

"what do you want?" you asked, unimpressed.

he blinked, momentarily thrown off.

"nothing." he recovered quickly, slipping his hands into his pockets.

you sighed. "have you seen my friend, f/n?"

ni-ki shook his head. "i have no idea who that is," he replied, then quickly added, "i'll help you look."

his hand landed on your shoulder but you instantly shrugged it. ni-ki scoffed at your unfriendly action, "seriously?" he asked, rolling his eyes but followed anyway, trailing beside you like he's trying to find his friend too.

his eyes kept drifting back to you. the way your hips swayed slightly as you walked, the way your hair swung when you turned your head... it was so distracting and ni-ki found himself grinning.

he was enjoying himself, honestly and he wasn't even gonna try to flirt anymore, he was just already thrilled to be by your side.

you stopped in a less crowded part of the house, scanning the room then you were pulling at your dress subtly, adjusting the hem like you're clearly uncomfortable.

ni-ki clicked his tongue "w- why are you wearing that if you're uncomfortable?"

you turned to him sharply, eyes narrowing. "why do you care?!"

"why are you so mad at me?"

"'cause i don't know what you're trying to do."

"i'm not trying do do anything to you!"

you glared at him again, adjusting your dress.

"tch." ni-ki removed his jacket and threw it at your face.

"what the hell-"

ni-ki rolled his eyes, already regretting being nice. "wear that, idiot."

you hesitated.

he sighed and turned away, "do whatever you want."

you slipped the jacket over your shoulders then ni-ki peeked at you from the corner of his eyes where he saw you practically drowning in his jacket. you looked so tiny in it, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling.

you finally spotted your friend near the drinks table, "f/n!" you called out, relieved.

your friend turned with a smile then her eyes immediately widened when she saw who was standing beside you.

"oh. my. God." she gasped, barely even acknowledging you because she's looking at ni-ki.

ni-ki smirked at her reaction, clearly used to it. "hi. what's up?"

you friend actually looked starstruck for a second before shaking herself out of it.

"why are you with him?" she whisper-yelled at you, leaning in like you just brought home a stray cat but the dangerous kind.

"he just helped me find you." you replied and without another word, you grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the exit.

"bye, ni-ki!" your friend waved at him.

ni-ki chuckled, grinning while watching the two of you rush off.

as soon as you and your friend stepped outside, she immediately started her interrogation with gleaming eyes.

"okay," she breathed, grabbing your shoulders. "do you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?!"

you groaned. "it's not what you think!"

she gasped, dramatically covering her mouth. "wait… did you do it?"

you blinked. "what do you mean by it?"

she wiggled her eyebrows and giggled, playfully slapping your arm. "you know what I mean~"

you eyes widened in disgust. "i would never do it with anyone!"

she laughed as you pushed her lightly, still giggling like a schoolgirl.

"okay, okay, i believe you..." she teased. "but still, damn. ni-ki even gave you his jacket?"

she said, snatching the sleeve of the jacket and sniffed it.

you grabbed it back.

she gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "it smells expensive… sexy, actually."

you gave her a disgusted look again and tightened the jacket around you, trying to ignore the fact that, yeah, it did smell good.

"don't get so weird about this." you warned.

she only laughed, linking her arm through yours. "now tell me more about you and ni-ki."

"there is no me and ni-ki!"

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki suddenly wants to prove that he wasn't actually the asshole you thought he was but ended messing it up.

he told himself it was over. he gave back your stuff, apologized (which, honestly, he never did for anyone), even gave you his jacket, and that should've been the end of it.

he tried not to be pushy 'cause he knew better now, but he still found ways to be around you. if he saw you at school, he'd just give a casual nod. if you were in the cafeteria, he'd sit nearby, pretending it was a coincidence. and if you caught him looking, you'd glare and he would quickly look away.

he was used to people chasing him, used to girls who always wants something from him, not someone who wanted nothing to do with him. and when you made it clear, he said "you really think the worst of me, huh?"

you crossed your arms. "can you blame me?"

ni-ki huffed a laugh. "i don't even do shit to you."

but then, you might just be playing hard to get, right?

he smirked, grabbing your phone and held it high.

"ni-ki, i swear- give it back!"

you jumped, reaching for it, but he was way taller. he tilted his head, watching you struggle, and then...

fuck it.

because he's ni-ki, he's reckless, stupid and didn't think things through... he kissed you.

it was quick, barely even a brush of lips.

he pulled back, expecting a reaction, but not the one he got.

your face twisted in disbelief before you hit him.

you smacked his chest repeatedly, pushing him, "what is wrong with you?! that was my first kiss, stupid!"

ni-ki's eyes widened. "wait- what? seriously?"

you fought back your tears, shoving him one last time before storming off. "don't talk to me ever again!"

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki is doing something completely out of character.

he didn't plan to kiss you. it just happened like some dumb, impulsive thought he acted on before his brain could catch up.

he wanted to reach out but what the hell was he even supposed to say?

"hey, my bad for stealing your first kiss lol?"

"i didn't think it'd be that big of a deal."

"wait, you really never kissed anyone before?"

shit, no. that was all dumb as hell.

for the next few days, ni-ki is not being himself.

he forgot his usual girls, he hadn't even been with anyone ever since he met you.

"dude, what's up with you?" one of his friends asked.

ni-ki just shrugged, flipping his phone in his hands. "nothing."

you were avoiding him like he was some virus. you look the other way when he walked past or really refusing to even glance in his direction.

so, fine. he swallowed his pride and showed up at your house.

you opened the door, immediately frowning when you saw him. "what do you want?"

ni-ki exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"i'm sorry, alright?" he said quickly. "i was being an idiot, i didn't think, and..."

"you're apologizing?"

ni-ki groaned, shoving his hands in his pockets. "yeah..."

you crossed your arms, unimpressed. "took you long enough."

he sighed, stepping closer. "i didn't know it was your first kiss..."

you rolled your eyes, "whatever."

then ni-ki hugged you.

you gasped, trying to make him let go. "what- what are you doing?!"

ni-ki just chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder. "saying sorry?"

"by hugging me?!"

"would you rather i kiss you again?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

he laughed again, pulling back slightly to look at your flustered expression.

you scowled. "you're such a pervert."

his smirk returned, teasing. "you liked being hugged though."

you smacked his chest hard. "GO HOME, NI-KI."

he grinned, backing away "but we're good now, right?"

you didn't answer, just slammed the door in his face.

ni-ki chuckled to himself, breathing in relief as he walked away.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki is trying his best to please you... and hold himself back from being a fuck boy.

ni-ki has a serious problem. these days, he found himself doing things that were completely out of character.

like waiting outside your classroom when he swore he was just going to pass by, remembering your usual order at the café near school and handing it to you in front of everyone like it was no big deal, then making sure you got home safe after study sessions.

he wasn't even trying to get anything out of it because for once in his life, he actually wanted to do things the right way. he wanted to get a girlfr- girl friend. a friend that's a girl. that's all.

totally normal. nothing weird.

but it's so frustrating because you weren't even making it easy for him.

you still roll your eyes at him when he tried to be nice. you still gave him unimpressed looks when he offered to carry your things. and the other day, when he casually said you looked cute, you hit him with a deadpan, "what do you want?"

like, damn. he was actually trying here.

then… you'll also do things that completely messed him up.

your cheeks puff out whenever you concentrate, making him desperately want to bite them.

or how we would notice your tits slightly jiggle and move whenever you're running or simply writing. suddenly, he would have to leave the room for fresh air.

when you got mad at him, all fiery and stubborn, he had the worst urge to just shut you up, not in a way that was appropriate for a friend.

ni-ki groaned, running a hand down his face.

his first thought?

"God, i wanna touch."

his second thought?

"i need help."

you left something at school. suddenly, he showed up at your door, handing your things back along with a bottle of your favorite drink.

you looked at him confused, ni-ki rolled his eyes, pushing the bag into your hands.

"you… bought this for me?"

"don't be weird!" he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "just take it."

you stared at him for a long moment before stepping aside. "you wanna come in?"

ni-ki shook his head, he knew himself. he knew that the second he got too comfortable, his usual instincts would kick in... he would start flirting, the way he always found a way to get what he wanted.

instead of smirking and stepping inside like he usually would, he just shoved his hands in his pockets, exhaling.

"nah," he said. "i'll just see you tomorrow, okay?"

a small smile formed at your lips. "thanks, ni-ki."

he turned away quickly, waving a hand over his shoulder while his heart raced so fast. "welcome."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki can't figure out if you're just a damsel in distress or actually bossing him around

ni-ki likes to think he's a pretty capable guy. he's used to girls needing him for things... carrying their bags, opening their drinks, giving them rides home. he didn't mind. it boosted his ego.

but every time you asked for his help, he couldn't tell if you were actually helpless or if you're just treating him like some personal assistant.

you handed him your backpack without a word while texting on your phone.

ni-ki blinked. "uh… am i supposed to carry this?"

"yeah." you replied without even looking at him.

"…please?"

you gave him a look. "i could say please, but you're already holding it."

then later you stared at a vending machine like it had personally offended you.

"what, it didn't give you your snack?"

"no..." you huffed, crossing your arms. "it won't take my bill."

ni-ki sighed, pulling out his own money and sliding in a new bill. the machine beeped, and he pressed your selection.

then the snack dropped, you grabbed it, turned on your heel, and walked away.

the way you pouted when you struggled with something, how your brows furrowed in concentration, the tiny pleased smile you gave when things worked out in your favor... it pleased him too.

so when you showed up next to him one day, shaking your phone with an exaggerated sigh, ni-ki already knew what was coming.

"my phone is dead," you said.

he smiled "finally."

you glared, "give me your charger."

ni-ki scoffed in disbelief. "you don't even pretend to be polite anymore!"

you pouted. "please?"

his eye twitched. you're so annoying. cute but mostly annoying.

ni-ki pulled out his charger and handed it to you. "i swear, don't lose it."

"i never lose things." you said, already plugging it in.

"liar." he shook his head. "you lost your AirPods case last week."

you laughed and waved him off. "that was one time."

ni-ki smiled, he felt that stupid warmth creep up his neck again when he heard your laugh.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki asked you to work out with him.

you regret this.

you had never worked out before but when ni-ki said, "come on, i'll go easy on you." you refused to back down.

big mistake.

now, here you are, struggling to breathe properly while ni-ki, just finished another set of weights, stood there looking like some Greek god.

sweat clung to his skin, his black shirt sticking slightly to his toned torso. his hair was pushed back from his forehead and sharp jawline got even more defined.

you gulped.

then he caught you staring. his lips curled into a grin. "like what you see?"

you quickly looked away. "shut up."

he only laughed.

later, back in your room, you are dying.

your muscles ached in places you didn't even know existed. you lay on your bed, groaning while ni-ki sat next to you, arms crossed.

"you're overreacting." he said.

"you tricked me," you accused. "you said you'd go easy."

"i did!" he defended, snickering.

you groaned again, moving slightly only to wince at the soreness in your legs.

ni-ki smiled. "want a massage?"

you looked at him. "you give massages?"

he smirked. "i'm really good with my hands."

you squinted and he laughed. ni-ki began to straddle your back, hands pressing into your tense shoulders.

the moment he started kneading your muscles, your body melted.

"oh… that's so good…" you whispered, voice airy.

ni-ki chuckled. "i am good, huh?"

"ah, ye- yeah, it feels so good." you mumbled, already slipping into a relaxed haze.

ni-ki's hands stilled for a second.

your voice sounded… weirdly suggestive.

he bit back a laugh. he knew you were just tired, but hearing you say that in such a soft, breathy tone? hmm.

he kept massaging, feeling the tension slowly leave your body. it wasn't long before your breathing evened out.

"…did you just fall asleep?" he muttered.

silence.

ni-ki shook his head, you looked so peaceful, face slightly turned to the side, lips were slightly parted.

his eyes trailed to your exposed neck, heart pounding while reaching out to gently brush your hair aside.

and before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pressing soft, featherlight kisses along the curve of your nape up to your neck.

your body reacted on instinct, tilting slightly, like giving him more access.

a soft, sleepy moan escaped your lips.

ni-ki's eyes widened, heart slamming against his ribs.

"…a- are you awake?" he asked.

silence.

panic surged through him. he quickly grabbed the blanket and draped it over you, standing up so fast he nearly tripped.

ni-ki ran home and the second his front door swung open, he stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind him. his fingers went straight to the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging at it while his mind still clouded with you.

the soft moan you let out, the way your body naturally tilted into his touch, the warmth of your skin beneath his lips.

his jaw clenched as he glanced down at his cock, his sweatpants doing a poor job at hiding the evidence of just how badly he was losing control.

ni-ki groaned, balling his fists, fighting the instinct to just take care of it.

he grabbed his phone, scrolling through his contacts.

the phone barely rang before a familiar, flirty voice answered.

"hey, ni-"

"how fast can you get here?"

the girl on the other end giggled. "mhm, about 30, 40 minutes-"

click. that's too late.

ni-ki exhaled sharply, tossing his phone onto his bed. his hand ran through his hair, feeling the frustration throughout his body. he pulled his sweatpants back up, shaking off the temptation.

and even though he had just worked out, he grabbed another set of weights and dropped to the floor, blasting music at full volume.

push-ups. sit-ups. anything to burn the tension off.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki looked like shit the next day.

you burst out laughing the moment you saw him.

he looked rough. dark circles under his eyes, hair a mess, slouched in his chair like he barely made it out of bed.

"what happened to you?" you grinned, poking his arm.

ni-ki groaned, brushing you off. "it's your fault."

"wha- my fault? what did i do?"

he turned his head away, eyes shutting like he couldn't even look at you right now. "just… drop it."

you leaned in, pushing him playfully. "come on, tell meee." you pouted. "fine, then at least let me make it up to you! what can I do?"

ni-ki scoffed, tilting his head back against the chair. "there's nothing you can do."

when class ended and you followed him towards the gym storage room.

"ni-ki!" you called, slipping inside right behind him.

he turned around just as the door slammed shut. the click of the lock echoed through the small space.

"…are you kidding me?" ni-ki muttered.

you tried the handle. locked.

ni-ki groaned, he sat and started rubbing his face. "i really don't have the energy for this right now."

you stepped in front of him, with hands on your hips. "you seriously won't tell me what's wrong?"

and instead of answering, ni-ki suddenly reached out, gripping your waist and pulling you close.

you froze as he rested his head against your stomach, arms wrapped around you.

"just shut up, will you?" he murmured, voice muffled against your shirt.

you brought your hand to his hair, your fingers brushing the strands. you began to comb through them slowly, your touch gentle and rhythmic.

his body relaxed against you, the tension in his grip softening. ni-ki hummed.

you began to smile while playing with his hair, twirling a few strands between your fingers before smoothing them out.

it's sweet... but your legs were starting to ache.

"okay... maybe just a little longer." you thought, shifting your weight slightly to ease the pressure on your feet.

ni-ki didn't move. if anything, his grip on your hips tightened, like a sleepy child clutching a favorite pillow.

your legs began to tremble faintly, you hoped ni-ki would notice.

but nothing, he was like a cat curled up in the perfect sunbeam.

you sighed quietly, glancing down at him. your hands still in his hair as you debated your options. "maybe if i lean a little, he'll..."

ni-ki let out a low hum, his grip loosening just slightly as he shifted his head. for a split second, you thought your prayer had been answered, until he wrapped his arms fully around your waist, pulling you down to his lap.

"ni-ki!" you hissed, barely catching yourself with your hands as you stumble forward.

his eyes cracked open, a sleepy smirk tugging at his lips. "why are you so tense?"

"because you're treating me like a body pillow!"

"you're comfy."

you groaned, glaring at the top of his head. ni-ki added "you should've leave me alone." the smirk of his returned as his arms tightened around you once more.

"you know..." he began, "let's just skip class, you wanna sleep with me?"

your eyes widened, your brain short-circuiting at his words. "wha-what do you mean sleep with you?" you stuttered, leaning back instinctively.

ni-ki flicked your forehead lightly, his smirk growing. "not like that, you idiot." he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "i meant just sleeping. me, you, sleeping here. eyes closed. that's it."

you laughed awkwardly. "right..."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki realized that he doesn't want to be your friend.

ni-ki got annoyed the second you started talking about jungwon. he had just introduced him but he noticed the way your eyes stared at his friend.

ni-ki subtly stepped in front of your view, blocking jungwon from your sight.

"hey! move!" you hissed, trying to peer around him.

and instead of budging, ni-ki covered your eyes with his hands.

"what the?!" you immediately grabbed at his wrists, struggling.

he kept his hands firmly in place, waiting until his jungwon hyung was completely out of sight.

and when he finally let go, you blinked, looking around. "where is he?"

ni-ki smirked. "i killed him."

you smacked his arm.

later, he was sitting on his bed while you lounged across from him, "he was really nice," you said, kicking your feet. "and kinda cute too, like a cat don't you think?"

"who do you like better, me or him?"

you blinked, confused. "what kind of question is that?"

"just answer."

"i like you," you said casually. "as my friend."

ni-ki scoffed. maybe he did want to be your friend before but that isn't the case anymore.

"i'm not your friend."

"yes, you are."

ni-ki grabbed your face with both hands, tilting your head up before slamming his lips onto yours, aggressively like he was trying to erase every thought you had of jungwon. "friends don't do this."

rough and desperate, his fingers pressed into your cheeks as he devoured your mouth, refusing to let you breathe while angling your head exactly how he wanted..

you gripped his shoulders, a muffled gasp escaping your lips as he deepened the kiss.

but ni-ki wasn't just kissing you, he was already claiming you.

he groaned against your lips, hands sliding to the back of your neck. holding you in place like he didn't want you slipping away and the second your lips parted slightly, he will deepen the kiss even more, biting at your bottom lip like he wanted to ruin you.

and when ni-ki finally pulled away, his lips were already swollen.

"you were saying?" ni-ki muttered, still holding your face.

you stared at him, breathless, lips tingling.

"…huh?"

he smirked, wiping his thumb over your lower lip before leaning in again.

"that's what i thought."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki can't keep his hands off you.

you used to slap his hands away.

his arm over your shoulder? gone.

sneaking his hands around your waist? not happening.

grabbing your wrist to pull you closer? absolutely not.

but after the kiss, you started letting him and ni-ki noticed... of course, he did.

the first time you didn't push him away when he rested an arm around your shoulders, he almost did a double take.

you also didn't immediately escape when he pulled you onto his lap and when he linked his fingers with yours? he was expecting you to smack his hands, but you didn't.

"you're getting too comfortable," you muttered, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.

ni-ki only smirked, giving your hand a squeeze.

"you're spoiling me, you know." he murmured against your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "if you keep this up, i'll start thinking you actually like me."

you scoffed, pushing his face half-heartedly.

ni-ki chuckled, leaning in like he was about to kiss you again. you froze, expecting the warmth of his lips- but he only brushed his nose against yours.

he pulled back, satisfied at the way you reacted. "see?"

your cheeks burned, frustration bubbling in your chest. you freed yourself from his grip and walked away, annoyed.

ni-ki watched you go with amusement. "where are you going?"

"far away from you."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki ready to be yours.

"go put on a nice dress." ni-ki said over the phone.

you raised a brow. "why?"

he grinned. "because we're going to a restaurant."

you narrowed your eyes. "we are?"

"yeah." replied. "i made a reservation."

you got ready anyway. and when you stepped out in your dress, ni-ki scanned you up and down, "pretty." he murmured, before grabbing your hand and leading you outside.

before you both enter the restaurant, he suddenly intertwined his fingers with yours, "this is a date, okay?" he said, watching your reaction.

you blinked, caught off guard. "a what?"

ni-ki just grinned and dragged you inside.

your eyes widened as you looked around the table. all your favorite foods were there, plated beautifully under the dim, warm lights.

you turned to him, speechless.

ni-ki simply pulled out a chair for you, nodding at the seat.

the dinner was nice. way more than nice. he talked, he listened, and laughed with you.

"is this real? are you actually asking me out?"

"yes," ni-ki said, nodding. "i'm serious."

your chest tightened. you wanted to believe him but a part of you was scared.

what if he change his mind? what if you let yourself fall, only for him to break your heart once you bit into it?

ni-ki noticed your hesitation. he hated that you had to doubt him but he can't also blame why, though he wasn't just playing around.

he reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips. "just a bit more of your trust, okay?" he whispered against your skin.

you stared at him for a moment before finally leaning in to hug him.

he held you close, his lips curving against your shoulder. "you were mine the first time i kissed you."

you pulled back and laughed, playfully slapping his arm as you remembered how he stole your first kiss.

at his house, ni-ki captured your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. his mouth moved against yours, savoring every moment. he then pressed soft kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

he found that sensitive spot that made you moan, he latched on and sucked harder, relishing the sound of your pleasure.

ni-ki started guiding you towards his bedroom, never breaking the kiss. once inside, he gently laid you down the bed, his body still pressed against yours.

he looked up at you with intense desire in his eyes, he asked breathlessly, "can i?" his eyes flicked down to your heaving chest.

you nodded, granting him permission. ni-ki didn't hesitate, slipping his hands under your shirt to fondle and tease your sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

you arched into his touch, panting softly. he swallowed down your needy moans as he devoured your lips again, his tongue delving deep to clash against yours.

"friends won't do this, right?" ni-ki gasped between heated kisses. he tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside. his mouth moved, licking and sucking at your bare breasts.

your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him against you as he lavished all attention on your tits.

then ni-ki trailed kisses down to your stomach. hooking his fingers in your panties, he groaned at feeling soaked folds. "fuck, you're so wet for me already," he murmured, tracing his finger along your slit.

he buried his face between your thighs and began eating you out with your panties on. the fabric added delicious friction when his mouth sucked the sensitive bud, lapping at your clit.

you cried out, ni-ki removed your panties. the first swipe of his tongue directly on your pussy made you both moan. you taste even better than he imagined.

ni-ki growled. diving in for more like a starving man. his talented mouth had you writhing and gasping within moments.

he couldn't help but picture how tightly your virgin pussy would squeeze his cock when he finally got to slide inside you. he just know he wouldn't last long once he felt your walls gripping him.

his tongue darted in and out of your slick folds, making you to tug on his hair harshly.

ni-ki's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs as he licked and sucked your clit with sloppy, desperate motions. sounds of your moans and gasps only served to fuel his own growing arousal with every passing second.

but he promised himself he could wait, for now, he was content to focus solely on pleasuring you, determined to make you feel as good as possible.

he sealed his lips around your clit and suckled hard, pressing two fingers inside as listened to the squelching sounds of your tight cunt.

you cried out, your back arching off the bed as he pumped them in and out. "ni-ki, i...i think I'm going to...ahhh!" your words dissolved into a wordless moan as he curled his fingers just right.

soon, your thighs clamped around his head as you came, your pussy clenching down on his fingers in rhythm.

ni-ki crawled up your trembling body to capture your lips in a deep kiss. "you taste so good," he murmured against your mouth. "i can't wait to be inside you." he said as he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the thick head of his cock at your wet folds "i'll be gentle, baby."

"tell me if it hurts too much." he added, slowly pushing forward when he felt your walls relaxed slightly.

you let out whimpers and sharp gasps, the sting of pain clouded your eyes with tears. ni-ki paused, giving you a moment to adjust to the new feeling of being filled inside completely.

the sensation of your pussy squeezing him was unlike anything else. he wanted to fuck the shit out of you, claim you so thoroughly that you'd never forget your first time but he loves you so he has to be patient and gentle with your innocent body.

your whimpers and moans filled the room, ni-ki's heart swelled seeing you like this, breathless, desperate... he can't believe that your body is his for the taking.

your cunt began to welcome him inch by inch.

"fuck, you feel amazing." he groaned, fighting the urge to hammer into you wildly.

starting with shallow thrusts, he gradually increased his pace, still mindful of your pain. and as ni-ki doing it deeper, he leaned down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. "you're taking my cock so well..." he praised. "so fucking sexy."

your eyes fluttered shut and you tilted your head back in bliss, lost to the new pleasure and pressure building inside you. ni-ki felt your walls fluttering around him erratically. "ni-ki, i think- i'm- again..."

he knew you were close.

he increased his pace, deep strokes hitting that special spot inside you with every thrust. his hands gripped your hips enough to bruise as he fucked his dick into you, grunting with the effort of holding himself back from his own release.

and with a strangled cry, you came undone beneath him. ni-ki followed soon after with a moan of your name, pulling out before spilling his cum all over your thighs.

after cleaning up, ni-ki crawled back into bed and pulled you to his chest, kissing your face and neck but you moved and positioned yourself in his hips, where his hardening cock already poking on your sensitive, beaten entrance. "ready again?" he chuckled, wrapping his arms on your waist, his face nuzzling on your neck.

you giggled and sank down on him with a gasp. ni-ki groaned at the slick heat enveloping him again, making love with more confidence this time around.

rounds later, you're all sweaty and tired. ni-ki wondered dazedly if he'd turned his sweet, innocent girl into a sex addict. "you're so good, ni-ki..." you said, kissing him. to ni-ki, you looked like a sex god, your lips kiss-swollen, chest full of hickeys, your hair is a mess...

completely wrecked by him.

he wrapped his arms around your limp form and rolled to the side, careful not to dislodge from where he was still buried inside you.

and you're there thinking about worshipping ni-ki's body for the rest of your life.

"i'm going to fuck you all over again in the shower." he declared with a wicked grin. you answered with a moan that tells him it sounds like the perfect plan.

never knew sex could hit this different when it was out of love.

a/n: this is too long lol! enjoy <3 read part two

similar: Nishimura Riki as your boyfriend & Nishimura Riki as your classmate

masterlist: マスターリストm.list

[yeonmuse]

CHROME HEARTS ──but I break them still

❪ CHROME HEARTS ❫ nishimura riki & fem!rea 1.8k w.c ⋆♱✮ fluff/angst ༯ university au ꫂ ၴႅၴ synopsis──★˙nainais library !! @k-films

℘an᭪ : written w tweets at the end of the chapter, (perm list still open, but only 3 slots open for this series taglist)

an: chrome hearts is nearing its end chat how we feeling?

CHAPTER 20 | the sun, her moon, and her stars

A week, a week had gone by since everything had transpired between you and Mako and you were having a hard time. You’d shut yourself in your room and you hadn’t spoken a word to anyone you just couldn’t bring yourself to face anyone. Niki hadn’t texted no matter how many apologies or check ins you’d sent after your talk with him and you couldn’t blame him knowing you accused him of being ingenuine. You let out a hearty sigh as you lay in bed staring up at the ceiling and a knock at your door steals your gaze.

“Jongseob I already told you I don’t want to come out.’’

“It’s me..’’ your body stiffened upon hearing the voice at the other side of the door, the two of you hadn’t spoken since the day everything had gone down and you weren’t sure where things would lead after finding out everything you had. But now there she stood on the other side of the door and you felt this dreadful cloud looming over you. It did hurt, not talking to her, not running to tell her and the groupchat everything over the course of that week, but you had every right to be upset with her.

“What are you doing here..’’ you respond, hearing the sound of shuffling on the other side.

“Yn i just want to talk…you’ve ignored my texts, you left the groupchat and you haven’t been showing up to classes, i wanted to give your space but I…I can’t not for this long.’’

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you lied to me instead of just telling me the truth.’’ 

“Yn please..please just open the door and let me explain everything.’’ you could hear the hurt in her voice, it made your chest tighten, but you still weren’t sure if you were ready to face her.

“Yn i swear to god if you don’t open this door and talk to her i’ll take it off its hinges again.’’ Jongseob yells on the other side, making you snear at him from the other side of the door as you move to open it.

This was the first time you had been seeing her since that day and it seemed like the both of you had been in the same boat, dark circles and bags under both your eyes, tired expressions worn on each of your faces as if neither of you had slept a wink. You didn’t say a word to her, just walked further back into the room and left the door open for her to enter. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her but you could hear the sound of the door shutting behind her then a sharp inhale.

“I know that you’re still mad, you have every right to be but I want you to know I truly never meant to hurt you. I was wrong I know but I’ve never.. I've never been in love with someone so close to me before and I got territorial I- I forgot that above all you were my best friend. I let the fact that I was in love blind me and it turned me jealous in the worst way. I never..I never thought that you’d start liking him, I  thought that this was something that would pass, but then you started hanging out with him and bringing him around the others, your tweets about being closer to him scared me and I didn't want you to be taken away. Then everyone started joking about you liking him and I just.” This was the first time you’d seen her this vulnerable since high school, the first time you’d seen her cry since the day she came running to your house when her parents divorced.

“I’m sorry yn I’m really sorry, i even chased him down to apologize, if i could take it back i would I was being immature.” You couldn’t stop the tears falling from your own eyes, your best friend was in front of you crying her eyes out and it was hard to see.

“You dumbass, you could have just told me how you felt.” You scold her in between tears, both of you a complete mess as you stood there crying.

“I.. didn’t….want..to..scare….you…off.” She responds, a hiccup and sniffle between each word. You were sure you both looked ridiculous right now,  trying to talk while you both were in between tears.

“You’re so stupid you could never scare me off. I’ve always known who you are and I may not love you in that way but you’re my best friend, I'll always be your best friend no matter what you tell me.” You respond by wiping your tears and hers.

“You don’t hate me?”

“I could never hate you.” You respond to her, lips poked out into a pout, eyes getting watery all over again.

“Are you guys done crying, can we come in now.” You could hear from the other side of the door

“Aya shut up they’re not supposed to know we’re listening.” You could hear Melody say from the other side as well. You and Mako both share a glance before bursting into a fit of laughter, wrapping your arms around each other as if you missed the comfort.

“Okay we’re coming in.” Chloe spoke softly on the other side before pushing the door open.

“I called them over, everyone’s been worried about you.” Jongseob says as they all step inside and you mouth a thank you to him before wiping your face.

“Hi my angel, how are you feeling?” Chloes the first to envelope you in her arms, followed by the others that flooded in one by one all wrapping you in their arms like they hadn’t seen you in months.

“Better now.. I’ve missed all of you.” You respond with a smile, taking a seat at your usual spot near the window where all of you would usually gather.

“And Niki..?” The room seemed to still at the mention of his name. You still hadn’t heard from him and it was bothering you, maybe that was your fault for not going to classes, maybe then you could see him in person, but you couldn’t fully blame yourself. You shake your head no, and it was enough for them to understand, no words needed to be exchanged.

“I’m sorry baby, I know you were really starting to like him even if you didn’t want to admit it to us I think we could all see it.” Chloe apologizes, reassuringly rubbing your back.

“It’s okay, I can’t blame him if he wouldn’t want to talk to me again after the way I broke down and accused him. I still have the one thing that matters most. I’m sorry for shutting you guys out and leaving, I just. I needed time alone.” 

“We understand, but next time just give us a heads up? We were worried sick, Melody even cried.” At Hunter's revelation Melody's head snaps in his direction.

“I did not cry!?”

“You did, you got snot all over Jongseobs shirt.” Aya expose, you couldn’t help but laugh. You felt so reassured in that moment, nothing else mattered now that you had them with you, you weren’t thinking of niki or what would happen between the two of you when you finally did return to campus, you just stayed content in your momentary happiness. You were so caught up in Niki, the man that to you was like the moon that you had completely forgotten about these moments, the ones that lit up your way before you’d even known him. They were your stars.

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[sshnzsr]

fuck the condom

wordcount: 1.2k

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v

masterlist

The summer heat clung to the dorm like a second skin, the kind of sticky that made your clothes feel pointless. Ni-ki’s room was a mess. Clothes strewn across the floor, empty ramyeon cups stacked on his desk and a faint whiff of his cologne mixed with sweat. The air conditioner was broken, so the windows were cracked open, letting in the distant hum of the city’s nightlife. You were both 19, dumb as hell and high on the reckless freedom of youth. Ni-ki was sprawled on his bed, shirtless, his basketball shorts riding low on his hips, scrolling through his phone with that cocky smirk he always wore when he knew you were staring.

“Stop eye fucking me,” he said without looking up, voice lazy but teasing.

You were sitting cross legged on his desk chair, wearing one of his oversized tees and nothing else, your hair still damp from the shower you’d taken together an hour ago. “Who says I’m looking at you?” you shot back, but your eyes were glued to the sharp cut of his collarbone, the way his abs flexed when he shifted. He was too pretty, and he knew it. That was the problem with Ni-ki. He was all confidence and no brakes, a walking disaster you couldn’t stop crashing into.

He tossed his phone aside and sat up, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Come here,” he said, more command than request. His voice had that edge, the one that made your stomach flip and your thighs clench. You didn’t move, just raised an eyebrow, playing hard to get even though you both knew how this would end.

“Don’t make me beg,” he added, grin widening. “Or do. I’m good at it.”

You snorted, sliding off the chair and sauntering over, exaggerating the sway of your hips just to mess with him. When you reached the bed, he grabbed your wrist and yanked you down, making you straddle his lap. His hands were on your ass immediately, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. “You’re such a brat,” he muttered, lips brushing your jaw before he bit down, not hard enough to hurt but enough to leave a mark.

“Says the guy who’s already hard,” you retorted, grinding against him just to prove your point. He groaned, head tipping back and you felt the bulge in his shorts press against you, hot and insistent. Ni-ki wasn’t shy about what he wanted and right now, he wanted you. Messy, loud and all his.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” he breathed, hands sliding under the shirt to grip your bare skin. His fingers were long, calloused from dance practice and they dug into your hips like he was claiming you. You kissed him then, all teeth and tongue, no softness, just the raw need to taste him. He tasted like the cola he’d been drinking earlier, sweet and sharp, and you sucked on his bottom lip until he hissed.

Clothes came off fast. His shorts, your shirt, a clumsy tangle of limbs and curses as you both laughed at how desperate you were. Ni-ki’s body was a fucking masterpiece, all lean muscle and golden skin and you couldn’t stop touching him, dragging your nails down his chest just to hear him swear. “Shit, you’re feral,” he laughed, but his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide.

He pushed you onto your back, the mattress creaking under your weight and spread your thighs with his knees. “Look at you,” he said, voice low, almost mocking. “So fucking wet already.” His fingers slid between your legs, teasing your entrance and you arched into him, shameless. He didn’t bother with slow, he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them just right and you moaned loud enough that the neighbors probably heard.

“Ni-ki, fuck,” you gasped, grabbing his wrist, not to stop him but to make him go harder. He grinned, all arrogance and pumped his fingers faster, his thumb circling your clit until your vision blurred. You were soaked, the slick sounds of his fingers moving inside you obscene, filling the room alongside your panting.

“Gonna make you scream,” he promised, pulling his fingers out and licking them clean, his tongue curling around them like he was putting on a show. You cursed him out, half laughing, half begging, and he just winked, reaching for the condom on his nightstand. He tore the packet open with his teeth and you watched, mesmerized, as he rolled it on, his cock hard and flushed, the tip already leaking.

He didn’t give you time to brace yourself, just lined up and thrust in, slow at first, letting you feel every inch. You both groaned, the stretch burning in the best way and he dropped his forehead to yours, muttering something you didn’t catch. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he said, voice strained and you clenched around him just to make him falter.

He started moving, deep and hard, the bedframe slamming against the wall with every thrust. You were loud. Too loud. moaning his name, clawing at his back, leaving red marks he’d probably flex about later. The room smelled like sex and sweat, the air thick with it and you loved how gross it was, how real. Ni-ki’s hair stuck to his forehead, his lips parted as he panted and you pulled him down to kiss him, sloppy and wet, spit smearing between you.

“Fuck the condom,” he said suddenly, voice rough and before you could process it, he pulled out, yanked the latex off and tossed it across the room. You stared at him, shocked but too turned on to care and he just grinned, all teeth and no shame. “Wanna feel you raw.”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” you said, but you didn’t stop him when he pushed back in, bare this time and oh god, the difference was unreal. He felt hotter, harder and you could feel every vein, every pulse of him inside you. You both swore, loud and unfiltered and he picked up the pace, fucking you like he was trying to ruin you.

It was disgusting, the way your bodies slapped together, the wet squelch of your arousal mixing with his precum, the way you were both so slick and careless. You came first, the orgasm hitting you like a freight train, your whole body shaking as you screamed his name. Ni-ki didn’t stop, just fucked you through it, chasing his own high and when he came, he didn’t pull out didn’t even try. You felt it, warm and thick, spilling inside you, and he groaned like he’d just won the lottery.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting, sticky with sweat and cum and god knows what else. The room was a wreck, the sheets soaked and you could feel his release leaking out of you, pooling on the mattress. Neither of you cared. Ni-ki lifted his head, smirking like the cocky bastard he was and said, “Round two?”

You laughed, shoving him off, but you both knew you’d say yes. You were young, stupid and so fucking in love with the chaos of it all.

[mrsjjongstby]

P: Auction winner!Niki x ballerina!reader

Warnings: Power imbalance, possesiveness, very minor mention of blood, mentions of financial desperations, dubious consent, reader is said to have delicate feet, ownership themes, human auction (reader is sold in an auction), physical touch, fluff-?, usage of both Niki and Riki thought referring to the same person- Nishimura Riki, obsessive behaviour, kisses on feet-?

Synopsis: You were a ballerina—graceful, delicate, and broke. When your mentor whispered about a secret gala, you didn’t know you’d be sold. Bought for a hundred million dollars by a man who spoke little and watched too closely, you expected control, cruelty, maybe even a golden cage. But he gave you quiet hallways to walk barefoot, silk sheets to sleep in, and a world scrubbed clean for your comfort. He never asked you to love him. He only made sure you had no reason not to.

Wordcount: 11,1k

Ballet wasn’t just another hobby to you.  

It was your life. A silent language your body spoke when words didn’t do justice. 

You find solace in the way you move your muscles, the way you pad on your toes, the way you twirl gracefully with your arms stretched. 

You love the beautiful symphonies your body makes mirroring the music that plays, it was as if you were one with the music- the art. 

You remember the first time you stood on your tip toes- your calves aching, your ankles trembling to balance the weight of your body, but you didn’t mind the pain. You loved it.  

The pain only meant one thing- you were reaching, striving.  

In a world where everything was slipping through your fingers, ballet stayed.  

The studios which mirrored your delicate form.  The pale pink ribbons that moved with you like it was another part of your body.  The aching swell in your chest when the music began- like your heart recognized a home it had never seen. 

There was some kind of peace to it. The kind of peace when your thoughts melted away and your body moved through the air. 

You didn’t need applause- you didn’t want it.  You didn’t dance because you wanted to satisfy your mentor, you didn’t dance because you wanted the cheers. No. You danced because it reminded you you were alive. And that you weren’t alone- that ballet was with you.  

Your shoes which weren't yours padded against the red carpet which led to a theatre.   The dress you’re wearing wasn't yours either. Neither were the diamond earrings which adorned your ears and the glittering thin chain which brushed against your neck everytime you turned your head. 

Even your name on the invitation which was printed in delicate gold foil didn’t feel like yours. It was like your name didn’t deserve to be written and printed with such care, such luxury and such extravagance.  

But desperate people learn how to lean on to illusions which aren’t theirs. 

You looked around the huge halls, the empty space filled with over-the-top pieces covered with diamonds, detailed art pieces and tall ceilings. The interior was lit with warm gold light, soft classical music humming faintly through the windows.  

You didn’t eat a full meal in days. Your rent was overdue. And yet here you were- drawn in by whispers and rumors, all tracing back to one thing. 

A private gala.  A mysterious host.  A ballet auction. 

“Just smile,” your mentor had told you interrupting your thoughts. 

“You’re not there to blend in- you’re there to be seen.” 

And so, you walked up the marble steps.  You didn’t know that once you entered, you wouldn’t be leaving on your own terms.  You didn’t know his eyes were already on you- sharp, unreadable, and far too focused for someone you’d never met. 

And that’s how you are here, on the huge stage. 

  The air heavy with perfume and money. Everyone’s sitting around the velvet curtained stage, wearing sharp suits. Eyes gleaming. Like wolves dressed in suits.  

You’re barefoot, your feet feeling the expensive and polished wood beneath you. Dressed in the faintest ivory silk, hair pinned like you are made out of porcelain, not bone and flesh. 

You don’t speak.  You don't need to. 

The music begins. A single piano note continued by multiple. 

And you dance. 

You dance like the men there don’t exist. Your body remembers the movements though your brain doesn’t. You spin. Controlled. Graceful. Your body dances as if it’s one with the notes.  

The room holds its breathe like it’s amazed by your performance- your art. 

A voice is heard cutting the invisible amazement resting on the peoples’ faces, 

“Starting bid, 5 million dollars.” 

It rises quickly. 

“Seven.” 

“Eight million.” 

“Ten” 

“Twenty-two.” 

You kept dancing as if you aren’t hearing the money proposed to win you. 

“Thirty-five million!” 

Another shout. Another flash of a raised card. 

And then— 

From the back of the room: 

“One hundred million.” 

Silence. His voice sharp and sudden like a blade. 

Everyone turns. 

A young man sits alone, legs crossed, completely relaxed. No paddle. No number. Just a glass of untouched wine in his hand and eyes fixed solely on you. 

He doesn’t say it again. 

He doesn’t need to. 

The host swallows. “Sold.” 

The music stops. But you don’t. You do a one last spin. One last breathe. Before everything disappears into velvet.  

And he? He watches you. Like he didn’t just buy you. Like he just bought you freedom and like he’s been waiting his whole life just for you to exist. 

The sleek black car pulls up infont of the mansion- a fortress of glass, cement, history and wealth. The gate opens with a mechanical hum, and you feel the car entering. No one speaks. The driver doesn’t dare to glance at you. The windows are tinted too dark, but you don’t care. 

The car finally stops; the door opens. 

You step out, barefoot, the cool stone pressing against the arches of your foot. The mansion stands before you, towering and gleaming in the moonlight as if it’s the mansion’s way of welcoming. Everything is quiet, too quiet.  

You’ve never been here before. You’ve never seen anything like this before. 

You enter the mansion, your feet touching the cold marble underneath it. You admire the beautiful interior. It wasn’t extravagant, wasn't filled with huge chandeliers and wasn't filled with unnecessary expensive house decors. But it was perfect, plain black walls which reflected him, high ceilings, few paintings, and most minimal but luxurious interior you’ve ever seen. 

And then- 

“Welcome home.”  

You turn to the source to see him standing, the one who bought you. 

Nishimura Riki. 

His hands are folded, his eyes too calm for someone who just spent an amount of money that could buy entire kingdoms. He looks young. But there’s something behind those dark eyes. Something old. Too old for his face. 

“You should have stayed inside the car,” he continues, eyes moving over your bare feet, your attire, the soft lines of your form. “You’ll catch a cold.” 

You raise an eyebrow, unfazed. 

“Do you worry about everyone who steps foot in your home?” 

He watches you for a long moment. Just looks. As if studying your every move, your breath, your body. 

“Not everyone,” he answers finally, his voice dropping an octave. “But you’re different.” 

You tilt your head slightly. A challenge, though still wrapped in that quiet, ethereal calm. 

“How am I different?” you ask. 

He doesn’t smile, but there’s an edge to his gaze. 

“You’ll know.” 

A slow pause, and you step forward, moving with the same grace you showed at the auction. You don’t say anything, just step lightly, like your drawn to the mansion despite the icy feeling it gives you. 

“Do you own this?” you ask, your eyes scanning the modern, polished interior of the mansion. 

“I do,” he says. 

You don’t respond immediately. The silence wraps around you both again, thick and heavy. 

“How long are you planning to keep me here?” You ask, your voice finally laced with something less passive—just a soft curiosity. 

His lips curl into a smirk, just a little. But there’s something behind it. Something dangerous. He steps closer, leaning slightly forward as he speaks. 

“As long as I want. And as long as you don’t give me a reason to make you leave.” 

You meet his gaze evenly. No fear. No hesitation. 

“I don’t leave,” you say quietly, “unless I’m forced to.” 

His smirk fades slightly, replaced by something else—something darker. 

“Then I suppose we’ll have to get along,” he says, almost like a promise. 

He turns, motioning toward the hallway. 

“Come. I’ll show you to your room.” 

Your eyes flicker to his back as he leads you deeper into the mansion. It’s huge, an endless series of hallways, high ceilings, stark walls. There’s a feeling that every step you take is watched by invisible eyes. And every step he takes is watched by your eyes.   

You reach a door at the end of the hallway; he slides the door open. 

“This is where you’ll stay.” he says softly and steps aside so you could enter first. 

The door slides open into a room so large it feels like a wing of the mansion. Your eyes widen slightly as you take in the scale of it- the enormous canopy bed, the floor to ceiling glass windows draped with rich, dark curtains, the white marble absorbing the soft glow of the lights. 

The room smells like fresh flowers and something else, something clean, like new silk. 

The bed is enormous, draped in white silk sheets that shimmer under the low lighting. Pillows are stacked high, luxurious, inviting. There’s a sitting area to the left, complete with velvet chairs and a long marble coffee table. A bookshelf filled with books you know you’ll read. A dresser, a vanity, a full-length mirror. 

And then there’s the view. Out of the windows, you can see the mansion’s sprawling gardens- lawns so well-kept they look like the perfect still-life paintings. Nothing out of place. Everything too perfect. 

For a moment, you don’t speak. Don’t move. 

Niki watches you from the doorframe, his posture relaxed but his eyes intense. He knows you’re analyzing everything, but he doesn’t rush you. 

“It’s a little…” he pauses as you step inside, your gaze still flickering around the room. “…larger than what you’re used to, I assume.” 

You don’t respond at first. Instead, you run your fingers across the back of a velvet chair, then moves toward the bed. The silk sheets ripple slightly under your touch as you sit at the edge, your legs folded underneath you. 

“It’s a little too much,” you say, almost under your breath. Your fingers graze the silk again, still hesitant. 

You look up at him. 

“What do you want from me?” you ask, your voice steady, but laced with something softer this time. There’s no edge to it, no rebellion—just a curious calm. 

His gaze softens. Just a little. There’s something like admiration there, a flicker of understanding. 

“For you to be comfortable,” he says quietly, his voice low, as if choosing his words carefully. “I’ll make sure you have everything you need.” 

You don’t know if you believe him. 

You glance at him, assessing. His eyes are steady—calm. He doesn’t seem like the type who’d force anyone into something they didn’t want. But his silence speaks louder than his words. 

“Comfortable,” you repeat, tasting the word. The weight of the room, the overwhelming luxury, feels foreign. But you don’t want to show him that. Not yet. 

You stand up, the silk sheets pooling around your feet as you walk towards the window. You stare out at the garden for a long moment, taking in the moonlight, the cold air that filters in. 

Riki stays at the door, watching you, but doesn’t speak yet. 

“It’s still too much,” you say softly, almost like a confession. 

“Everything I have,” he says after a pause, his voice a little more serious, “I have because I want it. If I wanted you to be just another piece of property, I would’ve given you a room just like any other. But I bought you for a reason. I want you to want this.” 

You look back at him over your shoulder. 

“You think I want any of this?” you ask, your words quiet, but sharp. 

Riki doesn’t move, but his gaze doesn’t waver. 

“You will,” he says simply. 

You don’t answer. You can’t.  

He nods, stepping back slowly, giving you space. 

“If you need anything,” he says, his voice softer, “just call. The house is yours now. But only as long as you make it your own.” 

With that, he turns, but not without one last look over his shoulder. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

You stand there for a long moment, staring at the door long after he’s gone. 

And though the room feels too large, too empty, you can’t help but wonder how long it’ll take before it starts to feel like yours. 

The dining table stretched long and polished, lined with plates and neatly folded napkins that look too delicate for how heavy the air felt. 

A staff guides you to the dining room, your bare foot padding behind them against the marble floor. 

You sat near the middle, fingers curling and uncurling in your lap. The silk dress they’d given you was too smooth, too perfect. You felt like a misplaced figurine — breakable in a place built for power. 

And at the other end of the table… 

He watched. 

Riki. 

He nodded once at the maid. A plate was set before you, silverware shining like it had never been used. 

“You should eat,” he said, voice smooth — quiet, but final. 

You glanced down at the food. Everything looked expensive. Fragile. Like if you touched it wrong, it would vanish or crack under the pressure of being touched by someone like you. 

He noticed your hesitation. 

“They asked what you liked,” he added, almost softer this time. “I told them to make a little bit of everything.” 

Your gaze lifted slightly, brows tightening. 

“You didn’t know what I liked.” 

“I wanted to find out.” 

Silence again. The kind that wrapped around your throat but didn’t choke. 

He was eating too, now — unhurried, elegant in the way predators usually were. Not once did he look away. Not once did his focus shift. 

You took a bite. Small. Careful. 

He smiled. 

“Do you like it?” 

You gave the faintest nod. And something about that pleased him too much. 

“From now on,” he said, sipping his wine, “you eat with me.” 

It wasn’t a demand.  It wasn’t a suggestion either.  It was just something he had already decided. 

And you? 

You only picked up your fork again.  Because you could feel it — the way the walls of this place whispered his presence. 

There was nowhere to hide. 

But there was also… no reason to. 

Not when he looked at you like you were a piece of art finally returned to its rightful collector. 

After completing dinner, you left to your room to rest as Niki suggested. The staff guided your way back to the room, your feet as always, bare walking on the marble but now, it didn’t feel cold. You don’t know if it’s because you accepted it or because you started to like it. 

A few days pass by. Niki showed you a ballroom filled with delicate and sheer white cloth surround few areas, art painted across the ceiling with an elegant chandelier in between, a gramophone which fills out the room when played in the corner of the room sitting on a table beside a box full of classical discs.  

Riki told you few stories which were experienced by the people in the frames which sat on his wall in the office room. He told the meanings of every art piece you questioned the backstory of. He bought you drinks in the middle of the day when you were laying on the bed bored or just were simply watching the TV. 

One thing Niki also did was he noticed every single thing about you. 

Like how you like your drinks cool, how you always read in the evenings when it’s about to get dark outside, how your eyes don’t glow with delight when you eat food you don’t like, how you nod your head- just a little when you like the food, how you like to roam around the huge space and especially how you walk barefoot all the time. 

You walk barefoot all the time. Right. He noticed it, ofcourse he did. 

He didn’t tell you to wear slippers- hell, he didn't even ask you to wear socks. Because he thinks, you can do whatever you wish for. He didn’t want to restrict you, no. He didn’t buy you at the auction for that. He wanted you to be free. He wanted you to do whatever you want without any concerns. He wanted you to think of him as your safe place. 

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you- care about the floors which may not be truly clean because before you, no one walked around the mansion barefoot. The floors were cleaned once every morning due to the sake of it. But this shouldn’t continue because now? Now you’re here, in the mansion with your delicate foot pressing on the white marble.  

And that’s the reason why he’s standing in the middle of the main hall, his dark eyes sweeping upon the numerous staff lined up before him. A cold silence hung between them—until he spoke. 

“Now on, the floors will be cleaned three times a day,” he said, voice like a blade. “In the morning, during lunch and during dinner.” 

A few of them blinked, confused. No one dared question him. Still, one hand lifted in hesitation. 

“Sir, if I may—” 

“You may not,” he cut, calmly.  

“No shoes in the east wing. No carts. No buckets left out. Not a speck of dust. If her feet touch it, and I see a mark…” 

He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Let’s just hope I never have to explain what happens next.” 

The room went still. 

“And one more thing,” he said, voice soft but full of threat. “Do not approach her. Do not speak to her. If she asks for something, inform me. If she wanders into your space, you disappear from it.” 

His tone didn’t rise once. He didn’t have to. Every word was an order etched in stone. 

“That girl walks barefoot in my house,” he murmured, almost to himself now, eyes distant. “So, the world she walks on will obey.” 

Then he turned away and disappeared into the endless hallways, his staff watching him until he’s out of sight. No one understood why he’s like this, but no one dared to question too. With that, the staff disappeared with the new rules repeating in their mind like mantra. 

The room feels like it’s closing itself again, the silence too thick, too still. You’ve been staring out the long windows for too long, your fingers brushing against the cool glass. The garden bellow calls to you in a way you can't ignore.  

The huge transparent mirror is acting like a shield, protecting the freedom, the liveliness and the peace that comes from the garden. It’s the only thing that’s stopping you from going out and laying on the grass. 

It looks alive, so alive compared the stillness inside your room right now. The trees sway gently in the night breeze and you can hear the soft hum of insects even through the thick glass windows. There's something about it, the life, the freedom of it all tugs at your chest. 

You stand up abruptly, walking to the door, your silk gown brushing against your mid thighs and you slide the door open before you can second guess yourself. The house is quiet as always, but you aren't interested to keep up with the silence anymore.  

You find him in the hallway, sitting on the couch with his legs crossed and a phone in his hand.  

"I want to see the backyard." You say, the words slipping out. It's not a demand, but it's not a request either. It's a need, a soft yearning in your voice which surprises you more than it should.  

He pauses and then turns his head, looking at you with that unreadable expression. His eyes flicker down to your bare legs and feet, the hard marble beneath, before meeting your gaze again. 

"It's late." He replies, but the tone isn't dismissive. There's something about the way he speaks that feels more like a suggestion, but also more like permission. He's not stopping you, but he's not pushing either.  

You hold his gaze for a beat longer before speaking again. 

"I know, But I can see it from my room- I want to go, it seems so lively out there. I just want to feel it. The world out there feels different." You trail off, unsure of what exactly you're trying to say. 

Niki doesn't respond immediately, and you almost thought he'll deny it-  

"Alright," he says after a moment, he gets up, his voice soft but firm. "If you really want to." 

You're happy, more than anything. It feels like there are no more chains which make you roam only in the insides, no restrictions- just freedom. Freedom of going out for the first time after coming here, taking in the fresh air. You don't waste any time. You step forward and he follows you as you move towards the exit- towards the freedom.  

When you finally step outside, the cool and fresh air brushes over your skin and you breathe it in deeply, savoring it. The grass feels soft beneath your feet, like walking on a thick carpet, cool and welcoming.  

You pause, letting the sensation sink it. The feel of nature beneath you is something you didn't even realize you craved until now. The quiet rustling of leaves and the happy sounds of birds are the only sounds that fill in the air.  

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the moment stretch out, almost like you could forget where you were for just a brief instant. But the sound of footsteps approaching made your eyes open.  

Riki’s in the garden with his back leaning against the garden side of your window. He doesn’t come any closer, but his presence is still felt. 

“It’s peaceful out here,” you murmur, looking back at him. 

“It is,” he agrees, his voice low, almost like a secret shared between them. 

He watches you, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. Not one of triumph, not one of ownership—just something soft, something real. 

“You’ll get used to it,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, the way the night air carries a promise. 

“It’s nice,” you murmured, half to yourself. 

“You can come here whenever you want,” he said, his voice lower now, softer. “I had it made for you. Just... don’t be out too late.” 

You don’t answer. Instead, you look back down at the soft grass beneath your feet, your toes curling into it, grounding yourself. 

And for a moment, it feels like home. 

The door creaked open with barely a sound. 

You didn’t flinch — you heard the footsteps long before. Measured, quiet, almost respectful. You didn’t need to look to know it was him. 

Still, you kept your eyes on the book resting in your lap, the pages bathed in the soft golden glow of the bedside lamp. Your legs were tucked beneath the sheets, the silk brushing your skin, and the room smelled faintly of lavender and well, you. 

“You’re not asleep,” he said, more observation than question. 

You turned a page. 

“Neither are you.” 

There was a pause. 

Then the soft click of the door shutting behind him. 

You could feel the air shift, his presence taking up more space than his body ever did. He stepped closer, eyes flickering to the book in your hands. 

“What are you reading?” 

“Something old. Something quiet,” you replied. 

He nodded once, slowly. And then, without asking, he moved to the armchair across from your bed and sat — legs crossed, one hand pressed to his lips as he simply watched. 

“You could’ve slept in your own bed,” you murmured. 

“Could’ve,” he echoed. “Didn’t want to.” 

Your eyes met across the space. And for a moment, it was quiet. Deep, gentle quiet. The kind that doesn't demand answers, only stays. 

Then he leaned back, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Read to me.” 

You blinked. “Now?” 

“You’re already awake.” 

 A beat. 

“And your voice makes things softer.” 

You didn’t answer. 

You just looked back down at the page, cleared your throat, and began. 

And while your words filled the silence, Niki didn’t say anything more. 

He just… watched. 

Listened. 

Stayed. 

Your feet padded themselves to the ballroom without you knowing few days after that. 

The ballroom was empty, but it never felt lonely. Because ballet and music accompanied you in this vast room. 

  You stood in the center — barefoot, breath steady, arms poised. 

The early morning sun spilled through the grand windows, golden and soft, catching on the polished floors like liquid light. The air was quiet, save for the gentle creak of old gramophone and the faint rustle of your skirt as you moved. 

This place — for all its grandeur, its intimidating size — felt oddly yours when you danced. 

You moved slowly at first, like the music was inside you and still waking. A turn. A lift of your arm. A precise bend of your ankle. The marble kissed your feet like it knew their rhythm. 

And then — freedom. 

Your body spun into motion, fluid and deliberate. Every step, every gesture, a word unspoken. You danced like you were trying to remember who you were before the world asked too much of you. Before names and price tags. Before being sold, before belonging. 

Now — you only belonged to the music. 

You danced. 

Not for anyone. 

Not to impress. 

Just because you could. 

Just because the quiet felt softer when your body moved to fill it. 

Your silhouette spun beneath the high ceilings, your nightgown fluttering like the petals of a lily, weightless with every turn. Every step glided, every pirouette melted back into stillness, like water finding its shape again. 

Somewhere behind you, unseen but always felt, Niki leaned silently against the doorway. 

He didn’t interrupt. He never did when you danced. He just watched. 

His lips didn’t part. 

His hands didn’t move. 

But in the quiet corners of his soul, something stirred every time you danced. 

As if you were a language only he could read. 

As if you were never meant to be anything but his. 

No matter how many times you ate multiple meals in the dining room you never got used the ridiculously long dining table.  

You counted the chairs once — twenty-six, twelve on each side and two on each end. All of them carved from dark walnut, shining under the crystal chandelier that glowed like a silent star above the table. 

You were seated at one end. He sat at the other. 

And yet, the room didn’t feel empty. 

"You're not going to move closer?" you asked, delicately spearing a piece of fruit on your fork. 

Niki looked up from his plate — eyes steady, expression unreadable. 

“No,” he said calmly. “I like seeing you like this. Lit up. Like you're part of the art in this room.” 

You didn’t answer, though your brows lifted slightly. His gaze lingered, not on your plate, but on your fingers — the way they moved, how your foot tapped lightly against the marble beneath. 

You chewed slowly. “It’s strange eating alone when someone else is here.” 

He smiled faintly. “You’re not alone. I’m here.” 

“Across twenty feet of table,” you murmured. 

He didn’t deny it. Not when you were right and even if you weren’t he wouldn’t deny it then too. 

Instead, he stood. You watched him silently as he walked — unhurried — around the table, the soft clink of his shoes echoing in the high-ceilinged hall. 

And then, without a word, he pulled out the chair beside you. 

He sat, poured you more water like he’d been doing it for years, and placed your napkin across your lap again when it had slipped. 

“Better?” he asked. 

You looked at him, quiet, your voice softer now. 

“Why do you always wait until I ask?” 

His gaze was steady. 

“Because I like when you ask,” he said. “It means you want me close.” 

You didn’t respond. Just lowered your eyes back to the plate and took another bite. 

But now, the table didn’t feel so large. 

And neither did the space between you. 

You both continued to eat while you talk about random stuff. Random stuff including you talking about the recent book, the trope, the characters, your opinion, your analysis most of the time and him nodding, replying and asking questions.  

It was simple and you liked it like that.  

Somehow, he didn’t make the empty mansion feel lonely, he made it homely even though it’s hard for you to accept it. Not because you hate him but because you never felt like this before. Never felt someone’s care, never felt someone’s love and never felt someone’s presence which was homely and comforting for once. And now that he’s giving all of it to you at once, you aren't sure if it's a dream or not. 

Another thing which you never got used to no matter how many times you’ve wandered in these hallways and rooms are its vastness.  

You were walking on your feet just like every day but this time you wandered too far. 

The hallway you were in was quiet, long, and unfamiliar — no windows, only polished walls reflecting your silhouette and a dozen identical doors. The mansion was a maze made of marble and silence, and you’d made the mistake of thinking you’d remember your way back from the garden wing. 

You turned a corner, paused. 

And then — a voice behind you. 

“Miss? Are you lost?” 

You looked back. One of the newer staff, young, maybe a year or two older than you. He looked nervous, holding a tray of clean towels. 

“A little,” you admitted. “The halls here feel endless.” 

He gave a soft laugh and stepped forward, hesitant but kind. 

“I can walk you back to your room— It’s easy to get turned around in the east wing.” 

You nodded gratefully. Just as he was about to gesture toward the main corridor, he hesitated — then gently reached for your hand, fingers barely brushing your wrist to guide you. 

“This way—” 

And then he froze. 

The air changed. 

You turned your head just as a voice, low and sharp as cut glass, filled the space. 

“Don’t touch her.” 

Riki. 

You hadn’t even heard his steps. But now he was there — at the end of the hallway, his figure calm, but his tone ice-cold. The staff member instantly pulled his hand back, eyes wide. 

“S-sorry, sir— I just—” 

“She knows how to walk on her own,” Ni-ki said, approaching slowly. “And she doesn’t like being touched by strangers.” 

He was looking at you when he said it. Not the staff. 

You watched the way his eyes flicked to your wrist — the one that had been touched — then back to your face. Not angry. Just… quietly displeased. Possessive, in a way that didn’t shout but made the whole hallway hold its breath. 

“Go,” he said to the boy. The worker bowed quickly and disappeared down another hall. 

Riki stepped close, his voice softer now. 

“You should’ve waited for me.” 

You tilted your head. “I didn’t realize I needed permission.” 

His lips curved, ever so slightly. 

“You don’t. But I like it when you wait anyway.” 

Then he offered his hand — not demanding, not forceful — just there. 

And this time, it was you who took it. 

He didn’t speak much as he walked beside you. 

Just the sound of your bare feet against the cool marble and his longer steps matching your pace. The mansion stretched behind you like a forgotten dream — and ahead of you, he guided, not pulling, just… gently leading. 

When he finally stopped, it wasn’t your room. It was his. 

Warm light filtered through sheer curtains, and the smell of something faintly familiar — cedar and rain — hung in the air. His room always felt lived-in, quiet, real. 

You stood in the middle, not saying anything. 

Then, slowly, Niki turned toward you. 

His eyes dropped to your wrist. 

The same one that had been touched earlier. 

He didn’t ask. Didn’t comment. 

But his fingers reached for it, careful and slow — like he was checking if the imprint of someone else still lingered there. His thumb brushed over the skin, once. Then again. 

“Did it bother you?” he asked quietly, eyes not meeting yours. 

You shrugged. “It didn’t mean anything.” 

“I know,” he murmured. But he kept his hand there anyway. His touch was different — it never lingered where it wasn’t wanted, but when it did stay, it stayed with meaning. 

You looked up at him, curious. “Then why do you look like it did?” 

He didn’t answer. 

Just kept his thumb moving across that same spot — soft, absent, like he was wiping away a fingerprint only he could see. 

“Because it’s yours,” he finally said, voice low. “Your wrist. Your skin. But I’ve seen you dance enough to know every inch of it by heart. It doesn’t feel right when someone else touches it before me.” 

Your heart ached, not in pain — but in the strange, quiet way someone’s protectiveness can settle deep inside you. 

You didn’t stop him. 

And he didn’t stop touching you. 

He turned around, opening the door and moved aside so, you could enter first. 

You enter without hesitation and let your eyes wander around his room. 

You didn’t ask to stay. 

But you didn’t have to. 

You moved to sit on the edge of his bed — silk sheets pulled tight, a softness that held no weight. You touched the hem of your dress absently; your bare feet tucked beneath you. He said nothing. Just watched, still standing where he had been, as if waiting to see what you needed. 

You looked up at him. 

“Is it alright if I…?” 

You trailed off. The words didn’t come easily — they never did when it came to him. Because no matter how gentle he was, Riki had a way of making everything feel fragile, sacred. Like one wrong move would crack the porcelain. 

But he understood anyway. 

“Stay?” he asked quietly, as if confirming something he already knew.  “Of course.” 

He walked to the far side of the bed, slow and calm. Then without another word, he drew the curtains closed with a single tug. The night dimmed around you like a secret being kept from the world. 

“You don’t have to be anywhere else,” he added, voice softer now. “Not tonight.” 

You watched as he stepped away for a moment — returning with a folded blanket and placing it at the edge of the bed, like a silent offer. But then he sat beside you, careful not to crowd your space. His presence alone was warm. 

Your wrist still tingled faintly where he had touched it. 

“You always walk like you don’t want to leave footprints,” he murmured, not quite looking at you. 

You blinked, smiling faintly. “I don’t like disturbing the world.” 

He tilted his head. “Then I’ll make sure the world stays quiet when you move through it.” 

There was no grand gesture. No reaching for you. Just stillness. 

But you leaned back against the pillows anyway, letting the silence hold you. 

And when he eventually laid down beside you, careful and slow, you didn’t flinch. 

You stayed. 

And so did he. 

The next morning rolled by quickly, it was the same routine. You both had meals together, once in a while you’d bump into each other and then you’d talk but return to your own things quickly. And now, you were laying on your bed tossing and turning. It was late, you should be asleep by now but you aren't because whenever you close your eyes, yesterday’s incidents show up.  

It was as if the insides of your eye lids were etched with the memory of you and him sleeping together in the same bed, same room and same atmosphere. You never slept so peacefully and carefree before yesterday. You felt comfortable and... protected.  

But now that you are alone without Riki’s invisible shield of comfort, you feel weird and sleeps not coming to you at all. So, with a groan, you put your feet down and walk yourself to the bookshelf taking a book you found interesting. 

You took that book and without a second thought, slid the door open and walked towards Niki’s room. 

The silence of the mansion stretched endlessly, broken only by the distant sound of the wind brushing against the tall windows. Your bare feet padded softly along the cold marble floor, like a ghost searching for something familiar in a place too grand. 

Eventually, your steps brought you to his bedroom. 

Riki was already sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, long legs stretched out in front of him, his phone resting in his hand. The glow of the warm bedside lamp threw shadows across his face, making him look almost unreal—too still, too beautiful. 

He looked up when you entered. His expression didn’t change, didn’t question. Just a quiet understanding in his eyes. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, voice low and calm. 

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“Can you... read to me?” 

There was a pause, and then a small tilt of his head as he glanced at you and the book in your hands. 

“Come here.” 

You climbed onto the bed, not in the middle, but closer to his side—close enough that your shoulder lined up with his chest. You leaned gently back into him. He didn’t move away. In fact, he adjusted as he took the book, shifting the book slightly and pulling you into him more securely. 

His right arm held the book, while his left, the one curled around you from behind, slid up and helped support the other edge of the book—like you were both reading together, but he held it for you. 

His arm stayed firmly around your waist, your back against his chest, his chin at the side of your head. The book was stretched across in front of you both, resting against his arm and yours. His fingers gently flipped the pages as his voice began to fill the room, reading the story with a steady, soft rhythm. 

You barely heard the words. 

Because all you could focus on was this:  The warmth of him at your back.  The slow rise and fall of his chest against your spine.  The way his hand, the one around your waist, adjusted the book with care—not once letting go of you, not even to turn the page. 

You were in his arms. 

Not trapped. Not caged. Just… there. Held. Close. Safe. 

Every time he spoke, the words hummed softly against your back. Every time he breathed, your body rose with him. You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. In that moment, he wasn’t the man who bought you. He was just the man reading beside you—holding the book with you, like it was a shared secret. 

And you let yourself sink into the comfort of it, slowly, silently, like a petal folding into the palm of his hand. 

You weren’t even aware of when your eyes began to flutter shut. 

His voice had that effect—low, steady, curling into your mind like warm smoke. The story blurred at the edges. Words became sounds. Sounds became nothing. 

His chest rose and fell gently behind you, one arm still wrapped around your waist, the other steadily holding the book, though the words had started to slow, and then pause. 

He felt it. 

The shift in your body. The weight of your head relaxing back, your temple brushing against his collarbone. Your breathing evened out. Calm. Light. Deep. 

He lowered the book slowly, carefully—not wanting to move too much. 

His eyes shifted down to you. Your lashes rested softly on your cheeks, lips parted slightly. Your hand had curled lightly against his thigh, fingers resting there as if you had been reaching for something in your sleep and found him. 

Riki didn’t move. Not for a long time. 

He just watched you, the way you trusted him without saying a word. The way your body softened only in his arms. Like this enormous house, this lonely palace of glass and silence, only became real when you were inside it, barefoot and blinking at the world. 

His thumb brushed the side of your arm, tracing slow circles through the fabric of your sleeve. 

You sleep like you belong here, he thought. 

And God help him—he wanted you to. 

He reached over with his free hand, setting the book down gently on the bedside table. Then, with a slow breath, he shifted down, pulling the blankets over the two of you, careful not to wake you. 

You didn’t stir. 

So he stayed like that—your face tucked just beneath his chin, your breath warming the cotton of his shirt, your fingers lightly curled against his chest. 

Niki pressed a kiss to the top of your head, light but firm. 

“Sleep dove,” he whispered, the word only for you. 

 “You’re safe here.” 

And for the first time in years, he slept too. 

You woke to warmth. 

Not the cold shine of chandeliers or the hush of marble floors. Not the distant echo of silence that usually greeted you. No — it was warmth that curled over you like sunlight and safety. 

Your cheek was resting on something steady. Soft fabric. A heartbeat beneath it. 

You blinked, slowly, and looked up. 

He was already awake. 

Niki’s gaze was already on you — sharp eyes calm, unreadable, but somehow... soft. His arm was still around you, firm but gentle, the weight of it like a promise you didn’t ask for. 

“You slept through sunrise,” he murmured, voice low with sleep.  “That’s rare.” 

You didn’t answer right away. Your voice hadn’t found you yet, and the weight of the moment held your tongue in place. 

You shifted slightly — his hand tightened around your waist without thinking, pulling you back before you could move far. 

“Stay,” he said, simply. Like a rule. 

Your lips parted, brows raising just a little. 

“I wasn’t leaving,” you whispered. 

A silence passed. His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. 

“Good.” 

His hand moved to your hair, brushing it back gently from your face, fingers warm against your cheek. He didn’t smile — Riki rarely did. But there was something else. Something deeper in the way he looked at you. 

Like he could command the entire world to stop spinning — if you ever asked him to. 

Like he already had. 

And still, he didn’t ask you why you came to him last night. He didn’t ask what kept you awake. He never asked for more than you gave. 

He simply reached behind you, pulled the blanket up again — and drew you back to his chest. 

“Five more minutes dove,” he murmured into your hair.  “Then I’ll have breakfast brought up.” 

You didn’t protest. 

You didn’t want to. 

You stayed. 

You must’ve dozed off again, because the next time your eyes fluttered open, the sun had climbed higher — spilling golden light across the silk sheets, warm and almost surreal. 

The space beside you was empty. 

But you weren’t alone. 

The faint sound of footsteps reached your ears first — steady, deliberate — followed by the soft click of the door opening. 

“You’re awake,” Riki’s voice came, smooth and quiet. 

You turned toward him — he was dressed now, though not fully formal. Still loose dark sleeves, still barefoot. Still impossibly composed, as though nothing ever touched him. 

Except you. 

He stepped aside, and in came the staff, heads bowed, silent. A tray was set down on the marble side table, covered in a fine white cloth. 

“Leave it. I’ll handle it,” he ordered. 

They left. Quickly. Quietly. Like shadows. 

You sat up slowly, the blanket still drawn around you, hair falling gently over one shoulder. Niki’s eyes followed you with a look only he wore — the kind that studied and claimed at the same time. 

“You didn’t have dinner last night,” he murmured, pulling the tray closer.  “Eat.” 

He lifted the cover — steam curling into the morning air. Warm fruit pastries. Soft eggs. Toast. Fresh juice. Not too much. Just enough. 

You blinked. “You didn’t have to bring it here.” 

He didn’t respond at first. Just placed the napkin gently in your lap, then slid the tray over your legs. 

Then his eyes met yours. 

“I wanted to,” he said.  “Especially when it comes to you.” 

You looked away. 

But not for long. 

His fingers reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear — slow, deliberate. 

“Eat,” he said again.  “You can go back to not talking to me after.” 

You let out the barest breath of a laugh. Not mocking. Just… small. Real. 

And you took a bite. 

His eyes stayed on you the entire time. 

It was just another day, you were walking around the mansion, padding through different hallways and just enjoying the peace. The floor- like always is clean. No clutter. No forgotten dust. No stray things that could catch your toe or disturb your peace. Especially after you came here. Every surface, every hallway, every corner—immaculate. 

But today, someone had made a mistake. 

You were walking down the hallway again, your steps light and silent as usual, your thoughts elsewhere. Until— 

Crack. 

A sharp sting sliced through the underside of your foot. 

You inhaled sharply, stumbling back with a soft gasp, your heel immediately lifting off the ground. You looked down. Red. It was already trickling across the white marble like a delicate thread of silk. 

Your breath hitched—not in panic, not in pain. But in mild disbelief. 

Your fingers gripped the wall for balance, the pain sharp and clean. You look at the cut brining your leg up and then the glass that shimmered in the light, a sliver of it still embedded which was on the floor. 

That’s when you heard him. 

“What happened?” came the voice—calm, deep, but already laced with something tight. 

You didn’t have to look up. You knew that tone. He was always behind you. Always watching. 

He was beside you in seconds. 

His eyes dropped to your foot, and something changed in his expression. Softness cracked beneath steel. His jaw tensed as he crouched infront of you, fingers already reaching for your foot, surprisingly gentle. 

He looked at the cut as if he’s processing something unacceptable. 

You watched him as he cradled your foot in his hands, inspecting the wound with careful attention. He didn’t speak again—just moved. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it gently to stop the bleeding. 

You whispered, barely audible. “I didn’t see—” 

“You shouldn’t have had to,” he cut her off quietly, but not coldly. 

Then he stood. 

“Ji-woon!” His voice rang sharply down the hall. A name barked, cold and final. One of the workers came rushing in, face already pale. “I told you,” Riki said, voice low and dangerous, “this house stays perfect. No dust. No clutter. No risk. She walks barefoot.” 

“S-sir, I—I thought—” 

“You thought,” he interrupted. “She’s bleeding.” 

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. The worker was already shaking. 

“Get out,” he said simply. “You're done, I'll deal with you later.” 

Once the man disappeared, Niki was kneeling infront of you again, dabbing the blood off with his kerchief. He didn’t speak as he cleaned the wound carefully. His fingers were gentle. Reverent. As if hurting your foot was equivalent to failing as a man. 

He was already moving again, lifting you up before you could protest. His arms were warm, strong, and you let your head rest lightly against his shoulder, feeling comfort in his presence.  

“You walk on your feet too much.” He states as he walks with you in his arms. 

You wrap your hands around his neck and hum, “I like to feel the world beneath me.”  

“You shouldn’t have to bleed to feel the world,” he whispered. 

And you didn’t know if he meant it as comfort or warning. 

Later that night after he made a doctor treat your cut, he left while you stayed on your bed. Dinner was bought to you. There were constant maids checking up on you if you wanted anything. And more books bought into your room by one of the staff.  

You were sitting on the bed with your back against the headboard and your thoughts floating in your brain.  

You heard the door before you saw him. A soft click, so soft it could’ve been the wind. You didn’t lift your head — you knew who it was by the silence he always carried. 

“You’re still awake,” Ni-ki said quietly, his voice brushing the room like velvet. 

You kept your eyes on the book. 

“I didn’t feel like sleeping.” 

He moved closer, not bothering to ask permission, and sat at the edge of the bed. You glanced up briefly — his shirt sleeves were rolled up, veins visible on his forearms. His gaze wasn’t on your book. It was on your foot — the one wrapped neatly in a soft bandage. 

“Still hurts?” he asked. 

You shook your head once. “Not really.” 

He didn’t answer, but his fingers ghosted over your ankle anyway — just barely. Checking, like he didn’t quite trust your words. 

“Don’t worry” he said. “he’s fired.” 

You blinked. “You fired him?” 

“Of course I did.”  A pause. Then softer — “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” 

You stared at him then. Not because of what he said, but the way he said it. Like it offended him. Like your blood on the floor was a crime against something sacred. 

“You should sleep,” he murmured after a beat. 

“You should, too,” you replied. 

He smiled faintly — almost like it surprised him. His hand left your foot, brushing the edge of the blanket instead. 

“I will. Once I know you’re resting. Sleep early, dove” 

You didn’t respond. 

You just watched as he stood, walking back toward the door — slow, deliberate, never turning his back on you completely. 

And as the door closed again with that same quiet click. You laid yourself completely on the bed and pulled the covers up- the silk rubbing against your legs as you reach your dreamland with full of thoughts- thoughts of him. 

You were curled up on the oversized velvet couch, legs stretched out, your back resting comfortably against the armrest. A quiet film flickered on the screen in front of you. The room was dim and warm, the kind of stillness that made time feel slower. 

Then, you heard the faint sound of footsteps — the kind that were so familiar by now you didn’t even have to turn to know it was him. 

Niki. 

He didn't say anything at first. Just walked in quietly, gaze drifting to you with that unreadable calm he always wore. You stayed as you were, unmoving, used to the way he never asked before doing things. 

He reached the couch, and you felt his hands gently take hold of your ankles. You blinked, watching as he carefully lifted your legs — like you were something breakable — and sat down in the space where they had been. Then, without a word, he laid your legs back across his lap. 

Your heel rested against his thigh, your toes brushing the edge of his coat. You watched him from the corner of your eye, something inside you oddly still. His hand found your foot, thumb stroking a slow, lazy circle against your heel. 

It wasn’t ticklish. It wasn’t meant to be. It was grounding. 

Comforting. 

“You’re cold,” he said softly, mostly to himself. His other hand settled on your ankle, thumb brushing along your skin again. “You should’ve said something.” 

You didn’t respond right away. Didn’t need to. 

“I didn’t notice,” you murmured, half-focused on the way his thumb moved. " ‘s warm now." 

His jaw ticked slightly, like he wanted to say something else, but didn’t. He just kept rubbing soft, unhurried circles against your foot — the kind of gesture someone wouldn’t do unless they really cared. 

You watched him in stillness — the way his fingers traced every curve, every line of your sole like it was scripture only he could read. His brows were slightly drawn; lips parted like he was whispering secrets to your skin without words. 

Then his head dipped lower. 

You felt his breath first — warm, feather-light against the delicate arch of your foot. 

And then, he kissed you there. 

Not rushed, not fleeting. A slow, deliberate press of his lips against the softest part of you. Like it was sacred. Like you were sacred. 

His thumb brushed your ankle as he pulled back just an inch, but he didn’t look up. He stared at the place he kissed, then lowered his head again — this time to the side of your heel, then your toes, reverent, unhurried. 

“You don’t even know,” he murmured, his voice quiet, a little rough. “How much I’d ruin the world just so you never have to walk on it.” 

Your breath caught. 

He finally looked up, eyes dark but soft, mouth still near your skin. 

“I’d carry you everywhere, if you let me.” 

You look away not knowing what to say, but your attention was on him. 

And his on you. 

You pressed your feet not hard- but light and firm against the palm of his hand. 

Neither of you needed to speak. Not in moments like this. 

Here, in this cocoon of quiet, he didn’t need to say what you already knew — that you were his, that he would always make space for you. Even if it meant rearranging the entire world just so you could lie comfortably on a couch. 

With that you both continued watching the film in the comforting atmosphere which made both of yours hearts warm.  

The door to his bedroom was open, just like always. 

You stepped in quietly, the silk of your nightwear whispering against your skin as you padded barefoot across the polished floor. Niki was sitting against the headboard, laptop on his thighs, the pale light from the screen casting a soft glow across his sharp features. 

You climbed onto the bed without a word, your movements slow and silent, as if not to disturb him — but Niki didn’t need you to be careful. He always knew when you were near. 

You settled beside him, laying on your stomach, your face resting just beside his hip. The cool silk sheets felt soft against your skin, your legs curling slightly to the side. He was warm there beside you — not just in presence, but in something else, something steadying. Familiar. 

Niki didn’t glance down right away, but you could feel the shift in his breath, the subtle stilling of his fingers on the keyboard. Then his hand, the one not working, moved gently — his knuckles brushing along your cheekbone, slow and absentminded an. His thumb swept just beneath your eye before sliding into your hair, fingers threading through it gently. 

“You always end up right here,” he murmured, almost to himself. 

You nuzzled closer without answering, your eyes fluttering shut, cheek resting against the softness of his hoodie where it draped across his hip, your chin on his thigh. 

“Makes it hard to concentrate,” he added, but you could hear the smile under his breath. He didn’t ask you to move. 

Instead, his hand settled at the back of your head, protective, his thumb occasionally stroking your temple while he kept working — one hand typing, the other gently cradling you like you were something fragile, sacred. 

You watched him for a while, the soft glow of his laptop illuminating his focused expression, his fingers moving swiftly over the keys. The quiet buzz of the room, the soft rhythm of his typing — it all seemed to fall into the background as you settled more comfortably beside him, your face still near his hip. 

Curiosity tugged at you. “What are you doing?” you asked softly, breaking the quiet, your voice barely above a murmur. 

Niki didn’t look at you right away. His gaze was still focused on the screen, but you could see the faint twitch of his lips. “Work,” he answered, his voice casual, but with a hint of amusement. 

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Work?” you repeated, shifting a little to look at him more directly. “I didn’t know you were working tonight.” 

He finally glanced at you, the corner of his mouth pulling into a small, knowing smile. “There’s always something to handle,” he said, his voice low. But the smile didn’t last long — instead, it softened as he looked down at you again, the light from the screen catching the warmth in his gaze. 

You tilted your head slightly, curiosity still lingering in your eyes. “You are working so late,” you murmured, a small frown tugging at your lips. 

He hummed softly, shifting his position just slightly so he could lean closer. “I don’t mind,” he said quietly, the words filled with that same quiet intensity he always carried, “But I don’t want you to feel like you’re bothering me.” 

A comfortable silence hung between you, but you didn’t break your gaze. Niki’s hand, still resting on the laptop, slowly moved away as if in response to the unspoken tension in the air. 

“Do you need anything?” he asked after a pause, a softness creeping into his voice. 

It was then that you let your curiosity spill into something more intimate. “Just you,” you whispered, shifting closer to him, ready to pull him from the world of his work. 

And just like that, the click of the keyboard stopped, the weight of his attention shifted, and you felt his focus solely on you. His hand, the one that had been cradling your head, paused for a moment before gliding down your back in a long, quiet stroke. Then came the soft click of his laptop closing. 

“You're done?” you murmured, barely above a whisper, eyes still closed. 

“Yeah,” he said, voice low, almost lazy. “I’ve got better things to hold.” 

You felt the laptop move off the bed, replaced by the warmth of his full attention. Niki shifted, slowly turning his body toward you. His hand found your waist and pulled you gently into him, tucking you into his side. Your face now rested against his abdomen, and one of his arms curled around your shoulders like a shield, holding you close, like you were his grounding point — not the work, not the empire, just you. 

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, staying there for a moment longer than usual. 

“This is better,” he whispered into your hair. 

You smiled, eyes fluttering closed again. 

And he just stayed like that, holding you, work forgotten on the nightstand. 

The grand ballroom stretched out before you, its lavish details and golden accents reflecting the light from the crystal chandeliers above. The air was quiet, only the soft echo of your footsteps as you stood in the center, surrounded by the opulence of the room. Niki’s presence was steady beside you, his figure just as commanding as the room itself. 

You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. The moment felt surreal, like a scene out of a dream, but you weren’t dreaming. His gaze was on you, steady and intense, and without thinking, you spoke. 

“Niki,” you said, your voice barely a whisper but full of meaning. “Dance with me.” 

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes searching your face. There was a brief pause, but then his lips curved into a small, knowing smile. He stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours, his fingers curling around it with a soft but firm grip. 

Without a word, he led you toward the center of the ballroom, his body moving effortlessly, guiding you as you followed his lead. Your feet glided across the floor, as though you’d been dancing together for years, the music between the two of you unspoken, but felt in every movement. 

The rhythm of your bodies was fluid, as if you were both lost in the moment, and yet there was something more — an electricity that ran between you. His hand rested gently on the small of your back, pulling you closer. Your heart beat faster, not from nerves, but from the undeniable pull you felt toward him. 

As the dance continued, his gaze never left you, his movements slow and deliberate. Your body pressed against his, and with each step, it felt like the world around you disappeared. 

You tilted your head up toward him, the rhythm of the dance no longer enough to hold the tension between you. The space between your faces grew smaller until his lips were almost brushing yours. 

“Riki…” you whispered again, your breath catching. 

He didn’t need another prompt. With a small movement, he leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. Time seemed to stop as he deepened the kiss, his hand tightening around you, pulling you even closer. His lips were warm, familiar, and you melted into him, your arms winding around his neck, the world outside the ballroom fading into the background. 

The kiss was everything — soft but filled with an intensity that left you breathless. The ballroom, the music, everything around you became a distant memory as you both lost yourselves in the moment, surrounded only by the feeling of each other’s presence. 

When you finally pulled away, your faces still close, he looked down at you with a quiet intensity. “You’re mine,” he whispered, the words settling into your skin like a secret. 

And as you rested your head against his chest, the world could have stopped, and you wouldn’t have cared. In that moment, it was just the two of you — dancing, kissing, and belonging to each other. 

That night the moonlight spilled through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. The night was still, save for the sound of your breath mingling with his, a rhythm you both seemed to fall into effortlessly.  

His hands roamed over your skin, gentle yet possessive, as if he were trying to imprint his touch into every inch of you. The tension between you had been building for what felt like forever, and tonight, the air was thick with desire. 

His lips trailed down your neck, sending shivers through your body, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, your lips finding his once more. It was a kiss of urgency, like you both needed something more, something deeper. 

In the heat of the moment, you pulled back just slightly, breathless, your fingers still tangled in his hair. The question escaped your lips before you could even stop it. 

“Do you love me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability of the words making your heart skip a beat. 

For a moment, Niki didn’t respond. His gaze locked with yours, and there was a brief flicker of something in his eyes — something unreadable, but intense. You could feel the weight of the silence between you, the gravity of the question hanging in the air. 

His lips curled into a smirk, a dangerous, knowing smirk that only made your heart race faster. Slowly, deliberately, he moved his face closer to yours, his breath warm against your ear. 

“Do you think I would be here, right now, with you... if I didn’t?” he murmured, his voice low, almost dangerous. 

The words sent a thrill through you, but you needed to hear it. You needed him to say it. 

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, and in that moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. There was no pretense, no games. Just him, just you. 

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice raw and sincere, his hands gripping you tighter as though saying the words made it real. “I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you, my dove.” 

The words hit you like a rush of warmth, and you felt your heart swell in your chest. Before you could respond, he kissed you again, harder this time, as if he were sealing his confession with the heat of his touch. And in that kiss, you could feel everything — the love, the intensity, the raw, undeniable connection between you two. 

A year passed like a dream draped in silk and quiet mornings. Days blurred into evenings filled with shared meals across candlelit tables, where words weren’t always needed and glances spoke more than conversation ever could.  

You learned the shape of his presence — the way he liked his tea, the way his gaze always found you first in any room. Nights melted into warmth, into the comfort of shared blankets and whispered goodnights, into his arms around you and your breath against his chest. 

 The mansion no longer felt foreign. It breathed with you. It held your laughter in its walls, your footprints on its floors. 

There were kisses pressed to your temple without warning, fingers laced absentmindedly under sun-drenched gardens, soft embraces that lingered longer than necessary. Somewhere between the silences and stolen glances, love settled — slow, certain, and deeply rooted. 

Now, the night had quieted, the air in the room warm and still, lit only by the faint glow from the wall lamp near the bed. 

You lay tangled in his arms, the sheets slipping low around your waists. His lips brushed lazily against yours, the kisses slow, unhurried — the kind you melt into without realizing. One hand rested on your waist, thumb tracing slow circles on your skin like he was memorizing you all over again. 

You breathed against his mouth, murmuring something incoherent, and he chuckled quietly. “What?” you asked, voice a sleepy whisper. 

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His gaze wasn’t teasing. Not soft. Not playful. 

It was quiet. Steady. Unnervingly serious. 

“Do you want to marry me?” he asked. 

Your breath caught. 

You blinked up at him, mind foggy from the warmth of his body and the softness of the moment. But his expression didn’t shift. He wasn’t joking. 

His fingers grazed your jaw, gently tilting your face toward him. 

“I want you here forever,” he said, voice low. “No more pretending this isn’t everything. No more wondering if you belong to me. You do.” 

A pause. 

“So let’s make it permanent.” 

The silence in the room was louder than any answer. 

But you didn’t pull away. You smile and nod. 

And that — was all he needed. 

His hand slid to the back of your head, pulling you into another kiss. 

Possessive. Final. Yours. His. Forever. 

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

taglist: @gnarlyhoons @stormlit-pages @himynameisraelynn @see-c (lmk if u wanna be added!)

A/N: HELLOOOO???!???!?! did y'all miss me? also the layout is inspired by the extraordinary author, (whom im lucky to call my friend hehehe) @elikajinnie !!!!!!! REBLOGS ND COMMENTS R VERY MUCH APPRECIATED, stay hydratedddd!

[kikiheehee]

that feeling when we ᢉ𐭩

synopsis: ni-ki as your boyfriend

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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.

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