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pjmxtra · 4 months ago

Text

needy baby ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

paring: 성훈 x fmr

warning: cnc! smut! reader is described as thin, size kink

You tossed and turned in bed. Too horny to let sleep take over. The ache between your thighs was maddening, and the cool brush of the sheets against your skin only made it worse. You were so worked up it hurt—your legs pressed tight together, your chest rising and falling sharply, ribs faintly visible under the cling of your tank top.

You wanted Sunghoon so badly it was getting in the way of everything—sleep, sanity, breath. You could feel him beside you. Big. Warm. Still.

There was only one way to fix this.

You shifted slowly, limbs light and sharp with angles, and peeled the thick blanket off your narrow frame. The tank top barely clung to your chest, the curve of your ribs showing with every breath. You looked like a whisper beside him—fragile, restless.

You crawled on top of him, moving carefully, your knees pressing down gently onto the mattress. You were so light he didn’t even stir. Your little shorts had ridden up, barely clinging to your ass now, the fabric caught high over your hips, thin thighs spread open as you straddled his lap.

Sunghoon slept peacefully beneath you, chest rising and falling with calm rhythm. His bare torso was broad and solid under your palms. You stared at him—gorgeous and unfairly still—his muscles relaxed, arms stretched at his sides. The size difference between you was absurd. His body made yours look like something fragile, breakable.

You bit your lip and rolled your hips forward, grinding gently against the bulge in his boxers. It was already there—thick, warm, pressing up against you. With every shift of your hips, you could feel it harden beneath you. You gasped quietly, the friction teasing your slick entrance through your thin clothes.

You let out a faint giggle, trembling. This was working. Your body—small, trembling, sharp in all the wrong ways—was driving him crazy, even in sleep.

Sliding down slightly, your fingers found the waistband of his boxers. Carefully, slowly, you pulled them down just enough—not wanting to wake him, not yet. His cock sprang free, thick and long and intimidating. It lay heavy against his stomach, and you stared.

It was huge. Your fingers, so small and thin, barely wrapped around him.

He groaned faintly in his sleep at the touch.

You spit into your hand and began to stroke him, coating him, soft and slow. Your chest rose and fell faster now. He was already twitching in your grip, warm and pulsing. And you were already so wet.

You crawled back up, straddling him once more, and positioned yourself over him. One hand held his cock, the other braced weakly on his chest. Your knees trembled as you lined up and sank down—inch by inch, his cock stretching you open.

A broken moan escaped your throat.

He filled you so deeply it felt like too much. Your tiny body was stretched to its limit, your narrow hips forced wide apart. You whimpered, fighting the urge to stop—fighting the burn that came with taking something so big in a body so tiny. But you needed this. You needed him.

Sunghoon stirred beneath you—just a little. A quiet, breathy moan left his lips. Still asleep.

Once you’d adjusted, you began to move—slow at first, bouncing on his cock with shaky, delicate motions. Your hands were pressed flat on his chest, trying to keep yourself upright as your thin thighs trembled with every drop. You could feel every ridge, every twitch. It was overwhelming, filling, perfect.

Your bones ached with every motion, your chest flushed, sweat slicking the skin over your shoulders. Your breathing turned ragged as your pace quickened. You were lost in the stretch, the fullness, the sound of slick skin and needy gasps. You didn’t even care if he woke up.

And then—A large hand suddenly wrapped around your waist, fingers digging deep into the softest part of your side, gripping tight enough to make you gasp.

You flinched. Your head snapped down—and met his gaze. Sunghoon was awake.

His voice came out rough and dark, laced with amusement. “Such a dirty girl.”

His hand slid up your side, over your ribs, and stopped just under your chest, fingers splayed over the fragile curve of you. You were shaking, eyes glassy, tears clinging to your lashes. Your lips were swollen, bitten raw. Your back arched instinctively.

He looked down at where your small body sat on his cock, trembling and wet.

“You really thought you could take me by yourself, huh?” he growled against your throat, his voice low, wicked. “Tiny little thing—thought you could ride this dick and not get wrecked?”

You moaned, helpless.

Sunghoon sat up and wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you flush against his chest. His mouth met your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark. You cried out, cunt clenching around him.

“Guess I better help you finish what you started.”

And then he moved. He rose up, slammed you back down. Again. Again.

You cried out, the air knocked from your lungs. Your bones jolted with each bounce, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the room. He used you—lifted you, dropped you, fucked into you so hard it hurt. Your body bent easily in his grip, thin wrists clinging to his shoulders, your breath hitching every time his cock slammed home.

You sobbed against his neck, overwhelmed. Sunghoon kissed your tears. Smiled. And then kept going.

Your body trembled in his arms, shoulders rising and falling with every ragged breath. You clung to him with weak fingers, barely able to wrap your arms around his neck, your thin frame rocking with every brutal thrust.

Sunghoon held you like you weighed nothing.

You gasped as he fucked up into you again, your thighs shaking as your spine bowed under the pressure. Your knees were nearly slipping off his hips now, legs spread wide across his lap. Your hips were red from his grip, his fingertips leaving marks in your skin. He was relentless—grinding you down onto him so deep it felt like your body couldn’t take anymore.

But he wasn’t done.

Without warning, he wrapped his arms under your thighs and flipped you—your back hitting the mattress with a soft, breathless sound, the weight of your small frame barely disturbing the bed. He hovered over you now, his body massive, blocking out the dim light above. You looked up at him with wide, teary eyes, your collarbones sharp against the pillows, chest heaving.

Sunghoon took in the sight of you—stretched out, slick and shaking, your limbs spread beneath him, too thin to put up even the illusion of resistance.

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost reverent, as he reached down and grabbed your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head like it was nothing. “So fucking breakable.”

You whimpered, lips parted, unable to answer—your body already clenching around him as he slid back inside. You could barely breathe. He filled you completely, stretching your narrow hips wide again, deeper this time. The angle was brutal. Perfect. Your head fell back against the pillow, back arching sharply as he bottomed out.

“hoonie—” you gasped, voice cracking.

He leaned in close, his mouth brushing your ear. “Say it again.”

“h-hoonie.”

“Say who’s fucking so good.”

“You—hoon, it’s you—”

He groaned low and bit your shoulder, sucking bruises into the thin stretch of skin there. Your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, but they barely reached. You were trembling, tears sliding down the sides of your face from how deep he was. Your back pressed into the bed, hands twitching in his grip.

And he loved it.

He watched you fall apart beneath him, fucked out and ruined, your tiny frame jerking with every thrust. You looked so helpless, so wrecked—thin thighs trembling, lips swollen, voice gone. All because of him.

“Made to take it,” he murmured, hips slamming into yours, sweat dripping down his neck. “No one else could fuck this body but me.”

You moaned—a broken, high sound. Your back arched again, trying to meet every thrust, but it was too much. You were too small, too overwhelmed. You didn’t even know if you were crying from the pain or the pleasure. Maybe both.

Your whole world was just him. His cock. His hands. His voice in your ear.

“G-Gonna cum,” you whimpered, choking on the words.

“Then cum on this dick, baby. Let me feel that tight little body shake.”

You shattered.

Your walls clamped down around him, eyes rolling back, hips shaking violently as the orgasm hit you like a wave. Sunghoon cursed under his breath, thrusting through it, dragging it out. You writhed beneath him, arms still pinned, voice breaking into sobs as you fell apart.

And still—he didn’t stop.

“Not done with you,” he growled, hips pounding harder. “Not ‘til I see you cry for real.”

You whimpered his name again, voice soft and desperate. “Please.”

#enhypen x reader #enhypen #enha scenarios #enha x reader #enhypen imagine #enhypen scenarios #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon smut #enha smut #enhypen smut #sunghoon x reader smut

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pjmxtra · 4 months ago

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over power! ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

paring: 니키 x fmr!

Warning: Smut! Reader is described as fragile, easy to break, reade has itty bitty titties •͈ᴗ⁃͈⊹ size kink, big dick riki

an: before any more people ask if I stole the fic I did not!! It was my old account l0vely4ly! I got t worded so went back to this account! Idk how to prove it but I have the other 2 fics I posted and will be posting them on here for you guys to enjoy! Mwah

The air between you was thick with tension, your close proximity only making it worse. Your breath came in quick, uneven puffs, but you refused to let it show that he had any effect on you. A teasing chuckle slipped past your lips as you tightened your grip around Riki’s wrists, straddling him with all the confidence you could muster. His broad frame lay beneath you, his toned arms flexing under your hold, but you pretended not to notice. Instead, you tilted your head, a smug grin pulling at your lips.

“See? I’m so much stronger than you,” you taunted, sticking your tongue out playfully as you wiggled your hips in victory. A low, almost imperceptible groan rumbled from Riki’s chest, his dark eyes flashing with something unreadable. He rolled his eyes at your childish display, yet the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips told you he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

“Whatever,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. “I let you win, you know that, right?” His cocky expression made your nose scrunch in irritation. Huffing, you retorted, “No, I won fair and squa—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, the world tilted. In a blur, Riki’s wrists twisted out of your grip with ease, and in one swift movement, he flipped you onto your back. A startled gasp left your lips as your body met the plush mattress, the air momentarily knocked from your lungs. Your hands instinctively reached out to push him off, but it was useless—he was already caging your wrists above your head, his fingers wrapping around them with little effort.

Your heartbeat stuttered, your body suddenly feeling so much smaller beneath him. Riki loomed over you, his frame casting a shadow over yours, his weight effortlessly pinning you down. His long fingers, once restrained, now held you in place as if you were nothing more than a plaything in his grasp. His expression was unreadable, but there was an undeniable flicker of satisfaction in his darkened gaze as he took in the sight of you beneath him—wide-eyed, breathless, utterly at his mercy.

“Fair and square, huh?” His voice was a deep murmur, laced with amusement as he dipped his face closer to yours. His lips curled into a smirk, his head tilting as he studied your expression.

You fluttered your lashes, still trying to recover from how easily he’d turned the tables on you. The power dynamic had shifted so suddenly, so effortlessly, that it sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re a cheater,” you whispered, brows furrowed, a pout settling on your lips.

Riki only chuckled, his grip tightening slightly as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your skin. “Am i?” he murmured, his voice dangerously smooth.

You writhed beneath him, stubbornly refusing to accept defeat even as your strength dwindled against his grip. Your breath hitched as you twisted your wrists, but it was useless—Riki was bigger, stronger, and effortlessly holding you in place. A frustrated sigh left your lips, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “Let me go,” you whined, a last-ditch attempt at regaining control. “I already won, cheater.”

Riki only chuckled, low and mocking, his head tilting as he looked down at you like you were nothing more than an amusing little thing beneath him. His fingers flexed around your wrists, pressing them deeper into the mattress, his weight keeping you trapped beneath him. “No can do, pretty,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “I like it this way.”

A shiver ran down your spine as one of his hands moved, trailing down to the hem of your oversized shirt—his shirt. The fabric bunched beneath his fingertips, and your breath quickened, panic and anticipation tangling into something dangerous. His other hand remained wrapped around your wrist, keeping you caged, helpless, completely at his mercy.

“Riki,” you whimpered, jutting out your bottom lip in a weak attempt at garnering sympathy. “This isn’t fair.” His dark eyes locked onto yours, sharp and unyielding, amusement dancing within them as he took in the sight of you—pinned, squirming, utterly powerless. You swallowed hard.

He looked like a predator toying with his prey, dragging the moment out just to watch you suffer.

His lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in, his breath ghosting along the shell of your ear. The heat of him was suffocating, and then— “Yeah? What’s a pathetic little slut like you gonna do about it?”

A sharp gasp left your lips, the crude words sending a jolt through your body. Your thighs pressed together involuntarily, seeking friction, seeking anything, and Riki noticed immediately. His gaze flickered downward, catching the desperate movement, and his large hand landed firmly on the curve of your thigh. His fingers dug in, gripping.

You whimpered at the degradation, your body betraying you, heat pooling in your core. Riki chuckled at the sound, at how easily you crumbled under his touch. He shifted, his lips dragging along the curve of your neck, leaving teasing, feather-light kisses that had you trembling. You squirmed, another weak attempt at pulling away, but it only made him tighten his grip.

His hand moved to your face, his fingers tracing the shape of your cheek with deceptive gentleness. And then, without warning, he tilted your chin up and crashed his lips against yours, rough and eager. The force of it stole the air from your lungs, and when his hand came down on your thigh in a sharp slap, you gasped, giving him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth.

The sounds that filled the space between you—breathless whimpers, the slick slide of lips, the faint rustle of sheets—only added to your growing desperation. When you finally managed to push him back, a thin string of saliva connected your lips, and your chest heaved as you stared up at him, pupils blown wide with need.

Riki watched, eyes dark, unreadable. Then, slowly, a wicked grin spread across his lips. “Pathetic,” he mused, his voice dripping with satisfaction. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when you were so wet for him.

He let go of your wrist, and your arm dropped limply above your head, the skin flushed where his fingers had gripped you too tightly.

Riki leans back against the headboard, his long legs stretching out effortlessly. He watches you with hooded eyes, dark and hungry, his fingers tapping against his thigh—a silent command.

Without hesitation, you crawl toward him, the sharp edges of your collarbones shifting beneath your skin with every movement. His sheer size overshadowed you, his frame broad and solid against the plush bedding, while your own body feels weightless in comparison.

His hands are on you the moment you settle onto his lap, large and warm as they trace the ridges of your ribs beneath your oversize shirt. He moves slowly, deliberately, lifting the fabric over your head.

His breath hitches as he takes you in—your delicate frame, the lace bralette barely concealing your small, perky breasts, the hollow space between your thighs as you straddle him. His fingers ghost over the jut of your hip bones, circling them like he’s mapping out something precious, something his.

“Stop being mean,” you moaned softly, barely above a whisper, hoping—praying—he would take pity on you. But Riki thrived on this—on control, on watching you struggle against the inevitable.

“You really don’t get it, do you,” he murmurs, voice thick with something possessive. His hands slide lower, gripping your waist with ease, thumbs pressing into your skin like he’s testing how much you can take.

“I could do whatever I want to you right now,” he said, almost to himself. His voice was flat, but there was something predatory beneath it, like he was marveling at how easily you crumbled. “And you couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

You whimpered—half in fear, half in want. You grind your hips instinctively, knowing what he wants before he even has to say it.

His touch is rough but reverent as he strips away your shorts, leaving you in nothing but lace and vulnerability. He takes his time, gaze dragging over every inch of you, savoring the way you look beneath him—fragile, breakable. His expression darkens.

Wordlessly your fingers find the hem of his shirt. You’re barely able to pull it over his head before he discards it entirely, revealing a body carved from sheer strength. Your smaller hands press against his abdomen, tracing the hard lines of muscle, feeling the power beneath his skin.

His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You feel the hard press of him through his sweats, a sharp contrast to your softness. His lips brush against your ear, voice dripping with control.

“You’re so delicate,” he breathes, rolling his hips up just enough to make you shudder. “So easy to ruin.”

A whimper escapes you, and he chuckles—low, deep, indulgent. His fingers tilt your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. His thumb presses against your lips before trailing down, tracing the column of your throat, pressing lightly against your pulse.

“You want me to wreck you, don’t you?”

Your breath hitches, and he smirks, already knowing the answer. His smirk deepens as he watches you struggle to speak, your lips parting, breath shaky. His thumb lingers at the base of your throat, pressing just enough to remind you of the difference in your sizes—the way his hand alone could encircle your fragile neck with ease.

“Use your mouth,” he murmurs, his voice a dark velvet command.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his gaze, the way he drinks in every little reaction from you—the way your ribs shift with each uneven breath, the way your thighs tremble despite barely moving. Your fingers curl against his stomach, gripping onto anything solid as you force yourself to answer.

“Yes, Riki. Want you to… ruin me.” you whisper, your voice small, a stark contrast to the overwhelming presence of him.

“Good girl.” The praise is low, rough, laced with something dangerous. There was no warmth in the way he looked at you. Only possession. He shifted, dragging his sweats down just enough to free his hard on. You froze. The size of him—it was almost intimidating.

You swallowed hard, already aching from how full you knew you were about to be. He grabbed your hand, wrapped it around his cock. Made you feel how hard he was. How ready. He didn’t ask if you wanted it. You already said enough.

His grip tightens at your waist, the muscles in his arms flexing as he lifts you effortlessly, positioning you exactly where he wants you—like you weigh nothing at all. He’s toying with you, rubbing himself across your socked folds. He enjoyed the contrast, the way your tiny frame fits so perfectly against him.

His free hand trails down your back, fingers tracing the delicate bumps of your spine before gripping onto your hip, pressing his thumb into the sharp dip. He tilts his head, studying you like he’s figuring out just how much you can take.

His hands move lower, gripping the backs of your thighs, spreading them wider as he keeps you balanced in his lap. He lets out a low chuckle as he glances down at the space between them, his gaze flicking back up to yours with amusement.

“This little gap between your thighs…” he muses, running his fingers along the inside of your leg, barely touching, teasing. “So small… how are you supposed to take me, hm?”

You whimper, pressing closer, wordlessly begging for more. His fingers dig into your skin in response, a silent warning.

“Patience.” The word is firm, dripping with authority.

His other hand slides up your side, thumb grazing the faint outline of your ribs. His gaze darkens. “I can feel every inch of you.” He leans in, lips grazing over the thin skin just beneath your jaw, a barely-there kiss before he bites down, enough to make you gasp. “So breakable.”

Your fingers tighten around his shoulders, nails sinking into his skin, desperate for something to ground you. He’s all around you—his voice in your ears, his hands on your body, his heat sinking into your bones.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, each word a slow, deliberate promise. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

His words settle deep into your bones, a dark promise wrapped in velvet. Riki takes his time, reveling in the contrast—his sheer size against your fragile form, the way your thin body fits so easily in his grasp.

His dark eyes trace over you, drinking in the sight of your sharp collarbones, the delicate outline of your ribs, the soft expanse of your stomach. His lips curl into something possessive, something dangerous.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. His thumb trails down your sternum, pressing lightly against the hollow between your ribs. “So tiny… like you were made to be handled like this.”

A whimper escapes you, your body trembling slightly under his touch. You know he feels it—feels how easily he could control you, how effortlessly he could shape you to his will. His grip tightens in response, and he smirks.

“You like it, don’t you?” His voice is low, teasing, his hands guiding you down until the heat of him presses flush against you, sending a shiver up your spine. He doesn’t move any further, just holds you there, watching, waiting.

You let out a desperate little noise, shifting slightly, but he doesn’t budge. His fingers flex against your hips, keeping you still. “Say it,” he commands.

“I—I like it,” you breathe, barely above a whisper. His smirk deepens. “You like feeling small? Like knowing I can do whatever I want with you?” Your head nods instinctively, but it’s not enough. His hand is on your jaw in an instant, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his. His fingers press in just enough to part your lips.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes,” you whimper. “I love it.”

A satisfied growl rumbles in his chest. “That’s my girl.”

And then he moves.

His hands guide you down, inch by inch, stretching you out, making you take every part of him. A broken moan slips from your lips, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body struggles to adjust. The sheer size of him against your delicate frame makes your breath hitch, makes your mind blur with the overwhelming sensation of being completely filled.

His head falls back against the headboard, a low groan escaping him as he watches you struggle to take all of him, your tiny body trembling against his. His hand moves to your stomach, pressing down slightly, feeling the way he stretches you from the inside. His dark eyes flicker with something primal.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, almost in awe. “So small, yet you’re taking me so well.”

You can’t think, can’t breathe—all you can do is feel him, everywhere, inside and out. Your hands clutch onto him for support, your head falling forward against his shoulder as he finally starts to move, slow at first, savoring the way your body reacts to him.

The pace doesn’t stay gentle for long. Riki’s control snaps as he grips your hips and starts pulling you down harder, faster, setting a brutal rhythm that has you gasping for air. His lips are everywhere—brushing over your throat, your collarbones, your shoulders—biting, marking, claiming. Each thrust sends a shockwave through your body, his strength overwhelming, consuming.

“You feel that?” he growls against your ear, his hand pressing against your stomach again. “I’m so deep inside you… I can see the way you stretch around me.”

Your vision blurs, pleasure and pain mixing into something intoxicating. Your body feels weightless, completely at his mercy, lost in the feeling of being utterly dominated.

“You’re mine,” Riki breathes, his voice rough with possession. His fingers grip your chin, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his. “Say it.”

“Y-Yours,” you gasp, barely able to form words. Eyes rolling into your skull, mouth hung open.

A dark smile plays on his lips. “That’s right, baby.” His pace quickens, sending you spiraling, your body breaking apart beneath his hands. “And I’m never letting you go.”

Your breath comes in sharp moans, body trembling as his fucks himself ruthlessly into you. Riki doesn’t slow, doesn’t ease up—his grip stays firm, controlling every movement, every reaction, molding you to his will.

His hands, large and warm, slide down your back, pressing against the delicate ridges of your spine, keeping you flush against him. The heat between your bodies is overwhelming, a stark contrast between his strength and your fragility. His lips ghost over your jaw, brushing against your ear as he speaks, voice rough with control.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, his fingers pressing lightly into your stomach. “Feel how deep I am?” You were full—stuffed to the edge of what you could handle.

Your body shudders, head tilting back as your hands grasp at his shoulders, seeking any form of stability. His grip tightens.

“Look at me,” he commands.

It takes effort, but you meet his gaze—dark, hungry, filled with something possessive. His thumb drags along your cheek, his touch deceptively gentle as he watches you struggle against the overwhelming sensation of him.

“So small,” he muses, almost to himself. His hand slides back to your waist, fingers spreading wide, nearly spanning the entirety of your narrow frame. “Yet you take everything I give you.”

He thrust up into you with sharp, brutal rhythm. Each movement knocked the air from your lungs, sent sparks through your spine. His hands guided your body like you were nothing more than a doll—something soft and weak and pliable in his grip. He watches you with dark amusement, watches the salty tears falling down your face.

Riki doesn’t stop—he keeps you right where he wants you, controlling every movement, every sound that leaves your lips. His strength is overwhelming, his presence all-consuming. The way he holds you, the way he moves, it’s like he’s claiming you over and over again, leaving no part of you untouched, no space between you unfilled.

Your body trembles, struggling to keep up with the pace he sets, but he keeps you steady, his grip firm, unrelenting. His fingers press into your hips, guiding you effortlessly, making sure you take every bit of him.

“To fucked out, baby?” His voice is thick with something dark, something possessive, as he presses a hand to your stomach again, feeling the way your body stretches around him. “To full to even think huh.”

Your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut as the tension coils tighter and tighter inside you. His breath is hot against your skin, his lips tracing the slope of your neck, biting, marking, making sure you’ll feel him even when he’s not there.

“Look at me,” he commands again, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

Somehow, you manage to lift your head, your dazed eyes meeting his. His gaze is molten, burning with something intense, something primal. His hands slide up your sides, thumbs tracing the delicate lines of your ribs before gripping your waist again.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice low and rough, his movements growing sharper, more desperate.

Your body is already teetering on the edge, every nerve alight, every part of you wound tight and ready to snap.

“I-I’m yours, Riki.”

And that’s all it takes.

A deep, satisfied groan rumbles in his chest as he finally lets go, filling you up to the brim. his grip on you tightening as he pulls you against him, holding you there as waves of pleasure crash over you both. Your body trembles in his arms, your mind blank, lost in the feeling of being completely his.

Riki keeps you close, his breathing heavy, his hands trailing soothing circles against your back as you come down from the high. Your small frame is limp against him, exhausted, spent. His lips press gently against your temple, a stark contrast to the dominance he held moments ago.

“You did so good for me,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, laced with something almost tender.

Your eyes flutter shut, your body sinking into his warmth, completely safe despite the intensity of what just happened. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, as if he has no intention of letting you go—not now, not ever.

And as sleep pulls you under, the last thing you hear is his voice, a quiet promise against your skin.

“You’re mine.”

heyyy hope you enjoyed! my requests are open and i’m officially back! i just forgot my password sorryyy

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pjmxtra · 4 months ago

Text

Jungwon is the type to humiliate and I stand by that !

notes: this took forever... (👁ˋ _ ˊ 👁) PLEASE INTERACT WITH REBLOGS AND COMMENTS I AM NO BETTER THEN BEGGING!

warnings ¡ dub/con, power dynamics, dry humping, exhibition kink, crying kink (idk how to spell it) meanie!wonnie, reader gets shy easily. ughhh idk what else

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Bully!won who looks like the sweetest guy in school to everybody else, everyone is swoon with his big boba eyes and gummy smile. They would've never guessed how much he loves to humiliate you. He'd first spot you sitting Infront of him in the lecture hall nervously fiddling with your pencils before the professor came in, you'd be fun to mess around with he thinks.

He starts off tame, lightly tugging your hair when he sits directly behind you in class just to smirk when you look back at him with furrowed brows and pouty lips, the whimper you let out from the pain makes his cock twitch in his jeans. Always sitting next to you in class just to rest his hand on your thigh to watch you squirm in his hold, it wouldn't go unnoticed by him how you'd cross your legs and arch your back just to get some friction, poor you :c

Once he feels that you deserve his attention he'd start to talk to you. "Have you ever done anal?" asking like its the most casual question to ask during class, your taken aback at his forwardness and stumble over your words not knowing what to say and he's looking at you with his head resting on his palm waiting for an answer. When you decide to just ignore him and write down your notes he furrows his brows "well?...have you?"

Ruining your day always made his, especially when he goes home and has your pretty flustered face engraved in his brain to jerk off to. Realizing how much he wanted to fuck you until you cried only made the humiliation worse. He'd push you into the janitors closet between breaks and flip you so your stomach is facing the wall and rut against your ass, not even bothering to flip your skirt up just letting his hard cock rub the fabric. All you can do is walk around campus with a wet spot plastered on your skirt, and if someone asks what it is you say you just sat on some water with your head hung low.

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pjmxtra · 4 months ago

Note

Can you write something with riki with a reader with daddy issues ?? smut or fluff or both u choose i love your fics sm 😭😭

i’m not him ⋆˚⟡˖ ࣪

paring: 니키 x gnr

warning: angst to fluff, daddy issues, mentions of yelling, not being good enough, reader is smaller than riki

an: thank you sm for the request! i decided to do fluff for this once since it hit so close to home and i can’t bear writing it rn. hope it was up to your expectations and thank you again for the compliment on my writing!

The fights were inevitable.

Your father would come home exhausted, head pounding, the weight of the day heavy on his shoulders. You always knew the signs — the way his keys clattered sharper than necessary onto the counter, the slump of his body as he threw himself onto the couch, the way his eyes glazed past you like you weren’t even there.

But you were young — too young to understand how someone could be present and so absent all at once. So, you did what any little girl would do: you tried. You tried to fill the heavy silence with bright smiles and endless chatter, desperate to pull him back, to make him see you. You spoke about everything and nothing, heart wide open, hoping he’d listen. Hoping he’d love you loud in return.

Instead, he’d snap.

Sharp words. Cold eyes. A harsh tone that made your chest cave in.

“Just shut up already,” he’d bark, and you would crumble, every time — running to your room, stifling your sobs into the pillow. You learned young that your voice could be a weapon against yourself. That love could be conditional. That your presence could be too much.

And so you grew quieter. More careful. You weighed your words before you spoke them. Measured your laughter. Softened your footsteps. You became an expert at shrinking yourself until you were almost invisible — anything to avoid the shame of being too much, too loud, too you.

When you started dating Riki, you made it your silent mission: Don’t be annoying. Don’t be too much. Stay small. Stay safe.

Maybe then he wouldn’t leave.

Maybe then you’d be enough.

The clock struck twelve when you heard the door creak open, the soft shuffle of tired footsteps echoing through the cold, dim apartment. You sat curled on the couch, a half-watched show playing to an empty room. The second Riki stepped inside, you shot up, forcing a bright smile onto your face.

“Hi, Ki!” you chirped, voice higher than you intended.

Riki’s face, pale and drawn with exhaustion, barely lifted to meet your eyes. His duffel bag slipped from his shoulder with a heavy thud, and he dragged himself over, dropping onto the couch beside you. His body sprawled out, limbs heavy, every move soaked in fatigue.

Still, you tried. “How was practice, Ki?” you asked, carefully, sweetly, trying to wedge yourself into the growing space between you.

“Fine,” he mumbled, eyes closed.

You kept talking, desperate to fill the emptiness. “Mine was good too! Kinda boring without you though. I did catch up on that new show we started — the one you said looked cool? I think you’d really like it, it’s got—”

He let out a heavy sigh, cutting through your words like a blade.

“Look, I’m tired, okay?” he muttered, sitting up with effort. “Let’s talk about this later. I’m gonna go shower.”

He left without a second glance.

The silence he left behind was louder than any scream.

You sat frozen for a moment, the weight of your own words crashing down around you. The smile you had so carefully stitched across your face fell apart at the seams. Your throat tightened, a lump swelling that you couldn’t swallow down.

You annoyed him. You made him leave.

The sound of the shower running in the distance only sharpened the ache inside you, anchoring you to the reality you didn’t want to face. You curled tighter into yourself on the couch, arms wrapped around your middle as if you could hold yourself together.

You didn’t realize when you started crying — it came slow at first, a sting behind your eyes, a soft hitch in your breath. Then harder, faster, until you were gasping, your chest heaving under the pressure.

You crawled into bed alone, pulling the blanket up to your chin, curling into the smallest shape you could manage. Maybe if you were small enough, quiet enough, you wouldn’t be a burden. Wouldn’t be too much.

When Riki joined you later, the mattress dipped under his weight, his body sinking in beside you. His warmth should’ve been a comfort — but the gap between you felt like a canyon. His arm slung over your waist, but it was loose, half-hearted, almost mechanical. You could feel how far away he was.

And still, the noise in your head wouldn’t stop.

You pushed him away. You made him tired of you. You’re too much.

A soft, broken sniffle escaped you before you could bite it down. Immediately, Riki stirred.

“Baby?” His voice was thick with sleep, but sharpened instantly with concern. He propped himself up on one elbow, peering down at you through the dark.

“Why you crying?” he asked, voice rough and bewildered.

You shook your head desperately, trying to hide your face from him. But Riki was relentless when it came to you — he pulled gently at your shoulder until you were facing him, your tear-streaked face bathed in the faint moonlight.

His heart twisted painfully at the sight.

“Oh, angel,” he murmured, sliding closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you firmly into his chest. He held you like you might break — no, like you already were, and he was trying to piece you back together.

You buried your face in his hoodie, clutching the fabric like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out against him. “I didn’t mean to be annoying. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“Mad?” Riki repeated, stunned. His hands stilled on your back. “Baby, no. No. I’m not mad.”

But you couldn’t stop — the words spilled out, messy and gasping, the dam finally breaking.

“It’s just—” you sobbed, voice trembling, “When you’re quiet like that… when you don’t want to talk to me… it feels like I’m bothering you. Like you don’t want me around. And it’s stupid but—” you squeezed your eyes shut, the memory sharp and painful, “it reminds me of my dad.”

Riki froze, heart hammering in his chest. You pressed your forehead against him, words tumbling out raw and broken.

“He’d come home tired and mad. Wouldn’t look at me. Wouldn’t listen. I’d try so hard to make him see me — but I was always just… noise. Annoying. Something to shut up and push away.” You trembled in his arms. “I learned to stay small so they wouldn’t leave. So I wouldn’t ruin everything.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Crushing.

You could hear Riki’s heartbeat, fast and frantic under your ear, as he held you tighter. His big hands cradled your head, wrapped around your back, cocooning you in warmth and desperation.

He kissed the top of your head, lips trembling against your hair.

“I’m not him,” he whispered fiercely, voice cracking. “God angel- i’m not him”

You sobbed harder at his words, the relief and fear and love crashing together inside you.

“I’m not ever going to make you feel like you have to shrink yourself for me,” he said, pulling back just enough to tilt your chin up. His thumb wiped away the tears streaking down your face. His eyes — dark, earnest, burning with something raw and unshakable — locked onto yours.

“I want your voice,” he said, fierce and aching. “I want every piece of you — loud, soft, messy, wild. You’ll never be too much for me, baby. Never.”

You shuddered, breaking apart in his arms as his words wrapped around you like a balm.

“I love you,” he said again, sure and solid. “All of you.”

He kissed you then — your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your mouth — each kiss a vow, a tether pulling you back to him. Slow and tender, steady and real.

His kiss tasted like home. Like a promise you could believe in.

You melted into him, clinging to his warmth, his steady heartbeat, the way he whispered against your skin that he wasn’t leaving — not now, not ever.

And for the first time in a long, long time, you let yourself believe it.

You were safe here.

Safe in his arms. Safe to be loud. Safe to be loved. Safe to be you.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha scenarios #enha x reader #enha fluff #enhypen imagine #enha niki #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #niki angst #ni ki enhypen #ni ki x reader #niki fluff #ni ki scenarios #niki imagines #ni ki #enhypen niki #niki x reader

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pjmxtra · 4 months ago

Note

29 mr nishimuraaaaaa

whiplash (m)

#29 You tease the quiet boy in your friend group too far, and he snaps—fucking you hard enough to make you cry and then cuddling you like nothing happened.

niki x reader · prompt request list

synopsis: You thought teasing the quiet boy in your friend group was harmless—until Ni-ki finally snapped, fucking you hard enough to make you cry, then pulling you into his arms like nothing ever happened. ✉️ 980wc - ‼️ friends to lovers, size kink, rough sex, crying kink, overstimulation, breeding kink, aftercare, quiet boy snapping, bratty teasing, manhandling, creampie

📝: niki manhandling me pls

Ni-ki was always the quiet one in your friend group—stoic, reserved, always watching but rarely talking. It wasn’t that he was shy, necessarily, just… too chill to participate in the chaos. The rest of the group was a walking circus: Woonhak always yelling, Sungho deadpanning, Jaehyun micromanaging everyone’s snack bags, and you, the mouthy one who never shut up. Especially around Ni-ki.

“Do you even speak?” you snorted one day while everyone was lounging around in Leehan’s basement, half-buzzed on soda and sleep deprivation. Ni-ki just glanced at you, face unreadable, while the others burst out laughing.

“That’s not fair,” Riwoo piped up between bites of seaweed chips. “He talks. Just not to you.”

“Ouch.” You clutched your chest mock-dramatically. “I’m offended. Actually, I think I’m his favorite. He’s just playing hard to get.”

Ni-ki didn’t say a word. Just kept sipping his drink with that same maddening calm.

But you liked getting a rise out of him. Over the next few weeks, the teasing escalated.

“Blink twice if you’re real.”

“You’re like an NPC, you know that?”

“I bet your phone autocorrects everything to ‘k.’”

He never snapped. Not once. Not even when you flicked a popcorn kernel at him across the couch and it landed in his hoodie.

But something changed the night of Jaehyun’s birthday party. The group had rented a karaoke room, and somewhere between terrible rap verses and awful renditions of ballads, you and Ni-ki ended up sitting alone in the hallway. The others had gone back in to sing “Love Dive” at full volume.

You nudged his arm with your shoulder. “You know, if you ever decide to speak to me, I might faint.”

Silence.

“Like, actually. Flat on the floor. Need CPR and everything. Might be your only chance to touch me.”

And that’s when it happened.

He turned. Looked you dead in the eye. And said, “You should shut the fuck up for once.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I’m serious,” he said, voice low and calm—too calm. “You act like you want attention, but I don’t think you’re ready for what happens when you actually get mine.”

Oh.

You weren’t expecting him to stand up, take your hand, and lead you down the hall like it was nothing. Weren’t expecting to end up shoved against the wall of an empty storage room, lights dim, his hoodie off and jaw clenched.

“Still think I’m an NPC?” he asked, fingers already under your skirt.

“Ni-ki—”

“Be quiet,” he said again, this time pressed against your ear. “You’ve been talking all month. Time to listen.”

And listen you did.

To the sound of your own whimpers as he bent you over a forgotten couch, shoved your panties aside, and fucked into you like it was something he’d been planning—mapping out in that silent mind of his for weeks.

“You always run your mouth,” he muttered, pulling your head back by your hair just enough to kiss your throat. “So loud. Always poking me like I’m not gonna do anything.”

“You never—ah—said I had to stop—”

Ni-ki didn’t hesitate. One of his large hands gripped your waist, the other fisting in your hair, forcing you to arch your back just enough. You barely managed a breath before he shoved the thick head of his cock against your entrance, pressing in hard.

The stretch made your mouth fall open in a silent gasp. He didn’t ease you into it—he drove himself inside you all at once, splitting you wide open on his cock in one rough, overwhelming thrust. Your nails dug into the couch cushions, back bowing under the sudden, brutal pressure.

“Fuck—Ni-ki—” you whimpered, the force of it nearly knocking the air from your lungs.

He wasn’t gentle. His hips slammed into yours over and over, heavy, relentless, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the room. His cock pounded deep inside you, thick and hot, making your pussy spasm around him with every brutal stroke. Each thrust forced needy, broken sounds from your lips, louder than you could even think to control.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, spilling over when he fucked you harder, chasing the tight clench of your walls around him. You cried—not just from the stretch, but from the pure overwhelming feeling of being used and filled so perfectly, so completely, you couldn’t even think straight.

“You wanted attention, right?” Ni-ki growled low against your ear, voice a deep, dangerous rumble. His hand slipped between your legs, fingers rubbing fast, brutal circles over your swollen clit. “Take it.”

You sobbed, legs trembling uncontrollably under the weight of him, mind blank from how good it felt, how rough he was giving it to you. Every part of you was reduced to raw sensation: the thick drag of his cock splitting you open, the helpless clenching of your cunt around him, the burn in your thighs from how hard he kept you pinned in place.

Your orgasm hit you like a slap, sudden and devastating. You wailed his name, body convulsing, squeezing tight around him as he fucked you through it mercilessly. His pace grew frantic, sloppy, chasing his own release. With a broken, low groan, he slammed deep one last time and came inside you, cock pulsing thick spurts of hot cum against your walls.

Neither of you moved for a long moment, just breathing hard.

When you finally collapsed forward, boneless and dazed, Ni-ki gently pulled you onto his lap, his cock still buried inside you, softening slowly. His hands roamed your back soothingly, like he hadn’t just wrecked you five minutes ago.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice soft again, brushing a kiss to your temple.

You could only nod weakly, mind swimming.

He smiled faintly, arms wrapping tighter around you. “You talk too much,” he said, a little smug. “But I guess I like you anyway.”

wanna read my longer ffs? check out @shy9-29 || prompt req list

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pjmxtra · 4 months ago

Text

"Wanna See?"

Basically, it was your finals week. Riki came over acting all upset because you were 'ignoring' him.

A/N: wrote this for less than an hour (hence the reason why it is a bit tacky) because I was bored and I am having post exam anxiety. This was very fun to write (I got second hand embarrassment while writing lmao).

Pairings: Nishimura Riki × Reader

Genre: Fluff × Suggestive

TW: Mentions of male genital. Low-key cat and dog dynamics.

“Bruh! Come here! Stop acting like a mysterious hermit.” you said, dragging your sulking boyfriend into the frame of your iPad's front camera.

It was a regular Tuesday night before your last finals exam, and your clingy-ass boyfriend decided to pop up unannounced in the dead of night under the guise of bringing you dinner. In reality? He just missed you and needed attention. Study session? Absolutely wrecked by whiny Riki in his signature black cargo pants and navy green hoodie.

“Why did you even come over if you're gonna act like a bish.” You rolled your eyes at him as he continued to refuse a selfie, his ever-deepening frown matching your own. You even tried sneakily inching your iPad toward him, but this man dodged like his life depended on it—like that 12MP lens was a sniper scope.

Then he yanked you by the waist and buried his face into your neck. You're not sure if it was a tactic to hide his face or if he was just being extra clingy, but either way—it was annoying. You shoved his face away.

“What’s your problem?!” he whined, his brows still furrowed like a grumpy cat.

You squinted. “No. What is your problem?!” you shot back, swatting his hands away. “I was peacefully studying and then you waltzed in, started acting like a toddler, and now I can't even take one cute pic of us?!” you hissed, teeth clenched.

In true demon form, Ni-ki bit your neck mid-sentence, earning a sharp curse mixed with his name.

“No. What is your problem?!” he repeated, this time with trembling lips and a suspiciously emotional tone. “I’ll be on tour for three months, and you didn’t even bother messaging or calling me!” His voice cracked. “If I didn’t come over tonight, I bet you wouldn’t even care even if I got eaten by wolves!”

You groaned like it was your final breath.

“And now you suddenly want to take a cute picture like you didn’t ghost me all week and act like I was some delivery guy when I arrived!” he huffed, biting your neck again.

“STOP THAT!” you shrieked and pushed his face off like you were warding off a vampire.

“I was going to visit you after my exams!” you snapped, mirroring his dramatic energy.

He hugged your waist tighter, now clinging like a koala.

“But that’s just one day before I leave! That’s not enough! Not freaking enough!” he argued like a pouty kid denied candy. “And where’s my kiss, huh? You didn’t even look at me when I walked in!”

At this point, you weren’t sure if you were dating a guy or babysitting a 6-foot-tall, sentient tantrum. You glared at him.

“I was reviewing, you dumbass!” you growled, grabbing his chin forcefully to face the camera. He grumbled out a protest, but before he could escape again, you smashed your lips onto his and furiously pressed the shutter button.

His gasp of surprise gave you the perfect opening to slip your tongue in. Just for science, of course. The pathetic little whimper he let out in response almost made you short-circuit. He gripped the back of your head, tilted slightly, and tried to suck your soul out like his life depended on it.

You pulled back after a few seconds, breathless and wide-eyed.

And there he was—Nishimura Riki, the cool boy with maximum aura (his words, not yours), tomato red and staring at the wall like it held the answers to the universe. He avoided your gaze and opened his mouth slightly like he was gonna say something profound... then he dragged you into his lap and hid his face in your neck again.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Bro, what the hell?”

He looked up, dead serious.

“I am not your bro.” And just like that, he faceplanted into your neck again. "Say that again I'm gonna smack you." He threatens.

You were about to roast him, about to suggest calling him 'sis' instead, but then—you felt it.

Your eyes went wide. You froze.

You suddenly felt something... poking you from below.

Now you were the one frozen, eyes wide in absolute horror.

You sat stiffly on his lap for a few seconds, every neuron in your brain screaming at once.

To confirm your worst suspicion, you discreetly shifted your hips—just the tiniest bit. But the moment you did—

“Hnghh…”

Riki moaned.

His hands gripped your waist tighter, and it felt like your entire soul just jumped out of your body and hit a backflip midair.

You panicked. Hard.

"What are you doing, baby?" he asked, dazed, his voice breathy and sinful and entirely too casual for what was happening.

You panicked even harder.

"Bro, your dick is poking me!" you blurted out with a nervous chuckle, trying—failing—to downplay the absolute meltdown happening inside your brain.

You and Ni-ki had been together for years. You’ve done a lot of questionable stuff—made out in cars, in hallways, even in the middle of a study session—but this? This was new. This was dangerous territory.

Ni-ki, now redder than a stop sign, didn’t look away. His eyes were glued to yours.

"That’s your fault…" he muttered with a dramatic little whine.

You slowly grabbed his wrists and tried to peel his hands off you so you could escape this abomination of a moment—

But the universe said no.

You slowly moved your boyfriend's hands from you and tried to get up. But then, Riki held you back firmly, unintentionally pressing you down back against the very thing you were trying to flee from. And for the love of God, the sound you just squeaked was enough to make your souls burn in the pits of hell.

It sounded so womanly: It sounded nothing like you've ever sounded before.

Mortified, you shoved Riki back onto the couch like you were performing an exorcism and scrambled away, flailing like a fish out of holy water.

You made the sign of the cross with your arms, eyes wide like you’d seen Satan himself.

Riki blinked at you, clearly confused—then he started laughing.

“Devil be gone!” you screamed at him, still backing away like he had the plague.

“What?” he laughed through his red face. “It’s a normal bodily reaction, love. Don’t worry about it too much.” He tried to reassure you with flushed cheeks and zero shame.

You scooted farther like he had uncured demonic possession. “Get that ginormous thing away from me!” you yelped.

Ni-ki smirked, clearly entertained. But thankfully, he respected your space and stayed where he was.

“Ginormous?” he repeated, the grin on his face slowly evolving into the grin of a man whose ego just grew five sizes.

You nodded frantically. Big mistake.

His grin got even wider. "It's a perfectly manageable size, baby. Wanna see?"

“NOPE!” You squealed, hands flapping as you turned tail and ran straight to your room, slamming the door and locking it like you were under siege.

“Darn you, Nishimura Riki!” you shouted from behind the door, face buried in your pillow in defeat.

And from the other side, his smug little voice:

“You said ginormous.”

____

I luv him sm hehehe

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pjmxtra · 4 months ago

Note

what if nk × fem reader in wax play? Remember the chrome hearts candle ni-ki has in his dorm✨️

pain is pleasure ‧₊˚ ⋅

paring: 니키 x fmr

warning: smut! Reader is describe skinny (if that makes you uncomfortable block me!) wax play, burning, dom!niki, sub! reader, oral sex (f), fingering, p in v, to lazy to put more

an: it's getting freaky out here with these requests hope I did good I've never experienced doing wax play so I didn't really know what to write but!!

Niki stood at the edge of the bed, gaze dark and hungry as it roamed over your slight, trembling body. You looked so small wrapped in blush-pink lace, wrists bound and pinned above your head with silk ties.

The fabric barely covered you, clinging to your sharp hips, your narrow chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. He could see the way your ribs pressed gently against your skin, the lace hugging the curve of your flat chest like a whisper.

Your thighs quivered against the soft bedding, legs parted just slightly, as if you were inviting him in despite yourself.

Those big doe eyes of yours blinked up at him from beneath your lashes, wide and glossy, filled with that familiar mixture of anticipation and fear. The cloth in your mouth muffled your little whines, but he could still hear you — could feel every sound you made echoing in his bones.

“You look like a gift someone left just for me,” Niki murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. His voice was low, almost tender, but there was nothing soft about the heat in his eyes. “All wrapped up. Helpless.”

His fingers trailed slowly down your chest, grazing over the delicate bones beneath your skin — the sharp edge of your sternum, the small mounds of your breasts barely filling his palm. He brushed his thumbs over your nipples, already peaked through the lace, and smiled when you arched into the touch like it hurt.

And then he reached for the candle.

You whimpered instantly when you saw it — the thick, cream-colored wax already softening near the flame. Niki tilted the candle just enough for you to watch the first drop fall, slow and deliberate.

He didn’t say a word as he held it over your belly, right above your navel, and let a single drop hit your skin.

You jumped violently, breath catching. The pain was sharp, immediate, but fleeting — quickly replaced by a burn that pulsed low in your belly. You thrashed lightly against the ties, a muffled sob pressed into the gag.

Niki chuckled, warm and cruel. “We haven’t even started, baby.”

He kissed your forehead again, soft like he was soothing you — but the glint in his eye said otherwise. With calculated precision, he tipped the candle again, letting the wax drip slowly down your stomach in uneven trails, branding you.

Your hips bucked, desperate and helpless. He let it happen, admired the way your body danced under his control, your thighs twitching as you tried to stay still. “Look at you. Trying to take it. You’re doing so good.”

When the wax began to cool, forming little splashes on your skin like a twisted artist’s canvas, he finally set the candle down. But he wasn’t done. Not even close.

His large hand trailed lower, fingers sliding over the front of your lace panties. You were soaked, the fabric darkened with your need. He pressed his fingers in slow circles against your clit, watching your hips twitch in response, your thighs squeezing together in instinctive need. You were trembling now, entirely at his mercy.

He slipped his hand into your waistband and ran a thick finger through your wet folds, collecting the slick mess you’d made for him. You tried to hold his gaze, but your eyes fluttered shut when he pushed a finger in — then another — rough and fast from the start.

You moaned behind the cloth, the sound high-pitched and desperate.

“That’s it,” Niki growled. “Let me hear you"

He pumped his fingers into you harder, curling them just right, the wet sounds of your cunt filling the room, obscene and beautiful. Your whole body strained against the ties, hips rocking helplessly, thighs tensing as that sharp edge of release built like a storm inside you.

But just as your breath hitched, just as you were ready to fall over the edge— He stopped.

His fingers slipped free, glistening with your arousal, and he looked down at you with a smirk that made your whole body ache.

Your hips jerked in frustration, eyes pleading. But Niki just leaned in close, lips brushing your ear.

“Not yet, little thing,” he whispered. “I haven’t finished painting you.”

Your breath came in ragged little gasps around the gag, your eyes glassy with desperation. Every part of you throbbed—your skin, your cunt, your mind overwhelmed and trembling on the edge. And Niki watched you, eyes dark with possession, like he’d never seen anything more beautiful than your suffering.

He picked up the candle again.

Your eyes widened. You tried to shake your head, a soft sound of protest slipping from your throat. But he only smiled, calm and cruel, tipping your chin up with two fingers.

“You can take it,” he murmured. “You want to, don’t you? Want to be marked for me. Even here.”

He dragged the candle lower, just above your pelvis now. You felt the heat of it before the wax even touched you, your whole body clenching in anticipation. He tilted it—slowly, deliberately—and a drop fell just at the edge of your lace panties, so close to your clit you jerked like you’d been shocked.

Another drop, lower this time. Right on the tender crease where your thigh met your hipbone.

You choked on a whimper, back arching. The burn was sharp, bright, then dulled into a pulsing ache that only made the need between your legs worse.

Niki looked mesmerized, watching the wax trail over your skin like he was painting a masterpiece. His fingers gently pulled your panties aside, exposing the slick, trembling mess beneath.

“You’re soaked,” he said, almost in awe.

He dropped the candle on the nightstand, finally, and then sank down between your thighs. His big hands slid under your legs, lifting them easily, spreading you open. The cool air hit your dripping cunt, and then. His tongue.

Hot and broad and slow at first, licking one long stripe from your entrance up to your clit. You cried out behind the gag, hips bucking into his face, desperate for more. Niki groaned like he was starving, like your taste ruined him.

He wrapped his arms under your thighs, locking you in place, and started to devour you.

His tongue flicked and curled around your clit, fast and relentless, while his mouth sucked just enough to make you see stars. Every sound you made only pushed him harder, deeper—he licked you like he was trying to make you fall apart with just his mouth.

Your legs trembled in his hold, your whole body tensed as your orgasm started to crest again, harder and hotter this time. Your eyes rolled back, every nerve ending screaming for release.

Niki felt it, the way your cunt clenched and pulsed under his tongue. He moaned into you, sending vibrations through your swollen clit, and your body jerked in response. You were so close. Right there.

Then he slipped two fingers inside you again. He curled them just right, fucking you with the same rhythm his tongue worked over your clit, and that was it.

You shattered.

Your body convulsed, thighs shaking in his grip, your mouth open around the gag as a raw, broken sob of pleasure escaped. He didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, tongue and fingers working you harder as your orgasm tore through you like a wave crashing over your fragile body.

Only when your legs started twitching, your cunt still fluttering around his fingers, did he finally pull away. He kissed your inner thigh, then the spot where the wax had hardened into glossy shapes—his signature, sealed on your skin.

You lay there, boneless and buzzing, chest heaving as he moved up your body and whispered into your ear.

“Now you’re ready for me.”

Your body was limp beneath him, ruined and trembling, every inch of your skin flushed and marked. The wax had cooled into hardened trails down your stomach and thighs, a pattern of pain and devotion. Your breath came in soft, choked sobs around the gag, but your eyes stayed on him—hazy and pleading.

Niki watched you for a long moment, his chest rising and falling as he slid his hands down your sides. He leaned in, brushing his lips along your cheek, your jaw, whispering against your ear.

“You look like a little canvas,” he murmured. “So delicate. So perfect. All mine.”

You whined, hips shifting, seeking friction against his thigh. He chuckled softly, sitting back on his heels as he finally undid the button of his pants, freeing his cock—thick, flushed, already dripping for you. He pumped it slowly, deliberately, letting you watch.

And then, he picked up the candle again.

You moaned helplessly, the sound swallowed by the cloth in your mouth.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he crawled back between your legs. “I’ll give you what you need. But I’m going to keep painting you while I do it.”

He lined himself up, the tip of his cock pressing against your slick entrance, teasing. You tried to move your hips, to pull him in, but he gripped your thighs hard and held you down.

The first drop of wax hit your ribcage, just under your breast. You cried out, hips jolting—and that was when he pushed into you.

One slow, brutal thrust.

You felt every inch of him stretch you open, your small, fragile body clenching around him instinctively. He filled you completely, thick and overwhelming, and your body tried to both escape and hold him in all at once.

“Oh, fuck,” Niki groaned. “You feel even tighter when you’re fighting it.”

He started to move—slow at first, dragging every thrust out so you could feel it, feel how deeply he owned you. His cock filled you again and again, his pace just on the edge of merciless.

And the wax didn’t stop.

Another drop, just above your hip. Then lower, near your navel, in between thrusts.

You whimpered and writhed under him, the combination of the hot wax and the thick, punishing rhythm of his cock keeping your nerves on fire. Your cunt fluttered around him, slick and needy and impossibly sensitive.

He looked down at you, breathless, watching the way your body jerked with each drop, how your face twisted in pain and pleasure.

“Look at this mess,” he rasped, dragging his fingers through the wax trail just beneath your breasts. “So pretty like this. All marked up. All mine.”

He reached up and yanked the gag from your mouth.

You gasped, drool slipping from your lip, voice cracking as you moaned, “Please—please, I need to come—”

Niki’s pace quickened, his hips snapping forward with raw force, slamming into you again and again. His free hand came down between your legs, fingers rubbing tight, fast circles over your clit, now swollen and aching from the teasing.

Another drop of wax, this time closer to your cunt, right on your mound.

You screamed.

And then you came.

It ripped through you violently—your whole body convulsing, your voice breaking as your climax took you like a wave drowning a drowning girl. Your cunt clamped down around him, milking him, and he groaned low and deep, thrusts growing erratic.

“I’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he growled, bending down over you, burying his face in your neck. “Take it. Take everything.”

And with one final thrust, he came hard inside you—filling you up so deep it made you shudder all over again. You felt him pulse inside you, his cock twitching as he poured himself into your trembling, wax-covered body.

He stayed there for a long moment, panting, his chest pressed to yours, lips brushing your ear.

“You were made for this,” he whispered. “Made to take everything I give you.”

239 notes · View notes

pjmxtra · 4 months ago

Text

Unconditional

WC: 1548

Synopsis: Niki can't get a move down in the new choreography. Turns out he just needs something to take his frustration out on.

Warnings: frustrated Niki, unprotected sex (I'm disappointed), dom!niki, sub!reader, he's a little mean ngl, slight slapping, mirror sex, oral (m. receiving), he's tender with her at the end if you squint, rough fucking, lmk if I missed something lol.

A/n: I wrote this for my beta @midnighthazee lol, she gave me this scenario and I just went with it. It's fun making her read fics about her problem people lmaooo. So thank her for this. Enjoyyyy (my first nonskz fic) :)))

The music cut out as Niki angrily walked over to the laptop connected to the speaker and aggressively reset the music. The echo of his heavy breathing bouncing off the mirrored walls of the empty dance studio. Sweat clung to his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt. He stared at his reflection – red-faced, muscles tense, chest rising and falling too fast. The stupid choreography just wasn’t clicking.

“Again,” he grunted, breathing hard and intensely as he pressed play.

He kept going through the steps, stumbling on one of the counts. His foot caught on the wrong beat, arms jerking out of sync. He hissed a curse under his breath, dragging his hands through his hair and yanking it back like he could shake himself into doing the move right.

“Niki?”

He froze. That voice. Soft, familiar, and getting under his skin.

He turned, slow and sharp, and there she was—leaning against the doorway, his hoodie half-zipped over her tank top, hair pulled up lazily, like she hadn’t come here to interrupt him but just found herself here.

Niki’s jaw tightened.

“What?” he snapped, harsher than he meant. Her eyes flinched, just barely.

“I was just passing by. Thought I’d see how rehearsal was going.”

“Well, now you’ve seen,” he said, arms crossed, his tone all cut glass and fire.

Y/n didn’t move. Didn’t shrink.

“You’re pissed,” she said plainly, stepping further inside, letting the door shut behind her. Her eyes flicked to the scuffed floor, then back to him. “Is it the turn again?”

“I had it. Last week I had it,” Niki growled, pacing like a caged animal. “And now it’s like my body forgot everything. I’m wasting time. I’m wasting everyone’s time.”

“No one’s here,” she said. “Just me.”

“Exactly,” he shot back. “So go.”

Y/n raised a brow, challenging. “You really want me to go?”

His chest tightened. God, she knew exactly how to make him unravel. She always had.

She took a step closer, and then another, until they were nearly chest to chest, his breath ghosting against her lips. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His fists were clenched at his sides.

She reached up, fingers brushing a damp curl off his forehead. “You're allowed to be frustrated, Niki. But don’t take it out on me like that.”

His eyes closed. Just for a second. Like the contact short-circuited his storm. But when he looked at her again, the fire was still there—less rage now, more... something else.

“Why do you always come in when I’m at my worst?” he murmured, voice low, rough.

“Because I know you don’t need anyone when you’re at your best.”

The tension between them hung like static. She was so close. His hands hovered near her hips like he wanted to hold her, but didn’t trust himself to. Not yet.

“I hate how you do that,” he muttered.

“Do what?”

“Make me feel like I’m not falling apart when I clearly am.”

Y/n smiled, slow and knowing. “You're not falling apart, Niki. You’re just mid-spin.”

His laugh was more of a breath, shaky and bitter-sweet. He let his forehead rest against hers.

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“You still love me.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, hands finally wrapping around his waist. “I do.”

The music was silent, but somehow, the room felt full again. Niki could still feel the anger lingering below his skin, the furrow between his brows still evident despite the slight comfort his girl was bringing him. Thinking about how he kept messing up brought the anger and annoyance back to the forefront of his mind.

“Just watch me,” he growled, stalking back to the center of the room. “And keep your mouth shut.”

Y/n nodded and perched on the edge of a chair against the wall. Niki took a deep breath and launched into the routine again, trying to ignore her presence. But no matter how hard he focused, he couldn’t shake the feeling of her eyes on him. Distracting him.

After several more botched attempts, Niki finally gave up with a loud groan of frustration. He kicked over a trash can and stalked toward y/n, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet.

“Come here,” he snarled, dragging her over to the mirrors.

“What are you doing?” Y/n asked nervously, trying to tug her arm free.

Niki ignored her and shoved her down to her knees, shoving his sweatpants down to reveal his hardening cock. "You're going to suck my dick so I can get rid of some of this frustration," he ordered coldly.

Y/n's eyes widened. "Niki, we're in public-"

"I don't give a fuck," Niki cut her off viciously, fisting a hand in her hair and yanking her head forward. "Open your mouth."

Y/n whimpered but obeyed, parting her lips to let him shove his cock inside. Niki groaned at the feel of her warm mouth enveloping him and started pumping his hips, fucking her face without preamble.

"That's it, take it," he panted, watching their reflection in the mirror. Y/n's cheeks hollowed as she sucked him eagerly, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Niki used his grip on her hair to control her movements, forcing her to take him deeper.

He pulled out with a wet pop after a few minutes, leaving Y/n gasping and coughing. "Get up," he barked, hauling her to her feet and spinning her around to face the mirror.

Y/n braced her hands on the glass, looking at him with tear-filled eyes in their reflection.

"Are you gonna try to be gentle?" she whispered.

Niki scoffed and pulled her pants down, resting them just below her ass and shoving her panties aside. "You want me to be gentle? After I've been busting my ass for hours and you interrupt me?"

He drove into her cunt with one brutal thrust, making them both groan. Y/n's pussy was hot and tight around him, clenching down instinctively.

"That's right, baby, let me take it out on you," Niki grunted, setting a punishing pace. He gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises as he fucked her, slamming into her with enough force to make her breasts bounce in the mirror. "Fucking take it like a good little girl for me, hm?"

Y/n could only moan and push back against him, loving the rough treatment despite herself. She could see how sexy they looked together in the mirror - Niki's lean, muscular body jackhammering into hers, his muscles flexing with every thrust. She could also see the frustration etched into his face, the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed in concentration as he used her.

"Just like that, pretty girl." Niki growled, leaning over to bite at her neck possessively while placing his hands over hers on the mirror. "Milk my fucking cock. I know you love being used like this."

"Yes," Y/n whimpered breathlessly. "I love it. I love you."

Those words seemed to snap something inside Niki. He reared back and spanked her hard, making her yelp. "Don't fucking say that," he snarled. "You don't get to love me when I'm so pissed off."

He resumed fucking her savagely, fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave marks. Y/n could only sob and take it, tears streaming down her face as she came with a scream, pussy clamping down on him like a vice.

"Fuck!" Niki growled, slamming into her one last time before stilling deep inside. He came hard, painting her insides with thick ropes of cum as he emptied himself inside of her.

They collapsed together against the mirror, Niki's softening cock still buried inside her as they caught their breath. Y/n could feel his heart pounding against her back, could feel the sheen of sweat that coated their bodies.

"I'm sorry," Niki mumbled after a long moment, pressing a tender kiss to her shoulder. "I didn't mean to be so rough. I just...I'm so frustrated and I took it out on you."

Y/n turned in his arms to face him, cupping his face in her hands. "I know," she said softly. "But you needed to let it out somehow. And I'm here for you, no matter what."

Niki closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, breathing in her comforting scent. He knew he was lucky to have her, even if he didn't always treat her like it.

"Thank you," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "For putting up with my bullshit. And for letting me use you like that."

Y/n smiled and kissed him back. "Anytime, baby," she murmured. "Now why don't we go get cleaned up and I'll make you something to eat, hm? You need to keep your strength up for another round of this later."

Niki laughed and swatted her ass playfully as she led him out of the studio. He knew he still had a lot of work ahead of him...but with y/n by his side, he felt like he could take on anything.

The next day he came in and immediately had the spin down. Maybe he just needed a little bit of good luck (his girlfriend's throat around his cock).

786 notes · View notes

pjmxtra · 4 months ago

Text

Perfect in my eyes‧₊˚ ⋅

paring: 니키 x fmr

warning: smut, angst, & fluff | bullying by the other members, itty bitty committee, p in v, reader is thin and described as small (if that makes you uncomfortable pls block me!)

an: another request by my fav anon!! Ily like sm you make my creative juices flow (´ε｀ )♡ I cried while writing it so pls enjoy!!

You padded down the hallway in one of Niki’s shirts, the hem nearly brushing your knees. It swallowed your frame completely—soft fabric drowning your shoulders, sleeves hanging past your fingertips. Only your bare legs peeked out beneath it, small and pale against the oversized tee. The dorm was quiet aside from the occasional rustle of movement and low chatter from the living room. You shuffled into the kitchen, retrieving snacks with quiet precision before heading back.

The guys were draped across the couches, voices low with whatever conversation they’d been having—until they saw you..

Jake snorted. “Whoa. That shirt’s practically a dress on you.”

You paused mid-step, hands full of snacks, blinking toward them. “It’s like you just came out of the laundry hamper with the shirt still wrapped around you,” Sunoo joked, laughing softly.

“I could fold you up in it and still have room to spare,” Jake added, his tone light, teasing—but you still felt your stomach drop.

Jay tilted his head from where he lounged against the cushions. “Seriously, where are your limbs? You look like a floating head with legs.”

Your grip tightened around the bag of chips. You tried to smile, tried to brush it off with a small shrug. “I like it. It’s comfortable…”

“Comfortable?” Jake laughed again. “It’s practically eating you alive.”

“Yeah,” Jay chimed in, smirking. “You gotta put some meat on those bones or the wind’s gonna blow you away.”

The words stung sharper than they probably meant them to. You felt exposed. Your body, already something you’d been quietly insecure about, now felt like a spotlight had been thrown on it. You shifted on your feet, suddenly wishing the floor would open up and let you vanish back into Niki’s room without another word.

You lowered your head, eyes fixed on the snack bag, heart thudding. You hated that they’d noticed. Hated that your body never looked the way others expected it to. You weren’t curvy, soft, or womanly in the way you assumed Niki’s bandmates preferred.

Your silence must have lingered too long, because then— “Hey,” a voice behind you said, low and firm. “Let’s stop with the jokes, Hyung.”

You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Niki’s voice was deep, calm, a grounding presence that wrapped around your spine and steadied your breath. He appeared beside you a moment later, his large hand sliding around your waist effortlessly, his fingers nearly touching in front as he held you close to his towering frame.

Jake gave a nervous chuckle. “It was just a joke—she’s tiny. It’s not a bad thing.”

“Yeah, we didn’t mean anything by it,” Sunoo offered quickly.

“She’s just small, and you’re… well, you know…” Jay trailed off, trying to smile.

Niki didn’t look at them. His voice was low, cool. “You guys are pathetic.”

Then, without another glance at the others, he guided you away—back into the safety of his room, shutting the door behind you with a thud that seemed to mark the end of the conversation.

You sat at the edge of the bed, quiet. His shirt swallowed you even more when you hunched your shoulders. You picked at the hem, lost in your thoughts. Were they right? Did he secretly wish you were different? Softer, curvier—less… fragile?

“Kii,” you whispered, your voice barely there.

He stood at the door, back straight, eyes unreadable.

“Hm?”

You hesitated, then breathed out your doubt like it stung. “Do you think… I should change?”

He blinked, confused at first. Then—his expression tightened. “Are you serious?” he asked, crossing the room in three long strides. You didn’t answer, but the way your eyes shimmered said enough. Your lips trembled. You looked breakable—and it made his chest twist in frustration.

He knelt in front of you, gently pulling your small hands into his much larger ones. He pressed soft kisses to your knuckles, each one slow and steady. Then, looking up, he said, “You’re my girl. My beautiful girl. You don’t have to change for anyone—not even me. I love you.”

Your breath hitched. Niki stood and eased you into the bed like you weighed nothing. You clung to the warmth of his words, wanting to sink into them completely.

He leaned down, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “I have no problem showing you what I see when I look at you." Your heart stuttered. How could he say things like that? So easily, so surely?

Your hands reached up to him, brushing his hair back. “Show me,” you whispered against his lips, barely audible. “Please.”

His lips captured yours in a kiss as gentle as it was grounding. His hands traveled your body—slow, firm, claiming. His knee slipped between your thighs, spreading them apart like it was second nature. His mouth trailed from your lips to your neck, marking you softly but deliberately.

The shirt came off. Your shorts followed. Left in nothing but a lace set that looked like it belonged on a doll, your arms instinctively came up to shield yourself.

Niki’s hands slid over yours, pulling them away. “No, baby,” he murmured, eyes dark and soft. “Let me see my girl.”

You dropped your arms, heart pounding. His eyes roamed your body like you were art, a reverence in his gaze that made you want to cry. “So fucking pretty,” he breathed, cheeks tinted pink.

He sat you up, unclasping your bra with ease and tossing it aside. His palms covered your breasts, so much larger than you they completely hid you from view. You whimpered at the contact, already sensitive.

He grinned, leaning in to close his lips around a nipple, licking and sucking as his free hand squeezed the other. Your breath hitched and your hand curled into his hair, tugging gently. He pulled back with a pop, staring at the glisten he left behind.

He gathered you in his arms, lifting you effortlessly and settling you in his lap. His hands held your tiny frame like you were precious—and his to worship.

His hands explored your body with a reverence that made your breath catch in your throat. There was no hesitation in his touch—no flicker of doubt, no holding back.

His hands roamed the dips and bones of your form like they were familiar territory, but still sacred. With every graze, every stroke of his fingertips, he was learning you again—reminding you that he saw beauty in every line and angle.

His body eclipsed yours completely, long limbs bracketing you on either side as he hovered above, and when he settled down, pressing his chest against yours, it was like being wrapped in a weighted blanket of warmth and muscle and protection.

Niki’s lips moved to your collarbone, mouthing the fragile ridges he found there. “So delicate,” he whispered between kisses, voice thick with something between awe and frustration. “I don’t understand how anyone could say anything about this body except how perfect it is.”

You whimpered as his tongue flicked out to taste your skin, hot and wet against the sensitive spots only he seemed to know. His hands slid down your sides, fingers curling around your tiny waist, spanning it like it was nothing in his grasp. He could probably lift you with one arm if he wanted to—and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

“I can hold all of you like this,” he murmured, voice gravelly against your ear, his breath hot. “You’re so small I could keep you in my lap forever. Would you like that, baby?”

You nodded, unable to speak, your face buried in his shoulder as your hands clung to the fabric still stretched over his broad back. He sat up with you easily, guiding you to straddle his thighs as he rested back against the headboard. Your knees barely reached the edge of the bed beside him. His hands cradled your hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles into your skin, soothing and possessive.

The lace underwear remained, the last barrier between you and him. He looked down at you, at your exposed chest, at the curve of your ribs, the way your bones created gentle shadows beneath your skin. “You’re art,” he said quietly, running a hand up your spine until you arched into him like instinct. “Not everyone can see it, but I do.”

Then, he leaned in, and his lips wrapped around the other breast, tongue swirling slow circles around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You gasped, hips jerking forward into his abdomen. You were so sensitive—so reactive—and he loved every second of it.

You let your head fall back, lips parted, breath coming out in soft, needy gasps. He pulled away only to trail his mouth down your torso, kissing down your ribs, each press of his lips purposeful. He made sure not to skip a single inch of you.

When he reached the waistband of your panties, he looked at you—eyes dark but soft, searching your expression. “Can I?” he asked, his fingers already hooked gently into the lace.

You nodded slowly, heart hammering. “Please…”

He slid them down slowly, savoring the moment like he was unwrapping something fragile and rare. His eyes stayed on you the whole time, making you feel more seen than you ever had in your life. When the last scrap of fabric was gone, he leaned back to take you in fully.

“Fuck…” he exhaled, hand ghosting over your hipbone. “You’re unreal. I didn’t know something this beautiful could fit in my hands.”

His fingers curled deep inside you, slow and deliberate, each stroke drawing a louder moan from your lips. You were soaked—your body clinging to him so tightly, slick and warm, trembling in his lap. Niki groaned low, watching your thighs twitch around his hand.

“You’re fucking soaked, baby,” he breathed, fingers working deeper, his palm grinding against your clit just right. “And all of it’s for me. Just me.”

You were barely holding on, jaw slack, head tilted back. You weren’t hiding the sounds anymore—couldn’t if you tried. Each thrust of his fingers pulled raw, high-pitched moans from your throat, and it only seemed to make him more possessive.

“You’re such a loud little thing now, huh?” he muttered, his tone dark with pride. “What happened to my shy girl?”

You whimpered, hips jerking into his hand, your fingers clawing at his shoulders.

His fingers slid from your core, slick and glistening, and he watched the way your thighs trembled, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. He brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean slowly, eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re so sweet,” he murmured, voice husky. “I could taste you for hours.”

Heat bloomed across your chest, but before you could respond, he gently cupped your waist and guided you to shift. There was no urgency, just warmth and care in his touch as he helped you climb into his lap, your knees bracketing his hips. You were trembling, both from what you’d already felt and what you knew was coming.

“You okay?” he asked, hands resting soft and sure on your hips, thumbs brushing circles into your skin.

You nodded, cheeks flushed, your tiny frame looking even smaller straddling his tall, broad figure. “Yeah… I just…”

His hands moved to cradle your face, tilting it up so you’d look at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be anything else. I love you just like this.”

Your throat tightened, and before you could say anything, he leaned in and kissed you—slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that made your toes curl. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breath mingling with yours.

“I want you to take me, just like this,” he whispered. “I want to feel you.”

You bit your lip and reached between you, fingers trembling as you guided him to your entrance. He hissed softly when he felt your heat, his hands never leaving your waist.

And then, slowly—gently—you sank down onto him.

Your mouth parted in a breathy moan as he stretched you open inch by inch. You could feel every part of him, thick and warm and deep inside you. You clung to his shoulders, head falling against his as you tried to catch your breath.

“Shh,” he whispered, hands sliding up your back. “You’re doing so good, baby. You feel like heaven.”

You whimpered softly, voice catching. “It’s so much…”

“I know,” he murmured, brushing your hair back. “But you’re perfect. You’re taking me so well. Just go slow.”

You moved slowly on his lap, hips rolling as you took him deeper with each breath. Niki’s hands never stopped moving—tracing your spine, your waist, brushing over the soft skin of your thighs like he was memorizing every inch of you. His thumbs caressed the dips of your hips like they were his favorite place on earth.

You rested your forehead against his, your small frame trembling with the effort, and he wrapped his arms around you tighter—supporting your weight as you moved.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he murmured, voice thick with awe. “Just let me feel you. Let me love you.”

He took over the rhythm, fucking up into you gently while holding you against him. Every roll of his hips was smooth and unhurried, dragging a soft moan from your throat. The way he filled you—so completely—made you ache in the sweetest way.

Niki’s lips found your neck, pressing kisses there as your hands threaded into his hair. His tongue traced along your pulse point, then lower—his mouth open, warm, leaving soft marks along your collarbone.

Your legs tightened around him, trying to pull him closer even though there was no space left between your bodies. You buried your face in his neck, your gasps louder now—needy and open, every sound echoing off the walls.

And he wanted them to echo.

“Let them hear,” he said, voice rough with desire. “Let them know how good I take care of you. How good you feel when you’re mine.”

He kissed you again, slow and deep, swallowing your moans as he kept moving. His hands slid up your back, curling around your ribs, his fingertips reverent as they explored the curves of your small body. You were everything to him—he couldn’t stop telling you, couldn’t stop showing you.

You gasped as he shifted slightly, the angle hitting that spot inside you just right, your nails digging gently into his skin. His hands came up to cradle your face again, kissing you through every sound you made, soaking up every part of you like he couldn’t get enough.

You felt the pleasure build slowly, beautifully, your body growing tighter around him as your movements grew sloppier, more desperate.

“I’m close,” you whispered, breathless.

“I know, baby. I feel it—let go for me.”

With one deep thrust and a soft cry, you unraveled, clinging to him as your body pulsed around his. Niki held you close, whispering soft praises against your lips.

He chased his own release only after yours had quieted, thrusting up into you with slow, deep rolls, his mouth open against your shoulder.

“Inside you,” he whispered. “I want to finish inside you.”

You nodded, whispering his name, and seconds later he groaned low and deep, spilling into you with a trembling breath. He held you there, buried in your warmth, his body shaking gently from the intensity.

Neither of you moved for a while.

Your head stayed nestled in the curve of his neck, his arms cradling you with quiet reverence. The world outside the room faded—just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

Gently, he lifted you in his arms and shifted onto the bed, still holding you close as he eased both of you under the blankets. He cleaned you up with careful, tender hands, kissing your thighs, your wrists, your chest—anywhere that had been marked by your love.

You lay against him, tucked into his side under the sheets, still wearing the hoodie he slipped over your head—his scent wrapped around you like the warmth of his arms. Your body was sore in the best ways, skin flushed, lips swollen, and yet your heart was heavier than you thought it would be.

He felt it—knew it, even before you said anything. His hand traced idle patterns on your thigh, fingers brushing over your skin with reverence.

“Talk to me,” he murmured into your hair. You hesitated, pressing your face into his chest. “I just… I didn’t think I’d ever feel like this. Like… someone could want me like this. Like this body is enough.”

Niki leaned back just enough to look at you, his brows drawn, lips parted like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. One of his hands moved down, cupping your thigh, holding it in his palm like it was something delicate and sacred.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he said, low and steady. “You have no idea what it does to me—seeing you like this, knowing you are mine.”

He sat up, pulling you with him gently until you were straddling his lap again. This time it wasn’t frantic or rough—it was slow and quiet, his eyes burning into yours with nothing but awe.

“You’re perfect,” he said, fingers running over your waist, where his hands nearly wrapped around your entire frame. “Your hips… the way they fit in my hands—it drives me insane.”

He let his palms slide up, thumbs brushing over your ribs. “You don’t even realize what it does to me, do you? Every time I see you in my clothes—bare legs out, drowning in my shirt—it’s all I can think about.”

Your breath caught, his words soaking into your skin deeper than any touch.

He tilted your chin up with two fingers. “You’re not ‘too small.’ You’re mine. Every inch of you—from these soft thighs…” his hands squeezed them gently, “to this little waist…” he dragged his palms up your sides again, slower this time, making you shiver, “to these gorgeous tits—” his thumbs brushed over them through the hoodie, making your breath hitch.

“I love your body,” he said, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. “I love how I can lift you, move you. How your whole body reacts when I touch you. And how you feel—wrapped around me, so tight and perfect…”

He leaned in, brushing his lips over yours. “I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

You stared at him, barely breathing, your heart clenching in your chest. He meant it. Every word.

“ki…” you whispered, voice breaking.

His lips touched your forehead. “You’re everything I want. Exactly as you are. I’ll keep showing you that until you believe it.”

And he did.

He kissed you again, soft and slow, and let his hands explore your body like he was memorizing it all over again—every dip, every bone, every shiver. His touches were gentler now but no less intense. Worshipful. Patient.

He didn’t need to prove anything—not anymore. You were already his. And he was going to make sure you never forgot how deeply he adored every inch of you.

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pjmxtra · 4 months ago

Note

HIII I REQUESTED THE NIKI SMUT and it turned out sooooo goodddd thank youuu 🥺🥺🥺

can I request more 🤓☝🏽 reader getting teased by the other members (like friends do but she feels a little off maybe they comment about her being too small for Niki) and Niki comforts her 😭💔 maybe like s*x in the dorms

AHH I’M GLAD YOU DID! you don’t know who much i love you! thank you sm for liking my writing you make me day 💕💕 here’s your request and i hope you continue to request beautiful fics. hope you enjoy my writing if you have any ideas or suggestions i should write pls feel free to send me something!! I LOVE U ANON🫶🏻🫶🏻🙁🙁

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pjmxtra · 4 months ago

Text

୨ৎ ──── HEAVY LOVE

brat tamer!sugar daddy!riki x brat fem!reader, slight choking, hair pulling, degration ≧ᗜ≦ MDNI ! 9OO ish words

reblogs && feedback pls !

You knew you were being a brat. You knew the second you tugged your skirt up a little higher, laughed a little too hard at another man’s joke, that Riki was watching. That calm, sweet tone he always used had vanished mid-dinner. No more pet names. No more soft touches. Just a stiff jaw, a tight grip on your thigh, and that silent fury radiating off him like heat.

The second the valet handed over his keys, you were yanked toward the car without a word. Slammed into the passenger seat. And now—now you were pressed against the window, panting, shaking, your legs trembling from your fifth orgasm and his hand still between your thighs.

“Thought you were cute back there,” Riki sneers, two fingers sliding inside you with ease, soaked from how many times he’s already made you fall apart. “Giggling like a dumb little slut. Flashing your thighs like you’re begging to get fucked in front of the whole damn restaurant.”

“Riki—Riki please, I can’t—” “You can. You just don’t fucking listen.” He leans in, lips brushing your ear, voice low and venomous. “Brats like you don’t get to tap out. You wanted attention? You got it.”

He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles while his fingers curl deep inside you. “Look at you now. Shaking just from my fucking hand.”

Your vision’s blurry. Legs kicking. You’re soaked, overstimulated, ruined—and he won’t stop. Every time your body jerks away, he grabs your hips and forces you down onto his hand harder. “I used to call you my good girl,” he mutters, eyes dark and hungry. “But good girls don’t act like filthy fucking teases. You want daddy’s money, his time, his cock? Then fucking behave.”

You sob out his name as another orgasm crashes through you, your thighs convulsing. Riki doesn’t slow down. Just leans back, watching you unravel with a cruel smirk and a soaked hand.

“Pathetic,” he mutters. “You’ll take one more. Since you like acting like a whore so much.”

And when you finally beg him to stop—when the pleasure feels like too much, when you’re hiccuping his name, tears staining your cheeks—he finally slows.

Pulls his fingers out, sticky and glistening, and shoves them in your mouth.

“Taste what a little brat like you deserves.”

Oh, this is gonna be a long night.

163 notes · View notes

pjmxtra · 4 months ago

Text

TEENAGE DIRTBAG

﹙混蛋﹚───── is riki really that irritated by you or perhaps is it your boyfriend ?

니시무라 리키 & fem!reader wc: 4693 cw: toxic relationships, rude riki, cheating (not reader), mention of inuries, mentions of smoking, light skinship, kissing

𝓜 anas notes: finally !! some of these were in my drafts for so long until i got a request from @woniefication MWAH THANK YOU

It was another day in Mr. Choi's history class, and you could already tell it was going to be a long one. The room was filled with the usual chatter of your classmates - the popular kids laughing obnoxiously at the back, the nerds trying to keep to themselves, and you, somewhere in the middle, just trying to get through another class.

You barely registered Mr. Choi’s lecture, too caught up in the swirling mess of your own thoughts. You were used to it now, the constant tension between you and your boyfriend, Jae. He was always in and out of your life, making empty promises that he never kept. He was the classic jerk - popular, arrogant. He had a way of making you feel like you were just another girl in his collection. You knew you should've ended it a long time ago, but his persistence, maybe even something else, however toxic it was - had worn you down.

But today, you weren’t thinking about Jae. Your thoughts were, as usual, drifting to the one person who was always present — Riki.

He was a few rows ahead of you, lounging in his seat in his usual cocky way. His black leather jacket was draped over the back of his chair, and his headphones rested around his neck. Riki was everything Jake wasn't - mysterious, musing, and undeniably attractive in a way that made you want to get closer, even though he was the last person you'd ever admit you were drawn to.

As Mr. Choi continued on, you noticed Riki glance toward you. His eyes lingered just a second longer than they should have, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw something in his gaze. But then, as always, he quickly looked away. It was like he had this quiet fascination with you, but he was too proud to show it.

And that’s what pissed you off about him. He was just like Jae in the sense that he never gave a care about anyone, always too cool for school, playing the part of the ''bad boy.''

"Y/N," Mr. Choi's voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back into the moment. "Care to tell the class the answer?"

You blinked, suddenly aware that everyone’s eyes were on you.

You hadn’t heard a word of the lesson.

Riki chuckled quietly from the front, the sound low and almost mocking. "I guess she's not paying attention. Typical."

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him as best as you could. "Sorry, Mr. Choi. Can you repeat the question?"

He sighed, clearly annoyed. "I said, what year did the Civil War end?"

"1865," you replied, without missing a beat.

"Correct," Mr. Choi muttered, before turning back to his lecture.

As class continued, Riki's eyes were on you again, just out of your line of vision. You hated how his attention made your heart race, even though you’d never admit it out loud. Riki was trouble. The kind of trouble you didn’t need in your life. You already had enough with Jae

But that didn't stop you from noticing him every chance you got. You couldn’t help but wonder - if he’d ever stop pretending to be so mean, what would he be like? Was he really the jerk everyone said he was, or was it just a act?

The bell rang, snapping you out of your thoughts. You grabbed your things and hurried out of the classroom, avoiding eye contact with Riki as best as you could.

The bell rang, signaling the end of another class. You shuffled through your papers, gathering your stuff, hoping for a peaceful exit. The tension from the gaze of Riki from yesterday still lingered, but you figured it was just another day. Another day of dealing with the mind games that seemed to follow you everywhere.

You were on your way out of class when you heard the sound of shoes shuffling on the floor behind you.

Of course, you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. But you kept walking, pretending you didn’t notice him following you down the hallway.

"Where’s your boyfriend?" Riki’s voice cut through the silence, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Did he finally get tired of you?"

You kept your eyes straight ahead, the words stinging more than they should. He had a way of pushing buttons that made you want to snap, but you kept your cool.

"He’s busy," you muttered, not bothering to explain further.

Riki snorted. "Yeah, I bet he’s busy with some other girl. He’s a real prize, huh?" His voice was laced with mockery, but there was something almost... too pointed about it.

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your composure. "What do you care?" you shot back, glancing at him.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something — was it amusement? Frustration? It was hard to tell. He leaned against the locker, crossing his arms. "Just curious," he said, shrugging. "Wouldn’t want you to get too attached to a loser like him. He’s not even worth the breath you waste on him."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You’re a real piece of work, you know that?"

Riki raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. "What’s the matter, huh? Can’t handle a little truth?" His words were like a jab to your chest. The way he looked at you, like you were some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve, made your stomach twist with confusion.

You felt a wave of frustration hit you. "You don’t know anything about me," you snapped, your patience wearing thin.

"Do I not?" Riki’s voice dropped to a low, almost dangerous tone. He was standing right in front of you now. His eyes glinted with something unreadable. "I know enough."

Before you could respond, Riki pushed himself off the locker and turned, as if the conversation was over. "You’re just another girl caught up in a bad relationship. No different from all the others."

"Yeah, well, maybe I’ll get tired of it," you muttered under your breath. "Maybe I’ll just walk away."

Riki’s smirk deepened as he glanced back over his shoulder. "Wouldn’t surprise me. You don’t seem the type to stick around when things get real."

You gritted your teeth, fists clenched. He was right about one thing — you were done with Jae, and maybe... maybe you were done with Riki’s games too.

"You think you know me?" you said, your voice cold. "You don’t. So keep your opinion to yourself."

Riki only glanced with a intense gaze, before walking off, leaving you there, heart racing with frustration.

But even as you were mad, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe — just maybe — he wasn’t wrong.

The circle of friends was loud — someone passed around a bag of chips, someone else was retelling a story that probably wasn’t as funny as everyone made it. Laughter echoed through the group, but your smile was forced. You sat close to Jae, his arm casually slung over your shoulder like it was some kind of ownership tag.

You tried not to roll your eyes at his touch, but it felt heavier than usual. He leaned in, whispered something into your ear — probably a bad joke or some half-assed compliment — and laughed like he was so charming.

Across the group, you caught Riki watching.

He sat slouched in a chair, legs stretched out, rings glinting under the string lights. His expression was unreadable — the perfect mask of disinterest — but his eyes told another story.

You could feel the way they trailed over Jake’s arm around your shoulders, the way they narrowed ever so slightly when Jake brushed a thumb along your collarbone. Riki wasn’t saying a word, but he didn’t have to.

His stare said everything.

You tried not to look at him too long, but it was magnetic. You glanced back, just for a second, and met his eyes.

Big mistake.

His gaze locked onto yours, sharp. His jaw clenched, his tongue poked the inside of his cheek in that cocky, irritated way he always did when he was holding something back. A smirk ghosted across his face — bitter, amused.

Jae didn’t notice a thing. He just leaned closer, voice louder now, trying to dominate the conversation. '' You cold, babe?'' he asked, loud enough for the others to hear. '' You’re kinda tense.''

You laughed lightly, brushing him off. '' I’m fine.''

But Riki was still watching.

His fingers drummed against his knee, his eyes not moving once from the two of you. Then he spoke — finally.

'' You're pretty good at pretending'' he said, low and smooth, like a threat carefully prepared.

Everyone paused. The conversation hiccupped. A few heads turned. Someone chuckled awkwardly, thinking he was just being edgy. But you knew better.

Your eyes snapped to him.

''What’s that supposed to mean?'' you asked, tone sharper than you meant it to be.

He just raised a brow and tilted his head. '' Nothing. Just an observation. Didn’t mean to ruin the moment.''

Jae scoffed. ''You good, bro? Sounding a little bitter.''

Riki grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ''Nah, just bored.''

And with that, he leaned back and looked away — but not before shooting you one last glance. The kind that made your stomach twist. The kind that said: You know I’m right.

You looked down at Jae's hand still on you and suddenly, it felt even heavier.

The metro was packed, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, heat and noise filling every inch of space — except the one between you and Riki.

He stood inches from you, one hand gripping the rail above your head, eyes locked on yours like the chaos around you didn’t exist. No smirk this time. No teasing.

Just that look.

Heavy. Quiet. Intense.

Your breath caught as the train jolted, bringing you even closer. He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just kept watching like he was trying to read your thoughts — or bury his own.

You swallowed hard, pulse hammering in your throat.

Neither of you said a word.

Didn’t need to. His eyes were loud enough.

And when the train screeched into the next stop, he still didn’t look away — not until the doors opened, and you both pretended nothing happened.

But it did.

God, it did.

The school rooftop was your only escape.

Hardly anyone ever came here, afterall, it was a old forgotten place. You’d started sneaking up there between classes just to breathe.

The rooftop was your escape - until today.

You pushed open the heavy door and froze.

Riki was already there, leaned against the low concrete wall, cigarette dangling from his fingers, smoke curling lazily in the breeze. His eyes flicked up at the sound of the door creaking, and for once, he didn’t have that stupid smirk on his pretty face.

''Seriously?'' you muttered. ''You’ve got the whole damn school to haunt. Why here?''

He shrugged, taking a slow drag. ''Didn’t realize you had it reserved.''

You walked to the far side, trying to ignore his stare — the way it always dug under your skin. But today, you snapped.

''You've got some nerve, you know that?'' you said sharply, turning on him. ''You follow me around like some smug parasite, making those cryptic comments, for what? To make me miserable?

He blinked slowly. ''If I’m making your life worse, you’re doing a pretty damn good job of sticking around for it.''

Your fists clenched. ''You’re unbelievable.''

He scoffed, flicking the cigarette. ''Why? Because I don’t lie to you? Because I don’t play sweet like your golden boy boyfriend?''

You stepped toward him, fury bubbling up from your chest. ''Don’t talk about Jae.''

''I’ll talk about whoever the hell I want,” Riki shot back. “Especially the guy who treats you like garbage and gets away with it because you’re too scared to leave.''

That hit hard. Too hard.

''You don’t know anything about me,'' you hissed, your voice shaking.

''I know enough,'' he said, stepping forward. ''I know you act like none of this bothers you. I know you date losers because it’s easier than admitting you don’t know what you want. And I know you look at me like you hate me — but you haven’t stopped looking away, have you?''

Your breath caught.

''You’re such an self absorbed asshole','' you whispered. ''You say all this crap like you know me, like you’re better than him. But you’re not. You’re just meaner. Colder. At least he pretends to care.''

That did something. His jaw tightened.

He stepped even closer, now barely inches away, his voice low and sharp. ''You think I don’t care?'' he spat. ''You think this is easy for me? Watching you run back to him every time he screws up? Watching you let him walk all over you when-''

''When what, Riki?'' you challenged, heart pounding. ''What, you’d treat me better? Between all your insults and dirty looks, where exactly was the part where I was supposed to feel wanted?''

Silence.

The wind whipped around you, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Then he muttered, almost too quietly, ''I never wanted to want you.''

Silence. Your heart dropped. This wasn't a joke?

''I push you away,'' he said quietly, ''because if I didn’t, I’d be too close.''

You swallowed, hard. For a second, neither of you spoke. And then—

''Don’t,'' you said, voice barely above a whisper. ''Don’t say things like that unless you mean them.''

Riki stepped back like the moment had burned him, but he didn’t take it back.

He looked at you like he did.

And for once, didn’t hide it.

Your phone buzzed twice, then again. The third time, you finally checked it.

Jae. Another girl. His hands all over her, lips tangled, right there in the corner of some dim party room.

Reactions flooded in - shock, laughing emojis, ''omg''s, and ''yo wtf''s - but you just stared at the screen, thumb frozen over your phone. Your stomach twisted, but not out of surprise.

You were used to this part. The disappointment. The quiet, dull ache that never really left.

No message from him. No explanation. Not that you were expecting one. You’d been waiting - waiting for him to end it, to at least have the decency to say it to your face. But maybe this was it.

You sighed, slow and tired, and threw your phone across the room.

Grabbing your jacket, you pulled it over your shoulders. It hung heavy. Your legs were bare under your skirt, and the cold air bit at your skin the second you stepped outside. You didn’t care. The numbness was louder than the wind.

The sky was dark, thick with clouds. A silence hung in the empty streets, broken only by the crunch of gravel under your shoes.

Then you heard it — a low, familiar rumble cutting through the stillness. A motorcycle.

You paused, looking up just as it came closer, headlights flashing briefly in your direction. The bike slowed, coming to a stop a few feet away. The rider pulled off his helmet, and there he was.

Riki.

Hair messy from the helmet, brows pulled together in something dangerously close to concern.

His eyes scanned you — the jacket thrown hastily over your outfit, the bare legs, the way you weren’t even pretending to be okay.

''You shouldn’t be out here like this,'' he said, voice low but cutting through the quiet.

You didn’t respond right away. Just tucked your arms tighter around yourself, eyes fixed on some point over his shoulder.

''Guess Jae finally did me a favor,'' you muttered.

He didn’t ask. Didn’t need to. Whatever had happened, he’d clearly already heard.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stood there, one hand still on the bike, the other flexing by his side like he didn’t know what to do with it.

Then, softer, ''You want a ride?''

You looked at him.

The part of you that would usually roll your eyes or spit something defensive was quiet now. You were too tired to fight. Too cold to pretend.

So you nodded.

And for the first time that night, you felt a little less alone.

Jae hadn’t even read your text.

We’re over. Sent at 11:42 p.m. last night

And yet there he was again the next day, strutting down the corridor as if you had done something wrong, gaze intense, jaw tight and fists clenched.

You’d been laughing at something one of your friends said, just a passing joke — harmless, light. But Jae didn’t see that. Or didn’t want to.

''What the hell is this?'' he snapped, voice sharp and too loud, drawing a few glances from nearby students.

You turned slowly, spine straightening. ''What are you talking about?''

''You’re out here, all over other guys, are you cheating on me?'' he accused.

You wanted to laugh, bitter and sad. But you didn’t.

''Cheating?'' you repeated, raising an eyebrow. ''Jae, you cheated on me. I saw the picture. The picture that got sent around.''

His face went pale for a moment before turning bright red with rage.

''That’s not the same thing,'' he hissed, fists clenching. ''You think I care about some stupid—''

''You care about it now, don’t you?'' you shot back, voice rising. ''You don’t even know how to break up with someone, so you just-'

Your words were cut short as he shoved your arm aside, stepping into your space, furious. His hand was raised, the tension in the air thick and crackling with something dark.

Before you could even react, someone moved fast from the side. Riki.

He appeared in a swift motion, stepping between you and Jae with a sharpness that cut through the tension.

He stood there, tall and confident, his posture straight, his eyes dark but calm, locking with Jae’s. ''You better lower your hand,''

Jae blinked, caught off guard, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to step in. ''What are you doing, Riki?'' he snarled.

Riki didn’t flinch. ''What the hell do you think you’re doing?'' he replied, voice low but heavy with something dangerous. ''Because this? This is crossing a line.''

You thought it was over.

Jae had stormed off after Riki stepped in, and you’d figured that’d be the end of it.

But oh boy were you wrong.

A few days later, you found yourself sitting in the school nurse's office, frowning down at Riki’s face.

''Seriously, Riki?'' you said, irritation rising as you grabbed a cotton ball and dabbed it into disinfectant. ''You couldn’t just walk away, could you?''

He winced when you dabbed the cotton over the cut lip. "I'm fine," he growled, trying to be cool like it was nothing, but you caught the way his jaw tightened, the minute tension on his shoulders giving him away.

''No, you’re not fine,'' you shot back, carefully applying bandages. ''You got yourself hurt because you couldn’t let him walk away with it. What were you trying to prove?''

Riki just smiled weakly, but it never quite made it to his eyes. "Maybe I was proving something to you.".

''You’re lucky I’m not slapping you,'' you grumbled, trying to hold back the anger that kept creeping in. ''You’re an idiot. Why didn’t you just walk away from Jae?''

He didn’t answer at first, his eyes locked on your hands as you worked. Then, quietly, he said, ''Because you’re worth it.''

You stood there, frozen, the words cutting you harder than they had any right to. You glared at him, but he didn't look at you. Instead, his eyes were fixed over your shoulder, face expressionless.

"Why do you always do that?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper now. "Why do you say things like that if you don't mean them?''

"I never said I didn't mean them," he replied, his eyes locking on you then, his eyes darkening from earlier. There was something there, something unspoken between the two of you.

You didn’t know what to say. The moment hung thick in the air, the tension palpable.

''Alright, you’re done,'' you muttered, pulling away. You grabbed a bandage and wrapped it around his arm, trying to keep your hands steady. ''Don’t get yourself into more trouble.''

Riki just nodded, his expression unreadable, but there was a slight curve to his lips that almost looked like a smile. ''You always say that, but I think you’re the one who’s gonna get into trouble if you keep hanging around me.''

You didn’t answer. Instead, you finished bandaging him up and turned to leave, but then you stopped and glanced over your shoulder.

''You still owe me an explanation,'' you said, voice quieter now.

He raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. ''Maybe. But some things are better left unsaid.''

With that, he stood up, and for the first time in days, you weren’t sure where either of you stood.

The silence between you was thick, but it didn’t feel as awkward as it should. Maybe it never had.

It was late.

Most of the school was dark, except for the faint buzz of lights in the empty classroom — the one you found him in.

Riki sat on the windowsill, notebook balanced on his knee. His hood was down for once, hair messy, head tilted like he didn’t hear you come in.

You hesitated at the doorway.

“You break in?” you asked softly, lips twitching.

He didn’t look up. “Didn’t need to. Left the window open last time.”

You stepped inside, slow and quiet, watching the way his pencil moved across the page — steady, focused, way more careful than anyone would guess. “What are you even writing?”

Riki finally looked over, gaze catching yours, lingering a second too long. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed the room until you were beside him, peeking at the notebook. “Let me see.”

He shifted it just slightly away from your view. “Nope.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Afraid I’ll see all the little hearts with my name in them?”

That actually got a small laugh out of him. “You wish.”

The silence that followed was warm, comfortable in a way it hadn’t always been. You leaned against the window next to him, arms crossed, your shoulder brushing his. Neither of you moved.

After a minute, you said, quieter, “You know... prom’s coming.”

Riki glanced at you. “So I’ve heard.”

“You thinking of going?”

He paused, then shrugged. “Only if there’s a reason to.”

You bit your lip, heart fluttering with something you didn’t want to name yet. “What if there was?”

He looked at you again, eyes darker now — focused. “Are you trying to ask me something, or just over the edge?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “...Maybe both.”

He smiled — just barely — and looked away, back out the window like he needed a second to cool off whatever just passed between you.

You didn’t say anything else. Neither did he. You just stayed there, shoulder to shoulder, both pretending you weren’t waiting for the other to make a move.

And you didn’t know it then, but that was the moment you’d end up thinking about when you finally gave him those tickets.

The moment when almost was already everything.

Prom was coming up.

Every hallway was plastered with glittery posters and cheesy hashtags. People were buzzing with dates and dresses and afterparty plans. You’d told yourself you didn’t care — that it was overrated, dramatic, not your thing.

But then there was Riki.

And the fact that despite all the tension, all the biting comments and late-night moments that felt way too close, he hadn’t asked anyone. He hadn’t even mentioned it.

So when you saw him leaning against his usual spot by the back stairwell, headphones around his neck, hood half-up like he was trying not to exist — you decided.

You walked up, heart thudding stupidly hard, something clutched behind your back.

He looked up at you with that lazy gaze, one brow quirking. “What?”

You cleared your throat. “I, um… I got something.”

Riki blinked, a little amused already. “For me?”

You pulled your hand around and held it out — two folded pieces of paper. “Concert tickets.”

He looked down at them, then back at you, waiting.

“They’re for a night before prom,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I figured, it'd be weird to not have dates, so we could use these as an opportunity to get closer and not be so awkward togehter at prom - because like mabye we could go as a pair?”

Something flickered in his expression — surprise, interest, maybe even something softer.

You hurried to add, “I mean, unless you were planning to not go. Or already have a date. Or—”

“Are you asking me out?” he interrupted, eyes narrowing with a half-smile.

You faltered. “I—what? No. I mean yes. Kinda. Not like that, just—”

He stepped closer, just a bit, enough that you could see the amusement tugging at his lips. “You could’ve just said you wanted to go with me. You didn’t have to bribe me with front-row tickets.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m trying to be nice here, you absolute jerk.”

Riki laughed — a real one, low and warm. Then he took the tickets from your hand, carefully, like they were something rare.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll go with you.”

You blinked. “Just like that?”

He shrugged. “You’ve been making moves on me for weeks. I was wondering how long it’d take you to admit it.”

Your jaw dropped. “I have not—”

“You literally patched me up in the nurse’s office like a rom-com lead,” he teased, tucking the tickets into his back pocket. “It was very touching.”

You shoved his shoulder, cheeks burning. “I hate you.”

He grinned. “No, you don’t.”

And as he turned to walk beside you, hands in his pockets, you kind of hated that he was right.

It happened weeks after prom.

You were both sitting on the bench after yet another date. Heart lighter than it'd had been in weeks. The streetlamps cast a soft glow on Riki’s face as he leaned back on his palms, gaze tilted up toward the sky.

It was quiet. Calm. The kind of peace that usually didn’t last long with him.

Then he spoke.

“So,” he said, almost too casually. “Are you gonna keep pretending this isn’t a thing? Or are you finally gonna let me call you my girl?”

You turned to look at him, heartbeat stumbling in that annoying way it did whenever he got serious. “You’re asking me out?”

“I’m saying,” he drawled, “officially, that I want this. You. No games, no half-truths. Just us. If you want it, too.”

You stared at him, trying not to smile too hard, trying not to let him see how much that meant — how much he meant.

“Okay,” you said softly. “On one condition.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Condition?”

You nodded. “You stop smoking.”

That actually made him pause.

Then he laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “You know,” he said, “that day on the rooftop? The cigarette?” He glanced over at you, smirking a little. “It was fake.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Dead serious. I wasn’t even smoking. It wasn’t lit. I just... thought it looked cool.” He shrugged, clearly a little embarrassed now. “I was trying to seem badass. Impress you or something.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re kidding.”

He held up a hand. “Swear on my life. It was literally just for show. Didn’t even inhale. I nearly choked.”

You burst out laughing, the image too perfect — Riki, fake-smoking to get your attention, acting like he didn’t care when he clearly did.

“Alright,” you said, still smiling. “Then yeah. I’ll be your girl.”

He leaned in, face close, grin tugging at his lips. “Finally pretty.”

And when he kissed you — soft, careful, like he was making a promise — you believed him.

Because

Riki had proved he wasn't like Jae or any other guy.

He was willing to change. To let go of that stupid image.

For you, his Y/N.

lovliezᡣ𐭩: @chrrific @saemisic @heeaara @ltfirecracker @woniefication @lezleeferguson-120 @fleurhoons

2K notes · View notes

pjmxtra · 4 months ago

Text

trusting you⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

paring: experienced! 니키 x virgin!fmr

warning: smut! angst! fluff! fingering, size kink, p in v

an: first request thank you sm!! hope i did well. i had so much fun writing it.

“I don’t want to disappoint you, Ki,” you whispered, voice barely audible, swallowed by the closeness of his mouth on your neck. His lips moved slowly, reverently down the delicate line of your throat, lingering at each pulse point as if memorizing your rhythm.

You felt so small beneath him—so tiny and breakable in his lap, dwarfed by the width of his frame, the strength in his arms. He made you feel like porcelain, something fragile, precious. Untouched. Which, in a way, you were.

You’d never gone this far with anyone. Not because the chance hadn’t been there, but because it had never felt right. It had never felt safe. Until him.

Riki’s lips paused against your collarbone. Slowly, he lifted his head from the crook of your neck, and his dark eyes caught yours. There was no teasing smirk this time—no playful edge. Just concern. Just quiet, open patience. Your soft eyes stared up into his, wide and glossy, your brows drawn together as your hands twisted nervously in your lap.

You didn’t want to think about the others he’d been with—those nameless shadows that came before you. You knew he had experience. You knew he wasn’t coming into this with the same shaky hands and fluttering chest that you were.

And maybe you’d tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter. But it did. You hated that it did. It dug in deep, curled cold around your stomach, a silent insecurity you tried so hard not to let surface.

But it always found a way to rise.

Riki’s expression softened even more when he spoke. “Where’s this coming from, hmm?” His voice was deep, low like a rumble against your skin. His hands, large and firm on your narrow waist, tightened just a little—just enough to ground you. Just enough to remind you that you were here, in his arms, not some distant thought drifting away.

You looked down, unable to hold his gaze anymore, your vision blurring as your fingers clutched the hem of your shirt in your lap. You sat cross-legged on top of him, practically folded into his body, the top of your head barely reaching the underside of his chin. It made everything feel more intense, more real—the stark contrast between his strength and your vulnerability.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your voice thick with the tears you didn’t want to shed. “I know it’s dumb, I just… I can’t stop thinking about how I’ll never be like the others. I’m not… I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m scared I’ll mess it up. That I’ll mess us up.”

Riki’s jaw tensed for a second, like the thought of you feeling that way physically hurt him. His hand moved up from your waist, big palm cradling your cheek, gently turning your face back to his.

Your eyes brimmed with tears, lashes damp and trembling. You tried to turn away, embarrassed, but he wouldn’t let you. He held you there, his touch so careful despite how easily he could hold you still.

“Hey. Don’t cry, sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice quiet and full of something unshakably tender. “Don’t let that pretty head of yours ever think you could disappoint me.”

He kissed your tears away—first your eyes, then the tip of your nose, then your trembling mouth. The kiss wasn’t rushed or rough. It was soft. Slow. As if time didn’t matter. As if all that mattered was making sure you felt it—that you knew it.

His arms wrapped tighter around you, drawing you impossibly closer until your chest was pressed to his and you could feel the steady thump of his heart beneath your hands.

You were completely enclosed in him, wrapped in his warmth, his strength. His scent. Like nothing else existed beyond the shell of his embrace.

“I want this with you,” he said, his voice just above a whisper now, his breath brushing your lips. “Not because you’re perfect. Not because you’re experienced. But because you’re mine. And I’ll take care of you… every step of the way.”

You nodded against him, your body relaxing in the safety of his hold. Your breath hitched when he said it—you’re mine. Something deep inside you ached at those words, a kind of ache that wasn’t pain, but longing.

You nodded again, too full of feeling to speak. You clutched at his shirt, tiny hands fisting into the fabric like you needed to hold on to something solid or else float away.

Riki pulled back only enough to see your face. His thumb brushed along your cheek, and then down to your chin, tilting your head up.

You looked so small beneath his gaze, so delicate in his lap, legs draped over his thighs like a doll placed in the arms of something far bigger. His size made you feel nervous, but not in the way that made you want to pull away. It made you want to fall deeper, to give yourself over completely and trust he’d catch you.

“Lie back for me,” he murmured, voice low, guiding you down onto the bed like he was laying down something precious. His hand stayed at your waist as you shifted, your body trembling faintly beneath him.

He moved with careful slowness, one knee resting between your legs, his frame casting a shadow over yours. Your breath caught again when his hands slid up your sides—slow, reverent. Like he was memorizing the shape of you.

“You okay?” he asked, and his voice was softer now, velvet-smooth, all the teasing long gone. “You can tell me to stop. Anytime. I mean it.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. Your voice shook, your fingers clinging to his arm. “I just… I’m scared.”

“I know, baby.” His lips brushed your forehead. “But you’re not alone. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of everything.”

The mattress dipped as he leaned down, his mouth ghosting over yours. His kiss this time was deeper, a little firmer. He kissed like he meant it, like he wasn’t just trying to make you feel good—he was trying to make you feel safe. Like this wasn’t just about bodies, but about trust. About you handing yourself over to him completely—and him treating that with the weight it deserved.

He took his time, undressing you slowly, piece by piece, whispering soft praise the entire way.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over your body like it was art. “So fucking soft. I could spend all night just looking at you.”

You trembled under the weight of his gaze, hands instinctively moving to cover yourself, but he stopped you gently.

“No,” he said firmly, but kindly, taking your wrists in one large hand. “Don’t hide from me. Not tonight. Let me see you, baby. Let me have you.”

You swallowed thickly, your chest rising and falling fast as you slowly lowered your arms. You felt bare in every sense—not just naked, but exposed. But Riki didn’t leer. He didn’t compare. He didn’t hesitate. He just looked at you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

His hands were everywhere.

Large, warm, calloused—so much bigger than yours, and they moved over you like you were something delicate he had to treat with reverence. His touch was slow, deliberate, every sweep of his palm down your trembling sides igniting a fresh wave of heat that settled low in your belly. He leaned over you, his frame easily caging yours in. His chest hovered just inches above your own, his forearms braced on either side of your head, muscles taut with restraint.

Your body was already trembling beneath him—nerves, anticipation, raw vulnerability all coiled into something electric. And he felt it. You could see it in his eyes, blown dark and focused entirely on you, and you could feel it in the way he touched you—not rushing, not pushing, just guiding, always waiting for you to follow.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he murmured, voice low, coaxing. “Nice and slow.”

You obeyed, heart pounding so loud you could barely hear your own breath. Your thighs parted shakily beneath him, small legs spreading around his hips, and his gaze dropped between you for a moment before he groaned softly, something deep and rough in his throat.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered, running his hand up the inside of your thigh. Your skin jumped under the heat of his palm. “So soft. So tiny down here…”

You gasped as his fingers grazed over your folds, his touch featherlight but deliberate. He took his time exploring you, mapping out every twitch, every gasp, every time your hips lifted off the mattress in search of more. His other arm held you still, anchored across your waist, the sheer size of it a stark reminder of how easily he could pin you down completely if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He never took. He asked.

“Does this feel good?” he asked, dipping his head beside your ear, his breath hot against your flushed skin. “Tell me if anything’s too much.”

“N-no, it’s good,” you whispered, voice barely holding steady. “It’s really… it’s good.”

He smiled against your skin, lips brushing just beneath your jawline as two fingers slid between your folds and circled your clit, slow and lazy. You cried out softly, hips twitching up against his hand, and he hummed in approval.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured. “Look at you… already so wet for me.”

Your cheeks burned, but the praise only made the heat between your legs build. Your breath came in shorter gasps as he worked you open with his fingers—first one, then another, stretching you so carefully, gently easing you toward the point where your body would be ready to take more.

His fingers were thick, his knuckles pressing just enough to make your walls clench, and you could feel how much bigger he’d be than this.

“Doing so good,” he whispered. “So tight. You feel how your little pussy holds onto me? That’s just from my fingers, baby.”

You whined, eyes squeezing shut, thighs trembling around his hips. He withdrew his fingers and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean as he watched you with half-lidded eyes.

Then, he settled between your thighs again, one hand guiding himself to your entrance.

“I’ll go slow,” he promised, kissing the center of your chest, just over your heart. “I’ll stop the second you say the word.”

You nodded, breath shaky. “I trust you.”

That was all he needed.

You felt the head of him press against you—thick, hot, and unforgiving. The stretch made your breath catch, eyes wide as you instinctively tried to draw back, but his hand returned to your waist, holding you still, grounding you.

“Shh,” he soothed. “Just breathe, baby. You’re okay. Just a little more…”

Every inch was a new kind of overwhelming—his size, the fullness, the way your body struggled to accommodate him. He didn’t force it. He eased in slowly, watching every flicker of emotion on your face, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your trembling lips.

“There you go,” he whispered when he was fully seated inside you, chest rising and falling heavily against yours. “You took all of me, sweet girl. Just like that.”

You could barely breathe, but the fullness… it was intoxicating. You felt split open, claimed, utterly owned. He stayed still, letting you adjust, his thumb stroking soothingly over your hip as he kissed along your jaw.

“Tell me when you want more,” he said softly, voice barely holding back the tension straining in his body.

“I want it,” you breathed, clutching at his shoulders. “Please.”

He groaned again, deeper this time, and began to move.

Each thrust was slow, controlled, his hips rolling against yours with a careful rhythm. You could feel how he tried to hold back, to make it good for you before himself. Your body gripped him tightly with every movement, the stretch still just shy of too much, and it only added to the intensity.

“You feel that?” he murmured against your ear. “That’s how deep I am inside you. Only you get this, baby. Only you get to have me like this.”

His hand slid beneath your lower back, lifting your hips slightly to change the angle, and suddenly the friction hit just right. Your back arched, a strangled moan escaping your lips, and he groaned in return, thrusts faltering for just a moment.

“That’s it. Right there, huh? There’s my good girl.”

You couldn’t speak anymore—only whimper, lost in the drag and push of his hips, the way he filled every inch of you so perfectly. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, breathless and trembling, as his pace built just a little faster, rougher—but never losing the tenderness.

His thrusts deepened, slow but powerful, each one pressing you down into the mattress with the full weight of him. You were small beneath him—stretched wide, trembling, completely pinned by the press of his hips and the sheer length of him inside you.

Your hands clung to his shoulders, nails digging in, and he didn’t flinch—he welcomed the mark, gritting his teeth as you arched under him, your moans soft and broken.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “Take it—just like that. Let me feel you.”

The pressure was building fast now—hot, thick, overwhelming. It started in your core, a slow tightening coil that grew sharper with every drag of his cock along your walls. He hit something inside you that made your breath catch, your eyes go wide as your body jerked beneath him.

“There?” he rasped, voice suddenly rougher, rawer. “Right there, huh?”

You nodded frantically, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes—not from pain, but from how much it was. The pressure. The pleasure. Him.

“I can’t—Riki—” Your voice broke, your body twitching. “I-I think I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” he growled, suddenly burying himself deeper, his hips grinding hard and slow. “Come on, sweet girl. Let me feel how tight this pretty little pussy gets when you fall apart for me.”

Your whole body locked up beneath him. The orgasm hit hard, rushing through you like a wave that tore the breath from your lungs.

Your back arched off the bed, mouth falling open in a silent scream, legs trembling violently as your body clamped down around him. He groaned through gritted teeth, hips stuttering against you as he fought to stay steady through your climax.

“That’s it,” he hissed, watching you unravel beneath him. “Fuck, look at you…”

You were shaking, tears streaking your flushed cheeks, unable to stop the helpless whimpers as the aftershocks pulsed through you. Your body twitched every time he moved inside you, too sensitive, too full, too much—and still, you didn’t want him to stop.

“I-I can’t—” you whispered, broken, clinging to him.

“Yes, you can,” he said, voice softer now, lips brushing yours. “You’re okay. You’re doing so fucking good.”

And then, with a deep, guttural moan, his hips slammed flush against yours, and he spilled into you, filling you with thick warmth. You could feel every pulse of it, deep and slow, his breath ragged as he pressed his forehead to yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moved—just tangled together, breathing each other in.

When he finally pulled out, he did so carefully, cradling you like you’d break. You whimpered at the emptiness, body still pulsing around nothing, and he shushed you gently, laying soft kisses on your cheeks, your jaw, your lips.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmured, gathering you into his arms, pulling you onto his chest like you weighed nothing. “You did so good for me. So perfect.”

You curled into him, limbs trembling, skin slick with sweat. You felt raw—used and loved all at once, stretched and filled and held. His hand ran slowly up and down your back, grounding you as your heart slowly returned to a steady rhythm.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice no longer rough but achingly tender. “Talk to me, baby.”

You nodded, still pressed against his chest. “Yeah… just overwhelmed.”

His arms tightened. “I know. I know, sweet girl.”

He kissed your forehead, holding you close, letting you rest there in the soft silence that followed. The bed sheets were damp, your body sore and tingling in the best way, but none of it mattered. Not with him holding you like that—like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you,” you whispered, surprising yourself.

Riki didn’t hesitate.

“I love you too,” he murmured, voice a low, steady vow. “And I meant what I said. You’ll never disappoint me. You’re mine… and I’ll take care of you. Always.”

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, letting yourself melt into him completely—safe, wanted, loved.

And this time, you believed it.

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