you were the definition of spoiled — but in the soft, heart-eyed, “whatever my baby wants, my baby gets” kind of way. and riki? oh, he was absolutely whipped. painfully. voluntarily. deeply. like, drop everything because you just said you want iced matcha from that one café across town kind of whipped.

it started small. like the time you told him how pretty a necklace looked in that one boutique window. you didn’t ask for it. didn’t even think twice about it. but three days later, he showed up to your house with a little velvet box, grinning like a kid. “looks better on you,” he said, voice low, watching you light up like a damn christmas tree.

you didn’t even get to reach for your purse anymore. if you tried, riki would just raise his brows, fake offended like, “are you seriously trying to disrespect me like that right now?” and you’d roll your eyes, but you’d let him pay anyway. because you knew he liked it. he liked treating you like royalty. like you were the sun and he was just lucky enough to orbit around you.

“babe, i wanna go to the beach this weekend,” you’d hum while scrolling through instagram, eyes locked on some influencer’s post.

“okay,” he’d say without looking up, already unlocking his phone to book a hotel. “wanna do airbnb or resort?”

sometimes it wasn’t even words. just a look. you’d stare too long at a store window and boom — next thing you know, riki’s handing his card to the cashier, hand on your lower back like yeah she’s mine and she deserves this shit. and don’t even get started on the way he’d carry the shopping bags for you like he was your personal assistant-slash-bodyguard-slash-sugar daddy.

you and your friends? taken care of. you’d text the group like “riki’s giving us a ride 🫶🏻” and they’d already be grabbing their lip gloss and running out the door. he’d show up, aux cord ready, windows down, and always — always — offer to pay for the group’s food like it was nothing.

“you’re too good to me,” you’d murmur against his neck while sitting on his lap, arms wrapped around his shoulders after a long day of him spoiling you.

he’d just chuckle, low and cocky. “nah. just good for you.”

even when you were bratty — pouty lips, arms crossed, “no i don’t want that one, i want that one” — riki never cracked. he’d just smile, amused, like he adored seeing you act spoiled. like your attitude was cute instead of annoying. and somehow, it made you fall even harder.

because the truth was, you didn’t need the gifts or the fancy dinners or the matching sets from your favorite brand. what melted you the most was the way riki wanted to do all of it. he loved making you happy. loved watching your eyes sparkle when he pulled out a surprise. loved how your voice got high-pitched when you were excited. loved spoiling you because, in his words, “you deserve a soft life, and i’m gonna make sure you live one.”

spoiled? yes. high-maintenance? absolutely. but only because riki insisted on setting the bar so high, no one else could even reach it.

and honestly? you were never going back to anything less.