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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 9 months

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COME REST YOUR BONES NEXT TO ME ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO

synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most.

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues

a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33

”holy shit!”

the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.

”satoru, it’s too early for this...”

”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes.

your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.

(snowing.)

with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.

satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks.

maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth.

it’s beautiful.

satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded.

all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere.

the first snow of the year.

and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.

there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.

like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.

and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again.

(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.

and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)

high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.

and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling.

a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.

he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.

— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.

satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.

(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)

”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.”

he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.

it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.

so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.

satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.

”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.

”never.”

a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.

a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”

and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.

his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”

his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.

he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face.

when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.

you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips.

hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.

satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.

because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs.

what more could a man want?

”hey, idiots!”

the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.

”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”

”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.

suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there.

(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)

with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.

”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.

then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”

satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”

a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”

a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”

and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.

despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”

”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.

”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”

satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.

suguru sighs.

”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”

his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.

he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot.

when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.

the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.

(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.

and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)

suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.

when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.

that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.

”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.

satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.”

but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”

a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”

you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”

a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.

and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word.

his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.

and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology.

(i'm sorry, you big baby.)

satoru grins.

you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.

”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”

he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”

”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”

”and don’t play dumb, either.”

a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”

said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown.

and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.

”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”

satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”

you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”

”hmph.”

suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.

and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again.

that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.

this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.

(married.)

sometimes he still can’t believe it.

”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.”

and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.

and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.

your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.

his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.

(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)

and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.

a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.

and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.

”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”

”— you’re disgusting.”

the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.

and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.

you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.

then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?”

”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.

silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.

”… santa can only do so much, baby.”

two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.

”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.”

you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”

”of course not! blasphemy.”

a moment passes.

”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”

a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.

then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow.

he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.

and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.

he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice.

for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?

(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)

— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.

it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.

and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.

warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter.

he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself.

and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest.

he hopes it never goes away.

#genuinely fucked up that suguru geto isnt in my kitchen rn </3 #i just think sugu is such a caretaker. makes u breakfast and peels ur satsumas w/o u even asking. bc it makes him happy :’3 hes so Mother #i think he lowkey gets just a little bit uncomfortable when u or gojo try to do the same for him… he likes doting on u #but obv he deserves to be pampered too!! just gotta ease him into it #and i think gojo has a hole in his heart where love should be. bc he wasnt given enough as a child #im not sure what to think when it comes to his parents (since we know literally nothing abt them) but...#the idea of him finding some comfort in the memory of his mom…. maybe not realizing that he misses her…..… i think its very sad. and good.#listened to ricky montgomery while writing this i think it mightve healed me #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto x reader x gojo #gojo fluff #geto fluff #satosugu x reader #satosugu x you #satosugu x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #……… thats… a lot of tags.

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okshu · 5 months

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—ㅤ⠀ 峠ㅤ⠀ 𝗐͟𝗐͟𝗐﹕﹙ZB1 FIC RECS﹚

all fics of zb1 that me and @fairyofmangoes read and swooned over at the dead of the night. the authors are really talented too so make sure to check out their other works too.

▨ LEGEND ㄑ f - fluff, a - angst, s - smut

성한빈 ─── SUNG HANBIN

be careful, don't fall by @haesunflower [f] [uni AU, clumsy reader and student nurse hanbin; 0.7k]

a night in monaco [ one . two ] by @ohsunnyboy [f] [fake dating, flirting, one bed trope, lazy kisses]

to breathe in your life by @zhng96 [f] [comfort fic, insecure!reader]

sitting in traffic by @loserlvrss [a,f]

hanbin and non-sexual dominance by @zbis [f]

forget? you? by @hariboz [a]

김지웅 ─── KIM JIWOONG

french press by @zerobaselove [s] [jealous jiwoong; 1.2k]

cuteness aggression by @haecien [f] [boyfriend texts with jiwong]

a morning to remember by @taerrrrrae [f]

winter confessions by @taerrrrrae [f]

章昊 ─── ZHANG HAO

a perfect fit by @zerobaselove [f] [campus crush! zhang hao x reader; 3.4k]

to chase a dream by @ohsunnyboy [f] [musician au, rivals, makeouts and happy endings]

one day only by @cinnajun [f] [established relationship; 1.3k]

drunk of you by @kkongdakz [a] [rivals to somewhat lovers, suggestive; 2.3k]

dollification by @amoremainslayer [s]

sir oblivious by @sxmmerberries [f] [textfic]

석매튜 ─── SEOK MATTHEW

coloumb's law by @seoktized [s] [ft. jake from enhypen, college au; 3.4k]

airpods by @iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin [s] [stepcest; 2k]

feel good by @loserlvrss [s] [soft smut]

show me how to use that pretty mouth of yours by @aswaki [s] [oral fixation; 2.2k]

mile high club privilege by @aswaki [s] [stewardess/flight attendant reader, strangers themed; 1.8k]

matthew flashfic this and this by @aswaki [s]

semi public sex by @528-hotline [s]

김태래 ─── KIM TAERAE

taedros taedros [ one . two . three ] by @iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin [s] [bsf taerae]

giving it a chance by @haesunflower [a] [not super angsty, established long term relationship]

keep it quiet by @cinnajun [f, sugg] [best friend’s brother!au x reader; 3.6k]

this loser by @kkongdakz [f]

a summ(lov)er song by @kkongdakz [f]

沈泉锐 ─── SHEN QUANRUI

against everything by @ohsunnyboy [f] [royalty!au, arranged marriages, sword fights and honour]

cherry chapstick by @loserlvrss [sugg]

sunlight by @kkongdakz [f]

wooden block tower by @kkongdakz [a]

김규빈 ─── KIM GYUVIN

7:34 pm by @zhng96 [f] [blurb]

sunny days by @zhng96 [f] [3.1k]

new year's kiss by @hariboz [f] [friends to lovers; 1.6k]

only one by @loserlvrss [f] [established relationship; 1k]

battery recharge by @kkongdakz [f]

kiss it better by @kkongdakz [f]

world's cutest couple by @cinnajun [fake angst]

pool sex by @carmesi-butterfly [s]

birthday much? by @arafilez [f] [drabble; 0.3k]

you kissed him and ran away by @sxmmerberries [f] [text imagine, bsf!gyuvin]

박건욱 ─── PARK GUNWOOK

why are you ignoring me by @slytherinshua [f]

one bed by @kkongdakz [f] [enemies to somewhat lovers; 1k]

consequences by @lovepookie [f, a]

한유진 ─── HAN YUJIN

a spark of light by @ohsunnyboy [f] [bestfriends, homework, pining away and gaming]

love lock by @trsrina [f]

mario cart by @trsrina [f]

2a.m. crisis by @slytherinshua [f, sickfic]

side dishes by @gyubaseone [f]

everything is okay by @taeraemisu [f]

7:39 pm by @itsactuallylina [f]

red thread of fate by @carmesi-butterfly [f]

제로베이스원 ─── OT9 / POLY

zb1 top 3 kinks by @melobin [s] [not including gunwook & yujin]

cute things zb1 do as you bf by @tzuberry [f] [maknae line hcs]

she's busy bro by @haesunflower [f] [text imagines, yujin not included]

cuddling with zb1 by @cinnajun [f] [headcannons, yujin not inc]

this love is small by @taeiun [f] [some of the little things that they do in your relationship, yujin not inc]

zb1 as love tropes by @tzuberry [f] [headcannons, maknae line]

sweet venom by @taeiun [f] [headcannons, pulling them by the collar and kissing, 02z + 04z + gw]

zb1 as your boyfriends by @cinnajun [f] [hcs, yujin not incl]

zb1 as taylor swift songs by @zhng96 [f] [blurbs]

calling your bsf "babe" by @zhng96 [f] [text imagines]

why him by @hariboz [f] [text imagines, you ask for another member's pc]

why didn't you kiss me by @hariboz [f] [text imagines]

favourite places to kiss by @loserlvrss [f] [blurb, gw + yj not incl]

is this mine? by @kkongdakz [f] [reaction, when you wear their clothes]

we're so cliché by @kkongdakz [f] [zb1 as love tropes]

kiss me by @kkongdakz [sugg] [making out with hyung line]

you being sleep deprived/sleep drunk by @sxmmerberries [f] [maknae line + taerae, text imagines]

no more kisses by @faithst [f] [ot8, hcs, s/o being shy after every kiss]

2K notes · View notes

briefkittenearthquake · 2 months

Text

when i was a kid i had an OBESE crush on aidan gallagher in nicky, ricky, dicky, and dawn. now i look at him as this pyscho killer, and hes way more hot like how you go from

this:

to this:

(i’d let him nicky, ricky and dick-me down)

#i need him #i want him #i am normal about this man #need him #i love him #hes so babygirl #aidan gallagher #tua s4 spoilers #hargreeves siblings #klaus hargreeves #umbrella academy #tua season 4 #i can fix him #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreaves x you #five hargreeves smut #nicky ricky dicky and dawn

836 notes · View notes

hariboz · 3 months

Text

HE HAS COOTIES BTW!

“they text you “he’s busy” to prank you for once!”

pairing: bf!zb1 x gn!reader

genre: fluff/humor 😽

warnings: no yujin, cussing, kayemess jokes, it’s silly 🫶🏻

notes: i made this during the half time of the ger/sui game…also, has this trend been dead for months at this point? well yes but i love it so i’m doing this regardless ´･ᴗ･` in other news i realised how much i used to love kaomojis omg

581 notes · View notes

hannie-dul-set · 9 months

Text

the psychology of strawberries — [s.qr].

SYNOPSIS. besides being your friend, kim gyuvin also holds the existence of being the worst matchmaker in history. the last guy he set you up with ended with a permanent ban from the arcade. the one before that caused you to file a restraining order. which is why when he tries to set you up one last time with his best friend, you understandably shut him down.

the problem is— why the fuck didn’t gyuvin tell you that his best friend is actually the prettiest man in the world? the most charming idiot to have graced your mortal existence? maybe if he did, you wouldn’t have to resort to pavlovian tactics and strawberries just to bag him. if he did, then you wouldn’t have to hide the fact that you’re kind of balls-deep in love with his friend.

PAIRING. shen quanrui x female! reader. GENRE. college! au, (anti) matchmaking! au, strangers to friends to lovers, eventual secret relationship. romance, humor, fluff, suggestive, older! reader, this is just lovelicky propaganda. sue me. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, mentions of sex, making out, making out in public, an almost car crash, stalking (not from any of the leads), erratic behavior (mostly from our lead), ricky in a floral shirt, black haired ricky and bathrobe ricky jumpscare. WORD COUNT. 21k.

TAGLIST. @lovialy @sarang-ae @khaelscafe @jenodreamer @lovelyrickyz @ciaoui @spjhyn @chwesuh-imnida @kgneptun @hanstarrs @dvalitaes @younxii @haesunflower @cyberpunksunwoo @tlnyjoong @bobabunhee @elavin @sassybakaaa @wishfulthnking @lvieee

NOTE. there is evident lack of plot in this. unless you consider thirsting over ricky as plot, then there’s a lot of plot. you’re welcome. feedback and comments are always appreciated, and i hope you enjoy!

AT SOME POINT IN YOUR LIFE, THE PROSPECT OF MEETING A NEW GUY STOPPED BEING A POINT OF INTEREST OR ANTICIPATION. It has now become a harbinger of horror, an inevitable car crash simply lying in wait. Gone are the days where you’re looking forward to the first kiss on your porch and doorstep— now, you don’t even care if you share the same hobbies or not, if you click well or not, neither if your personalities match or not.

Your only hope is that they don’t end up being a stalker or a slob or someone with severe anger issues. And there’s only one culprit for this seemingly permanent shift in your psychology.

“I’m not going on another date! At least one that you’re setting up.”

“C’mon!” Gyuvin clings onto your arm, preventing you from leaving the classroom. He’s crouching on the floor. Your face crunches up, looking down at him like he’s a piece of gum stuck on your boot sole. “This will be the last time. Please? I showed him a picture of you and he thinks you’re cute.”

The sole reason why Kim Gyuvin can get away with anchoring you by the arm with his entire body weight, why he can get away with setting you up with douchebag after douchebag, is because he’s a family friend, and you’ve known him for eight whole years. These tantrums are normal, but the sudden growth spurt he had in ninth grade makes him occasionally forget that you’re still two years older than him. You were already walking before he was even born. This bitch thinks he can make you do what he wants.

“Get off! Are you trying to dislocate my shoulder?”

The moment you raise your free arm to a fist, he releases you from his clutches and puts his arms up innocently, still crouched on the floor. You click your tongue with a sneer, brushing down your sleeve. Anyway, does he have amnesia? Has he forgotten how the last blind dates went?

“Your friend Jaeryeong also thought I was cute,” you start. “Really cute, in fact. To the point where he wouldn’t leave me alone and I had to file a restraining order against him.”

Now, he’s finally looking guilty. Gyuvin clear his throat and jumps back up to his feet, straightening his clothes and not daring to look you in the eye. “He—he had some issues that I wasn’t aware of and I’m sorry for that— but Ricky is different! He’s not some weirdo! I promise you that he’s a good guy and he’s good looking and—”

“You said the same thing about Do Hajun,” you cut him off. “Sure, he was pretty good looking, but he got so mad at a claw machine and started assaulting it in public. I got banned at the Game Plaza, Gyuvin. I’m not allowed there anymore. I was the top scorer at DDR there. I can’t maintain my rank there anymore because the last guy you set me up with had problems with his temper.”

He looks even more guilty now. Your glare softens because it’s not entirely his fault. But this time the guy’s name is Ricky. That sounds like a fuckboy’s name. A fuckboy who probably wears snapbacks and jeans a little too low. You’re not taking any fucking chances.

“Okay,” Gyuvin breathes out. “I understand that I may have made some bad matches—”

“Some.”

“A lot of bad matches,” he corrects, sheepish. “But that’s just because so many people want to date you! If you think about it, it’s your fault for always attracting weirdos! I’m just the connecting bridge and messenger! I’m sick and tired of my friends asking me to set you up with them too!”

“So why the hell are you trying to do it again?!” Man, you’re getting tired. You asked him to meet you in your lecture hall after class because you wanted to check up on his project, but the moment he came in, he tried throwing you into the sharks once again in an instant.

You dig into your bag for a piece of candy, unwrapping it and popping it into your mouth with an unamused expression as Gyuvin tries his damn best to market his friend to you. “This will be the last one, I promise! Ricky is my best friend and I can assure you that he’s a decent guy. He’s hot. He’s got a car. Didn’t you say before that you wanted a hot boyfriend with a car?”

“If he’s so hot then why are you so desperately trying to sell him off?”

You weren’t born yesterday. Hell, you were born earlier than this matchmaking scammer and he regularly forgets about that. “Well,” he starts, clearing his throat. “He’s my best friend, but I need my solo time too! If he gets a girlfriend, then maybe he’ll stop showing up at my apartment every Friday night and—”

“That’s enough.”

You stuff a piece of candy into his mouth, promptly shutting him up. His eyes are wide, shock quickly morphing into a grimace when the flavor finally kicks in. Durian. Serves him fucking right.

“Go set your friend up with someone else. I called you in here for a different reason, Kim Gyuvin.” Nothing like dropping his full name and reminding him that you’re still his upperclassman as a cold splash of water to the face. Gyuvin flinches, suddenly straightening himself. “How’s your project going? You only have two months left to finish it. I hope you didn’t forget.”

His face tells you that he forgot about it, but not totally. He’s reluctantly chewing on the candy you force-fed him. “I’ve— I’ve already picked out a place. Hadong Country in Gyeongsang. I’m planning on going there next week.”

“Alright, good.” You leave him with a pat on the shoulder. “Tell me once you’ve set the date. You should worry about your term paper instead of mine or your friend’s love life. Getting us to date won’t pull up your GPA, Gyuvin.”

“But—”

“No, that’s enough,” you shut him down. “I’m not dating this Ricky guy. That’s final. Nothing you can do or say will change my mind.”

Famous last words. Little did you know that you’d be eating that very statement by the weekend.

ONE OF THE PRIVILEGES YOU’VE GOTTEN FROM SUCKING UP TO YOUR PROFESSORS SINCE FRESHMAN YEAR IS HAVING FULL LIBERTY OF USING THEIR OFFICE AS A HANG-OUT SPOT. The air-conditioning here is better than the classrooms or students lounge. You can even raid their snack pantry as much as you want— grabbing a handful from the candy bowl, now filled with pink wrappers of some strawberry hard candy— and stuffing them into the small pocket of your bag to restock your portable stash.

“Does Prof Yoon know you’re the one that keeps vacuuming his candy bowl?”

The question comes from Hanbin, who’s just as shamelessly making himself a cup of coffee with the faculty’s machine. The both of you are regular freeloaders at the office. A well-earned privilege, you’d like to say.

“He knows,” you reply, snatching a box of pepero for good measure. “He lets me get away with it because I’m his favorite student.”

There’s one more freeloader. Hao is sitting on the cushy sofa set funded by the student’s tuition fees, sharing a conversation with Mrs. Lee, and the two of you join him not long after. “You three are supervising some of the freshmen this year, right?” your professor asks, and her question is met with a set of artificial positive responses. “I guess I can look forward to some of their outputs then,” she leaves with a hearty laugh and a hard pat on Hao’s back. You wince.

“Why is an old lady so strong?” he laments once Mrs. Lee is sure to have returned to her cubicle. Hanbin is feeling and probing around his spine in case it got broken.

“I hear she’s a member at the gym Jiwoong goes to,” you say. “Scary woman. Thank god we’re on her good side.”

Complaining about your professors in hushed voices while being in their office is a rare skill the three of you have mastered over the past two years. The two elicit murmurs of agreement with your statement. “Speaking, how are your kids doing?” asks Hanbin. Kids, referring to the eighteen to nineteen year olds under your care for their term project.

Hao takes your pepero stick offer before grumbling. “I don’t get why we have to supervise the freshmen when he have our own assignments and projects to deal with.”

“Because Mrs. Lee will give us extra points for our class with her if we do,” you remind. “Gyuvin is doing the bare minimum. At least he now has a location settled down.” The project is for their required course in community development. The freshmen are tasked to select a rural area in the country and do a needs-based assessment survey on it. You did the same when you were in your first year. Mrs. Lee is also the head of the university extensions office. You three have theorized that she’s just using this annual assignment to update her data inventory.

“Gunwook is too passionate. He wants to go all the way to freaking Mokpo.”

“At least he sounds hardworking,” you say, disregarding Hanbin’s stress over an inevitable five-hour drive. “Why can’t Gyuvin be the same? All he does is set me up with terrible men and barge into my family dinners.”

You say that, but everyone who knows you knows that Kim Gyuvin, despite being generally annoying, has burrowed a soft spot in your heart. Unlike Hanbin and Hao who missed a 40-point quiz for Mrs. Lee’s class to join a random play dance competition at the plaza (they won), you didn’t really need the extra points merit, so you had no intentions on volunteering to be a supervisor in the first place.

But when you caught whiff of the news that your poor, poor younger friend of eight years still didn’t have a senior-supervisor for the project, you somehow found yourself in front of Mrs. Lee’s office cubicle and signed up at the last moment.

Which is also why you’re up at 5 a.m. in front of Gyuvin’s apartment building on a weekend, no breakfast in the stomach, just to accompany him to Gyeongsang for this god forsaken community development project.

“Morning.”

Gyuvin greets you with a yawn and a heavy ruffle on the top of your head, to which you respond with a side kick to his ass when he walks past you. “You’re late,” you scold him, and though you want to continue berating your dear friend, two more familiar-looking people emerge from his building’s entrance.

“Oh, this is Taerae and Matthew,” Gyuvin informs you offhandedly. The two give you a mix of polite nods and smiles. You sort of know Taerae because you shared a class with him last semester. Matthew is just the guy you see at the campus coffee shop at least once a week. “They’re going to be my survey assistants. More people means more ground to cover at once.”

“How’d he scam you two into agreeing?” you ask.

“He’s buying me lunch for a week,” Taerae replies.

“I just wanted to go on a road trip,” Mathew says in a tone too bright for five in the morning.

You let out a huff of air. Your backpack is getting a little heavy on your shoulders, and all you want is to finally reclaim your lost weekend. Meaning, getting on the road as soon as possibly is priority number one. “So, are we commuting?” you ask. “We should get going then.”

“Oh, no,” Gyuvin replies. He’s already noticed your impatience, and has found himself standing behind you, taking your bag off of your bag so that you don’t snap at him for the next statement he’s about to say. “Actually, we’re waiting for one more per—”

A car horn cuts him off.

“Well, nevermind. He’s here.”

At that moment, a way too expensive looking car drives up to the porch of Gyuvin’s college-level priced apartment building. This is looking way too out of place. Matthew lets out a whistle when the car stops in front of you. “This kid just got his license exchange and the first thing he does is show off,” Taerae snorts. What...what does he mean? Is this your ride? Is this the (at least seventy-thousand-dollar) vehicle that’ll be driving you all the way to the outskirts of Hadong County?

The variables don’t click, but your surprise doesn’t end there. Because the person that emerges from the expensive looking ass car’s driver’s seat is— by far— the prettiest person you’ve ever seen in your twenty-one years of life.

Whoa.

Not even those thick, dark shades can obscure that god-sculpted looking face. They only make his nose bridge look even sharper, and you’re trying your damn best not to stare at those full and cherry-painted lips. Holy shit. Platinum blonde has always looked tacky to you, but now you have to re-evaluate. Oh my god. Kim Gyuvin has a friend that looks like this, and all he’s done is set you up with guys that can’t even fucking compare.

Walking statue of a man closes the car door behind him with a click. “Get in,” he says. Holy mother of god, you’re light-headed. Your brain is fuzzy. You’re about to pass out.

“Ricky! You’re late! How dare you keep the madam waiting?!”

Things start happening a little too quickly.

Wait a second—

“Shotgun!”

That name.

“Fuck off! Let’s play for the seat!”

Sounds Very.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot! Rock, paper, scissors—”

Very—

“Paper, scissors— shoot!”

—familiar.

“Dammit,” Matthew grumbles in defeat, joining Taerae in the backseat. You stare at the fist you have held out since earlier. Rock. Rick. Ricky. This guy’s name is Ricky. Isn’t that also the name of Gyuvin’s best friend? The best friend he was trying to set you up with? This is Ricky? This absolute god of a fucking man who’s looking at you with an ounce of confusion, still holding your fist up after somehow winning all rounds of rock, paper, scissors with nothing but a rock, is the Ricky you turned down a date with?

You were correct to assume that his name gives off fuckboy vibes. The problem is, he looks like a really, really hot fuckboy who you don’t mind ruining your life in exchange for three months of fun. Shit. You think you just made eye contact with him through his thick-ass sunglasses. He nods a little with a small, awkward smile before disappearing back into the driver’s seat.

Fuck. He knows. He definitely knows you wrongfully rejected his ass without even meeting him. Gyuvin, that snitching son of a bitch.

“Hey.”

With a heavy grip on his shoulder, you stop the said snitching son of a bitch before he can escape into the backseat. “What?” Gyuvin raises a brow. The audacity of this guy.

“What was your best friend’s name again?”

“Ricky Shen. Shen Quanrui. Shim Cheonye. Pick one.”

“Is that...the same…?”

“Yes, that guy is Ricky.” There’s an impatient honk from the car. You pay no mind, more concerned about the absolute fucking catch you totally drove away, and that regret is seeping through you expression, failing to wiggle out from Gyuvin’s notice. “Why do you ask?” Are you regretting turning down my offer last week? his face seems to say. You want to hit him. Yes, you are fucking regretting it, but there’s no way in hell you’re giving him the satisfaction of knowing.

“It’s just a little awkward,” you say. “Can you switch with me?”

“Matt hyung’s gonna throw a fit if I take your seat,” he simply hums, opening the door to the front seat on your behalf with a courteous bow that drives you further into annoyance. “Now hop in. We’re already behind schedule.”

You’re the bigger person here so you decide against throwing a tantrum. Begrudgingly, you enter the passenger’s seat, trying to ignore aphrodite’s reincarnation sitting right next to you, and prepare yourself for the three-hour drive or torture because you totally screwed over your chance of having him.

“Woohoo! Road trip!”

“We’re here for my project, idiot.”

“Please tone it down, I’m trying to sleep.”

It’s fine, you cross your arms, wiggling uncomfortably on the soft seat. It’s totally fine. None of Gyuvin’s friends have been decent so far. Yes. You shouldn’t judge positively too quickly. Maybe the only thing this one has going for him is his face. Maybe his personality is just as shitty as the last ones and you’ve completely dodged a bullet.

A very pretty bullet. The pretty bullet is looking at you through the rearview mirror. Oh god, why is he looking at you? He’s got his sunglasses down and those eyes are practically staring into your soul.

“Um,” Ricky clears his throat. “You should put on your seatbelt.”

That rasp shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. Fuck. This man is a walking heart hazard. “O—oh, sorry!” You’re stupid. Your brain is fried. You fumble with the dumb seatbelt, forgetting how it works, and mentally swearing at yourself in the process.

“Do you need any help…?”

Fight or flight instincts kick in. You smack away Ricky’s attempt at a helping hand. His eyes are wide in shock. Your eyes are wide in shock. You want to throw yourself out of this vehicle right now. “It’s—it’s fine!” Finally, you manage to put on the seatbelt. Ricky is a mix of confusion and offense when he starts the car, more on confusion, but that’s alright. The aftermath of him pulling a k-drama move and helping you with the seatbelt would have been worse. You would have disintegrated right then and there.

Your only source of comfort is the backpack that you’re hugging for your dear life. The entire ride is excruciatingly awkward because the three boys at the back have fallen asleep— a state you also wish to be in right now, but that’s quite frankly impossible because you’re a million times more conscious about your physical appearance right now with a literal angel next to you.

He’s not asking why you’re pressed so far up against the door. For safety reasons, you tell yourself. The air around him just subconsciously feels a lot hotter despite the air conditioning literally blowing cold air to your face.

“Would...would you like some?”

But that doesn’t mean you could stomach this awkwardness, either. Two hours have passed and neither of you have said a word to each other. You’re a fistful into your candy stash and it feels rude not to offer anything to him when he’s been driving for so long.

You have a cautious arm outstretched, a pink wrapper dangling between your thumb and index finger. Ricky peers down for a split second, a rumble from his throat before saying, “N—no, it’s okay.” The candy disappears into the crevices of his car. You dip your head down, trying to feel around for it, and Ricky continues talking. “Um. I mean. You don’t really have to force yourself to get along with me, seonbae. I already know that you don’t really like me.”

At that moment, you snap your head up. “What?”

Maybe you should’ve been more careful because you scare the shit out of Ricky and the car swerves off the lane.

Screech!

“Ah,” he exhales, parking the car at the edge of the road after nearly killing you all. “That was close.” How the three kids in the back are still asleep is beyond you. They’ve got their necks twisted in all the weird places and you’re pretty sure Matthew is drooling.

But the source of your adrenaline right now isn’t the near death experience.

“What do you mean you know that I don’t like you?”

Translation: what exactly did Kim Gyuvin say to this guy?

“You...turned down the blind date Gyu tried setting up,” he says. Well that’s because Gyuvin never showed you a picture of his face! Instead of using useless words to try and convince you to say yes, he should’ve just sent you his instagram and called it a day. “This car ride must be awkward for you, sorry. I’ll try to get to Hadong as soon as possible.”

He’s sweet and polite too! God, you’ve completely screwed it over. You spend the rest of the car ride overthinking and feeling sorry for yourself. The moment you arrive at your destination, you eject yourself from the car instantaneously. “Alright, we’re wasting daylight. Let’s get moving!” you clasp your hands together, hurrying your barely-awake lackeys into the town.

With five people, the surveys and interviews get done quicker than expected. At one point, while you were surveying a marketplace owner, your attention got inadvertently distracted by spotting Ricky from the corner of your eye helping out an old lady with a cart and you nearly had a meltdown. Again, why didn’t Gyuvin introduce you to him before your impression of his friends got screwed over by Jaeryeong and Hajun and all the fucking rest?

“What a sweet boy,” says the marketplace owner. He is a sweet boy. That sweet and insanely handsome boy could’ve been yours (not guaranteed).

“Hey!” Gyuvin snaps you out of your daze. You look up, crouched underneath the shade of a tree. One of the locals was kind enough to give you a tour of their plum fields in the village, but you’re a little too rattled to actually appreciate the green scenery. “The ahjumma gave us some plums to taste!”

“You’re a bad person,” you suddenly say. Gyuvin’s face distorts in offense.

“Well, if you don’t want any plums, you can just say so, meanie.”

Maybe you are a meanie, but you’re still not over everything today. While the four boys are fucking around from a bit of a distance, you’re still crouched down and absentmindedly petting a stray cat and moping. Matthew says something you can’t hear, and the three burst out laughing— only the three at first, because Ricky looks lost for a second, blinking with a dumb smile, before joining their laughter only a beat late.

Oh no, he’s cute. Oh god, you’re falling. Oh man, you’re a goner.

“Time to go home!”

It’s around four in the afternoon when you finally finish. You’re all gathered around Ricky’s car again, ready for another grueling drive back to Seoul. “Go sit in the back. I’ll drive this time,” says Taerae to Ricky, and there starts another rock, paper, scissors battle for who will take the front seat.

Unlike earlier where you won without even realizing there was a game, you lose even after praying to all the gods you know.

“Nice!” Matthew cheers, not even giving you a shot of negotiation because he quickly disappears into the car. You’re looking at Gyuvin, painted in shock and disbelief. Before you know it, you’re wedged into the backseat, in between the two men you’d like to be around the least at the moment.

Yours and Ricky’s shoulders are touching. This is worse than earlier. He looks just as uncomfortable as you are— arms resting on the open windowsill, head uncomfortably craned away from you and giving you a full view of the tattoo trailing down his neck. Something snaps in your brain. This is your nth breakdown of the day.

“Let me in your candy stash.”

Gyuvin gives himself the liberty to zip open the front pocket of your backpack while you’re hugging it in your seat. The sound of you swatting his hand away seems to catch Ricky’s attention, so you give up defending your property and let Gyuvin snatch a handful of the strawberry-flavored sweets from your bag. “This tastes gross,” he says with a grimace. “So artificial. Blegh.”

You suddenly hear a gasp from your left. “How can you say that?” You’re shocked to find out it’s from Ricky. He’s been relatively quiet all this time. Gyuvin sure knows how to get into everyone’s nerves. “Take it back.”

“I’ll take it back if you dye your hair black for a day.”

A harmless fist zooms in front of your face. “Now way.” Ricky is hitting Gyuvin.

“Gross, this is so gross.” Gyuvin is hitting Ricky back.

“So what.”

“I’m telling your mom about this.”

Your existence is forgotten and your breathing space in between these two relatively large men has significantly diminished. Your face is burning. You can’t do this anymore so you clear your throat, causing Ricky— who’s leaned a little too close, fist in the air mid-punch— to suddenly tuck himself back into his side of the car.

It becomes quiet again when Matthew and Gyuvin slowly doze off to sleep.

Gaze flitting to the front, you notice that Taerae is quite preoccupied with swearing at another car that just overtook yours. You take this as an opportunity.

A slight nudge to his arm, you hold open your palm without looking at Ricky. It’s a handful of the strawberry flavored candy he was so staunchly defending against Gyuvin earlier. He might’ve rejected your offering earlier, but you’re damn bent on ending this day by fixing his impression of you, even if it’s just a miniscule improvement.

He’s got his head trained down, staring at your offering with a face laced with a mixture of surprise, confusion, and uncertainty before a hesitant hand plucks out a single wrapper from the pile. “Thank you,” you hear him say softly, and you don’t miss the tiniest smile playing on his lips when the sweet touches his tongue, poking against the inside of his cheek and you feel somewhat offended because a damn piece of candy can elicit such an expression on his face when you can’t.

It’s not stiff like the numerous bouts of awkward eye contact you’ve been sharing without end. It’s not forced. It’s not uncomfortable.

It’s an expression that makes you feel all the more regretful because you probably won’t be seeing him ever again after this.

“Did you see that guy?! He honked at me! He fucking honked at me!”

But maybe that’s a good thing. Because maybe then, you’ll be forced to stop lamenting the chance you completely wasted.

MAYBE YOU SPOKE TO SOON. It’s the afternoon of a Friday, not even a week after your one-day trip to Hadong County. And Fridays are your cheat days to take a dip into your allowance for some well deserved milk tea at a bougie cafe next to your university.

What isn’t part of your usual Wednesdays is the inexplicable, one in a million chance that you’d be bumping into Ricky Shen again.

“Oh.”

You’re about to enter. He’s just about to leave, pushing open the door with one hand and holding a bright pink drink with so much whipped cream which looks particularly out of place against his all-black ensemble. The only common denominator between the both of you is the look of surprise you’re both sharing.

Ricky recovers before you do. He steps aside, giving you space to walk in while holding the door open. How the bare minimum is making you weak in the knees, you have no idea. “Th—thanks,” you give him a smile and walk forward, before putting yourself to a stop and spinning around. “Oh, wait. Have this.”

You dig into your pockets and drop three pieces of strawberry candy onto his hand. You don’t miss the way his eyes sparkle. “Thanks. See you around.” He leaves. You feel like you’re on top of the world.

From now on, you’re gonna stuff all your pockets with strawberry-flavored candy (courtesy of Prof Yoon from the faculty office) until Ricky gets brainwashed that your presence doesn’t bear awkwardness or discomfort, no— you are a good person. Your presence brings with you strawberries and sweetness. That one psych class you took last semester is finally proving itself to be useful. Ricky will fall in love with you through Pavlov and classical conditioning.

Is this ethical? Probably not. Will this work? You don’t bet on it, but his cute smile makes it all fucking worth it.

That is if a miracle happens that you somehow end up seeing more of each other. You sigh, waiting for the buzzer to receive your order. You remember that Ricky is a freshman, meaning you have zero chances of sharing classes with him, and your only mutual friend is Kim Gyuvin. You’d rather kill yourself than give him the satisfaction of knowing that you have a crush on his best friend.

Well, there’s also Matthew and Taerae. After your trip to Hadong, you somehow got added to a group chat with the two of them. “Same age friends have to stick together!” says Matthew. You’re not sure if you’re already at the point of calling them friends, but you are having dinner with them later, so that’s something. But no matter how much you want to gush about your feelings for the light-haired boy, you don’t think you can out yourself to those two just yet.

The buzzer vibrates in your hands. You stand up to get your order, only to be stopped by a familiar face that you’re not quite happy to see.

“I—I didn’t follow you here, I swear!”

Your expression sours. That last time you saw him was approximately three months ago— when you threatened him with a fake restraining order after Gyuvin and Hanbin helped you move into a new apartment.

“Jaeryeong.” You feel your blood pressure rising from the mere utterance of his name. “Is a restraining order not enough for you? Do I have to put you in jail so you can finally learn your fucking lesson?”

He looks rattled. “I heard— I heard from Siyun that the document is fake!”

Well, damn. You click your tongue. You thought it’d work for a little while longer than this. Maybe you should get a real RO next time. “So does that give you the right to keep stalking me, you damn creep?” You’re getting a headache. This guy’s appearance just makes you miss Ricky even more (gentle remember that Ricky probably doesn’t give a shit about you, nor does he think about you as much as you’ve thought about him within the past six days of your acquaintance).

“I really didn’t follow you here! This was just a coincidence!”

“Sure,” you wrinkle your nose. “Was breaching my privacy and following me all the way to my parents’ place a coincidence too?”

Maybe riling him up is a bad idea, but you’re not exactly the best at interpersonal relationships (case in point, Riky Shen). But this is also a public place, so if he does pull anything dangerous, one of the cafe patrons is likely to take a video which you can use against him. Jaeryeong has his jaw clenched, visibly grated. “Look, I came up to you today to try and clear our misunderstanding, but if you keep on being a little bitch, then—”

“Then what?”

You’re surprised to hear a much welcomed voice from behind you.

“What are you gonna do?”

The last person you expected to swoop in and save you from this clingy freak is your senior who’s been out of reach for months now because he’s dying in post-grad.

Kim Jiwoong suddenly tucks you behind him, wearing the facade of intimidation to scare off Jaeryeong— which, for some reason, ends up working because he runs off without much of a fight. “I’ll— I’ll talk to you later!” he says before leaving. Jiwoong lets out a sigh and turns around, looking at you with both disappointment and concern.

“You shouldn’t provoke guys like that. Who knows what could’ve happened to you.”

“I could’ve handled it even without you, seonbae,” you tell him. His gaze softens. You give him a bright smile. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

You know that Jiwoong is incapable of getting mad at you. The both of you catch up in the cafe once you’ve finally gotten your drink without any further interruptions. Whatever Gyuvin is to you, that’s who you are to Jiwoong. He was your project supervisor when you were a freshman, randomly assigned by a roulette, and somehow, you two still keep in touch two years later.

The both of you settle on a table inside the cafe. “How are your classes?” he asks. You reply with a bitter grunt, and that’s enough of a response for him to laugh and understand.

“By the way,” you rouse, spinning the remnants of the drink in slow spirals. “Seonbae. You’re close with Gyuvin, right?”

If your memory serves you right, you’ve seen them talking a couple of times with each other before, eliciting your utter confusion before ultimately finding out that apparently, they attended the same local dance studio before along with Hanbin and Hao for a period of time. “Well, sure,” is Jiwoong’s reply. That was just the lead-in question to your actual main question, which is—

“How about...his best friend?” you add. “Are you close with him too?”

You can see it in his face. He’s connecting the dots. You’re fiddling with your drink cup, nervous. The moment things click, Jiwoong unleashes a knowing grin.

“Are you crushing on Ricky?”

Well, damn. He didn’t need to be so blunt about it.

“And—and—and what if I am?” Smooth. Very smooth. You clear your throat, tugging on your collar to let some air in while Jiwoong stirs his americano with the straw, chin resting on his palms, evident amusement playing on his face. “So, anyway. I’m taking that as a yes— you are close with him.”

“Sure,” he hums. You want to sock him in the face.

“Well, is he anything like Gyuvin’s other friends,” you question. “Like Jaeryeong, or Hajun, or that one guy that told me to ‘sit pretty and shut my mouth’ because that’s what a woman ought to do?”

“No, no. Ricky isn’t anything like that,” he replies. “He looks a little intimidating, but he’s a nice kid. I don’t even think I’ve ever heard him raise his voice at anyone.” Ricky does seem pretty soft spoken and it’s hurting your heart. This doesn’t go under Jiwoong’s radar. He laughs at your misery and your shoulders slack. “His only flaw is his overconfidence, I think. Next time you meet him, you should compliment his face.”

No, but confidence is attractive. Overconfidence must mean extra attractive, right? Yes? “Thanks for the tip,” you grunt. “But can you not tell Gyoob that I sort of have a thing for his friend?”

This brings Jiwoong’s brows to a furrow. “Isn’t he hell bent on marrying off Ricky?”

“Yes. Well. There was a situation.” You don’t intend on telling Jiwoong about the said situation for the sake of your pride. He looks curious, but thankfully he doesn’t try to prod. The only thing that matters right now is that Ricky is Jiwoong-approved, and that’s good enough of a reason for you to pursue him under Kim Gyuvin’s nose. “Anyway, please keep this a secret.”

“What’s in it for me?” he asks.

“The continuation of my respect,” you flatly reply. Jiwoong, again, laughs and assures you that his lips are shut and sealed.

SOMEHOW, YOU’RE INVITED TO A BARBECUE DINNER AT MATTHEW’S BACKYARD. How long have you known him? Two weeks. Who else is invited to the dinner? His friends of two years the least. You’re not sure how you ended up here. Maybe you’re more charming than you thought. Maybe that’s why you keep attracting weird men.

But Matthew isn’t weird. He’s a little loud and a little too energetic for you to keep up with sometimes, but he’s nice, he’s polite, and you’d introduce him to your cousin if he’d let you.

You show up to his front door step with a convenience store bag full of canned beer. You’re still not sure what the occasion is, but alcohol is always a good gift. “You made it!” Matthew greets you with a half-hug, and upon entering the premises of his home, you spot Gyuvin giving you an unabashed look full of judgment while Matt takes your present out of your hands and into the cooler in the backyard.

“Since when were you two so chummy?” Gyuvin asks with narrowed eyes as he leads you to where everyone else is.

“Scared I might replace you in your friend group, Gyu?” you taunt.

“No. I’m scared of being the middleman again if Matthew hyung falls in love with you,” is his painfully honest answer. The yard is smoky and warm, familiar faces here and there— Hanbin being one of them, who graces you with a look of confused concern upon hearing Gyuvin’s words. “Hyung, you don’t understand my pain. I keep setting her up with my friends, but they’re never good enough for her. At this rate—”

At this rate, you’re gonna be needing a warning whenever Ricky suddenly appears in front of your vision— one of the people you preemptively deemed ‘not good enough for you’ only for it to bite you in the ass.

In fact, he may be too much for you, because for a second there, you had the presupposition that he might be walking up to you. That delusion is quickly evaporated into the barbecue smoke because he’s looking at Hanbin, not you.

“Hyung,” he says. “Woong hyung needs help with the grill.”

“Oh, I’ll be right there.”

In between, Gyuvin has somehow disappeared, leaving you alone with Ricky and the unreasonable amount of feelings you have for him. It’s been a good week since you’ve last seen him. He’s wearing a thick red jacket and that same look of awkwardness whenever you’re around. “Hello,” he greets you softly with a nod.

“Hi,” you do the same. It’s excruciating. It’s painful. There’s a sizzle in the air, music from the stereos, and the loud, rambunctious noises expected from a group of eight, nine boys. Yet it’s everything quiet in between the both of you.

But after that tense greeting, there’s a shift in his gaze, a change in his posture. He’s clearing his throat, balancing himself on the heels of his feet with tightly pressed lips resembling that of a smile— almost as if he’s expecting something from you.

Oh, you realize. Oh, he’s too cute.

Without much of a thought, you dig into your coat pockets.

“Hao!” you call out in a hurry, running off to the long picnic table where the rest are all gathered. Your heart is racing. Your heart is racing like crazy. “There’s still two faces I’m not acquainted with yet. Who’s this?”

While Hao introduces you to Gunwook and Yujin, your eyes flit over to the spot you’d left behind. Ricky is still standing there. He’s staring down, eyes trained on his cupped palms. “Ricky, come carry the cooler!” Taerae yells out for him, snapping him out of his daze. There’s a faint tinge of pink painting his ears when he strides off, fists closed with the same shade painting his knuckles. Your pockets are a lot lighter now. If you were him, you would have quite honestly fallen for yourself.

Dinner starts. You ask Yujin why he’s friends with a bunch of old men. “They’re obsessed with me,” is his reply, and you can’t debate with that. Not when five of them are suddenly yelling at Jiwoong for saying you should all play some drinking games to heat things up. It gets settled when Yujin and Gunwook are given glasses of apple juice, and the word ‘gorae’ is now being repeatedly thrown over the table.

One thing you’ve noticed is that Ricky is always a beat and half slow. It’s stupid adorable. Gyuvin passes the never-ending whale baton to him and he just continues the beat without saying anything, looking around like a lost cat, before letting out a noise and collapsing against Hanbin the moment he realized he just lost.

That’s it. You can’t take this anymore. He’s pocket-sized. You’re stuffing him inside your pocket. It doesn’t help that his flushed face makes him look exactly like the strawberries he loves much— matching the red of his jacket, and it’s driving you insane.

“You really do have a massive crush on him.”

Jiwoong invades your alone time once things have settled down a bit. You’re in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor right in front of the sliding doors to the backyard. No, you’re not sitting here because it gives you a nice view of Ricky chasing Gyuvin around with his jacket as a makeshift weapon. That’s not true at all. “Say it louder, will you,” you grunt when he takes a seat next to you, hitting the corner of your beer can with his before he takes a swig.

“I don’t have to. Not when you’re already practically outing yourself with your staring.”

You frown. “I’m not that obvious.” You double take. Then bite the inside of your cheek. “Hey. I think I’m screwed.”

Jiwoong shakes his head with a laugh. “Ricky is cute, isn’t he?”

Case in point, him doing that scrunchy face, gummy smile, when he suddenly bursts out laughing. You nod somberly. All Jiwoong does is make fun of your demise.

Still, you think you’re being subtle enough. Ricky is slow. He told you this was his strength and weakness when Gyuvin asked you to tag along with them on a shopping trip one time. But for someone who’s usually programmed to be in slow motion, he sure is quick to catch onto things when you don’t want him to.

“Seonbae.”

His voice is soft, unassuming. You’re both standing in front of Gyuvin’s apartment one late Friday afternoon. You’re holding open one of his hands, cupping his knuckles from underneath— something you’d never have anticipated to have the privilege of doing maybe three, four weeks prior— dropping five pieces of candy onto his palm without much of a thought.

“Yeah?” you hum.

He closes his hand and stuffs the fistful into his coat pocket, a completely blank and innocent face, before asking— “do you like me?”

Now, this wasn’t in your monthly fucking bingo.

You stifle back a choking noise, completely caught off guard. “H—huh?” Jiwoong was right. His only flaw is his overconfidence. You have no idea how to slip away from this unscathed. “What— what makes you say that?”

Ricky blinks at you. “You always give me snacks.” You’re pretty sure candy doesn’t qualify as snacks, but you digress. “Don’t...don’t they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?”

Unfortunately for him, you’re swearing by a different psychological tactic. “W—well, I always have a lot of candy with me! For my blood sugar, you know?” you sputter out the first excuse you can rummage from your short-circuiting brain. “And...and after finding out you liked strawberries a lot, it would be rude and selfish not to give you any if I have them, right?”

Right? Please agree. Please stop asking any more questions. Ricky is pondering over your words, seemingly deep in thought with pursed lips, until those said pretty lips part open to say, “Oh. Oh, I get it.” You don’t know what he gets, but you roll with it. “Then again, it also doesn’t make sense if you like me.”

The fuck does he mean that it doesn’t make sense if you like him? You’d kiss his face right here and now.

“You turned down that date, after all.”

Insult to injury. He doesn’t know that was the biggest regret of your life. You bite down your tongue and exhale sharply. “Ah. Don’t overthink it, Mr. Shim,” you tell him, finally knocking on Gyuvin’s door after standing in front of it for a good ten minutes. “Overthinking causes stress. Stress will give you wrinkles.”

“It’s okay,” he says, turning over the door upon hearing a click. “I’m still handsome when I’m stressed.”

You breathe out a sigh. This is the man you’re down bad for. This is the man you’re helplessly pining for.

“I think you’d be more handsome with black hair.”

Surprisingly, that statement comes from Gyuvin and not from you. He opened the door just at the right moment— an unimpressed look on his face upon seeing his unannounced visitors. “Why have my Friday night invaders tripled?” he laments. Tripled? You don’t ask and let yourself in despite his protests.

“I’m here to check on your term paper,” you inform, kicking off your shoes at the entryway.

“I’m here to play games,” says Ricky, doing the same.

“I’m here to play games too.”

For some reason, Gunwook had the same idea as you two to terrorize Gyuvin’s sacred Friday nights of solitude, but managed to act on it before anyone else. He’s already settled on the floor of the living room like it’s his own, legs outstretched, switch controller in his hands. “Hyung, let’s play!” he calls out to Ricky. Gyuvin reluctantly tells you to sit down before he grabs you two drinks from the kitchen.

“You know what, I forgot to ask.” Gyuvin settles down two glasses of juice onto the coffee table with a suspicious eye directly zeroed in on you. “Why were you two together outside?”

“Seonbae and I happened to meet each other downstairs,” explains Ricky. Which was true. You did somehow bump into each other at the building lobby, Ricky nearly closing the elevator in front of your face in the process.

“Right. I told you I’m here to check on your paper, and I’ll be off once I do exactly that,” you tell him, mentally thanking Ricky for the save. “You had a month to write so it better be decent. Give me your laptop.”

Gyuvin smacks his tongue, but does as you say anyway, while the other two boys loiter around the floor and fuck around with Gyuvin’s switch that’s connected to the TV. They’re playing a Mario game. You pay them no mind, ignoring the non-human noises they make once Gyuvin reappears with his laptop. He warns you that this is still his first draft, but you didn’t need that premise. The first page isn’t even formatted correctly. You’ve got your work cut out for you.

“Hey, hey, move over! Let me play—”

Again, you pay no mind to the noise. It’s mostly coming from Gunwook and Gyuvin because Ricky is quiet when he’s focused— in this case, focused on hopping over some goombas. He’s got a thin pair of glasses perched on his nose, lips pursed unconsciously into a noot noot, and fuck he’s so cute, and — no, you’re not paying attention to him. You’re paying attention to your junior’s paper. You’re proofreading. Simply proofreading. You highlight some errors here and there, marking some corrections.

Yet again, you don’t pay attention to the noise Gunwook and Gyuvin are making—

“Ah. I’m killing Gyuvin’s brothers.”

—but Ricky suddenly makes a quiet remark, and you snort very, very loudly in response.

You slap a hand over your mouth. That wasn’t funny. That wasn’t funny at all and the other two didn’t even seem to hear it. “Why are you laughing?” Gyuvin looks at you, offended by the sound you just made. “Did I write something wrong in the analysis? Why are you laughing?”

“N-no, it’s just—” Your throat rips into a cough because it’s not easy to suppress a fit of chortles. Ricky looks so proud of himself, you’re going to cry. You’re near choking and Gyuvin hops onto his feet and makes a beeline for you in a flurry.

“You’re so mean! Give me back my laptop!”

This isn’t a misunderstanding that you intend on clearing up, so you let him run off with his laptop back into his room to revise in private after you’ve disrespected his work. Gunwook stretches up too, saying that he’s off to buy some snacks outside. “Do you want anything?” he asks. Ricky is feeding you his juice and patting your back because you can’t stop coughing. “Okay. Ginger candy. Got it.”

Gunwook has left. Gyuvin is holed up in his room. And the fact that you and Ricky are alone in the living room right now isn’t helping the state of your lungs. “Are...are you okay?” Ricky, the sweet, sweet angel, asks with those giant boba eyes and soft voice. You want to bite down your sleeve and chew it right off.

“I’m—I’m alright.” No, you’re not. You’re sitting way too close on the floor, knees bumping, and the game over screen being reflected on the television right now is a perfect rendition of what’s going on inside your head right now. “Whew. I’m fine. I’m perfectly okay.”

You honestly have no idea how you’ve managed to keep it together these past couple of weeks. You don’t know how you haven’t jumped this guy yet. The video game is forgotten, and Ricky is scrolling through his phone. He’s wearing a melon green sweater which, objectively, is an ugly ass color, but Ricky somehow pulls it off and looks extra fucking soft in it and you’re not god’s strongest soldier.

He lets out a soft laugh, notices you staring, and tilts his phone and scoots closer for you to see a dumb Tik Tok video. Your shoulders bump. You make a comment that fails to register to your own ears. “By the way,” he starts. He places his phone face down on the tabletop. Whoa, this is a little dangerous. He shouldn’t be pouring all his attention into you like this. “Are you free this weekend?”

You blink. Your brain is jumping into conclusions. “Why?”

“Well,” he fumbles with the tips of his sweater paws. You’re going to eat him. “My uncle’s resort is opening a new branch, so there’s an opening party. Everyone else is coming, including Gyuvin. It’d be nice if you can come as well.”

“Oh,” you open your mouth. You’re a little surprised. “Thanks for the invite, but I don’t think I’m fit for those kinds of events, you know?”

This is quite a bit of pressure. Ricky tilts his head, failing to understand what you mean for a second, but when he does he exclaims, “oh! Don’t worry. We don’t have to join the formal event. We can just eat dinner and mess around at the beach. The actual party will be boring, anyway.”

“Ah.” He’s an angel. He’s so sweet. It hasn’t even been long since you’ve somehow been absorbed into their tight-knit group. You’re not sure how it even happened.

Well, you were already friends with half of them separately. Gyuvin has been buzzing around you since he was eleven and you were thirteen. Hanbin and Hao have been your academic ride or dies ever since you met them in the first week of classes. Jiwoong has been a force you could lean on the moment he took you under his wing for your first major project in university.

And Ricky—

“Tell me if you want to come,” he smiles. “So I can reserve a room for you.”

Maybe this was bound to happen eventually.

“I’m done!”

Gyuvin has finally emerged from his room, stomping back to you and Ricky before slamming the laptop on the table before you. “I edited it. No more errors now. Praise me,” he says proudly. You give him a suspicious glance, sliding the device closer to you. “This one’s good, right? Tell me it’s good. Don’t laugh. Laughing isn’t constructive.”

Ricky is curious and pokes his face closer to yours, and you flinch. “You misspelled ‘debilitating,’” he says. You gasp. Ricky, once again, looks so proud of himself. Gyuvin wants to die.

“Give it back—”

He snatches the laptop once more and starts aggressively typing next to the both of you. At the same time, Gunwook finally returns with a bag of miscellaneous snacks. “Seonbae, here you go,” he tosses a full bag of ginger-honey candy to you, which you now have no use for because you have stopped coughing.

“Thanks,” you gruffly say. When you stuff it into your bag you notice Ricky staring at you. “Do you want some?” you ask. He doesn’t answer your question but says something else entirely.

“You don’t need that anymore.”

Your eyes widen when Ricky snatches the bag of candy from you. He promptly opens it— moving quicker than you’ve ever seen him before, and rips open a piece before tossing it into his mouth.

You’re in shock. What is he doing?

“Hey, that’s not for you!” Gunwook protests. Ricky responds by simply pelting him with another piece. Gunwook is speechless. Then retaliates by throwing a candy bar from his 7-Eleven bag to Ricky’s chest. It bounces onto his lap. Ricky grabs another piece of candy to flick at Gunwook. They start fighting. Gyuvin notices the fun and abandons his paper to join in.

This isn’t how you planned your Friday to end up like. Then again, you didn’t plan on developing a crush on your friend’s best friend either, so you can’t really say anything else.

HANBIN HAS BEEN WAITING IN YOUR BUILDING’S PARKING LOT FOR A GOOD TWENTY MINUTES NOW. You’re already late for the event, so might as well make the most of your tardiness. I’m still getting ready, you shoot Hanbin a text. You keep messing up your fucking eyeliner, and there’s no way in hell you’re showing up to that damned, bougie ass event in front of Ricky with assymetrical eyeliner. His are always perfect and you don’t want to lose to that.

“Dude, we might miss the buffet!”

It’s Matthew yelling at you when the tinted front seat window rolls down as you sprint— heels on, mind you— to the car. “The place is a resort! They’re never running out of food,” you yell back while throwing the backseat open and then throwing yourself inside.

You’re breathing quite heavily. “Are we ready to go?” asks Hanbin, and you shoot him a thumbs up. You’re too busy catching your breath to notice Yujin also co-occupying Hanbin’s car.

“Noona, how long did it take for you to get ready?” he asks.

“Three hours,” you reply with a grunt. It’s a little hot so you open the windows, letting some air in. You can’t risk your makeup melting. You need to be extra pretty tonight to stand a chance against all the rich people flooding that place.

“Really?” Yujin does the same. “I can’t tell.”

You’re speechless. You hear Hanbin swallow down a giggle. Matthew isn’t even trying. This highschooler just roasted your ass. You need to put him in his place. “Why are you out here on a weekend?” you click your tongue. “You should be using this time to study.”

“I study enough already,” he protests.

“What was the Gyeongbokgung palace used for during the Joseon Dynasty?”

Yujin freezes. “Wow,” he says robotically after a significant pause, just as mechanically turning his head to the window. “The night air is so fresh.”

You don’t grill him further because Yujin is right— there’s something different about the wind wafting through the atmosphere tonight. You let yourself sink into the carseat, let the breeze cool your cheeks, eyes fluttered close, until you reach your destination. The resort is far off from the city— the seaside, obviously, but you don’t see the shorelane just yet. Only a towering building illuminated with warm flushed lights as the car drives up to the entrance, surrounded by ferns and foliage and an air of complete refinement.

The foyer floor is so shiny that you can see the chandelier reflecting from it. Are you allowed to step on this? Is this legal?

Upon entering the function hall however, your nerves become nothing. You already see a handful of people being completely, strikingly, and obviously out of place. All for different reasons.

You see Gunwook near the live band, somehow holding a conversation with two men that appear to be twice his age. Gyuvin and Jiwoong have comparatively way too much food on their plates as they camp right by the buffet. Hao is currently talking to a security guard while a suspicious looking vase is sticking out of his pocket. The only person that would be blending in well right now would be Taerae— if he wasn’t wearing that bright purple suit ensemble.

Damn. You shouldn’t have been worrying so much about being a fish out of water. These guys are way worse than you.

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

But of course. There’s one guy that looks like he’s completely at home.

Matthew greets Ricky’s arrival with a half-hug, and the other two boys do the same while you respectfully stand and stare. Respectfully. Yes. You pay no mind to that dangerously unbuttoned-button down under than dangerously low-cut blazer. You are the embodiment of peace and serenity and giving him your business as usual smile. “Hey,” you say. “Sorry we’re late.”

When Ricky returns your stiff smile with one of pure ease and kindness, you swoon like a fucking loser. “Yeah,” Yujin inserts. “She was taking so long to fix her face.”

Your smile stiffens further. “I did not take so long, haha, what are you talking about.”

Yujin gives you a look. “You said you took three—”

And there goes your hand over his mouth to shut him up. “Haha. Let’s go eat, Yujinnie. Didn’t you say you were starving?” Yujin muffles something out. You pinch his arm. “Thanks for the invite, Ricky! We’re off to sweep the buffet now!”

“Wait—”

You book it. Well. As fast as you can book it with these damned heels and with a large shoulder bag weighing you down because you’ll be staying here overnight for free. Does the bag match your dress? No, it does not, but you don’t know where your room is and you’re not well enough to talk to Ricky at the moment, so you suck it up and stress-eat at the buffet table with the Yujin you kidnapped. “Why were you so embarrassed, noona?” he innocently asks while stuffing his cheeks with some meat skewers. “You look pretty tonight and it’s all thanks to your hard work.”

Who has been teaching him these backhanded remarks? Who has been negatively influencing this child? You grunt and put a scoop of mashed potatoes on his plate, much to his displeasure, and continue eating your own damned meal.

“Hey, can you take a photo of me?”

The moment you’re done with your not so pleasant meal, you’re skewed away by Matthew who wishes to hire you as his photographer. After that barbecue dinner last time, Matthew swore that you take the best photos of him and his entire IG feed for the past month is credited to you.

You look at him, displeased because you’re not wearing the appropriate attire to lay on the floor to ensure the best angles. “Go stand by the window.” Still, you take his phone from him and make do with what you can. “What’s your password again?”

“Hao hyung’s birthday.”

“Got it.”

Now, stretching your legs and getting into various lunging positions aren’t easy to do when you’re wearing a long and silky dress. But you are a woman of commitment, and your bag is weighing you further to the ground as you take a low-angle shot of Matthew. “Okay, now hold your necktie. Now look away— perfect. That’s it. Next one.” When you try to get up, gravity decides that it hates you. You wobble on the stilts of your shoes, nearly stumbling back, but you feel someone grab onto your arm and pull you up before your ass kisses the ground.

“Whoa, please be careful.”

It’s Ricky. Of course, it’s him. When you look up, he’s got his eyebrows knitted together out of concern, strands of light wavy hair perfectly falling over said eyebrows and your breath hitches in your throat a little.

He’s got his other hand held out, and he’s probably expecting you to take it to balance yourself to your feet, but you refuse to be a predictable woman.

Instead, you give him Matthew’s phone and help yourself up. “Thanks. I’m fine. Just slipped a little.” You have no idea why you’re acting coy right now. Maybe it’s because he’s being a little less cute tonight, being a little more dangerous instead— flinching the moment you feel his feathery touch on your shoulder as he removes the weight of your bag from your person, before passing it to an attendant that he calls over with a single look.

“Can you bring this to Room 207? Thank you.”

No, no, no, this is too much. This is too much for you. Why is he trying to be smooth? Why is he trying to swoop you off your feet without taking any responsibility?

“Hyung, I’ll take your photos instead,” he says to Matthew, who’s been watching the spectacle unfold and you pray to god that your unsubtle thirsting wasn’t too noticeable. Matthew doesn’t say anything about it, though. You assume you’re in the safe zone because all he’s doing is complaining when Ricky takes way too zoomed in photos of his face. “This is a new trend. Just trust me.”

“Sure? Okay, go on.”

You take this as an opportunity to escape, only to be called by Gyuvin back to the buffet table because, “have you tried their gambas?! This shit is fire!”

When an old guy took the podium, you all took this as your cue to exit— scattered off either to the beach, bar, or your Ricky-sponsored rooms. You have an entire room for yourself because there’s no way in hell you’re sharing a room with any of those stinky boys. Your exhaustion is aching for a shower, and so you grant its request, and by the time you’re done freshening up and changing into a more comfortable set of clothing, you receive a text from Hanbin that they’re all gathered at the beach.

“Ah. The wind is cold.”

Wearing a thick jacket out was the right choice indeed. You stuff your hands into your pockets for warmth, feet sinking into the sand as you watch the mess before you. They’re all either running around, drawing things on the ground, or lounging on a picnic blanket under the starlit horizon. “Sit,” says Jiwoong, tapping the empty spot next to him, and you oblige with a yawn. “It’s only eleven. Can’t believe you’re sleepy already.”

“I’m getting old,” you tell him, letting your head drop onto your shoulder as you hug your knees. The rest are by the shore or in the water. You have no energy to join in at this point.

Jiwoong makes a distasteful noise at your statement. “What does that make me?”

“A fossil.” You yawn once more, craning your neck to bury your face into his arm. “I’m so tired.”

He chuckles. “Are you fine with Ricky seeing you like this?”

“Please be quiet.” This time, you sneeze. Right into the sleeve of his shirt. Then you sniffle. “He’s not even here.” Jiwoong is disgusted. He tips you off, picks up your wrist, and uses your hand to wipe off your ‘germs,’ or so he says.

“You’re lucky he didn’t see that. Where is he, anyway?”

The question is answered by Gyuvin when his energy finally gets exhausted from splashing around, flopping onto the blanket next to you and Jiwoong. “He was still in our room when I left,” he says, out of breath. “I think he wanted to rest for a while.”

Gradually, the rest start to gather too. “We haven’t taken a group photo yet,” Hao brings up. “He’s gonna sulk if we take one and he’s not here.”

It’s as if you just got recharged with a full eight hours of sleep.

“I’ll go get him,” you say, promptly standing up. “I need to pick up something from my bag, anyway.” Total lie. Jiwoong sees right through your bullshit and his teeth are showing through his smile. You flip him off and start making your way back, stumbling when Hanbin asks if you want him to accompany you, bringing back the hop in your step when Gunwook tells him, “she’s a big girl, she can handle it herself.” You’ll get back at him for that later.

Two-one-three, two-one-three, two-one-three, you repeat the room number in your head as you go down each door in the hallway, ringing phone glued to your ear to inform Ricky that you’re going to barge into his room, but he’s not picking up. Maybe he’s asleep? Probably. There’s no response when you knock on the door and slot in the key Gyuvin gave you, and you’re met with dim lights and an eerie silence the moment you crack open the door.

“Ricky?” you call out. There’s no response.

The light from the hallway leaks in to illuminate an empty bed. Huh. Where is he? What rouses even more questions is the odd positioning of what should be a bedside table, for some reason positioned at the foot of the bed and a few feet away from the open bathroom door. There’s also a mishmash of things stacked on the table— books, folded shirts, magazines, and some of which have fallen and scattered to the floor.

But those aren’t the only things on the ground.

You quickly bring a hand to your mouth. “Oh,” you wheeze out. “Oh my god.” You try to cover it up with a cough, but it’s too late. A snort managed to slip through.

“Stop laughing,” he protests from the floor. How could you hold it in when Ricky is right there, lying curled on the ground while hugging what seems to be his knee, bathrobe-clad, with papers and magazines scattered around and on top of him. A memo sheet is stuck on his cheek. His back is turned to you. His buzzing phone with your contact name on it is next to his head.

How the hell did he end up here?

“Are—are you okay?” you manage to say as you crouch down next to him. He doesn’t budge when you try to roll him back. He lets out a grunt and tells you to leave him alone. “I can’t, I was ordered to pick you up. What are you trying to hide? Why won’t you look at m—”

When you finally roll him to his back, you realize why.

“Oh no.”

Ricky’s got a hand hovering over half of his face— the wrong half because you can very clearly see the red gash running down his right temple, but that’s probably not what he’s intending to hide. He’s got his brows in a sad and shameful furrow, glaring eyes refusing to look at you, and you can see the shades of pink coral and pink on his cheeks, slipping through the gaps of his fingers.

He’s pink. He’s so pink.

“Don’t laugh,” he grumbles. “It’s not funny.”

You might as well eat him whole, holy fucking shit.

“N—no, you’re right. It’s not funny. I’m not laughing.”

You’re damn near about to break into a coughing fit again with how hard you’re trying to suppress your giggles. Based on the evidence laid down at the crime scene— namely his still damp hair, scanty bathrobe, misplaced furniture, and the mess of it all— Ricky was likely trying to take post-shower thirst traps while Gyuvin was still out so he wouldn’t be made fun of.

Slipping and hitting his head on the table’s edge in the process was probably not part of his calculations. You fear you might’ve been the unintentional cause of this because you gave him a surprise call earlier.

“Let’s get you up, big boy. Grab my hand.”

Begrudgingly, he lets you pull him up. You instruct him to sit on the bed while you call room service for a first aid kit. The wound on his forehead doesn’t look serious, but you decide to apply some ointment and put a bandage on it just in case. He winces when you clean the dried blood off with water. God, he’s too fucking cute. Your gushing is ruined by an incoming call.

“Hanbin,” you greet, wedging the phone between your ear and shoulder because you’re still trying to patch up the poor boy. He scrunches his nose when the ointment touches his wound. “We’ll be there in ten minutes. A minor accident occurred. No, you don’t have to come up here. Ricky is physically well and alive.” You can’t say the same about his emotional state though. He’s been quiet and frowning this whole time. “Say hi, Ricky.”

You pass him the phone. He looks at your phone wielding hand, a contemplative expression, then takes it. “Don’t come,” is all he says to Hanbin at the other end of the line— a little too gruffly for your liking— before tossing it off somewhere onto the bed.

Ricky’s eyes snap up to look at you. Maybe you’ve been taking this situation a little too lightly.

“Is it done?” he asks in that same tone of voice, and— oh. Oh, no. You’re in a tight spot. Figuratively and literally because Ricky is leaning back against the bed, you slightly leaning into him because you’re simply, very innocently trying to bandage up his temple, and the most comfortable way to do it is having a knee propped up on the mattress, face hovering dangerously above his.

When you unavoidably make eye contact, you flinch and feel your bones rattle.

Oh.

Your gaze falters and your swallow down your dry throat, watching as the bathrobe slips down from his left shoulder in real time. That’s it. You’re gone. Your brain has stopped working. You’re starting to miss cute Ricky who gets excited over your strawberry candies. Where is he? Where did he go? This Ricky is a little dangerous. This Ricky feels like he’s going to fucking eat you alive.

“Y—yeah. One sec.” You’re not sure if you even managed to secure the bandage on his wound because the moment your skin touched his, you immediately flung yourself back from a ghost burn. “Did...did you hurt yourself anywhere else?” you ask. He shouldn’t be looking at you like that. Why is he looking at you like that?

The brief silence that follows swallows you whole.

“I’m not sure. Can you check?”

Then spits you right back out because crazy fucking bastard— what the fuck does he fucking mean by can you fucking check?

“Oh, um.” Dry. Your throat is dry. Does he want you dead? Is that it? Does it not matter whether or not you get out of this room alive? You don’t like this— whatever this is because you don’t know what’s wrong with him tonight. Did he get a concussion when he fell? Do you have to go take him to see a doctor?

Maybe it’s you that needs to go see a doctor. Because you’re pretty damn sure that this heart rate is nowhere near normal.

Knock, knock, knock.

“We’re coming in.”

Karma acts quickly because you stumble back and nearly collapse into the floor as well. The door cracks open and you grab onto the nearest thing for balance, which, in this case, is a curtain you almost tug off from the window out of sheer force. “Ricky slipped and hurt his head,” you blurt out the moment Hanbin and a few others enter the room. Ricky’s face drops into betrayal. Self-defense. You needed a diversion.

Taerae and Gyuvin are the ones that came with Hanbin, the former taking a long look at the room and its inhabitants. “Oh,” he says after acknowledging the mess on the floor and the bandage on Ricky’s forehead. “Okay, Humpty Dumpty.”

Gyuvin lets out a snort. Ricky chucks a pillow in their direction. Thank god for their interruption because you don’t know what would have overtaken you had they come five minutes later. “No wait, did he really slip?” Gyuvin asks, a little too giddy and giggly about the whole ordeal. “Dude, did you fall over while taking thirst traps?”

And you’re subsequently kicked out of the room while Ricky gets dressed into something more decent and gets made fun of by Gyuvin and Taerae.

“Took you guys long enough.”

You’re all back at the beach now with a grumpy Ricky in tow. Gyuvin immediately runs off to snitch on his best friend’s misfortune to the rest. He’s sulking, you notice, face down and hands stuffed in his pockets as the cool breeze flutters his hair in its embrace. “Quit making fun of him!” Hanbin scolds, and you spot Jiwoong’s expectant expression to tell him what you were up to alone in Ricky’s room.

Nothing You were up to nothing, you send the message through your glare. You could’ve been up to something had those three not interrupted, but would you have survived that? Your eyes flicker over to Ricky, who’s trying to push Gyuvin off him— traces of the tension and danger from the hotel room completely gone without a trace that you fear you might have just been imagining it out of the sheer feeling of want you harbor for the guy.

“C’mon, let’s take a picture!”

Before you know it, you’re gathered by the shore in a bluf, feet sinking into the sand, and you feel yourself bump into Ricky at the very moment the camera flashes to capture the scene.

“Hey, this one came out nicely.”

It did. You’re not sure about the rest, but this photo deserves to be tucked into your wallet and kept in a capsule.

Ricky is standing next to you, the tight frame leaving no gap or space in between. You’re both smiling a little awkwardly. It’s cute. You keep staring at it until your attention is pulled away by the very man himself.

“You owe me something,” is Ricky’s introduction when he saunters over to you. You raise a brow, closing your phone. Looks like he’s finally gotten over what happened earlier. Gyuvin has finally stopped teasing him by moving on to messing with the sparklers Gunwook brought. You can hear their shouts and laughter from afar, but it’s all muted down.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He takes out one hand from his pocket, an open palm outstretched. He’s looking at you expectantly in wait. You break out into a soft laugh and shake your head. Maybe your candy-related scheme worked a little too well.

“I didn’t think I was contractually obligated to do this now,” you hum, fishing out a few pieces of candy from your sweats before dropping them onto his hand. “Maybe I should stop.”

“You can’t just start something by yourself and suddenly stop all by yourself. That’s not fair,” he complains, accepting your offer. “You have to take responsibility.” Only if he takes responsibility for your poor and shriveling heart. His tone is light, a smile playing on his lips, and at this point— you’re sure this isn’t just a crush anymore. You might just be a little in love with Ricky Shen.

YOU HAD NO IDEA HAO WAS SO INFORMED ABOUT PROF SHIN’S MAKEUP PREFERENCES. It’s her birthday this upcoming week. You three freeloaders need to keep sucking up so you can maintain your office privileges, so you decided to buy her a present. Hanbin is unavailable, so it’s just you and Hao browsing the boutiques downtown, and you narrowed down your scope (and budget) to just buying her makeup.

You pull out a bright red lipstick from the display and show it to Hao. “What about this one?” you ask. Hao puts on a look of disapproval.

“She doesn’t like wearing bright colors. Maybe something more on the nude side would be better.”

Well damn, okay. You put the rejected stick back with the rest of its friends. The next one you pick out is also rejected because it’s glossy. “Prof Shin prefers matte,” he further reasons. And now you’re starting to question exactly how and why he knows this. Hao doesn’t humor your queries, though. You settle with a nude Laneige matte lip and a matching blush as a bonus.

“We’re done here, right?” Hao asks after you two pay for the gift.

“Hold on.” You’re stopped by a certain item on display near the check-out counter. You’re convinced that you’ve definitely gone off the deep end at this point. The thoughts blurring inside your head the moment you laid eyes on the strawberry-flavored lip gloss for sale are a little too insane, even for you. You’re not buying this. You don’t even use gloss. This is crazy.

“Thank you, please come again!”

You exit the store with your gift for Prof Shin and a new lip product. You are stressing yourself out.

The buzzing of your phone forces you out of your existential crisis. It’s Gyuvin messaging the group chat. “Hey,” you tap Hao upon reading the message. “We don’t have anything else to do right? You said you have extra gift boxes at home.” When Hao asks why, you show him Gyuvin’s message.

[gyubie cutie: no one wants to send off ricky at the airport with me? :( damn i really am his only friend].

You reply that you and Hao are on the way. You know that Ricky is leaving for a quick vacation to Shanghai today (two weeks before the semester ends, mind you) after an impulsive decision involving alcohol the other day with you and a few of the guys. At one point they suddenly became all emotional and the topic of their families were brought up. Ricky woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a phone screen that tells him his flight has been booked.

“Well, I guess I’ll just go,” he said over hangover soup and aspirin, as if he doesn’t have exams in two fucking weeks, and as if Shanghai is just a bus ride away. Sometimes, you’re surprised with how easy going he is. The flight is at an awkward time— Thursday mid-noon, so it’s no surprise that no one else is free to see him off. You didn’t mention anything about wanting to send him off and neither did he ask you to, so you thought why the hell would you do that unless you want to expose your ass full of feelings. But Gyuvin presented the opportunity. Who are you to turn it down?

“Over here!”

You spot Gyuvin waving at you two from a distance with outstretched limbs. You preemptively grab a handful of candy from your pocket— battle ready because it’s been getting harder and harder to pass these to him subtly as of late with the amount of eyes constantly on you— but you don’t find the mop of blonde anywhere, even when you’ve finally reached Gyuvin’s spot.

“Has Ricky left already?” you ask, brow raised. You’d be pissed if Gyuvin baited you two here only for the guy to have already left.

“No, no. He’s here,” he assures. “He’s around here somewhere. He bought some snacks not too long ago, but some girl stopped him to get his number. I lost him because seeing him get hit on made me gag so I had to look away for my safety.”

Well, that’s both assuring and not. Then you remember you have no right to be jealous because Ricky Shen, as suspiciously as he may be behaving as of late (case in point, accidentally seducing you in a bathrobe the other week), he is still not your damned boyfriend.

“Oh, there he is.”

Ricky who is not your boyfriend arrives, and the first thing he does is make you feel so fucking sorry that he isn’t.

“Whoa.”

No wonder you weren’t able to spot him right off the bat. His attention-seeking light hair is gone. No, he hasn’t shaved it— he dyed it freaking black and he looks so fucking good. “Oh, uh,” is how you greet him. The words have completely dried out from your throat. Ricky is looking at you expectantly. Your mouth is hanging open pathetically. “Wow.” Your eloquence is award winning.

He laughs. He wants you dead. “Does it look weird? I needed natural hair for visa requirements.”

“N—no,” you sputter out. Gyuvin goes on to brag that he was right that Ricky would look great in dark hair and Hao proceeds to try and touch said hair, only to get his hand smacked by the hair-owner, while you’re still temporarily incapacitated to say or do anything. You don’t get to say anything, because the clock strikes twelve-twenty, and Ricky has to go

“Have a safe flight, dummy,” Hao bids Ricky off with what you can only describe as a glomp, only to be assaulted by Gyuvin immediately after. You’re standing there awkwardly like a fourth-wheel, hands tucked behind your back because you can’t find the timing to say your farewells, and you missed the timing to pass the candy to him earlier after being so rudely jumpscared by his new look.

When Ricky finally manages to swat and push them both off, his eyes flash over to you. Your mouth curls into something sort of a smile— you’re not completely sure. Ricky takes a step forward to engulf you in an embrace.

Oh. Oh, so we’re doing this now, you think, eyes flying wide open in surprise with a pathetic squeak. “Thanks for seeing me off,” he murmurs softly, and you can feel his voice vibrating into your skin and penetrating your bones. You can’t even reciprocate because he locks your arms tightly against your own body, and you feel his fingers unclasping yours behind your back, allowing him to take the strawberry pieces you intended to give, before pulling away with a dumb grin. “Want anything when I get back?”

You try to blink away the violent shock tremors you’re feeling right now. “I’ve— I’ve always wanted to try the sun cakes there.” Deep breathes. You’re normal. You’re totally normal.

Ricky takes his carrier from Gyuvin, sending you a small smile. “I’ll buy you a hundred.”

“Don’t overdo it,” you let out a breath. God, he drives you insane. “Safe skies. See you when you get back.”

The moment Ricky boards the plane, Gyuvin turns around to ask you two what you should have for lunch. “Why are you so happy that your best friend is gone?” you ask with narrowed eyes the moment you three settle with the first food place you see at Terminal 1 of the airport. “Do you secretly hate him? Is that it?”

“He’ll be gone for two days max, give me a break,” he grunts. “And tomorrow’s Friday. That means I can get the whole evening and weekend to myself without anyone barging into my apartment.”

Your friend’s joy is reflected with how energetically he’s inhaling the bowl of stew. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m gonna do a progress check on your paper tomorrow.” Gyuvin sets down the bowl, looking at you like you just sentenced him to prison. Hao is minding his own business and enjoying his meal. “What? Don’t tell me you forgot that your deadline is in two weeks. I’m checking it tomorrow, so make sure it’s at the very least decent.”

When Gyuvin tells you to stop nagging because it reflects your age, Hao had to stop you from throttling the man.

Anyway, the day passes and you’re at Gyuvin’s apartment to check on his paper.

“Why are you smiling at your phone? Damn, she’s finally lost it,” he says over another meal. You finished giving him your feedback and decided to just have takeout dinner with him. While eating, however, you received a text from Ricky— a photo of his own meal and a thumbs up above the plate of skewers. It’s been a day, but you can barely feel his absence with how he’s been texting you every hour from the moment he landed.

[ouricky: (photo attached) touchdown ✌️].

[ouricky: (photo attached) this looks like u].

[ouricky: are u asleep yet?]

[ouricky: gyuvin told me ur at his place. tell him to eat shit for me].

[ouricky: (photo attached) dinner w my sister 👍 our meal is better than yours].

“What the hell, did you get a boyfriend?” You look up from your phone to find a very judgemental Gyuvin. “After rejecting all my attempts to set you up for romance? This is a personal attack. You’re buying ice cream later.”

If only he knew you were texting his best friend. Not that you have any intentions on telling him.

“Hey, why do you smell like strawberries?” Gyuvin asks after your meal, right when you decide to retouch your makeup as you ready yourself to leave. “Is that the candy you always bring?”

“It’s my new lip gloss,” You show off the pink bottle. “It tastes like the fruit too.”

“Whoa, that’s cool,” he snatches it from you, examining it a little too close to his face to sniff it. “Where’d you buy it? Do they have one in mango?”

While trying to convince Gyuvin that he should maybe purchase actual mangoes instead of planning on eating an entire bottle of mango-flavored gloss, you also try to convince yourself that you definitely did not make this purchase yourself to try and seduce his friend. Ricky isn’t even here. You’re not wearing it for him. You’re wearing it for yourself.

“I’m off! I’ll take you to the store next time.”

When you defend yourself and your new lip gloss against Jiwoong’s judgment the next morning, he tells you that Ricky probably doesn’t feel the same way as you do. That you probably shouldn’t think too much of it and hurt yourself with your expectations. But at this point, it’s reasonable for you to start overthinking, right? Right? What does Jiwoong know, anyway? He’s not Ricky’s mother. Ricky’s mother is on a yacht with him right now, and you know because he just sent you a video and you’re damn near the precipice of falling headfirst into the depths of thinking he might just like you too.

“I just don’t want you to get too ahead of yourself and end up getting hurt.”

Assuming you’re right and Ricky does like you back— when the hell could it have started? The barbecue at Matthew’s? That one evening at Gyuvin’s apartment? That night in his uncle’s resort? You have no idea, much like how you have no idea how you somehow got absorbed into their mess of a friend group.

But a few little texts and inexplicable bouts of skinship here and there isn’t enough to set you way too far off-the deep end. The way he looks at you might just be your imagination. Jiwoong could still be absolutely correct and you’re just tripping over your own assumptions.

You’re not that quick to listen to your intrusive thoughts. You’re still a little reasonable. That’s why you haven’t fallen to your knees and blurted out your insurmountable feelings for him yet.

What does set you off to state beyond help, however, is a sudden phone call later that same Friday evening.

Morning, rather. Specifically at four in the morning— waking you up from your sleep by its incessant buzzing. “Hello?” you groan into the mic, voice still croaky and eyes barely open. “What’s up? Why aren’t you asleep?” You have no idea why Ricky is calling you right now. The moment you hear his voice through the line however, you feel all five of your senses suddenly snapping wide awake.

“I thought it’d be a waste to spend my time here asleep,” he says with a soft chuckle. Oh, holy fuck it’s too early for this. You’re not mentally prepared for this kind of voice from him yet— low, almost a deep rumble, reminiscent of thunderstorms and clouds, only amplified by how he’s practically whispering into the core of your being through the phone.

You pull your blanket down and roll over to the side to give your heart a chance to breathe.

“Yet you decide to call me at four in the morning instead of doing something more worthwhile,” you click your tongue, and you only hear Ricky laugh in response. “Are you planning on extending your trip? When’s your flight?”

“No, I’m leaving later. I still have to prepare for finals,” he replies. “Flight’s scheduled at 11 p.m.”

“Ah, that’s too bad,” you say. “I’m pulling an all-nighter at the library tonight. Deadline to catch. I don’t think I can see you at the airport this time.”

“That’s alright,” he hums. “Next time you can just come with me to Shanghai.”

You pause. Wait. Wait a minute. “Haha, yeah, it— it would be nice to visit your hometown with the rest of the guys, yes.” That’s what he probably meant. You probably meant all of you— many, plural— not just you and you alone. Haha. Of course.

But when Ricky takes a while to reply, you start to overthink, start nipping on the skin of your lip so hard that blood might draw.

“Yeah,” he says after an awkward beat. “With the rest of the guys. Yeah.”

You really need to hear Jiwoong’s voice of reason right now. Because all you’re hearing is the sound of your own heartbeat inside your ears like a hyperactive drum.

“Anyway, you must be tired. I should let you sleep now,” says Ricky after ruining all your chances of falling back asleep. You can’t. The best you can do is get up before the sun and go on with your busy day so as to not think about this conversation too much.

“You should be the one sleeping,” you manage to reply. “Don’t forget my sun cakes.”

“Mhm. G’night.”

Crazy. This man drives you fucking crazy.

You don’t return to sleep after that.

“Okay,” is Jiwoong’s expert opinion after telling him what happened later that same evening, having dinner with him at a McDonald’s near the city library. He’s put his kiddie meal on pause while you were telling him about Ricky Shen and his demonic antics at four in the morning. He’s got his elbows on the table, fingers interlocked, and staring at you with a look so serious he might as well be diagnosing you with a disease. “I think you’re right,” he continues. “Maybe he does like you.”

The shriek you let out is almost inhuman.

Jiwoong’s lips quirk into a smile and he goes back to eating. “I told you! I told you I wasn’t overthinking things! My lip gloss purchase is justified!” you proclaim. Jiwoong tosses a fry into your mouth to sedate you, and it works for a few chews until you start yapping again. “But, god, now what? He’s returning later or tomorrow. I have no idea how to face him.”

Your phone vibrates a message. “Is it Ricky?” he asks in an attempt to tease you, but all your face does is turn sour upon reading the text. “No? Who is it?”

“Woong,” you say, setting your phone on the table. “Are you busy this evening?”

He furrows his brows. “I was planning on writing my paper. Why? Is there a problem?”

“Great. You can work with me at the library the whole night.”

When you slide your phone over across the table, Jiwoong understands.

[jaeryeong: can i see you tonight? please? it wont take long. i just need to make things right].

“He’s a persistent fucking cockroach.”

You grunt, taking back your phone. “You should report him,” he says, and you’ve completely lost your appetite. “Screenshot his texts and block his number. I’ll accompany you to the station if you want to handle this legally.”

“No, it’s fine,” you scrunch your nose. He’s a wimp, according to his ex-friend Gyuvin, so you’re sure he isn’t gonna hurt you or anything. And your exams are coming up, so you don’t want to deal with processing this entire thing while you’re already academically burdened as is. “Be my bodyguard for the night. If he tries anything, I can just throw you at him and run away.”

Jiwoong doesn’t approve of your methods, but doesn’t argue anyway. After eating you both finally head to the library where you’ll be cooped up the entire night— tucked in the corner in your own respective cubicles.

Your friend’s worry starts stirring whenever he sees you check your phone every hour or so. He pulls back the desk chair upon noticing the serious look on your face, turning over to your direction in concern. “Is Jaeryeong texting you?” he asks. “Did he follow you here? Should I call the police?”

“No,” you reply. “Ricky sent me a photo of him at the airport. He’s wearing ear muffs. He’s so cute. I can’t do this anymore.”

Jiwoong’s face falls to an expression reminiscent of death and stops talking to you after that.

Well. You have been receiving texts from Jaeryeong, but you haven’t opened them in case he gets motivated by the fact you’ve read his messages. You still don’t know how he and Gyuvin ended up being friends, but then again, Gyuvin was friends with a group of delinquents in high school. He wasn’t part of the group. He just thought their vibe was cool.

“Hey.”

It’s twenty minutes past twelve, Ricky is probably still on the airplane, and you haven’t eaten anything since your 6 p.m. dinner. You poke Jiwoong’s arm, to which he blatantly ignores. “I’m gonna get something from the vending machine. Keep ignoring me and I won’t buy you snacks.” He says nothing but follows you when you get up, and you sneer at the man following you with a silent tantrum. “Quit sulking,” you tell him as you punch the numbers for coffee on the machine. “You’re not cute enough for that.”

“I’m sorry for not being Ricky,” is the first thing he says to you after two hours of silence. “You’re wearing that scheming lip gloss again, but he’s not even here.” You frown. He laughs and takes your place in front of the vending machine by cordially bumping his ass into yours the moment your drink falls down the chute. “Your phone’s flashing by the way. I think Ricky’s calling.”

You look down, bringing up your phone, and sure enough calling ID “ouricky” is giving you a call.

He’s calling. He is calling you.

Your eyes flash back up to Jiwoong, widened in surprise.

Why is he calling you?

“Did he send a message in the group chat that he arrived?” you ask, suddenly panicking as the phone relentlessly vibrates in your hand. “He didn’t, right? Why would he call me first? What time is it? Wasn’t his flight just an hour ago?”

“For someone who’s been pretty confident that Ricky likes you back, you’re sure acting funny,” he hums, leaning against the vending machine and taking a sip from his cold brew while you’re having a mental breakdown. “Answer it. Go on.”

“‘I’m scared!” you exclaim. “What if instead of saying hello I end up blurting out that I’m in love with him and ask him if he feels the same way?!”

You take too long to make a move so the phone line gets cut off. But when Ricky calls again, Jiwoong wastes no time to snatch your phone from your hands, click answer, and put the damn thing on loudspeaker for the entire fucking world to hear. What the hell are you doing? your scrunched up face says to him. Doing you a favor, his arrogant eyebrows reply. You attempt to snatch your phone back, arms in a desperate move to retrieve to device—

“Hello?”

—but they freeze mid-air at the sound of Ricky’s voice blurring through the speaker.

Jiwoong grins. You slowly get your phone back and press it to your ear. “Yes. Hello. What’s up?” You give Jiwoong the nastiest glare you can muster, but flinch back the moment you hear Ricky’s voice again.

“Are you still at the library?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You elbow Jiwoong when he laughs at your sudden switch-up. “Why?”

“Come down.”

What?

“I’m outside.”

It’s almost stupid how your body starts moving on its own.

The cold air bites your skin the moment you break past the doors, met by the dim sky and muted sight of the empty plaza square outside the library entryway. But it’s not completely empty— no. Ricky, who’s supposed to be still on the plane ride back to Seoul, is standing five feet away from you, eyes flickering up from his phone the moment you arrive, a slow, soft smile blooming on his face and cheeks.

You see the suitcase next to his feet. Jiwoong’s words echo in your head— maybe you’re right, he said, maybe he does like you. It’s not just a maybe anymore. It’s not just your mind making things up.

Ricky, who is supposed to be in the air halfway between Seoul and Shanghai, went straight from the airport to the city library just to see you.

You’re usually the one doing dumb things because of him. This time, it’s not you.

It’s him.

“Hey, are you crazy? Did your flight schedule change?” You stomp towards him, closing the gap between the both of you with big strides and quick steps. “Why didn’t you update us? Jesus, you gave me a scare when you said you were here.”

Ricky’s only reply is a laugh, and your intent to scold him more gets stuck in your throat and you stumble a little when you abruptly halt right in front of his feet. You look at him, batting your eyes in an attempt to blink away the possible pink and hazy filter you’re seeing him with, but it doesn’t work. He is just this pretty. He is just this dreamy. He is just soft and soft and soft when his eyelashes flutter above his big, dark irises as he looks at you, when his stained hair frames his face a little too perfectly, when the corners of his lips lift ever the slightest to resemble a smile.

“That’s not how you usually greet me,” he says. “Aren’t you going to give me anything?”

Your heart stirs. “What?” Aren’t you supposed to be the one asking that? He promised to buy you a hundred sun cakes, and you’re pretty sure those won’t fit inside his one suitcase. “Oh. Oh, wait.” You pat around your pockets, only to realize you left all your candy in your bag back with Jiwoong.

“Sorry,” you tell him, feeling a little guilty. “I was in a rush to get down. I wasn’t able to bring any with me.”

Instead of responding with disappointment, Ricky just hums and leans a little closer. “Really?” He suddenly nudges his face into yours, noses bumping, and your eyes widen in surprise. “But you do have something else.”

He’s close. His face is hovering a little too close to yours to be smiling cheekily unaffected like that. You can feel his warm breath on your lips and you’re starting to feel dizzy.

“It smells sweet,” he says and you think— oh. He’s not good for your heart.

Maybe it’s because he’s officially driven you to the breaking point of being crazy, or maybe it’s because the cold has completely frozen all the sane parts of your brain, but the words you’d usually keep tucked between your thoughts and confidentiality suddenly come stumbling out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“Do you want to know if it tastes sweet too?”

You gasp after realizing what you just said. You look at Ricky with a face aghast with surprise, jumping back because holy fuck— why did you say that? Why? You’re crazy. You’re stupid. You bite down your bottom lip and taste the dull flavor strawberry mocking the tip of your tongue. You’re insane. You have officially lost it.

If you were Ricky, you’d probably call yourself crazy too, but he doesn’t do that.

Instead, he does something even crazier by taking your offer and pressing his lips against yours.

It doesn’t register that Ricky just kissed you until after the fact, and you’re staring at him with wide, blinking eyes, lips feeling fuzzy, head afloat beyond reach, and him— at an arm’s length away— eyes averted with pink strawberries dusting his cheeks, much like the color slightly glazing his lips, as if he wasn’t the one who just pulled your trigger.

He ran his mouth about taking responsibility the other day.

You’re going to show him responsibility with your mouth.

“S—sorry, that was too sudden, I just— mmph—!”

Two months of pining after him come crashing down the moment you pull him by the collar to finish what he started and god— his lips are softer than you thought, sweeter than you thought, and it’s not just the strawberry lip gloss smudged between your teeth and tongue, melting into what you can only describe as the best fucking kiss in your entire life.

Ricky pulls away to breathe. You chase after his lips once more in a short-winded daze, only to stumble into his chest and he catches you by cupping your face to press another kiss to your mouth. “Ah. This is bad,” he murmurs between barely parted lips. “I don’t think the candy is gonna cut it anymore.”

For a second there, you thought he was gonna say that you’re a bad kisser.

“You should greet me like this from now on.”

YOU WAKE UP THE NEXT MORNING VIA SUFFOCATION FROM THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE AND A TEXT MESSAGE FROM A PESTERING RAT. Blurry eyes and barely conscious, you try to roll over on the bed but physically cannot with how Ricky is squeezing your torso with his arms, his nose buried against your nape as he curls up into you from behind.

You cannot move. You try your darndest to wiggle an arm out because your phone is incessantly buzzing on his bedside table— the only thing from your belongings that you brought with you last night because your haul to the library was left behind with Jiwoong, who’s probably the one texting you right now for ditching him.

When you finally retrieve your phone however, it is not Jiwoong who’s texting you.

It’s Jaeryeong. Squinted eyes read [how could you replace me with a grey-haired twink???] and [don’t even dare try contacting me, bitch] and the first thing you feel is confusion. Then you remember that Jaeryeong is a freak and probably followed you to the library that night, and saw you making out with Ricky in front of a public educational building.

Well. At least that stopped him from bothering you again. The question now is whether or not you should tell Ricky about this.

“I’m going to kill him.”

You do tell him, in between washing his hair in the bathroom to get the remnants of spray stains out of his hair because Jaeryeong’s comment pissed you off. “I’m gonna kill him the moment I see him,” says Ricky with a lovely towel wrap on his head. You’re looking at him through the mirror and the scary face he’s trying to put on is promptly negated by his spa-day look.

“Do you even know what he looks like?” you raise a brow, freeing him from the towel head to reveal a damp mop of light hair. You throw away the muddled towel and grab a fresh one to dry his head.

“I’ll ask Gyuvin,” he says, face covered by the towel, and you snort.

“I think we’ll have a problem with that. I was kind of hoping to keep this secret for now.”

Ricky suddenly throws his head back, causing the towel to fall to the floor and the top of his head bumps into your stomach. “Why?” he asks, upside down, big brown eyes staring right into your soul like a premeditated attack shooting you square in the chest. He can’t pull this move. That’s illegal.

“Be—because Gyuvin is annoying and he won’t let me hear the end of it,” you manage to say. You’re not going to fold. You’re not going to give in. “You know how I turned down that blind date with you right?”

The mention of it prompts a frown to tug on the corners of his mouth and it’s the second onslaught against your heart. “Right,” he huffs, lifting his head up to turn around and face you, looking up with a displeased expression, yet his actions say all but displeasure when he tugs on the hem of your shirt, pulling you towards him so he can lock you in place with his arms around your waist.

“Quit pouting,” you tell him. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. You’re not sure if you’re gonna last a month with him being like this.

“Gyuvin said you thought I was ugly,” he says. “That’s why you said no to the date.”

All the adoration you feel gets extinguished in an instant.

You have never heard a more blasphemous statement your entire life.

“I never said that!” you shriek. “That’s not true at all! I didn’t even know what you looked like until we met for that Hadong trip that day!”

Ricky winces at your sudden volume and you’re quick to simmer it down and apologize by hugging his head to your torso. “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you say. “I turned down the date because your best friend has traumatized me with all the previous blind dates he’s tried setting up. Jaeryeong isn’t the only disaster I’ve experienced. Every single guy he’s set me up with has been trash, so I thought you’d be just like the rest too.”

Maybe this isn’t a conversation you should be having in the bathroom of his apartment, but you digress. Ricky unburies his head and looks up at you once more. “So, am I?”

Again. You’re going to fucking eat him one day. “No,” you cup his face. You’re perfect, you’re an angel.” Maybe if you’d given him and Gyuvin a shot that day, then maybe your first meeting wouldn’t have been as awkward— but either way, regardless of the situation, you’re pretty sure you’d still somehow eventually find yourself falling for this loser.

You lean down, ready to dip into a kiss, only to hear an alarming noise outside the bathroom door.

“Ricky! Why didn’t you tell us you were back?!”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

You’re pretty happy that Ricky is quick to listen to your request because he immediately scrambles to his feet and tells you to stay inside the bathroom for the time being. “Hey, he’s not in his room,” you hear Gyuvin’s voice from outside, followed by Yujin suspecting that Jiwoong lied to them, followed by Gunwook saying that Ricky is definitely around, evidenced by his unmade bed and half-unpacked suitcase.

“I—I think I’d have to lock the door,” he mumbles to you, holding the doorknob and ready to leave. “What if they suddenly barge in?”

“It’s okay. You should go out before they actually barge in while we’re both still in here.”

Cue heavy knocks against the bathroom door. “Ricky! Are you in there?” Ricky grumbles out a swear and quickly slips out of the bathroom, a click on the knob, and you’re officially locked inside your boyfriend’s bathroom within the first twenty four hours of dating him.

Now, this is just great.

You have the privilege of eavesdropping into their reunion through the muffled audio on the other side of the door. “Who were you talking to?” you hear Gunwook ask.

“My...myself…” Ricky answers, and you feel excessively sorry for him so you decide to repent by cleaning up his bathroom. The problem is, even after you’ve finished cleaning, you’re still stuck inside because for some fucking reason, those three have no intentions of leaving.

“Hey, should we order some food?”

“Oh! Sounds good!”

“Let’s watch a movie, I’m bored.”

[ouricky: i’m so sorry they just won’t leave 😭]

You slump to the floor, back sliding down the shower glass. Maybe...maybe this is your karma for turning him down the first time and asking him to hide your relationship. Honestly, you should have known it wouldn’t be easy to keep things hidden from seven pairs of eyes (Jiwoong knows and has sworn secrecy in exchange of being his research lackey). It’s especially difficult considering you’re chronically touch-starved and must always have Ricky Shen around you to hold. So when you have another barbecue dinner at Mattew’s the weekend before your finals, and when Ricky— out of a newly formed habit— tries to greet you with a kiss on the face right in front of his fucking friends, you panic and end up shoving the poor boy, causing him to kiss the floor instead.

Your mouth is wide open. “Oh. Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Hanbin and Hao hear the very distinct thunk and start questioning.

“Why...is he on the ground?” Hao looks down to see Ricky’s half-alarmed, half-confused face as he half-lifts his body off from the floor. Your face is burning. Oh god.

“He’s repenting,” you say through your teeth.

Ricky tries blinking away the shock.“...Yes...I made a mistake.”

You’re going to lock away your strawberry lip gloss from now on. It’s too hazardous. Hanbin tells you that “friends should get along” and asks you to help him set the table, leaving behind Ricky who’s being pulled back to his feet by Hao. When you see Jiwoong, who saw the whole thing, at the table looking at you with an insufferable look on his face, you flip him off.

“Are you in a bad mood today?” asks Hanbin as he passes you a stack of paper plates. “You keep butting heads with the boys.”

You’re speechless. You can’t even defend yourself if you wanted to so you resign to mumbling out a bitter apology and equally bitterly start arranging the plates on the table, much to Jiwoong’s pure and raw amusement.

When you guys start eating, you even make sure not to sit next to him. You are instead sitting next to Gyuvin, and Ricky is sitting in front of him. They’re both bickering over something again— chopstick-fighting against each other over the table while you half-listen to Matthew who’s sitting on your other side, complaining about Prof Shin and her impossible exam coverage as you clean off your plate.

“You took her class last year, right? Which lessons did she focus on?” he asks.

“Review the most recent ones. I think she just took five or six questions from the earlier lessons,” you reply, grabbing a slice of the gyukatsu you bought and heated up as a potluck, and absentmindedly place said slice on Ricky’s plate.

It gets quieter all of a sudden.

Ricky, Gyuvin, and Matthew are all looking at you— one more alarmed than the rest, and the realization drains all the blood out of your face.

“Yujin, you should try this too!” you try to play it off, placing another piece of gyukatsu on Yujin’s plate, who’s sitting right in front of you. And for good measure you do the same to all of the plates within your arms reach, all while swallowing down the desire to bury yourself into a hole, never to emerge ever again.

“Whoa, thanks.”

This whole secret relationship thing is harder than you thought, and Ricky is very visibly sulking that you’re giving away his current favorite dish to just about anyone. Looks like you have a grown man that needs to be coaxed back into affection tonight.

Jiwoong tells you that you should just come clean and stop making it harder for yourself. You firmly refuse because even though you are having a lot of trouble and even though you definitely want to kiss Ricky and his pretty face without the fear of getting walked in on by his friends who don’t know the concept of privacy, this set-up is still better than the bane of your existence, Kim Gyuvin, making fun of you until the day you die.

The said bane of your existence treats you all out to another dinner because he finally got his grade for his community development project. He says you have no choice but to come since you’re the reason he got an A.

It’s an easy dinner. You and Ricky even agreed to arrive at separate times with him tagging along with his hyungs, and you chaperoning the children while waiting for the rest of their arrival at the chinese restaurant. The problem comes when they arrive. Specifically, when Ricky arrives because for some god damned, unplanned reason, he arrives wearing the same distinctly floral-patterned short-sleeved button down you’re wearing.

“Oh.”

He doesn’t even fucking wear florals. Why did he decide to switch up today?

Never had you thought that the day would come where you’d be begging to bring back toxic masculinity, but here you are— mouth agape, aghast, and awkwardly standing from your seat at the round table because the shirts are way too obvious to be left unnoticed.

“Take it off,” you immediately demand. “This is absurd. Take it off and quit copying me.”

“Wow, are you two couple-shirting?” Taerae’s comment stirs a faint blush on Ricky’s cheeks. Why is this idiot blushing?

“I’m sorry to inform you, but Rik wears it better,” says Gyuvin.

You’re thankful that the same-shirt fiasco ended there. You try to ignore Ricky throughout dinner, but god damn it, Gyuvin is right— that shirt does look pretty damn fine tucked into his slacks and framing his broad shoulders like that and it’s making you angry.

Ricky catches you checking him out from across the table and you catch him subtly smirking. Oh, what a psycho. You’re not letting him off.

“I’m going out for a bit,” you announce, standing up quite loudly with how your chair scrapes against the floor. “Need fresh air. Be back in a bit.” Thankfully, they don’t stop you when you retreat to the cluster of grass and trees and plants tucked in one corner of the outside parking lot of the restaurant. When you take out your phone and prepare to send a message, the person you intended to message has already walked into your field of vision.

Ricky leaves the restaurant not long after you did, looking around the lot until his eyes land on your little corner, a sparkle in his eyes, and he jogs his way right over to you.

“Ah. Not today.“

You hold up a hand in front of your face and Ricky’s nose bumps into your palm when he leans in to get a bite of your lips.

He scrunches his face, wincing backward, confused. “You have wronged me tonight, Mr. Shim,” you say, dropping down your hand to complete your cross-armed display of beration. “You should reflect on your actions before trying anything funny.” All Ricky does is blink at you with those pretty brown eyes and no— you’re not going to give in. You’re biting down your tongue very hard so you don’t get swayed by those dangerous weapons (said pair of pretty brown eyes).

Ricky takes a step closer, or maybe he tugs you closer to him because you suddenly feel a pull on the belt loops of your trousers, face hovering just a few inches away from yours, pressing his lips together into a pout as he tries to get you to give in to his whims, but you are immovable. You are a mountain. You are this close to squeezing your eyes shut because he’s making it very hard for you right now to not kiss his stupid face.

When that doesn’t work, he resorts to his other weapon. That is, being sickeningly shameless.

“I didn’t mean to wear the same shirt as you,” he says, voice low. “Should I take it off?”

That’s it.

You hit his chest with a closed fist. “Ow!” Then you use the same hand to grab a fistful of that darned shirt and slam your lips against his because who are you kidding? You are not god’s strongest soldier. If Ricky bats his eyes at you and tells you to jump off a cliff, you might just do it.

When you hear him grunt into your mouth— something snaps. You pull him in deeper, other hand fixed on the back of his neck, the taste of strawberries mixing with spit and short breaths and the only time you’re letting him off is when you get lightheaded from the lack of fucking oxygen.

You pull back with a gasp. Ricky is flushed scarlet and his eyes are out of focus. “Wow, um. Uh.” You wipe off the smudged lip gloss from the edges of his mouth. He looks like he’s about to pass out.

“You two are so fucking disgusting.”

The sudden sound of Taerae’s voice feels like a bullet to the head.

Your face freezes. Your neck creaks, turning to the right, and you see Taerae standing a few feet away from you two, arms crossed with a face wound up in revulsion and sheer judgment and now you feel like the one passing out. You feel five years of your life getting scraped off against a sandpaper bed in real time. You want to fucking die. “H—hyung,” you hear Ricky say. “What—what are you doing here?”

“The guys are wondering where you two went, so I went out to check,” Taerae simply says, scrunching his nose before continuing. “I really did not need to see that.”

You feel the heat running up to your forehead. Oh god. Maybe you should’ve learned your lesson the first time you got caught making out with him in public. “I—” you start, a single syllable falling out of your throat before your mouth completely dries up. What are you even supposed to say in this situation? How do you explain to Taerae that this is not what it looks like— even thought this is exactly what it looks like?

“It’s alright. You don’t have to explain. I knew all this time that you two have a thing.”

“Haha.” You’re sweating. You’re sweating so bad. You feel Ricky squeezing your sweaty hand. God, you’re totally screwed. “What are you talking about, Tae?”

“I heard your conversation in the car on our trip to Hadong like two months ago.”

Well, shit.

“I woke up when Ricky nearly killed us all on the road. You two are the most unsubtle people I’ve ever met. Quit looking surprised. Do I have to mention the way you eyefuck him whenever you’re in the same space? Girl, you’re not fooling anyone.”

You peer at Ricky and he looks a little too happy to hear that. You’re dizzy, you’re nauseous, and you want to sew Taerae’s mouth shut right now. “Does…does anyone else know?” you ask, scared, and you tug Ricky out of your unhelpful corner and start heading back to the restaurant before someone else comes out to look for you.

“Well. I’m not so sure. They’ve never brought it up when you two aren’t around so I don’t think so,” Taerae replies, and you let out a sigh of relief. “I think Gunwook is onto you, but Gyuvin for sure doesn’t know.”

“Oh, thank god.”

Taerae raises a brow. “Why are you even keeping it from him? It’s not like he’s gonna disapprove or get mad. In fact, it’ll be his dream come true since he’s been trying to sell Ricky off since last year.”

The restaurant’s lights get brighter as you walk towards it. “I’m not hiding it because I’m scared he’ll get upset. I’m hiding it because he’s gonna rub it all in my fucking face and I have way too much pride to deal with that, thank you very much.” Ricky laughs. You shoot him a dirty look.

“Okay. I get it,” says Taerae. “You’re not a normal person either. No wonder you get along with everyone.”

“Hyung, that includes you too.”

“I know,” he huffs. You’re in front of the restaurant entrance now, and you make sure to wedge Taerae between you and Ricky for an extra safety layer. “I don’t think doing that is going to help, but whatever. This is none of my business, so you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone that you and Ricky are dating—”

“You and Ricky are dating?!”

Well, shit.

Maybe you’ve been out for too long. Because there’s suddenly seven people right in front of the restaurant doors, probably on their way to look for you, only for you to come walking back and getting absolutely fucked in the ass in the process.

Gyuvin was the one who made the very astute observation. His eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging open in disbelief. You shoot Taerae a look. He presses his lips together and feigns innocence. “Oh. What are you all doing out here?” he says. So much for not telling anybody.

“You!” Gyuvin ignores him to point an accusatory finger at you— “and you!” —doing the same with Ricky as the shock completely penetrates his facial muscles. You swallow, eyes flitting over at Ricky and the both of you share the same guilty look. “What do you mean you’re dating? What?! How?! Since when?!”

Gyuvin throwing a fit aside, what bothers you more is how completely unfazed the other six are— even Yujin. What the hell? Jiwoong is given. He looks like he’s having the time of his life. But why the hell is Matthew looking at Gyuvin like he’s about to laugh? “C’mon, man. They’ve been together since the first barbecue dinner obviously. How could you not notice?” he says, and now you’re just as alarmed as Gyuvin is.

“Seriously?!” your poor friend looks betrayed, but you’re in a state no better than him because what the fuck is Matthew saying? He’s way off the mark but have you seriously been this fucking transparent all this time?

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure they started dating when we went to the resort,” inserts Hanbin, and you’re absolutely at a loss. “The phone call, disappearing off together like tonight— the hotel room. I’m surprised you didn’t catch on, Gyu.” Hao agrees. Yujin nods and says “why else would you spend three hours just getting ready for a lame event,” and you want to melt into the ground.

You can’t do this anymore. You want to go home.

“No!” Gunwook butts in, refusing to be left out. “They’ve been together since that one night at Gyuvin hyung’s apartment! I bought noona a pack of candy for her cough and Rick immediately got jealous. They even showed up together. I’m telling you. They’ve been together for longer than you all think.”

At this point, you have no idea how to diffuse this situation. They’re all arguing about when or how you and Ricky got together. Jiwoong is laughing his fucking ass off. Taerae is trying his best to act like he’s had no part in this. Gyuvin looks like you’ve just twisted a knife into his back.

“Can...can I say something?”

It’s Ricky who speaks up and puts everything to a halt. They all look at him. You look at him. He clears his throat, slipping past Taerae so he can reclaim his rightful spot next to you, and makes your face flush a thousand degrees when he shyly hooks his pinky finger around yours and says, “You’re all wrong,” he says softly. “It’s only been sixteen days and twenty hours.”

Oh.

It’s quiet. You can’t look at him. You have your face turned down in a heated embarrassment. You physically cannot look at him and everyone else and the fact that none of them are saying anything is making things all the more worse.

Kill me. Just kill me now.

“Hyung, you’re so lame,” Yujin breaks the silence of dread. And just like that, they go on as if nothing just happened.

“Hey, did we split the bill?”

“Oh, Gyuvin paid for it all.”

“I’m riding in Bin hyung’s car!”

“Thanks for the meal! You three get home safe!”

You’re in a daze. These fuckers just gossiped about your ass and called it a day.

You’re not sure if you should be relieved or offended that they didn’t dwell any more on the topic of your relationship. They leave you behind with Gyuvin and Ricky, who’s legally obligated to drive you both home, and it’s so eerily quiet that you want to die. “I’ll—I’ll sit in the back,” you say, oddly reminiscent of your first meeting with Ricky, and Gyuvin simply sits in front without speaking a word to you. You fear he might actually be upset that you didn’t tell him.

Oh no. You make eye contact with Ricky through the rearview mirror as he starts driving. Do something. What should I do? I don’t know! I don’t know what to do either! and you cut your conversation short the moment you hear Gyuvin scratching his throat clear, and you jolt and straighten yourself in your seat like a guilty convict on the way to the station.

You end up not doing or saying anything until you finally reach your apartment. Ricky attempts to get out of the car to walk you to your door, but you stop him with one look because you feel bad enough as is to leave Gyuvin in the car alone. “Thanks. You two get home safe,” you say before shutting the door. The moment you close it, however, the passenger door clicks open in its place.

“Hold on.”

Gyuvin is out of the car, and you stop in your tracks to turn around and face him, pressing down your lips together because god, you feel so fucking bad. He should be making fun of you right now, not looking all serious! He should be gloating and rubbing it in your face that you should’ve just taken his offer!

He’s got his arms crossed and looks disappointed. You see Ricky peeking out from the rolled down window in concern, ready to step in in case things get ugly. “I knew you’d be into him,” Gyuvin finally says. “I told you, he’d be different.”

Wait. Wait a minute.

Suddenly, he’s grinning again. A stupid fucking devious grin and you feel your soul escaping from your body. “Did I scare you?”

Oh no. You’re not dealing with this shit, you’re absolutely not dealing with this shit at all.

“I’m going inside. Good night.”

“You should’ve just taken my offer the first time!”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

“And you should’ve told me you changed your mind. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have had to wait for two months before you started dating him—”

“I’m not listening, I’m not listening!”

“This is what you get for not trusting me!”

“Leave me alone!” you shriek, stomping up to your building entrance while Gyuvin happily chases you down, and you struggle to press the right numbers on the keypad so you hiss out a swear.

“No way. This is too good. I’m telling your mom about this,” he grins. You want to cry. “Oh, and I can take the bus from here. Ricky, come out of hiding and help your girlfriend get inside her building! She looks like she’s having trouble opening the door.”

It’s almost ridiculous how the urge to throw yourself onto Ricky overtakes you the moment he shows up, but you’re not giving Gyuvin another reason to make fun of you until the day you die. You tell Gyuvin to fuck off and he tells you to not have too much fun before finally going away. You’re tired. You’re absolutely tired, and you let out a groan into Ricky’s chest and let yourself sink into his warmth the moment you’re sure Gyuvin has left the premises.

“It’s open,” he says, prompting you to get inside but you don’t budge.

“Your friend is annoying,” you muffle into his shirt— the damned floral shirt that started tonight’s cataclystic mess.

“He’s your friend too.” You let out a grunt. Ricky soothes circles on your back and lets you throw your silent tantrum a little longer. “Gyuvin is right though. You should’ve just said yes the first time— ow!”

Ricky’s appalled confusion when you land a hit on his chest almost makes you feel a little better. The problem is, you did the same thing earlier and pulled him into a scandalous kiss immediately after, so he’s once again staring down at your lips like he’s waiting for it. Holy shit. Your psych class didn’t warn you about this. This is a little insane.

Your powers are too strong. The power of strawberries is too strong. But you’re not thinking straight right now, emotions at a high after the events that unfolded— so you don’t think and give him exactly what he wants, ending the night with the sweet taste of tart, and another breathless exhale brushing over his now swollen lips. “I think I’ve brainwashed you,” you say in between bated breaths. “Maybe it’s not me you like. Maybe it��s the candy and the strawberries. You should cut off on the sweets.”

“That’s not true,” he grunts, pressing in another kiss, pulling away with his teeth grazing your bottom lip with a tug. “I liked you from when Gyuvin told me about you. I like you. I like this.”

Well, that’s one way to drive a woman mad. Gyuvin was right. Maybe you should’ve taken that first chance when you had it, but it doesn’t really matter anymore because either way— you’re certain that the outcome would be the same.

“Oh, what the fuck? Gyuvin just texted.” The door is still still left hanging open, and you’re still pressed up against him when you look down to check your phone. “That son of a bitch— he sent a photo of us just now to the group chat. Is he still here?”

“Leave it.”

Ricky pulls you back when you turn and try to look for the nosy bastard who’s probably snooping around. He tips up your chin. “One more,” he says, leaning in for yet another kiss as if your lips are the candies you always give him in bulk, like he can’t function without it anymore.

“You’re getting greedy,” you say.

“You keep spoiling me,” he mumbles, feeling his lips graze over yours for the nth time. “You make me lose control of myself.”

Whether you met him earlier or later, you’re pretty sure you’d still end up falling horrendously for Ricky Shen. And you’d still end up doing all the same dumb things you did just to get to kiss him like this over and over again.

#ricky shen x reader #zb1 ricky x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 x reader #shen quanrui x reader #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone imagines #shen ricky x reader #zb1 x you #zerobaseone x you #ricky shen x you #zb1 scenarios #zb1 fluff

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b-ibilly · 2 months

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Lnds x kpop boys (part 3) 🎙️

zb1 Ricky as Sylus !

I swear this is the last time 😭 pls bear w me

Like or reblog if u use !

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taeiun · 10 months

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sweet venom.

synopsis: when you pull them by the collar of their shirt to kiss them

who: zb1's middle & maknae line x gn!reader (yujin not included)

categories: fluff, sort of suggestive, hurt / comfort, headcanons + short scenarios

warnings: light swearing, mentions of food in gyuvin's section, not proofread bc im such a slay so please please please lmk if there's more

word count: 1.5k

✧ MATTHEW !

⟡ you do it to shut him up /hj. affectionately. this canadian man is funky and we love and cheer for him because of that. but boy do most canadians have something in common: talking. (as a canadian im allowed to say this)

⟡ in this case, it’s not storytelling or his ad campaigns, it’s about how he loses to you in mario kart for the fifth time in a row. for all i know, he could be cracked at mario kart, but let’s be honest, he would somehow go from second place down to eleventh within a matter of minutes.

⟡ matthew isn't a sore loser by any means, his whining about losing are mainly all for fun and to tease, but after the fourth game… maybe he does gaf y’know :/

⟡ pouty!!! also probably throws the controller, lightly mind you, to the side before taking a deep breath in and letting out a silent scream into his palms as the screen flashes with another loss for him.

⟡ kiss it better otherwise he’ll never play again (that’s a lie) (he’d do almost anything you’d ask him to) (whipped)

matthew leaned his head back against the couch cushion and pinched his arm to make sure that this was real as his character finally crossed the finish line. in eighth place. you looked over at him encouragingly, made a remark about how this was better than last game, before patting his knee. he threw you a scathing glare, whines bubbled up from his throat, and he leaned his full body weight against you. he didn’t notice that there was a tug on his shirt, the soft cotton balled up in your fist as you pulled, before his lips were on yours, his whines drowned out. it was embarrassing how fast he melted into the contact, eyes closed as he rested a hand overtop of yours, he’d never live it down.

✧ TAERAE !

⟡ a kiss like this with taerae would most likely happen in a slow, sort of slow, heat of the moment thing. but it would be a softer, gentle tug of his shirt. nothing too fast.

⟡ you both would probably be looking at each other already, coming down from the high of hanging out together before bam! it hits the both of you that “wow. i'm incredibly in love with this person.”

⟡ ngl… he’d be a bit too hesitant to do much about it at first. but i mean. that’s why you’re the one gripping his shirt collar and not the other way around-

⟡ he stares at you with wide eyes and a facial expression like :o when his lips are suddenly pressed against yours. but taerae recovers from the shock fairly quickly and leans into it, eyes closed as he kisses back with the tease of a grin on his face.

⟡ he’ll pull away with the biggest smile and pinch your cheek before going in to kiss you again, being the one to pull you in this time.

water dripped from his thoroughly soaked hair, trailed down his jaw and continued to dampen the fabric of his shirt, leaving no place dry as you both stood outside amidst the rain. he stared at you, breath coming sharp from his mouth as he looked at you in some awe. you laughed and in return, so did he. you cupped his face gently, wiped a thumb under his eye to clear the water, efforts futile. taerae grabbed your hand and tugged, nose bumped against yours, before he greedily took your lips in his once again.

✧ RICKY !

⟡ he’s insufferable istg / j. ok but you not be able to get away with this move properly imo without having some sort of built up tension. as in the type of tension to cut with a knife, the opposite of taerae’s.

⟡ ricky would be able to see you go in for the kiss from a mile away… he just. knows these things somehow and is prepared. he would have to be distracted enough, emotionally, in order to pull it off.

⟡ that or you wrestle him and pin him for long enough. i have such a strong urge to grab this guy by the necktie and shake him around a little. affectionately i swear.

⟡ despite the colder appearance, ricky is emotionally intelligent and he does have his softer moments. the aftermath of a fight would be the main scene i picture this happening in?

⟡ “do you even want this?” // “what-” // “do you even want us?” // “of course i do.” type of beat do you get me? you feel me? you hear me? set me freeee- erm.

there was something about the silence, weight undeniable as you and ricky stood opposite of each other. shoulders tensed, he heaved out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose as you dug your nails into the palm of your hand in a closed fist. you knew what was coming; the rush of doubts and worry that would spill from his mouth about the relationship and how he constantly felt as if you deserved better, how he was the damage. you marched with a purpose towards him, placed a hand firmly on his waist as he knotted his brows together in mild confusion, before butterflies bursted in his chest. the pressed collar of his shirt would need ironing later, crumpled in your tight grasp, but ricky couldn’t find it in himself to care all too much, not when he cupped the back of your head and pressed you closer.

✧ GYUVIN !

⟡ it would be a “did you eat the last donut in the fridge?” // “yes. what are you going to do about it?” // “get it back of course.” // *starts making out* type of thing.

⟡ we know this man has the best reactions to things so just. he flounders when you first kiss him out of the blue; like a literal fish out of water despite this not being the first time lol.

⟡ idk i just feel like this would happen so often?? like i see gyuvin dating someone with similar energy and excitement towards things (not to say he wouldn’t date you otherwise. man falls hard in general) but just imagine doing something dumb and then one of you pulls the other in.

⟡ “i can’t believe you just did that.” // “yeah well.” // *making out again* this whole thing is just. gyuvin coded imo. maybe im just sleep deprived.

⟡ when you do it however… he can’t do anything but stare are you with those eyes of his. you already know the ones. shellshocked, flabbergasted, stunned, electrocuted, astonished, etc etc.

you grinned as gyuvin flailed his arms before resting them on your shoulders, slumping into the kiss. it was sweet in a literal sense; you could taste the powdered sugar and jam that stained his mouth from earlier. his face was fully flushed when you pulled apart. you giggled and swiped a thumb at the corner of his lips, collected the last bit of your sweet treat, and brought it to your mouth with a wink before walking away like nothing ever happened.

✧ GUNWOOK !

⟡ omg the scene i have in mind is when you have to leave for a while, talking like a month or more, and won’t be seeing gunwook for the next while. he’s so intent on making things work out for all the time you guys are doing the ldr.

⟡ runs through a list of everything you’ll need to pack, triple checks everything with you, makes sure you have the right flight booked… you’ll have to pull him aside and reassure him that you’ll be fine and that he doesn’t need to worry about anything; doing all that is kind of a stress reaction.

⟡ is so jittery leading up to the day where you have to leave :( clears his schedule to the best of his abilities to make sure he has all the time with you.

⟡ 100% is seeing you off at the airport don’t even think otherwise. “you’ll call me when you land, right?” // “of course.” // “and you’ll update me with stuff you’ve done? And sec pictures of yourself?” // “sweetie-”

⟡ kiss him to shut up but softer and with more tears bc he will start crying and bury his face into your shoulder.

gunwook thought he looked horrible, face puffed up and nose runny as he sniffled and wiped away the tears in the corners of his eyes. you thought completely the opposite; there was something about the early morning sun that shone through the windows and highlighted the rosy parts of his cheeks and the small pout he wore on his lips. he opened his mouth, ready to go on another ramble before you delicately pressed your lips against his. the drawstrings of his hoodie were twirled between your fingers as you pulled lightly on the thick material. he smiled into the touch, eyes still rimmed with tinges of red, and held on for one last kiss.

^ . _ . ^ notes: first post on the new blog... apologies for any mistakes im notorious for writing these late at night and giving up when it comes to proofreading TwT.

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cyberkunizz · 4 months

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I went fucking RABID after seeing this photo something inside me went off😻😻

i just had to write a fast bf!ricky thought bc why not🤗

tw: mirror sex, pet names, praises, semi-public (in the practice room) edging, mentions of crying (out of pleasure), not v well written but i think its okay enough, if you think i missed something lmk!!

Imagine bf!ricky surprising you with his new hair color, knowing you’ve wanted to see him with black hair. But he also prepared you another surprise, and that is bending you in the practice room, infront of the big mirror, fucking you mercilessly.

bf!ricky who would fuck all of his stress out while he’s with you, praising you with sayings like “such a good doll for me, arent you?” and “good girl, taking me so well” while he starts thrusting deeper into you, making you moan louder

bf!ricky who at first was telling you to keep quiet because he doesn’t want the others to hear, but quickly gives up on that once he hears how good you sound moaning his name

bf!ricky who purposely edges you a couple of times so he can see you fall apart for him once you actually cum, telling you how “you did so well for me, darling” and “my baby looked so pretty” while softly kissing your tear-stained cheeks

bf!ricky who helps you clean up and gives you a piggy-back ride to the car because he may have went a little to hard on you, especially with you bending on a mirror, standing

bf!ricky who helps you shower when you get home (it always becomes a round 2) and helps get you to bed, cuddling you to sleep while still saying how you’re the most perfect person for him, and how he loves you more than anyone

SEDATE ME ONGG😭😭

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tqmies · 11 months

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ZB1 + Jealous Sex

ZB1 after one of you is jealous!

note: legal members only (not including gunwook or yujin!) & as always, minors dni!

JIWOONG's eyebrows just furrow because, really? Did you seriously think any of these run-of-the-mill men at this party could make him feel insecure? They don't but they do manage to piss him off. Why were you so close to them? You were just being friendly? You're a liar.

You babble incoherently as he held the vibrator to your abused cunt, having climaxed more times than you could count before having it ripped away by his hands. All he did was crudely laughs at your expense. "What's wrong baby? Earlier you had no problems acting like a slut. I'm just treating you like one."

You knew ZHANG HAO was cute, everyone knew it. Doesn't mean you appreciate everyone flirting with him though.. And his seemingly oblivious act to it all has you seeing red. God, you had to teach him a lesson.

"Babe, s-slow down." He lets out, cock already spent, your eagerness to get him to cum again has him tearing up. His face red as he bites his bottom lip, letting out low whimpers. You continue bouncing on him though, fingers digging into his shoulders as you use them as an anchor. You scoff, trying not to let any moans slip out. "Think any of those girls out there could have you like this baby?"

HANBIN knows that it's not your fault, but it doesn't stop him from getting a little jealous! His friends had crashed your beach date, catching your body in its full glory in the cute bikini you donned. He swears one of them even popped a boner from it!

"You're mine," He growled, your leg thrown over his shoulder. He hadn't even managed to slip your bikini off, only pushing it to the side enough to enter his fat tip into you. Could you blame him? You just looked so good in it! "Only I get to touch you like this, right?"

MATTHEW had been begging you to join him at the gym for months and you finally gave in. Things were fine until you managed to catch a group of girls giggling at your boyfriend in a compression shirt. Leading to an argument that he found himself determined to make up for.

His tongue licked the stripe up your clit, placing light kisses on your thighs to tease you afterwards, before tongue fucking you. "Don't act silly my love, you know you're the only one I want. Those girl's can look all they want, but you're the one that get's me this way."

TAERAE felt the familiar green monster rear its ugly head into his life the minute he spotted you being asked out at the coffee shop he was here to meet you at. You immediately declined the other, but he still couldn't help but feel a little insecure. It was up to you to show him he had no reason to worry.

"Hmm," You mumble, jerking him off as you prepare to deepthroat. He whines, holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you press kisses to the flushed tip. "Prettiest cock in the world attached to my pretty boy. No where else I'd rather be then here taking your load down my throat." He can't even manage to stutter a response before you're gagging on his shaft.

You can't blame anyone who hits on RICKY, people flock to him like bee's to honey. But two can play at that game, and you played it quite well, but Ricky doesn't like sharing.

"Gonna fill you with so much cum that it leaks out," He has you folded into a mating press, your walls sucking him in as you jolt from how rough he was fucking you. He was determined to drill into you until your pussy was molded for only him. "Lets see you talk to the guys with it dripping down your legs."

He doesn't get jealous, or at least that's what GYUVIN tells himself. He likes that you get along with his friends! No he doesn't mind one of his friends offering you a jacket. Or saving you a seat by them! It's all perfectly fine.

"Please, please don't leave me. I'd cry every day and- haah - I promise, none of them can treat you like I can." He begs, too busy caught up in his own ministrations that he can't even notice you're fucked too dumb to properly respond. Your back arched as his balls hit your ass with every stroke as you try to keep yourself propped up. "I'm promise I'm good enough, I'll be the best boyfriend- shit - you could ever ask for."

#zb1 smut #zb1 #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone smut #zb1 x reader #zb1 x yn #ricky smut #taerae smut #matthew smut #jiwoong smut #hanbin smut #gyuvin smut #zhang hao smut

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seosracha · 7 months

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-~ ୨୧ DAZED & IN LOVE < shen ricky smau >

⸻ ricky is like an angel, you'd honestly look back twice to make sure you aren't dreaming when passing by him. so why can't he find a good partner?

IN WHICH! gyuvin can't look at his sad, and extremely single best-friend anymore, and luck is on his side when his silly and slightly insane girlfriend, Emiko, is looking for a date for her friend, Y/n.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ BOYS LIKE U! spin off!

GENRE ౨ৎ strangers to lovers, fluff, social media au + occasionally written parts

⸻ IDOL!RICKY x IDOL!FEM!READER

STATUS ౨ৎ on hold

TAGLIST ౨ৎ open!

ONE. ⸻ Mr. Fugly Bob

TWO. ⸻ Wonbin Extermination

THREE. ⸻ "Lee Jaewook Wife"

FOUR.⸻ wrong account

FIVE.⸻kdrama era + 0.3k

SIX. ⸻nonchalant lad

SEVEN.⸻boyfriend material monarch

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ more tba.

#kflixnet #zb1 smau #zerobaseone smau #ricky x reader #ricky smau #ricky #ricky fluff #ricky imagines #shen ricky #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone ricky #zerobaseone #zb1 scenarios #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1

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serejae · 3 months

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THEY SAY ONLY FOOLS FALL IN LOVE

zb1 (no yujin !) x reader

WHAT ! - zb1 being jellyyyyyy (jellypop)

WHEN ! - (warnings) mentions of kissing and various pet names

WHO ! - (a/n) firstttt reaction lets gooooo ^_^

#Spotify #serejae #zb1 x you #zb1 texts #zb1 fluff #zerobaseone reactions #zb1 reactions #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone #hanbin x reader #jiwoong x reader #zhanghao x reader #matthew x reader #taerae x reader #ricky x reader #gyuvin x reader #gunwook x reader

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faithst · 4 months

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no more kisses!

⊹˚.♡ syn jebi’s reactions to their s/o being shy after every kiss

⊹˚.♡ genre ot8 x gn!reader, fluff

masterlist | ask

성 hanbin

he adores it sm

he gets so giggly abt it, with the whisker smile and all

most likely will tease you

“i’ve kissed you so many times before and you still get bright red.”

did i mention that he gets sooo flirty

he gently pulls your chin to make you face him before scanning your flushed face, smirking at the mess he has made you

“you can handle one more kiss, right?”

김 jiwoong

finds it amusing

he enjoys seeing you all flustered like that because of him

he doesn’t say anything about it though.

but you can see in his facial expressions that he’s enjoying it

just so smiley all out

he has such a mischievous smirk and you can’t even look at him in the eyes anymore

“i think i need to kiss you one more time.”

장 hao

his honest reaction; are you okay?

like actually concerned on why you keep moving your face away from him after every kiss

misunderstands your reactions and thinks you don’t like his kisses

might get pouty

pokes you “hey.”

he’ll keep puckering up his lips, awaiting a kiss

“should i keep kissing you to get you used to them?”

석 matthew

he finds it so funny

but he’s also a bit confused??

every time you try to hide your blushing face from him, he’s like ‘why whyy?’

and then he tries to physically pull your face back (gently) to give you more kisses

“just one more!!”

and it keeps going back and forth like that; him trying to kiss your face and you trying to avoid them

might turn into a chase until you give up and let him smother you with kisses

김 taerae

he’s v much aware of how shy you become when he kisses you

so, he makes it a challenge for you

he’ll keep kissing you and giving you compliments in between until you get flustered

he says its to have you get used to it but wbk it’s all excuses to get to kiss you more without you running away from him

he lets you pick where you want him to kiss so win for you!

“you’re so cute.”

셴 ricky

it’s a guilty pleasure of his

won’t ever admit that he loves seeing your reactions and how easily you fold

he acts so oblivious too

“hey, love.” he says as he places a sudden kiss to your lips as you were telling him smth just to see how’d you react

“oh, u-um anyways.. as i was saying..” you immediately start stuttering and ricky tries to hide his smile

you notice him tho “you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“can’t help it when you look good in red.”

김 gyuvin

he tries to think of many other ways to trick you into getting to kiss you

he loves teasing you about it sm

you’ll never hear the end of it

“look over there!” he points behind you

as soon as you turn back to face him, you’re met with his lips connecting with yours

has such a cheeky smile right after with absolutely no shame

somehow, he gets away with this a lot

“now, that wasn’t so bad, wasn’t it?”

박 gunwook

another case of happy smiley boy

as much as you get shy, he does too

and oh boy, is it visible in his ears and cheeks

“i liked that, did you?”

and you two are staring into eachother’s starry eyes, feeling the heat rushing to your faces

he has to take a moment to fan himself away from it

“is it okay if i kiss you again?”

faithst 24’

⊹˚.♡ taglist @haesunflower @big-uwu-stan @gnwookie @yjhcloud @kpoprhia @blaycke @ashyakii @watamotee33 @hazyskyline @doobinnies @alwayswook @chanlixed @kimiczi @taeraemisu

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lilgoblinbitch · 4 months

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Electricity𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 (part 2 of Gossip)

rick grimes x fem!reader

part one here

a/n: well holy shit, this took way longer than i had originally expected it to take. life has been crazy for me. thank you all for being patient with me!

summary: days pass, and rick is still mysterious. until finally, you discover his true feelings toward you in the best way possible.

content: smut PinV, unprotected sex, lots of kissing, oral (fem receiving), fingering, rough!rick, friends to lovers, heavy teasing, multiple orgasms, angst, some fluff at the end

18+ ONLY, mdni.

wc: 4.4k

Your heart was almost palpitating. You were left stranded with your thoughts spinning around in your head while Rick just nonchalantly strode off back to his bedroom.

The whole night you could barely get any sleep; your mind apparently had other plans – mainly entailing you ruminating over what had happened that night. It boggled you how Rick effortlessly admitted to being aware of your little crush on him, completely catching you off guard and leaving you overwhelmed and flustered. You were forced to forget about the whole situation, or at the very best push it to the back of your mind for…later – whenever “later” was.

The next few days were nothing out of the ordinary. Rick was barely at the house, busy adjusting to his new constable responsibilities and becoming familiar with the rest of the Alexandrians. You knew he had a duty to uphold, so it was reasonable for him to avoid your presence for the time being, but your mind was still fogged up from what he had said to you that night. It was eating you up for the next few slumbers; you tossed and turned until eventually the thoughts wore your brain out and let you get a few hours of shut eye. Regardless, you tried to forget it altogether throughout the daytime and focus on becoming more comfortable living in a brand new community, and a brand new house that was bigger than any house you’d ever lived in.

Carl didn’t stay inside for long throughout the day. You’d always find his room empty and his comic books gone. That meant he was most likely reading them outside and sharing them with his new friends. But you were happy for him; the kid deserved to make friends after everything he’d been through. So you were left with baby Judy most days, but that didn’t bother you. Before the world turned you had two younger siblings, and as a teen you were always stuck babysitting them when your parents went out. It was second nature to you now.

Today you decided to get out of the house and find something to do. You hated staying indoors — you were always an outdoorsy person and got antsy pretty quickly without a daily dose of sunshine. You stepped outside with Judith on your hip, taking in the warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze that swayed the various trees in perfect rhythm. Without a doubt, the weather was inviting. So, naturally, you choose to embrace it and take a stroll down the street with little Judy in your arms.

As you made your way down the block with Judith cooing and spinning her curious head around to view her surroundings, you reached the end of it and turned the corner. You recalled how Vivian and Shannon lived in one of the houses on the block you were walking down. A quick drop-in to see what they were up to couldn’t hurt. Besides, Shannon was a kindergarten teacher before the fall and therefore loved watching over Judith with you.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You spun around and noticed a tall brunette man walking toward you. It was Spencer Monroe, son of Deanna Monroe — the community’s leader. And, according to Vivian and Shannon, he had a thing for you. Not that you had anything against it, but it did make you feel a bit uneasy knowing he was interested in you and would probably try to make a move on you, now that he was standing in front of you. Regardless, you played it cool; he was Deanna’s son after all, so it could be beneficial to you if you gave your absolute best impression.

“Oh, hey, Spencer!” You smiled sweetly at the tall man, who reeked of a musty cologne. It wasn’t awfully foul, just a bit too loud for your taste. A slight turn off.

He grinned down at you and Judith, scratching the back of his neck anxiously while shuffling closer to you. He was about two feet away from you — if he were any closer you’d definitely be backing up.

“I was actually just about to come over to you and ask if you wanted to have dinner tonight?” He squinted his eyes at you, trying to read your face. Your cheeks were tickled pink and your heart was doing laps in your chest. It was as if Judith could sense your unease, and on cue she started fussing.

“I–” You paused, gathering your thoughts together while calming the distressed child. Shit. What should you say?

“Yeah! I would love to, Spencer.” Way to go.

On the walk home Judith started to calm down, while you did the exact opposite. Your thoughts were racing again, and you cursed yourself for obliging to Spencer’s request. What the hell were you getting yourself into? You didn’t even like Spencer; yeah, he was attractive, but he just wasn’t…well, he wasn’t Rick Grimes. Still, there remained a sense of determination – getting to know Spencer could be a good thing. Besides, you didn’t really have any plans for that evening anyway.

Once you finally reached the comfort of your house, you put Judy in her room for a nap and started rummaging through your closet for something to wear. You doubted you would find anything spectacular, considering you didn’t exactly have a boutique in this community. A simple floral dress would do.

“Geez… when was the last time I wore any type of heeled shoe?” You humored yourself, attempting to walk around in the sleek open-toed heels you found in your closet. You recalled how Shannon lended you a few pairs from her own closet, stating that she was overwhelmed by how many abandoned pairs of high heels were left in the world, and apparently her closet housed dozens of them. Lucky for you.

Once you were confident enough you wouldn’t lose your balance in the shoes, you took a long look in the full-length mirror and admired how, for a lack of a better word – decent you looked. Excluding Deanna’s welcoming party, you hadn’t worn a dress since before. It would definitely take some getting used to.

Before you were able to get one last gander at yourself in the mirror, something – or rather someone – interrupted you.

“Got plans for tonight?”

You jumped in your skin and spun around. You were met with a wide set of eyes scaling your body, taking in the elegant view before him. You were stunning, and he couldn’t deny it even if he wished to.

“Jesus, Rick! You really have a way of scaring the shit out of me.” You smiled nervously while flattening out your dress. He watched you like a hawk, and of course he was aware of how antsy you were. That was like his superpower. You cleared your throat, ensuring your voice didn’t crack. “Yeah, I’m uh… going on a date…”

His sharp blue eyes made harsh contact with yours, locking you into place. You couldn’t tell if he was angry, sad, disappointed, or all three. Or maybe he didn’t care. Then again, Rick’s face was almost impossible for you to decipher.

He remained leaning against the doorframe, eyes never leaving you. You were not enjoying the deathly silence. Until he finally spoke again.

“A date?”

“With Spencer… Deanna’s son.” Your eyes regrettably met his once more. “But it’s nothing serious, really—”

“Thought you didn’t like him… had someone else on your mind, right?” His tone was biting, almost taunting. You frowned, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

“Maybe I lied, Rick. Maybe I think he’s cute now. Besides, I already said it wasn’t anything serious.” You grabbed a jacket out of the closet, slung it over your back and slipped it on. “And I don’t know why you care so much, or why you had to eavesdrop on me, but I’ve got to go now.”

And with that you whisked past the brooding man and out the room, exiting the house. Rick knew you were suppressing your genuine feelings; it was almost too conspicuous. He just knew you too well. Knowing someone for a few years in a post-apocalyptic world was like knowing someone in the previous world for ten or even twenty years; your group grew close very quickly. Inevitably, in fact – death and grieving, fighting and surviving; it all brought you closer together. You were part of a strong network of survivors, ones who shared immense trust in one another.

But when it came to Rick, it was hard to truly understand his emotions. He felt the obligation to suppress his feelings, as well – as if he wasn’t sure when it’d be the right time to make a move with you. Now and again, you’ve encountered a handful of times where he was staring at you – and perhaps your behind – for longer than any other person would deem normal. But he never displayed an interest in getting with you. That was ultimately a grey area to you for a while, and even still now.

⋆｡° ✮

One thing about Spencer was that he could cook. And you were a sucker for men cooking; you found it to be attractive. So he cooked for you, he was tall, and he was cute… what, then, was missing from the list? What was hindering you from making yourself available and willing to this man?

“I have someone else on my mind.”

You reflected back to the night you said that. From then on, those words were ingrained in the back of your brain. They reminded you each day that your feelings for Rick were perpetual and infecting your thoughts like a plague.

For now, you were preoccupied with how satisfying your meal was. As was the wine. It was going to your head a bit — an all too familiar feeling. You just hoped Rick wasn’t awake by the time you returned home.

“Thank you, Spencer. The dinner was really nice,” You simpered while graciously stepping out the door.

Spencer held the door open, giving you a warm smile as he watched you turn to face him whilst under the gleaming porch light. “You sure you don’t need me to walk you home? It’s really no issue for me at all.”

The look on his face told you he sure as hell wasn’t ready for you to leave yet — in fact, with the way he had planned the night, he most likely expected to not only wine and dine, but get lucky tonight. However you had your boundaries and your relationship standards, regardless of the fact that there were very slim pickings when it came to finding the ‘right person’; practically ninety percent of the human population was wiped out.

“I promise. I just live around the corner.”

At last you arrived home, immediately kicking your heels off as you shut the door behind you. You made a mental note to never wear heels again – blisters were already appearing on your feet. You winced as you massaged the reddened tender skin, sighing in relief as your aching feet finally got to breathe and stretch.

“It’s late.”

You nearly had a heart attack as you stood up and spotted Rick a few feet away from you by the couch. “Would you quit startling me all the time? And yeah, no dip, I was on a date with Spencer. I already told you that, Rick.”

You steadied your heart rate and made your way over to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. All while you did so, you could feel Rick’s eyes burning into you. Every inch of your body. You shivered when the chill of the fridge air engulfed you – however, you were sure the shiver was truly from the effect that Rick had on you.

“I know that. But you’re back late; it’s dark outside,” He paced toward you, his demeanor now more watchful and severe. “There’s a curfew, Y/N.” He was much closer to you now, to the point where you smelled his classic rainy forest scent encompassing your nostrils.

“Well, I didn’t know. I was asked to have dinner with someone, and it happened to be really good, actually – thank you for asking,” You gibed while filling your cup up with crisp, filtered water. “But, I am sorry. Won’t happen again, Officer!” You quipped, taking a sip from the cup. The water was a refreshing blanket against your tongue and throat, which you thoroughly savored.

Rick didn’t look very pleased with your response, to say the least. His posture was stiff, and his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head. “You think this is a joke, I get it. It sounds like another pipe dream. But if we’re going to be living and staying here, you’re gonna need to follow the rules.”

You set the glass down and ran a hand through your slightly knotted hair, giving your scalp a terse massage with your fingers. Your eyes fixated on Rick, who was towering over you like a bodyguard would. If it were any other man you would feel uncomfortable in this position – backed into the kitchen counter and being scolded by a harrowing, authoritative man. In this case, you were too fond of the man in front of you to feel uncomfortable or threatened in any way.

“I get it – I know. I want this place to work, just as much as you do,” you added, displaying a poker face to confirm your sincerity. You ran a hand up and down Rick’s forearm, over his veins that protruded as he leaned against the counter in front of you. “I want this to work for the kids. They deserve it.”

Rick didn’t flinch. His eyes bored deep into your own – pupils dilated, taking in your presence. Instinctively, almost like his body was on autopilot – Rick’s hand caressed the side of your face, thumb tracing circles along your cheek. Goosebumps ran down your arms and made the hairs on the back of your neck perk up like a porcupine. Just one touch from this man had you melting like butter.

Time slowed down drastically. Your eyes locked into his, and vice versa. Only inches of space separated you two; you felt the familiar pounding in your chest as Rick drew himself closer and closer. Those romance movies you used to watch were accurate, in the sense that what you were feeling in this moment was butterflies, fireworks – so electrifying. You could feel the sparks race through your body.

Rick felt it, too. He’d been denying it for too long – what he was feeling deep down, within his subconscious, was something authentic. Something that he could no longer evade from his mind.

“You’re on my mind, too.”

It was like an echo coursing through your soul. Those five words left you stunned, mouth slightly agape, but Rick took that chance to collapse his lips onto yours. The longing you had for this man was no longer unrequited – you finally got your answer. He wanted you, and you wanted him.

His lips were velvety and you took your time giving extra love to them. Soon enough the kiss got heated; you were lifted up onto the counter where Rick wasn’t shy to roam his hands along your thighs, earning a few feeble whimpers from you.

His lips then attacked your shoulder and collarbone with a series of hickeys, earning more vocal whines from you now. “Rick…”

He quickly hushed you, shoving two fingers into your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, baby,” he cooed, admiring how your tongue caressed his fingers so magnetically. Your eyes pleaded with him – begged for more. “They won’t see those—” he eyed the now reddened area of skin, “Jus’ don’t dress like a slut and you’ll be alright.”

In your mind you wanted to blurt out a well-deserved retort, however, in all honesty, Rick meant it in the best way.

“Too special to be showing off this figure to all them boys, sweetheart.” He bent down to worship your thighs, spreading them open for him to kiss and prod at.

He was right, though – Spencer wouldn’t be able to make you feel this way. You knew it deep down.

You bit your lip harshly, suppressing any vocal responses for the time being – didn’t need the kids to hear any of this. But Rick was just too good at whatever it was he was doing to you.

“Need you, Rick,” You whined – which ultimately translated to a strained moan.

“Shh, Shh. I know you do,” he cooed, standing back up. He let his fingers trace over your closed cunt, the dampness leaking through the thin fabric and leaving a sticky coat on his digits. Your hands explored his curls, tugging at them the more he teased you. “Gotta be patient, though. Gonna take my sweet time with you.”

You were becoming antsy, bucking your hips into his palm, searching for friction. He slid his other hand up your dress, the contact of his hand greeting your hardened nipple caused you to shiver. His ocean eyes observed you – adoring the glow of your skin under the faded moonlight seeping into the room.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?”

“Stop talking and just take me upstairs, officer,” You huffed out, earning a small smirk from Rick. You wrapped your arms and legs tight around him, moaning quietly when your heat unexpectedly made contact with his own clothed member, which was already rock hard. You left a trail of kisses along his neck as he carried you up the stairs, groping your ass in one hand.

Rick wasted absolutely no time in slipping your dress up and over your shoulders, practically ripping the fabric as he did so. You attempted to cover up your breasts, but he pried away your hands.

“Nuh uh, let me see,” he protested, taking the round flesh in his hands and kneading them. You blushed, clearly shy; but Rick reminded you of your beauty nonetheless through his actions.

One thing Rick always loved about you was your patience and loyalty; you were coined as the group’s dependable and candid guardian, because anytime anyone needed a word of advice or a listening ear you’d never fail to do so.

Currently, Rick admired how patient you were while he went to work on your sweet pussy – lapping up all your sweet juices after tearing off your drenched panties.

“Mmph, Rick!” You wailed, eyes flickering shut as a wave of euphoria washed over your body.

He was eating you out like you were the Last Supper, and he was a starved peasant. Your cunt was his god and he was there to serve it.

You wrapped your legs around his shoulders, toes curling in delight as his digits switched positions with his tongue, pumping in and out of your soaking heat. He pressed his tongue flat on your pulsing clit, heightening your pleasure to the max.

“F-fuck me!” You cried out, hips jutting forward to meet the pace of his fingers and tongue. Pressure was building deep in your core.

Without notice Rick paused his movements, leaning forward to connect his panting mouth with your own, stifling your moans. His kisses were sloppy, as were yours. He continued his pace, eventually focusing on your clit which throbbed under the determined motion of his thumb. Then he slipped three digits back into your drenched cunt, accelerating the pace he was going at before. He curled the fingers upward, pushing against that sacred spot in your hole that made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Gonna cum on my fingers, hm? Gonna be a good whore f’me?” He taunted. Rick’s eyes were dark and blown out with lust. You were shuddering under him, on the brink of orgasm.

“Ohh! Fuuuck!” You let the band in your gut snap, feeling the pressure inside release and your dripping arousal coating Rick’s fingers.

He aided you in riding out the rest of your earth-shattering climax, pumping his digits a few more times before sliding them out. The sight before him had Rick holding himself back with every ounce of his inner strength – your cunt was a sopping, wet mess.

Rick sat you up properly, hovering over you and holding his fingers above your lips. “Taste, baby.”

You gingerly sucked on his fingers, the juices spilling onto your tongue; an almost nectary taste. He eyed the way you drank up every last drop, licking his lips in anticipation. After pulling his fingers from your lips he kissed you again, this time much softer. You both moaned into the kiss, and eventually when Rick broke away you took a moment to catch your breath. He licked his lips, admiring how fucked out you looked just from foreplay.

“Can’t wait to feel you,” He rasped. Your legs were still weak and wobbly from your latest orgasm, yet, your body ached for more. For him.

Soft whimpers left your pouted lips when you felt his rough hands grasp your thighs, pushing them upward until they were folded up against your tummy. Rick hastily threw off his white t-shirt and let out a low growl as he freed his aching cock from his boxers. You bit your lip – it was girthy, and you knew it was going to do some damage tonight. That only made you wetter.

He stroked himself before lining himself up with your entrance. He slid his dick against your slick folds, huffing and groaning from the contact. You whined, unable to handle the teasing he was putting you through.

“Rick, please—”

“Said I was gonna take my time,” He retorted in a rigid tone, and you gulped in response. “So, be patient.”

The only thing you could do at that moment was bite your lip and prepare for your cunt to be stuffed by this man’s cock. It was an odd thing to consider – being best friends with someone and flipping that platonic relationship into something more explicit, just through the simple act of gossipping. At the end of the day, you were getting fucked by a man who was not only your closest friend, but the leader of your community. It almost felt taboo, and yet you just couldn’t care less at that moment.

Seconds felt like minutes, the teasing was just too much. Rick kept playing with your sensitive bundle of nerves, only slightly pushing in the tip. Your core was on fire, pleading desperately for him to tame it.

The sight before him was almost pitiful. You were caught in a fit of heavy breathing and whimpering, legs wrapping tight around his waist as you rocked your hips closer to him, cunt still glistening with arousal that seeped onto his pink tip.

So, Rick pitied you. And you got your wish; his cock sunk into you, all the way until he bottomed out. You scrunched up your face in slight discomfort – he was bigger than you had anticipated. Nevertheless, you sighed in satisfaction, clawing at his back and shoulders as he adjusted inside you.

“Fuck, Y/n,” He growled, nibbling on your ear. His warm breath caused your body to shiver. “You just– can’t be patient no more, can ya?”

Your mind was clouded – all thoughts halted as your body was being governed by Rick. He rocked into you with ease, back and forth, in and out. His cock fit into your hole like a glove. Your legs caged him in; it was as if you were afraid he’d slip away and tease you again. It just felt so good you didn’t want it to stop.

Your lewd cries were soon muffled by Rick’s hand. “Shhh, gotta be quieter, sweetheart.” But it was nearly impossible to stay quiet when he was doing you so well.

With his hand then shifting down to lightly grasp your neck, Rick slammed into you, pulling all the way out only to repeat the motion again. You bit your lip hard, drawing blood. The pain didn’t exist in any way, since your body was so engrossed in the electric sensation that was being fed to you by Rick’s cock.

The room was polluted with salacious grunts and muffled moans.

Rick tossed you over onto your hands and knees, then without warning plunged back into you. His hands gripped both your asscheeks with a force that you were sure would leave lovely red marks. Each smack of his hips against your ass manifested obscene vocals from your throat. Involuntarily your body made contact with the mattress, head lulling to the side and drool dripping from the corner of your lips as Rick picked up his pace.

“You wanted this, knew it all along.” He cooed while fucking you into the plush mattress. “I knew it – before you even mentioned it.”

“How?” You thought. But little did you know, the clues you had sent Rick’s way ever since you had first laid eyes on him – he caught onto them. He was a police officer, after all – he was seasoned when it came to situational awareness. You weren’t slick; he noticed every little glance, every smile, every physical gesture you made with him. You fell for him.

And if he wasn’t already falling for you, then he certainly was now.

“Thaaaas right, just like that. Fuck, so tight f’me,” He sang while your ass slapped against his hips, harmonizing with the sound of his cock pounding into your slick hole.

Your fingers dug into the sheets for stability, preparing yourself for the building knot in your core again. “I’m—gonna cum!” You lifted your head weakly to warn Rick, who was too busy drowning in the warmth of your tight cunt.

Rick padded your clit with his fingers, while his other hand pushed down onto the back of your neck, subsequently pushing your body back into the mattress. His mischievous eyes caught sight of your twitching, shaking body, and he sighed heavily from the feeling of your cunt pulsing around him.

“Go ‘head, cum f’me.”

With his permission you yelped out as yet another orgasm rushed through you. You barely acknowledged the twitching of his cock inside your dripping hole before he swiftly pulled out and unloaded onto your back.

A few ticks went by, heavy panting escaping the two of you, and immobility in full effect over you. Your thoughts came back to you as Rick cleaned you up; the fact that you went on a date with a man then went home to be dicked down by another was quite humorous to you.

“Geez, maybe I should go on more dates just for you to fuck me like that again,” You teased Rick, sitting up.

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair out of your face and kissing you gently. You blushed and smiled coyly.

“Nah. You’re mine now, sweetheart. No one else’s.”

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