#ricky shen smut

[seokmattchuus]

When Ricky said that you could come watch them film for the new music video, he didn't expect you to dress up for him. Thank god the dressing rooms had locks.

But too bad they were so close to the filming area.

[itstheoneshot]

Two For One

Summary: Why have just one when you could have both?

Word Count: 8.6k

Pairing: Ricky x Gyuvin x Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Marking/Biting Kink, Size Kink, Possessiveness, Ownership Kink, Daddy Kink, Threesome

Bouncing on your heels, you wait at the front door of your friends’ apartment after knocking only a minute ago. You have arrived later than you had planned, and momentarily feel anxious that he may have forgotten your pre-organised visit. You raise your hand to knock again, but just before your fist hits the hardwood, the door swings open and you are greeted with the most breathtaking smile.

“Hi, doll!” Gyuvin smiles, that nickname drives you mental, “I wasn’t expecting you!”

Kim Gyuvin. You are friends with him too, but it wasn’t him that you were planning to visit, but his roommate.

“Gyuvin-oppa,” You beam back at him, “I’d come to see Ricky-gē, is he here?”

Gyuvin rolls his eyes at you, playfully laughing it off with a jokingly toned “What, are you not happy to see me?”

You stare at him with your cutest pout and scowl combination, knowing how easily he folds when you put it on, and that he does, as expected.

“Ricky had a last minute schedule,” Gyuvin explains, as he steps back to allow you space to enter the apartment, “He will be back in a couple of hours if you wanted to wait? I was just about to put on a movie.”

You simply smile with a nod, bowing your head slightly as you follow him inside, “That sounds nice,” You hum, “What were you going to watch?”

Gyuvin grins at you cheekily, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his head tilted slightly to the left, and you suddenly fear what you have set yourself up for. It better not be some rom-com, Gyuvin knows that you hate those, or at least, hate watching them with other people because you don’t want them to see you cry. 

“Just some found-footage horror I saw while scrolling Netflix,” He replies, “Are you in?”

It has been too long since you watched a horror, they don’t particularly shake you, in the sense of thinking about them afterward, losing sleep etc, but you are easy to jump, quick to frighten, and you already anticipate how much Gyuvin is going to tease you for it the entire film.

“Of course,” You reply defiantly, “I’m not afraid.”

Gyuvin laughs as he closes the door behind you, taking his arm over your shoulders, he leads you down the hall towards his bedroom. It is not the first time that you two have watched something together, just the two of you, having been friends for a while now, it isn’t weird or uncomfortable to either of you, to get comfortable in his bed, sitting up with your backs against the wall, waiting for the opening credits to begin.

Barely ten minutes in, and a sudden jump has you screaming in fright, and sends Gyuvin into a fit of laughter, as you instinctively curl into him to protect yourself from the demon in the movie. Although he laughs, Gyuvin holds you close to him, his warmth reminding you that there is nothing to be afraid of. You breathe him in for a moment before lifting your head to watch the movie again, but this time you don’t move away from your position in his arms.

Your relationship with Gyuvin is strange, but not dissimilar to yours with Ricky too. Nothing has ever happened between you, but there has always been an inkling of desire, an unspoken, un… acted upon, attraction. You are reminded of this as you cuddle up close to him, but you don’t say a word, pretending to ignore the way that your heartbeat speeds up as your head rests against his shoulder.

“Are you sure you aren’t too scared?” He teases you, ten minutes later when you scream again, this time burying your face in his chest, “Do you want me to turn it off?”

You shake your head, but don’t look up at first, not until he lifts your chin with two fingers, forcing you to make eye contact. No longer afraid, the second that you look into his eyes, but your heart races for a whole other reason.

Before you have a chance to speak, he kisses you, and you kiss him back as if it were second nature. Desire burns in you, as his stupidly large and masculine hand cups your cheek, the other holds you by the waist, fingertips digging in hard enough to make you gasp, giving him the freedom to taste you, his tongue practically half-way down your throat. It is messy, hot, and desperate, your fingers tangling in his hair as you try to get even closer.

He guides you onto your back, and you are suddenly reminded of just how much bigger he is than you, as he fits between your legs, and you cross your ankles behind his knees.

“Babydoll,” He murmurs breathlessly, leaning back just to look at you, “You’re just so little.”

You realise from his tone, and from the darkness in his eyes that you have never seen before, that he likes that, a lot, and so do you. You feel powerless in a way that sends heat surging to your core, a pathetic whimper escaping you instead of words, as he leans down to kiss you again. This time is even hotter, the hand on your cheek now moves to your throat, and the one on your waist is now under your shirt. The skirt you are wearing has ridden up, your legs fully exposed, wrapped tightly around him as he grinds into you.

He pulls you up by your neck, to the point that you can’t breathe, but he lets go so that he can pull your shirt up over your head, and allows you to take his top off too. You don’t have time to think about whether you have seen him shirtless before, but if you had, it was never this close up, and holy fuck, he is unreal. His proportions are insane, so tall, lean and lanky, your hands are all over him as he pushes you down again and he leans in to kiss your neck.

You throw your head back into the pillow, arching your spine with a pitiful moan as he bites down, right up close to your ear. Your nails drag down his back as he makes quick work to mark you, leaving bright red indents all the way down to your shoulder, and slowly across your chest. He slips a hand under you, unfastening your bra with nimble fingers, pulling the item off you so that he can then focus attention on your breasts. His hands dwarf every part of you, and it is driving you both crazy.

“Oppa~” You cry as he sucks a mark onto your breast, “Fuck… more, I want more.”

Gyuvin chuckles before sinking his teeth into you again, “Patience, doll… you’ll get your fix, I promise.”

You whine, whimper and moan as he makes a mess of you, until he too can’t take anymore, the bulge in his pants too much to handle, and from the outline alone, you wonder if it will be too much for you, too.

Gyuvin catches you staring, and he moves up so that you can feel his hardness against your inner thigh, it is enough to get you dripping.

“You’re so big, oppa,” You pout at him, eyes wide and innocent, “Are you going to break me?”

He bites his lip, momentarily trying to hold himself back, though the temptation is too strong, you have him so close without doing anything more than putting on a little aegyo. Gyuvin is almost embarrassed about how badly you have him worked up, but when he reaches down to remove your skirt and panties and sees just how fucking wet you are, that feeling completely disappears.

“I fear I might, babydoll,” He smirks as he leans back to pull his pants down, his underwear coming off with it, “I will at least try to be gentle.”

Your jaw drops when you see what you are up against. His cock is bigger than any you have seen, thick and veiny, the length damn near comparative to your forearm, and your mouth salivates at the sight. It is going to hurt, of that you are most certain, but you want it, more than anything right now.

Both fully naked, the make out session grows hotter, with Gyuvin’s hand between your legs, toying at your entrance, the tips of his fingers slicked and he hasn’t even entered you yet.

“Already so wet?” He teases, “You make this so easy for me.”

You haven’t processed the implication of his words before he enters you with both his middle and index fingers. Long, slender, and he curves them at just the right angle to have you cry out. You grip tightly to him, whining into the kiss as you get used to the initial stretch, trying to prepare you for what is to come when his cock will be inside of you instead.

“You just turn me on so much, oppa,” You mumble when he pulls back to stare at you, scissoring his fingers to get you wetter, “Covered in your marks, so little under you, do you like it too?”

Your words awaken something in him, an animalistic demeanour that has him pull his fingers out of you, only to thrust straight in with his cock instead, as deep as he can fit, hitting your cervix and causing you to scream.

He holds still for a moment, your breathing is staggered as he leans back again to take in the sight of you, tears in your eyes as you beg your body to adjust to the sheer size of him. You have definitely never taken a cock this big, and when you glance down you see that there is still so much of him that hasn’t even entered you.

“Breathe for me, little one,” He soothes you, gently caressing your lower stomach, your hips, and down to your thighs, “Relax, it’s okay.”

You nod, gulping before you try to steady your breathing, assuring yourself that it feels good to be filled like this, although you can’t really think straight. He pulls out slowly, before thrusting into you again, and this time you see stars as he fills you up once more, his gaze never leaving yours, inspecting you, making sure that you are okay, and that you know he is holding back.

“Harder, oppa,” You whine, impatient and needy despite the burning sting, “You don’t have to be so gentle.”

He moans low in his chest as he finds a steady rhythm, one hand on your shoulder to hold you still as each thrust threatens to push you further up the bed, his other hand is balled in a fist in your hair at the base of your scalp. He leans down to kiss you again, biting at your bottom lip as your moans escalate in volume and intensity.

Gyuvin kisses along your jawline, and tugs your hair to tilt your head back to give him access to your neck. He begins marking you again, feverishly claiming and defiling you, as he continues to fuck you with a desire that is almost indescribable. 

You are malleable for him, so easy to manoeuvre, he rolls over onto his back, and brings you up on top of him. He doesn’t pull out for a second, keeping you full, and him deep, as he thrusts in from under you, and you press your forehead to his as pleasure washes over you with your first orgasm, coming swiftly and without warning, you shake in his arms, cunt clenching as his moans get louder to match.

“God, just look at you,” He groans, guiding you to sit up, knees either side of his hips, “Such a good little fuck toy, so much fun to play with.”

He moves his hands to your hips to keep you stable, and finds he can reach around completely to touch his fingertips together, his hands splayed across you only feeding into his kink further. He helps you bounce on his cock, your breath catching in your throat with strangled moans each time that you take him in, and Gyuvin stares intently at the inches of his cock that don’t fit even when you can’t go down anymore.

“Feels so good,” You stutter, “You’re so strong, oppa, love it when you fuck me like this, do you like it too?”

You rest your hands on his shoulders, leaning forward a bit so that you can ride him better. This new angle has your legs shaking almost instantly, orgasm nearing much faster than you had expected. Your eyes well with tears as you try to hold it back, wanting to wait until Gyuvin is ready this time, wanting to cum when he does.

“I love it, babydoll,” He replies, “I’m close, are you going to cum again for me, too?”

Nodding furiously, your body begins to seize, answering for you without words. Your orgasm tears through you with twice the intensity of the last, as Gyuvin fucks you harder through it, though his rhythm falters as his cock twitches, his own release following just moments after yours. He fills you with his seed, the warm sensation noticeable as the last few thrusts have him leaking out of you, too full to take in anymore. 

As he slows down, you collapse forward so that your head rests on his chest up by his collarbone. Your breathing is heavy and laboured, your head spinning as you try to calm down after the most intense sex you have had since you can remember. Gyuvin kisses your forehead, carding his fingers through your messy hair as he too tries to catch his breath, though he is not quite ready to pull out just yet.

“Holy shit,” He breathes, “That was incredible.”

You look up at him, eyes glassy, glazed over with the remnants of the orgasm euphoria, “So fucking good.”

Gyuvin gently guides you off him, chuckling as you whimper at the loss, suddenly feeling barren and empty without his giant cock plugging you up. You feel his cum dripping from you, but couldn’t care less about making a mess of his bed, that is the least of your worries.

“I need to shower,” He sighs, “I have to leave… like really soon, for my own schedule.”

You are reminded in that moment, of why you were there in the first place. To see Ricky, who is currently out, but surely will return soon, and you are thankful that he didn’t come home any earlier. 

Gyuvin kisses you again before he gets up, and you roll over onto your back, splayed out on the bed as you listen to the water running in the shower in the next room. You wait a few minutes before getting up too, and you gather your clothes before heading to the main bathroom down the hall. You feel his cum dripping down your legs, and it makes you whimper, speeding your steps up to make it to the bathroom without leaving a mess behind.

You clean yourself to the best of your ability, but your hair is still a mess, at least to your usual standard, and the hickeys on your neck are still visible despite every attempt to cover them. You leave the bathroom just as Gyuvin walks out into the hall, striding up to you in only a few steps, with those crazy-long legs of his. He wraps his arms over your shoulders and pulls you close to him, kissing you on the forehead once before letting you go.

“That was fun,” He chuckles, “I’ve gotta go, but I might still see you when I get back?”

You giggle at the implication, unsurprised that he is insatiable, “I’ll see you then.”

You walk with Gyuvin to the door to see him off, before retreating to the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. It won’t be long now until Ricky is back, and you start to feel a little nervous. You aren’t sure that you want him to know that you just had sex with Gyuvin, but you can’t quite pinpoint just one reason as to why that is.

——————

Leaning back against the kitchen counter for some time, you hear the front door open, and giggle to yourself as you picture the two men passing each other on the road as one leaves and the other returns.

“Gēgē!” You call out, your voice whiny and cute just for him as you leave the kitchen and head out to the hallway, “I missed you!”

Ricky rolls his eyes, but quickly joins you, picking you up off the floor and spinning you around before placing you back down onto your feet. You gaze up at him, admiring his features, happy to be with him again. It’s not like you haven’t spoken, but a few weeks have passed since you saw him in the flesh, and you are usually inseparable best friends, so this is nice.

“I missed you, xiaomei,” He replies, his voice deep and sultry, hoarse from what you assume must have been a singing schedule, “Come around more often, okay? Don’t make me wait so long.”

“I’m sorry,” You pout at him as he tucks your hair behind your ear, “Work has been crazy, our schedules always clash.”

Ricky’s gaze narrows in, and you instantly realise what he is seeing. Red marks litter your neck, and you quickly try to readjust your hair to hide it.

“What do you want to do?” You ask in an attempt to distract him, “You’re surely tired, right?”

“A little,” He replies, as he links his arm with yours, “Should we go back to watching that weird anime we started last time you were here?”

You walk together to his bedroom, with you leaning into him a little for support, emotional more than physical, though it is a little hard to walk. Ricky puts the pillows up against the wall and gestures to you to join him while he turns the TV on and scrolls through a couple of menu screens before finding the show that you had begun to watch a little while back. 

Tucked under his arm, you make yourself comfortable as the opening credits roll. You rest your hand on his chest as he absentmindedly plays with your hair. It’s nice like this, but you find your thoughts drifting to where you were only an hour or so ago. Ricky’s hands, even bigger than Gyuvin’s, are making you feel a way that you have not felt for him before, but you try to keep your cool, you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, nothing has ever happened between you, and you don’t know whether he would even want to anyway.

You glance up at him to see that he is already staring at you, and that feeling in the pit of your stomach stirs as a result of how piercing his gaze is.

“Everything okay, gē?” You ask him, “You’re not watching?”

Ricky takes a moment to respond, and you become hyper aware of your neck, the fact that he has brushed your hair off it, leaving the skin, and all the marks you so recently obtained, exposed.

“What did you do with Gyuvin?” He asks, his tone is neutral, but you know him well enough to understand the meaning, “You were here a while with him, correct?”

You begin to fluster, you are an awful liar, and you don’t want to lie to your best friend. You also worry about judgement, you don’t want him to think badly of you for what you consensually did.

“I… we… um,” You stutter, confidence falling as you know there is no way out of this, “We… watched a movie.”

You don’t convince him, that is obvious with the way that his fingers trail down your cheek and to your neck, fingertips grazing over the hickey closest to your ear, and then further down. Your skin raises in tiny goosebumps, and you feel your cheeks burning red, flushed and embarrassed to be caught out this way.

“He fucked you, didn’t he?” Ricky presses for an answer, “Don’t lie to me.”

This should be the time for you to stand up for yourself, because you can do what you want, or who you want, but the way that Ricky continues to stare has you backing down so damn easy.

“I mean…” You start, but falter again, “We did, but…”

Ricky draws in a breath sharply, his hand stopping at your shoulder, grip slowly closing to keep you there, although you had not tried to escape, nor were you really planning to. You watch as he processes the concept of you and his roommate, his other best friend, having sex, and you fear for the worst.

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” He replies, “But you should know better.”

His answer confuses you, and it is written all over your face, so you reply, “Know better about what?”

Ricky smirks just slightly, his eyes darkening before he opens his mouth, “You’re mine, kitten, and I don’t want to share.”

Your jaw drops, unsure if you heard him right, and so very stuck on the name that he called you. Kitten. The way that it makes you feel has your eyes glazing over, way ahead of yourself without even being certain that Ricky is insinuating what you hope for.

“Am I?” You ask innocently, sure that this will give you the answer you are searching for, “I didn’t know, you haven’t made me yours yet, have you?”

He moves closer to you, as if there was much space between you in the first place. You feel his breath, hot on your lips and it sends you spiralling.

“All mine,” He tells you, his tone darker than before, threatening, “I’m gonna make sure that you don’t forget it either.”

Your breath hitches as he kisses you, his kisses are harder, much more charged than Gyuvin’s were, though by the second kiss you stop comparing, your entire being now completely focused on and taken over by Ricky instead.

You are powerless under his hold, body moulding to him effortlessly, already so used to being close, and finding it even easier to be closer. He may well be the best kisser you have ever kissed, your entire body reacting as he licks into your mouth, fuck, you already want more.

His hand instinctively finds its way to your throat, gripping with light pressure in more of a warning than anything else, reminding you not to fight back or try to flee, as your fingers tangle in his hair and you wrap a leg over his.

“I’m sorry,” You mumble, as he nips your bottom lip and your mouth falls open, “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

He pulls you on top of him, his stare burning deep into your soul, “I’m sure you will, kitten,” He replies, “I know you’ll be good for me, as long as you do what I say.”

You involuntarily whimper as he tugs you down to kiss him again, his hand remaining clasped around your neck, keeping your breathing shallow as he kisses you over and over again. Your hands trail down his chest, feeling his muscles, lean, but defined, clear evidence of how well looked after he is. It’s hot, the tension between you is too much to bear, you are falling and fast.

“I’ll be good,” You manage to choke out, as Ricky’s free hand starts to tug your shirt upwards, “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Ricky smirks at you, and you wonder whether you are going to regret giving him that freedom. You don’t have long to ponder this though, as he lets go of your throat, allowing you to breathe in deeper.

“Strip for me,” He orders, putting his hands behind his head, “I want to see all of you, and then you can undress me too.”

You feel self-conscious, though Ricky has seen you in your swimwear before, fully naked is a whole new level. You feel inferior in comparison to him, his visuals are so breathtaking, though by the way that he looks at you, it is clear that he thinks the world of you too.

To begin undressing you sit back on your knees and slowly pull your shirt up over your head, maintaining eye contact as much as you can. It feels so impure, removing each item of clothing until you are totally bare, marks littering your skin from the encounter you had earlier, and holy fuck you can tell how much Ricky doesn’t like that.

“Gēgē,” You whine, as he holds your wrists to stop you from covering yourself up, “Want to see you too…”

He moves to sit up himself, though you are resting on his thighs, and he directs your hands to take the hem of his shirt, fists balling in the material before you tug upwards, revealing that sculpted chest of his, skin like porcelain, not a single mark or blemish to be found other than a few tiny little moles, each like the lucky stars that you see in the sky living in the city, rare but existent, and so very special.

“Is that better, kitten?” He teases you, catching you staring, “I’m still half-dressed.”

You catch the indication behind his words, and shuffle back to give yourself room to work at his jeans, fingers nimble and quick with the button and fly, grateful as he lifts his hips up for you to tear the denim down his long legs. Now in only black Versace underwear, you feel inferior again, although your black lace set is nice, it is definitely not designer.

“Much better, gē,” You nod, “You’re so…”

Trailing off as you scan his body, well aware of how much he enjoys being praised, having no problems with admiring him, it is so easy when he just looks like that.

“Handsome?” He chuckles, as he pulls you down to kiss him again, fingers knotted in your hair.

“Fēicháng shuài,” You reply, with the limited Mandarin that you have picked up from his incessant need to teach you, repeating it again in English, “So handsome.”

His free hand snakes around to your back, effortlessly unclasping your bra with two fingers, fuck that was hot, before pulling it from you, and proceeding to grab at your chest instead. You moan into his mouth, hot and heavy as you feel him begin to harden under you, shit, are you wet already too?

“Pay attention to only me,” He murmurs, pinching one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger, “I don’t want you looking at anyone else.”

He grinds up into you, yep, you’re definitely wet, and you gasp at how worked up he has you, “I won’t, gē,” You obey him, “Only you, I promise, only you.”

You cry out in shock as he quickly flips you over onto your back, climbing on top of you, he pauses momentarily to tear your panties down, “I don’t want to wait,” He purrs, “I need to claim you.”

His erection is so obvious to you now, thick and long, even through his black underwear the veins are evident, Jesus, is there anything about him that isn’t perfect? You watch in awe as he tugs his own briefs down, giving you a much better view of the cock that will be inside you in the coming moments. Not quite as thick as Gyuvin’s, but his length definitely competes, his cock curves just slightly upwards, and your eyes roll back a little as you begin to imagine just where he will hit you inside.

Before you get too far ahead of yourself, Ricky leans in to kiss your neck, biting gently at the marks left behind by his friend, deep guttural growls escape him as he is constantly reminded that you were taken by someone else. You try to reach for his cock, but you can’t get close enough, as he moves down your body, kissing your breasts, moaning over your sensitive nipples as one hand grazes over your core. You are a whimpering mess as he continues downwards, and you become aware of what he is going to do, his mouth closer and closer with each kiss to where you so desperately need it.

He starts with small licks, getting a taste for you, teasing and tantalisingly slow before diving right in. He uses his hands to hold your legs apart as they threaten to close around his head, the pleasure so intense, so quickly. It feels so fucking good, he eats you out with an ease that has you reeling, all the while still staring you down, wanting to know that you are enjoying it, as if the screams of his name aren’t enough evidence. Your back arches prettily, and he moves his hands under your ass to hold you up, the angle easier for him, and so much better for you. Sweat begins to bead on your forehead, your orgasm nearing so much faster than you had expected.

“Fuck,” You moan, your voice is strangled, choked up, “So good, holy shit that feels so fucking good.”

Ricky chuckles, and the vibrations shoot through your entire body, you don’t often curse, at least not so many times in a single sentence which Ricky finds comedic, and he pulls away for a second only to ask you, “You like it when Daddy goes down on you, don’t you kitten?”

Fuck. As if this could have been any hotter. Of course he could read your mind and go straight for the kink that has you worse than any other.

“Yes, Daddy,” You cry without missing a beat, so easily calling him the name that he so proudly gave himself, “I love it, you’re so incredible.”

Ricky hums approvingly before lowering his head, your orgasm mere seconds away, going, going, and you release with another flick of his tongue over your clit, he then moves down to lap at your arousal, not wanting to leave anything behind. You try not to pull too hard on his perfectly bleached blonde hair, but at this point it is so messy, you know that he wouldn’t care. A steady rhythmic chant of daddy, daddy, daddy leaves your lips as he only slows down when you try to pull away.

He looks up at you with glazed-over eyes and a desperation that you can’t quite comprehend. Ricky doesn’t waste a moment, moving up to kiss you, his tongue in your mouth so that you can taste yourself on him. You must seem so pathetic, with the way that you grind up into him, nails dragging up his back as you feel his cock almost at your entrance, god, you want him now.

“Daddy, please,” You whine, all but kicking your feet in impatience, this level of subspace is new to you, but Ricky seems to love it, “Fuck me, Daddy, I need you, please?”

You feel like you could burst into tears at any moment, and you are sure that Ricky can tell, as you feel him teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock, and without warning he enters you in one swift thrust. Your moans mix beautifully, Ricky’s deep and breathy, yours high-pitched and much louder, his cock stretching you out has you clinging onto him for dear life.

“Oh, kitten,” Ricky purrs, finding his rhythm so easily, thrusting into you with force, “You were made for me, weren’t you? You take my cock so perfectly.”

His gaze narrows as he awaits your answer, though there is only one that is correct, it is getting increasingly harder to find your words as the cock-drunk state you are in only becomes more apparent.

“Yes, Daddy,” You babble, your words beginning to slur, as the curvature of his cock means that with each thrust he hits the nerves inside you that have you threatening to go over the edge again, “Made for you, owned by you, only Daddy forever and ever.”

The commitment falls from your lips so easily, a promise required by the man hovering over you, one that makes him happier than he can express. He leans down to kiss you more, holding you still with fingers tangled in your now so messy hair, his pace is fast but purposeful, you feel each individual thrust with the care and poise that he means for it to.

“My kitten,” He coos, nuzzling his nose into your neck, breathing in your scent right up by your ear, “I want you to see how good you look like this.”

You aren’t quite sure what he means by this, until he pulls out of you and drags you up into a new position. Turning around, he has you face the mirrored wardrobe on the opposite wall and moves behind you, before tugging you up by your hair so that your back is against his chest. You look dazed, fucked out and cock-drunk, barely able to stay upright if it were not for his tight grip on your hair and your waist, you smile lazily at him and he lets out a deep, animalistic growl from the back of this throat.

“My Daddy,” You giggle, trying your utmost to make sense, but distracted by the feeling of his hardness against your lower back, “So sexy, want your cock again.”

Ricky releases his fingers from your hair, his hand moving around to your throat, and then upwards to cup your jawline. With his index and middle finger, he presses against your bottom lip, demanding entry. Of course you obey, willing to do whatever he asks of you, and he pulls your jaw down, sticking his fingers down your throat far enough to make your eyes water.

“Such a perfect little slut, aren’t you?” He asks, chuckling at the sound you make when he degrades you, “So desperate for Daddy, just the way he likes it.”

You wiggle your butt back into him, unable to move much more than that with the pressure he holds you to him, you hope that by being the whimpering, whiny mess that he has made you, he will give in. Your eyes well up with tears and not just from Ricky making you gag, but with a desire for him to fill you again, losing your mind from how long he has kept you empty. 

He moves his hand from your waist, down to your core, his fingers grazing over your swollen clit sending shivers through your body. The whine that you emit is pathetic, pitiful, and god, does it turn him on. You spread your legs further, pressing back into him in an attempt to make your neediness even more obvious, and you are grateful when he finally obliges, pulling his fingers from your mouth to take his cock into his hand instead.

Ricky lines himself up with you after a moment of adjustment, and you watch in the reflection as he enters you again. The new angle is better than before, he hits you deeper, as if you could take any more, and the angle of his cock nudges against those nerves that have your body shaking with each and every thrust.

He holds you up with an arm over your chest, fucking into you with little care for your own sensitivity, this is about him in this moment, but in that, it is so much for you too.

“Kitten,” Ricky moans, as you clench to him with yet another orgasm, losing count now as with each descent another peak rolls through, “Daddy’s close, where do you want it?”

Your tongue is tied, so flushed and flustered it takes a moment to register, while Ricky doesn’t slow down at all, you need to think fast but your brain is mush, “In me, Daddy,” You cry, “Fill me, need it.”

Ricky pushes you forward, keeping your ass up, and he grabs your hair to lift your head so you can see the perfect arched angle he has you in as his rhythm begins to falter. He lasts not even another 30 seconds like this, before he groans with his release into you, warmth spreading inside you as he cums so much you swear it overflows, though mixed with your own arousal, you can’t quite tell what is what anymore.

He roughly pulls out of you, flipping you onto your back as you cry out in sensitivity and from the loss, but your cries are quieted as Ricky kisses you, with as much force and want as that first kiss not so long ago. You feel his cum leaking out of you, making a mess of his pristine black sheets, though neither of you mind it.

“Mine, kitten,” He murmurs breathlessly, pressing his forehead to yours and staring at you with that piercing gaze, a warning, “I’m keeping you, you’re all mine.”

A confession. One that you hadn’t expected, and one that you don’t quite understand. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you wonder whether you were holding back feelings for him all along. Your hands roam his body, memorising every curve and rivet, the way that his hips jut out and leave that delicious v-line that leads to his even more delectable cock. He is perfect, and he is yours as much as you are his.

“You mean it?” You ask him, “I’m really yours?”

It’s vulnerable, your uncertainty is clear in your tone, leaving you open to either become whole, or to be completely broken.

“You are,” Ricky responds, “As long as you want to be, your heart is mine.”

He kisses you again before you can respond, and you lose track of time like that, in his arms, feeling his body pressed to yours, limbs tangled, intertwined.

——————

Neither of you hear as the front door opens, too distracted by the growing desire between you, Ricky half-hard again, and you dripping wet. It isn’t until Ricky’s bedroom door opens that you realise Gyuvin has returned, when he shouts at the sight he sees, and you rush to cover yourself, though Ricky does not care.

“Home already, Gyuvin-ah?” Ricky smirks at his friend from behind you, his hands still roaming your body, finding your right breast to squeeze it in his palm, “Can’t you see we are busy?”

Gyuvin’s stare moves between the two of you, his mouth parted slightly as he tries to find his words. You are flustered, flushed, and sinfully turned on as Gyuvin watches Ricky touch you. A moan leaves your lips as Ricky pinches your nipple roughly, red and raw from the abuse he has inflicted on them, god, this is hot.

“I… but we,” Gyuvin stammers, and you can see how hard he is trying to show confidence, “I was hoping to go for round two now I’m back.”

Your jaw drops open, as you feel Ricky draw in a sharp breath. His grip tightens on you, and you know that he is angry.

“She’s mine,” He growls deeply, “You made a mess of her before, but she’s mine now.”

You whimper as Ricky pulls you back closer to him, and you feel that his cock has now reached full hardness. You try not to make it obvious as you press into him, back arching slightly in want for him.

“I think you made a mess of her too,” Gyuvin observes, his gaze flicking up from yours, into the eyes of Ricky’s, “And I don’t think she’d be opposed to my taking of her again.”

Heat surges between your thighs, as you recall the way that Gyuvin fucked you, the way that his cock stretched you out, burned your insides with a sting you can’t quite explain the feeling of. You promised Ricky, but in the state you are in right now, god, you wouldn’t say no to having him just once more.

“She’s not leaving my sight,” Ricky spits, tangling his fingers in your hair, “I said… she’s mine.”

You like that, Ricky speaking for you, maybe a little too much. You feel so pathetic, objectified, and it makes you whimper.

“I didn’t say you had to leave,” Gyuvin smirks, “You’re welcome to watch, gē.”

Ricky hisses through gritted teeth, he is shooting daggers at Gyuvin, as he confidently steps further into the room. You aren’t sure what to say or do, as the two men have their power-play, and you’re left in the middle of it. Committed to Ricky, but definitely not objecting to Gyuvin fucking you again.

“If you think I’ll let go of my kitten for even a second,” Ricky murmurs, “You’re dreaming, it’s not going to happen.”

Gyuvin chuckles as he reaches the bed, bravely kneeling on the edge of the mattress down by your feet. His stare continues to swap between you and your now-boyfriend’s, and you truly have no idea what to expect.

“That’s okay,” Gyuvin smiles sweetly as he moves closer to you, “You don’t have to let go.”

Ricky kisses your neck, in an attempt to mark his territory, though that doesn’t stop Gyuvin from finding position between your legs, where Ricky’s hand rests over your core in another protective action.

“Back. Off.” Ricky warns him, “This won’t end well for you. Get out.”

Gyuvin comes closer again, he hasn’t touched you yet, but he is close, his hand supporting his weight on the mattress next to your hip. Your breathing is staggered, from the friction that Ricky is causing, and the closeness of Gyuvin, you’re overwhelmed and nothing has ever tempted you more than this.

“Come on Ricky,” Gyuvin whines playfully, “I’m sure we could share, just once?”

You feel like you’re going insane, hips bucking reflexively into Ricky’s hand in a feeble attempt to relieve some of the pressure, eyes glassy and dazed as Gyuvin places his hand over Ricky’s to help you out. A strangled moan leaves your lips, you feel filthy, impure and broken.

“Fuck me,” You manage to stammer out, unsure which of the boys you are talking to, or if it is aimed at both, “Please, please, please, just fuck me.”

Ricky presses two fingers into you, his palm flat over your clit makes your legs shake, tears prick your eyes as the feeling isn’t enough, though it is still good, but you are losing your mind. 

“You heard her, gē,” Gyuvin sneers, “Go on then, don’t be shy.”

Ricky is so tense, he hates being told what to do, but you find him repositioning, sitting up and adjusting his legs before pulling you back onto his lap, still facing Gyuvin, with your back to Ricky. He guides you up, only to force your hips down, making you take his cock in all the way, the sound you make is inhuman, a cry loud enough to probably wake the neighbours, but you are so damned far from caring.

“Daddy,” You babble, nails digging into his thighs as you try to find some sort of balance while Ricky eagerly bounces you on his cock, “Feels so good, fuck, more, more, more!”

Gyuvin is still close enough for you to feel his breathing, his hand palming at the erection growing in his grey sweats, biting his lip as he watches you.

“Good, kitten,” Ricky praises you, slapping your ass and grabbing roughly at the flesh as you drop down on his cock again, clearly proud of himself, “You’re looking jealous, Gyuvin-ah.”

You watch through teary eyes, barely able to see, just enough to make out Gyuvin beginning to undress. The harshness of Ricky’s thrusts pick up a bit more as he feels threatened by his slightly-younger roommate, while you are so cock-drunk that you are unaware. 

“Just sizing her up,” Gyuvin chuckles as he kicks his underwear off, “Wondering whether she could take us both, is all.”

Your ears are ringing as another orgasm racks through your body, and you aren’t sure whether you heard Gyuvin right. Ricky pulls out of you suddenly, and flips you over to face him, though you’re still on top, and your stomach drops as you process Gyuvin’s words, and the lack of rejection from Ricky towards them.

Ricky uses the new angle to thrust up into you from underneath, your body is practically limp at this point, it is so hard to hold yourself up. When you feel the weight shift on the mattress behind you is when you give up, resting your head in the crook of Ricky’s neck, a string of incoherent words, drool and staggered breaths all that are leaving you now.

“Don’t make us wait,” Ricky replies, his tone almost too calm and collected, “Kitten’s gonna pass out completely before you get the chance, otherwise.”

You feel it, Gyuvin’s cock, as he teases the tip at your already full entrance, before he takes two fingers to help open you further, giving him just enough room to enter with a couple inches. You stop breathing completely, the sensation nothing but pain at first, and Ricky slows down to try and soothe you through it.

“Breathe, my baby cat,” Ricky coos, lifting his hand to your mouth, giving you his middle and index finger to suck on, both for your own need, and to save his neck from any further marking, “You can do it, come on, it’s okay.”

Gyuvin slowly moves in further, and you finally find your breath again to break down into full sobs. The pain is so intense, you are filled in a way that you didn’t even think was possible, but you love it. You lazily suck on Ricky’s fingers, though your mouth hangs half open now, unable to move as Gyuvin and Ricky fill you completely.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Gyuvin hisses, his teeth gritted as he pulls back before thrusting in again, still slowly, but with a little more speed, “Fuck, this feels so good I don’t know how long I’ll last.”

Ricky finds another opportunity to strike, his competitiveness and dominance always at the forefront of his mind, “It’s okay, kitten… Daddy will last as long as you need.”

Gyuvin and Ricky match their pace, finding a rhythm to fuck you in, as you lay between them in a state of being that you struggle to even describe. The feeling is amazing, in the cursed, sick, twisted way, taking two cocks at once wasn’t on your agenda for the day, but here we are, you are basically paralysed, an object for them to take from, and nothing more.

Ricky is driven wild by the feeling of his best friend’s cock against his, perhaps more than he is proud to admit, as he too struggles not to falter. He flicks his gaze between you and Gyuvin above you, and his stomach ties in knots as he sees Gyuvin staring him down.

“I knew you’d like it,” Gyuvin teases, his voice is cracked and breathy, “Feels good, fucking her tiny pussy at the same time, doesn’t it? Does my cock feel good to you Ricky?”

Your eyes roll back in your head, unable to do anything but listen to this seemingly never ending power play between the two, insults and jabs between them are constant, but even in your fucked-out state, you can see that they both like this way too much to act normal.

“Cum,” You mumble, “Daddy… Gyuvinnie… please.”

It took all your strength to utter those words, the pool of saliva on Ricky’s chest from your mouth now flows down his neck, staining the pillow under him. They have got to be close, right? How long has it been? Overstimulated is an understatement for you, unsure whether you could even get another orgasm out no matter how hard you tried.

“What’s that, kitten?” Ricky sneers at you, god, he is insatiable, “You want us to cum? To fill you up? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You aren’t even sure if you nodded, or said yes aloud, reality shifting you between dimensions, are you awake or asleep? You try to dig your nails into Ricky’s arm, but you can’t tell whether your hands work anymore.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” Gyuvin gasps, and with a particularly hard thrust that has you jolting forward, you feel it, “Fuck.”

Gyuvin’s cock twitches and pulsates in you as he releases, his thrusting is erratic, off beat as he fills you effortlessly, just like earlier, but this time with another cock inside you too.

“Gyuvin,” Ricky moans, and if you were more alert you would have been wide-eyed at this, at hearing him call Gyuvin’s name, and not yours, “That’s so fucking hot, I… I…”

Ricky too, releases barely moments after Gyuvin begins to slow down, you feel that same sensation, warmth spreading and filling you to overflow, cum dripping straight back out onto Ricky and he hasn’t even finished yet.

You can’t stop the tears from flowing, you are a crying, shaking mess as the two men finally come to a stop, and Gyuvin pulls out first, slow and gentle, but you still let out a sob. The room is silent other than heavy breathing from Ricky and Gyuvin, and quiet cries from you, but it is not awkward at all.

Gyuvin stares at Ricky for a moment, who quickly pipes up, “I’ve got this, Gyuvin, you go clean yourself up.”

Gyuvin laughs as he shuffles back off the bed, picking up the clothes he had thrown onto the floor a little while ago when he was just too desperate to get into you, and he makes his way toward the door before turning to face you again.

“Don’t start,” Ricky chuckles, seeing the devious grin on his best friend's face, “Get out of here, Gyuvin-ah.”

He rolls his eyes before leaving the room, closing the door behind him and leaving you and Ricky alone. You have Ricky’s fingers in your mouth again, and you are still full of his cock. Most of the pain subsided moments after Gyuvin pulled out of you, but you aren’t sure that you’ll be able to walk properly for a few days at least. You steady your breathing by focusing on Ricky’s heartbeat, and by staring up at him as he looks down at you. 

“You okay?” He asks you softly, “That was… a lot.”

You nod with a soft smile, releasing his fingers and letting him brush your hair off your face. You are a mess, and you know that you look it too, desperate for a shower, but not quite ready to move just yet.

“I’m okay,” You reply, “Yeah, it was.”

Ricky leans down to kiss you, and it is not until you begin to kiss him back that you realise he was doing this to distract you, the perfect opportunity to pull out of you, leaving you empty and bare, more cum dripping out onto the bed under you. The pain spikes with the sensitivity, but decreases fast enough that by the time Ricky pulls back from the kiss, it is nothing but a dull ache, a very prominent, unwavering dull ache.

“How about I run a bath?” Ricky asks, “You’ll stay the night, won’t you?”

“A bath sounds nice,” You reply easily, “I’d love to stay, too.”

Ricky kisses your nose before he gets up, walking to his ensuite bathroom and turning the faucet in the tub to run the water. He glances back into the room to see you have rolled onto your side to watch him, you will never get sick of watching him, and he breaks out in a full smile too.

“Good,” He purrs, “You are mine after all.”

[b1mbodoll]

pairings: ricky shen x f! reader

warnings: daddy kink + cervix fucking + womb fucking + overstimulation + oral

💌: everyone shut up im hatewatching fifty shades of grey and i HATE christian grey but im thinking of lifestyle dom ricky 😵‍💫 also had lifestyle dom jay thoughts but ive posted bdsm jay hc’s a while before ps if this is sloppy pls dont mind it ok im sleepy rn

ricky shen is rarely ever told no. he’s used to getting what he wants, when he wants it. his word is law and no one goes against him.

when he meets you he feels an intense need to protect you. to spoil you with lavish gifts and please you every day. there’s nothing he wants more than to be used for your pleasure, abiding by your wants and needs.

he takes his time getting you accustomed to a life where you never have to lift a finger, don’t even need to think because that’s what daddy is for. he’s there to take care of his princess and make sure you’re happy.

when it comes to sex ricky only cares about making you cum. spends hours between your legs, his skilled tongue fucking your tight hole as you fist his hair, fingers pulling at the locks making him moan from the pain, his hips grinding into the mattress in a desperate attempt to calm his aching dick.

when he parts with your pussy there’s strings of saliva and your arousal connecting his mouth and chin to your cunt, the sight making you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment. “look at me, princess” he orders, “look at daddy when ‘m fuckin’ you” his swallows thickly, cock throbbing when you shyly meet his gaze.

he fills you up in one quick thrust, his length nestled in your warms walls, the tip piercing your womb. he grunts deeply while driving his hips into yours, the stimulation too much for his sensitive dick making his pace falter for a second before he collects himself, focused on making you cum for the nth time that night.

you completely fall apart on his dick, overstimulation making your mind go blank as you cum around him, rings of translucent cream forming around his cock. he cums not long after, emptying his balls deep inside your womb because you look so pretty like this, mouth hanging open and your tits bouncing while your tight cunt sucks him in, completely ditzy from the feeling of him slamming into your cervix.

[joosbasschick]

Soft Ricky and Jooyeon frfr

Men begging shyly, men hiding behind their hands, men whining when i pull them back to see their pretty faces, men writhing underneath me, men looking up at me with tears in their eyes, men saying "please miss pleasepleasepleasedon'tstop", men thrusting their hips for me, men whimpering, men-

[okshu]

—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]

copyright to respective authors, don't forget to reblog their works ^^ okshu + @fairyofmangoes

[seoktized]

back with links ;3 two this time!!! hope you all enjoy <3

nsfw, mdni

jiwoong loves when you let him fuck your face. fingers you while he does it, making you moan around his cock. jiwoong always makes sure to fuck you good after, fucking his pretty girl dumb for being so good for him.

hao getting you all worked up. fingers slowly circling your clit through your panties as he plays with your tits. once you’re all needy & wet, he makes you ride him. praising you while you bounce on him like a good girl.

hanbin punishing you for being a brat. tying you up and stuffing you full with a dildo. you can only stand there and take it while he thrusts the toy in and out of your needy cunt. if you’re still acting up, he has you on all fours, spanking your pussy to remind you that he’s in charge.

matthew loves corrupting you. making a mess of you in front of all your stuffies by degrading you, telling you that you act so innocent but really you’re a little slut for him. something about you holding onto your big teddy while he rails you ignites something in him,, only making him want to corrupt you more.

sucking taerae off while he games. feeling his cock grow in your mouth as he desperately tries not to moan cuz he’s playing with friends. after he cums he turns the game off and leads you to the bed where he eats you out. he loves when you suffocate him with your thighs so he’s moaning into your pussy the whole time.

ricky letting you grind against his face, desperately lapping at your juices as you roll you hips on his tongue. ricky lives for pleasuring you so he’s bending you over the couch, railing into you from behind. he loves watching you shake and cry because his long pretty cock in bullying your insides. always praises you for taking him so well and gives you the most mind blowing orgasms ever for being his good girl.

gyuvin fucking your thighs. he gets so lost in the pleasure and ends up cumming quickly. paints your thighs with thick ropes of cum while he’s moaning for you.. makes up for it by fucking you fast and hard, secretly trying to make you cum fast as well.

being so needy to the point where you’re desperately grinding on gunwook. he sits there and lets you rut against his clothed cock. tells you if you want him so bad you can have him; so you ride him. at first he tells you he’s not gonna help you, but when he feels how tight you’re clenching around him, poor wookie caves in.

[b-ibilly]

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 !

[seokmattchuus]

You wouldn't normally go for younger guys. But when a junior from your department offers to drive you home after a staff get-together, you didn't think things would get heated.

And the last thing you expected was to end up at his house.

[itstheoneshot]

Kinktober Day 19

Shibari - Ricky

!dom Ricky

Ricky loved the finer things in life, he was young and rich, tall and handsome after all, and you fit that mould perfectly. Dainty, elegant, his perfect match. You were submissive and subservient, but fiery and independent, challenging him when needed and giving in when needed too. You obliged his desires, so many of them were based around making you up, decorating you in different ways, and his latest interest was exactly that.

Shibari. A Japanese-born erotica performed with a submissive being tied by intricate ropes, placed into positions that they normally could not be in, and the dominant having their way with them. The rope that Ricky had purchased was red silk, metres long and beautifully crafted, you wouldn’t dare ask how much it cost, but it is handmade and perfect in every way.

“Baobei,” Ricky soothes you, his hands expertly working on the ropes, tying shapes to frame your curves, to restrict and constrict you, “You look so beautiful like this.”

You stand in front of your mirrored robe, able to admire yourself as Ricky adds more and more into the pattern of ties that he makes on your body. When he steps back, you see that he has you decorated as if you were wearing full body harnesses, and you wonder what else he plans to do to you. The loops in some of the knots did not go unnoticed, your interest piqued as you prepared yourself to be further tied, already feeling yourself begin to get wet, knowing just how well Ricky takes care of you.

“Where do you want me?” You ask innocently, turning to face him while he leans down to kiss you, his hands absentmindedly exploring the rope all over your body.

“Let’s lay you down,” Ricky murmurs, “Knees up at your chest.”

You nod, taking his hands as he guides you onto the bed, resting your head in amongst the pillows, you bring your knees up as he instructed and you hold your ankles to stay in place. Ricky now takes the rope, loose pieces at your wrist he ties them through the loops on your ankles, meaning that instead of holding yourself, the rope does it for you, and he repeats that at the other side. You feel so exposed now, and from the look in Ricky’s eyes, he really fucking likes it. His hand moves to your core, perfectly on show for him with the way that he has your ankles tied, and he traces his fingers up your slit, pressing into you and humming in content as you contract around him, adjusting to the initial stretch.

“Are you going to take me like this?” You ask him, although you know the answer, “Please take me, I want it.”

Ricky laughs, his fingers curling inside you, thumb on your clit to try and prepare you quicker, so desperate to get his fill. His other hand is at his chest, beginning to unbutton his shirt, not wanting to waste even a single second. You throw your head back, just about the only movement you can make, moaning loudly with each thrust of his fingers, he knows your body so well it is so easy for him to work you up towards your first orgasm, you barely notice as he drops his slacks, tugging his underwear down with them, only alert once the weight on the bed shifts as he positions himself in line with you, his hand now wrapped around his shaft to line himself up the moment that he pulls his other hand away.

“Oh, god,” He groans, eyes rolling back as he enters you all the way, “You feel fucking incredible.”

Unable to move, you try with your all to touch him somehow, but soon give up, allowing him to fuck you with as much effort as he wants, right now that is so much, his hands on your hips to keep you steady, grateful to be so much taller than you, he is able to reach over your body to kiss you, tongue twisting with yours, moans matching thrusts, obsessed and so fucking turned on by how powerless and fucking beautiful you look like this. A work of art, as he tells you over and over, his beautiful girl, his princess, his treasure, baobei.

“Quanrui,” You moan, his Chinese name rolling off your tongue so much sweeter, so deep in your pleasure, “Gonna cum, I’m so close, please…”

The angle has you seeing stars, each thrust has you reeling, thighs shaking, and if not for the rope keeping them apart you are certain they would be closing around Ricky’s hips. Having no control, Ricky knows better than to even try to deny you, this is not the time for edging, nor overstimulation, though in other circumstances he would definitely do so. This time, he takes a hand to your clit to help you, his thrusts maintaining the pace and intensity in order to get you there, and that he does, oh fuck, that he does.

You cum on his cock, body shaking, rope rubbing against your skin, pulsating around him and crying his name soundless at first, and louder as you come back down to earth. Ricky’s thrusting goes off rhythm just as your peak descends, his orgasm washing over him as he thrusts into you erratically, filling you easily, certain to overflow. It feels so good, both of you are obsessed with the feeling, the act, the risk - though not really, you are definitely on birth control - associated, and you let out a whine as he pulls out of you after he is done, savouring the feeling of his seed dripping out of you as he begins to untie the rope.

You let your body fall limp once you are freed, and Ricky gently kisses the worst of the rope burn, though none is so bad, the material as gentle as he is, you would expect nothing less.

“That was so hot,” Ricky comments as he pulls the last of the rope away, and takes your hand to guide you to sit up, “But maybe I’ll tie you upside down next time.”

-

kinktober masterlist

[cyberkunizz]

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😭😭

[hanbinniesmango]

zb1 top 3 kinks pls!!

zerobaseone’s top 3 kinks

—all my opinion 😓🫶🏾 (no gunwook or yujin!!)

jiwoong

primal play

i can just imagine jiwoong one night wanting to get some relief and the releasing all his emotions out onto you while you guys fuck, resulting in him growling, marking you, and saying things like, “you’re all mine you know that, hm? no one else can fuck this pretty pussy like me.” with a grunt. he’d just be going at it like an animal.

breeding kink

would imagine you all the time full of his cum, he loves keeping that image in his head while you fuck. when he actually can he honestly puts his all into it, he knows what he wants and he’s gonna get it.

impact play (f. receiving)

if you’re being bad, best believe he’s pulling you over his lap and pulling down you bottoms. likes to smack both cheeks until their red, sometimes slapping your pussy as well. it just brings him joy to see you writhe on his lap to no avail.

zhang hao

humiliation kink (m. receiving)

when you started calling him mean names one day he went silent. you thought you striked a nerve, but no. you had actually turned him on a lot. to the point where he felt himself getting hard, and once you figured it out a big grin hit your face. “you’re getting hard just from some words? fucking pathetic hao..” he wanted to open his mouth to complain and justify the situation, but instead he let out a slutty moan. let’s just say you used his weakness for the greater good..

bondage kink (m. receiving)

he loves the feels of the restraints straining against his flesh, the tight fabric refraining from letting him move and touch you. especially when you pull out a pretty color of ribbon and wrap him in it, it makes him feel so good.

somnophilia kink

you’ve both talked about fucking while asleep and giving your consents and everything and views on it, after that calling it a night. a while later you’re asleep and he’s really aroused for some reason, he turns over to you watching you in slumber, your chest slowly rising and falling. he exhales softly, biting his lip at the situation. next thing you know he’s slipping inside of you from behind and gently fucking into you, breaths quickening. he starts to lose himself pace getting a bit quicker. your slumber is interrupted, you waking up, pants heavy and soft moans coming out of you as you feel his cock slowly drag between you warm walls. “someone couldn’t wait til the morning hm?” you say before pushing your hips back on to his, you being met with a groan. you both made sure you spent the rest of the night going til you were satisfied.

hanbin

exhibition kink

he definitely gets off on knowing people could see them messing around at anytime. the type of guy who you play with you in a dressing room, smirking at any of your moans or groans saying, “you don’t wanna get caught right, lovebug?”

collar kink (f. + m. receiving)

he loves watching you sit pretty while he puts a collar on you, him giving you commands every now and then, the collar reminding you of your place and that you’re his. he watches as the the pendant on the collar glitters in the light when you suck him off, him biting his lip at the dirty situation, you both knowing how it gets him off.

dacryphilia kink

he’d see tears start pouring out of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, them coming out like a faucet. something in him clicks in him at that moment, suddenly he’s wanting to do more to get more of those sweet tears out. “does it feel that good, lovebug? poor baby…” he says with a little pout, kissing your tears away. “it’ll be over soon love, endure it for me.” he says with a gentle smirk, stroking your head before continuing with his thrusts, your continuous tears egging him on.

taerae

voyeur and or cuckholding kink

one day he came home earlier than usual, and called your name, but you didn’t answer as you usually do. once he found you he heard your soft whimpers and moans of his name. and he just had to watch you. even though everything said to just walk in, he liked looking through the crack of the door, something about it was just so naughty and addicting… with cuckholding, he was very open to the idea of one of his beloved members to fuck you and him spectating. when it did happen, believe he was rock hard the whole time.

cock worship

he loves the days when you both are just feeling romantic together, the days where you just let him sit back and you worship his pretty cock. he’s sitting back on the bed as you kiss softly all over his cock telling him how pretty it is, darting your tongue out to lick up any pre-cum that leaks from his tip. “f-fuck baby..feels s-so—good..” he says struggling to get all of his words out from the pleasure. he doesn’t tell you, but he really really loves when you treat him like this, makes him feel small and warm inside.

mutual masterbation

you both are away from each other one day and are both really horny, but can’t do much. you both find a solution and call and it ends up to you spread open in front of the phone camera and his cock out in the open, him stroking it slowly while giving you instructions. “finger yourself, slowly baby…fuck just like that..” he says pants getting breathy. he watches as you follow all of his intrusctions, you getting close him the same. he makes you hold it, a smile on his face while his groans at the pleasure coming with his hand. “damn baby..i’m getting c-close…” he says stuttering a bit. “cum with me baby, let go.” he says finally before giving a couple more strokes and spurting all over his hand with a choked moan.

matthew

praise kink (f. receiving)

when you suck of him off, he loves telling you how much of a good job you’re doing, smirking at the way you moan around his cock at the praise. always lets you know how much of a ‘good cock slut’ you are, no matter what. never lets up on teasing how you react to his words.

anal play

matthew would def trust you with stuff like this, it was actually something he wanted to try. when he finally gets toys in there he’s in heaven. he didn’t think it would feel as good as it is. when you start thrusting your strap inside of him hitting his prostate, he’s becoming a incoherent puddle. he’s gripping the sheets and everything, begging to have it harder, faster, whimpering and moaning loudly. even pushing his ass back when you try to slow down or stop. it feels so good he starts crying, when he finally gets to cum he’s crying out out of pleasure. he gets silent right after, you getting a little worried until he speaks up, “t-that was…c-can we go again?…please..” him panting whilst you send him a sweet smile and giggle.

orgasm control (m. + f. receiving)

matthew loves when you tease his cock, taking your hand away whenever he says he’s close. “just hold it matt, it’s not that hard, right?” you say while you stroke his hot, pulsing cock. all he can do is just whimper out and try his best not to cum, not knowing what could possible happen if he does. when it’s turned around he’s pulling the same move on you, laughing at your frustration. “i can’t be that hard, right?” he’s just sending you the cruelest smile, teasing you to no extent.

ricky

dollification

ricky loves seeing you get dumb on his cock, before you two fuck he puts you in the prettiest lingerie, pulling you in by the waist and whispering, “my needy little dolly looks so pretty, hm?” you just whining out in response. he praises you as he keeps pumping his cock inside of you, your expression the definition of cock drunk. none of you mind tho..

breath play

likes to wrap his pretty hands around your neck while fucking you, loves the feeling of you clenching on him whilst he does it. “you’re taking me so well baby…maybe i’ll let you breath as a reward.” him chuckling after the statement.

bondage kink (f. receiving)

he likes to wrap you up in the prettiest color of rope, he also has a thing with seeing you struggle, your frustration giving him more satisfaction. “stop moving or i’ll have to restrain you from cumming, doll.” he says with with the sweetest smile, his eyes the opposite, hunger and arousal burning in his eyes.

gyuvin

degradation kink (f. receiving)

he calls you the meanest names with the nicest smile on his face, and it still wrecks you. while you’re on your knees sucking his cock he’s still calling you those names, watching how you shudder with each name. “dirty cock sluts like you are meant to be on your knees like this. do what you’re good for baby..” he says with a pleasured groan.

edge play (f. receiving)

gyub will literally edge you from dusk to dawn, only letting up when he feels he’s had enough. you’re not done until he’s satisfied, and it takes a while. he’ll eat you out for the longest, his tongue hitting all the right spots, problem is he won’t let you cum. he’s told you to hold it until he lets you cum, but with the rate his tongue is ravaging you at, you might not be able to hold it any longer…

overstimulation kink (m. + f. receiving)

gyuvin loves to tease and torture you, either that’s him denying you an orgasm or giving you too many to handle. you’d beg him so bad for an orgasm, groaning in relief once he finally gives you one. suddenly when you expect him to stop, he’s still pleasuring you, you’re starting to be confused, pants getting heavier and cry’s getting louder. “g-gyub!! t-too—i-it’s too much!!” you sob out only being met with his menacing grin again.

[hynzsn]

💭 PICK YOUR HOLE ★ 18+ MDNI

☆ ricky + jiwoong + matthew x male reader

꩜ .ᐟ smut, headcanons

-> twerkin’ 9 to 5 - matthew’s solo fic

-> treat me like a slut (coming soon) - jiwoong’s solo fic

-> BRAT (coming soon) - ricky’s solo fic

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

💭 thinking about them as your submissive boyfriends, lined up, their pants down and all three of their asses facing you, their needy holes winking at you as they wait for you to pound them with your big cock, the cock they’ll gladly fight over if you ask them to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

☆ jiwoong the slut. he’s in the middle because he’s got the fattest ass and he’s definitely the sluttiest of them all. his hole already gaping from having his butt plug in there all day to fill the void of not having your cock fill him up today. he’s spreading his milky cheeks and showing you how ready his sloppy, gaping hole is for you. he’s the perfect fuck toy for your cock, he loves to lose all control and bounce on your cock, his cheeks squelching and clapping until you fill him up to the brim, his stomach bloating slightly at the sheer amount of cum inside of him. leaving him completely drained and used after you pull out and leave your cum oozing out of his wrecked hole.

☆ matthew your baby. being playful and wiggling his ass invitingly. it’s a sight that makes your mouth water and your cock twitch with need. he’s been learning how to twerk just to see your face when he shows you his new dance moves. he wants you to bury your face in his ass so he can twerk on your face. he’s a secretive slut that likes to tease and mask his need behind playful actions. he’s already fingered himself three times today at the thought of you. he just needs a little bit of you to be happy, let him give you a lap dance, let him wrap his arms around your neck and kiss you passionately as he bounces on your cock, or even better, let him ride your face as he jerks himself off and cums everywhere.

☆ ricky egotistical brat. impatient and looking at you over his shoulder with an expression that’s undoubtedly both a glare and a pout. ricky’s ass being the perkiest and tightest of the three. mr, “young, rich and handsome,” who wants you to loosen him up, pull his hair and fuck the mario coins out of him. come on, he’s been waiting all day. in his mind, someone as perfect as him shouldn’t even have to wait but for you he’ll do it. because if it’s not your cock inside of him, he doesn’t want it. if it’s not your hands on him, jerking him off, slapping his cheeks, fingering his tight hole, playing with his perky pink nipples, then he doesn’t want it. you’re the only person who’s good enough for him.

[xzinbdg]

hi love! can i ask for reader x ot9 zb1 are in a group chat and suddenly someone blurts out which one of them reader likes and what are their reaction? thankss in advance I already love your writings and can I be 🍓 - anon?

I AM SO SORRY THAT IM DOING THIS SO LATE 😭😭😭😭 i made it kinda separately??? i hope you like it 🥹 thank u sm and i would love to have you as 🍓 anon! 💕

zerobaseone reaction to you having a crush on them!

୨ৎ jiwoong

୨ৎ zhanghao

୨ৎ hanbin

୨ৎ matthew

୨ৎ taerae

୨ৎ ricky

୨ৎ gyuvin

୨ৎ gunwook

୨ৎ yujin

zerobaseone masterlist

[fanbasetwo]

TIL DEATH DO US PART , RICKY

PAIRING: husband ! ricky × wife ! afab reader

SYNOPSIS: In an arranged marriage where sparks never flew, you finally chose divorce as the only path to freedom. But when your husband died in a sudden accident, life took an unexpected turn, binding you to a reality marked by guilt, grief, and the shadows of unfulfilled words. Now, you must navigate a world that holds him forever gone.

GENRE: fluff + angst

WARNING(S): not proofread, kissing, dirty jokes, a little bit suggestive, mentions of suicide and death, insecurities, mentions of pregnancy. lmk if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 16.2K

FEAT: JAY from ENHYPEN + some ocs

MASTERLIST !!

NOTE FROM SENA , this kinda flopped on my enha blog but I still wanted to reach more people, so here it is. an ricky version of the same fic, if you find ‘jake’ instead of ‘ricky’ in some paras please mention so that I can edit it out. hope you have fun reading this <3💗

DEAR RICKY,

I'm sorry, but I can't continue living like this. I'm leaving. Our marriage has become a constant battle, and I believe we're both suffering more by holding on than we would by letting go. I know neither of us wanted it to come to this, and I wish things were different. But deep down, I think we're better apart. I hope one day you'll understand.

With regret, Y/N.

TEARS BLURRED YOUR VISION AS YOU STARED AT THE CRUMBLED NOTE IN YOUR HAND—the one you had written to Ricky months ago. The one that now felt like a curse. Your hands shook as you traced the familiar words, guilt twisting your insides. I'm leaving. I'm sorry. He had never known the true weight of those words. And now he never would.

The police had found it in his pocket. They said he'd carried it with him, even after everything. Even when he... when he was gone.

You collapsed onto the couch, clutching the note like a lifeline, but it only felt like a reminder of how far you had pushed him. How much you had wanted out, and now, how deeply you regretted it. A year together, two lives constantly at odds, and it had ended in this way. A divorce that never came, an accident that did. You didn't want this, didn't want him gone, but now, all you had was this-regret, and a body that was too still in your bed to hold. The anger, the frustration of him being gone-it consumed you, ate at your soul.

Why couldn't you have waited?

You had hoped time apart would fix things, give you both breathing room. But he hadn't lived long enough for you to see the good you could have made of it. The guilt ate you alive, deeper than the frustration ever had. You tried to convince yourself it wasn't your fault, that you couldn't have known, but deep down, the truth stung. Your note had been his last reminder of your marriage. His last memory. He had carried your rejection right until the end.

Would things have been different if you hadn't written that letter?

The thought raked at your mind like shards of glass, shredding everything in its path. What if you had kept fighting for him, for the marriage? Would he have been here? Would you have learned to love him? Or would he still have left, still have been gone, no matter what?

Your thoughts flickered back to moments with him-so small, so easy to overlook. The way Ricky had rolled his eyes every time you'd scolded his niece Semi for spilling juice, or how he had tried to hide his smirk as he pretended to act innocent. The little things that used to irritate you, that you had never really appreciated until now.

You remembered the way he defended you against his relatives, his words sharp and protective as they made cruel comments about your body. They didn't understand, but Ricky did. He had always been there, not perfect but trying.

“She suits me well enough.”

The memory felt like a slap now, a cruel joke. You had spent so much time pushing him away, not seeing that he cared. You hadn't seen that he had tried.

“Why couldn't I have seen it?” You whispered to the empty room, curling up on the bed, pressing your face into the pillow. The tears soaked into the fabric, and the sobs wracked through you like a storm. Why was it only now, when he was gone, that you realized how much he had mattered?

You had never kissed him, never held him the way a wife should. You thought you had the luxury of time, but now you had nothing left but his memory. The memory of a man you barely knew but had somehow been the one constant in your life. How selfish of you to push him away. How stupid to think it was all about the fights, the annoyances, and not about the love you could have had.

“Please... Ricky. I'm sorry...”

The words escaped you as your sobs grew louder, choking your breath. Your body trembled with grief, the weight of regret pressing down on you until you couldn't breathe. If only you could undo it, go back and rewrite the note. If only you hadn't given up on him, on the marriage, on the chance for something more.

The room felt suffocating now, as though the walls were closing in around you. What now? you thought. There was no future with him anymore. No next step. No reconciliation.

Why had you waited so long to realize how much he meant to you?

You sank deeper into your pillow, tears soaking your face and your hair, wishing for the impossible: for him to walk through the door, to come back, to make everything okay again. But he wouldn't. He couldn't.

And all that was left was you. And the note.

YOUR MOTHER IN LAW’S HANDS TREMBLE AS SHE EXTENDS THE ANCESTRAL RING TOWARDS YOU, her eyes glistening with raw grief. The ring's delicate gold band catches the light, an unwanted reminder of everything Ricky represented—strength, love, an unfinished story.

“He wanted you to have this… but I never thought I’d give it to you now. Not like this,” she whispers, her voice breaking before dissolving into quiet sobs. The sound is so raw it scrapes at your heart. For a moment, the room feels unbearably small, closing in with the suffocating weight of shared loss.

You stare at the ring, fingers hovering uncertainly. The thought of accepting it feels like admitting he’s really gone. Yet, you know you can’t refuse it; Ricky’s wish, even unspoken now, feels sacred. You slip the ring onto your finger, a silent acknowledgment of the man you had once promised yourself to, a man you’ll never get the chance to truly know.

With a hesitant step forward, you place your hand on her shoulder, the touch meant to soothe but feeling fragile, as though it could shatter under the weight of her grief. The older woman leans into you, body racked with tremors as she buries her face in her hands. Her sobs rise and fall in uneven waves, echoing in the otherwise silent room.

“Please… don’t cry,” you whisper, your voice hoarse and cracking at the edges. The night had drained you, leaving your eyes dry yet still burning, poised for more tears that you no longer had the strength to shed.

Her grief pierces deeper. “He wouldn’t want to see you in pain,” you add, voice low, carrying the weight of a plea that even you don’t believe.

“I-I know,” she manages between sobs, her shoulders trembling. “But… he was so young, so full of life. It should’ve been me, not him. He barely started his life, and now…”

The room seems to warp under the heaviness of her words. You know she’s right. The unfairness of it all gnaws at you. But what would Ricky want? The question echoes in your mind, clawing for answers you wish you didn’t have to seek.

You close your eyes for a brief second, conjuring his face in your memory—the way his smile would sneak out when he thought you weren’t looking, the stubborn tilt of his chin when he was determined. You imagine him here, telling you what to do, how to be strong for her when he couldn’t be.

Drawing in a shaking breath, you shift, wrapping your arms around your mother-in-law. She stiffens for a heartbeat before collapsing into the embrace, her body convulsing with grief. Her head rests on your shoulder, and you stroke her back, the gesture rhythmic, almost desperate, as if the act itself could soothe the unsoothable.

“My poor boy… he must’ve been so scared, so alone in those final moments,” she chokes out, and it’s as if a knife twists in your chest. The image of him in pain, of his last moments, blurs the edges of your control. A tear slips down your cheek, a singular escape among the multitude waiting behind your lashes.

“I’m so sorry, Ricky,” you whisper, barely audible. The guilt is relentless, intertwining with the ache of loneliness that had settled deep within you long before he passed. You were alone when he was alive, and now that emptiness has transformed, sharpened by grief, into something more unbearable.

Her sobs quiet, just enough for her to lift her head and take in your expression, your tears mingling with unsaid words. She studies you, eyes clouded by grief but touched with understanding.

“You must feel so alone too… You and Ricky… barely had time,” she murmurs, her voice a weak echo of empathy.

The silence stretches, heavy and uncertain. You meet her gaze and see the exhaustion, the pain mirrored back at you. It anchors you for a moment, before she speaks again.

“You’re still young. You should think of moving forward one day. Remarry, maybe… You’ll always be like a daughter to me, but you have to live, too.”

Your heart clenches, rejecting the thought. You don’t want to. The ache of wanting Ricky, even in a marriage that had felt distant, is a raw wound you can’t imagine healing. The loneliness was familiar; life without him is uncharted, unbearable.

“I won’t… I can’t,” you admit, voice shaking as the tears finally spill, unchecked. “I just want him back. Even if it means being lonely again.”

The words break you open, and this time, neither of you tries to stop the crying. You hold each other in the ruins of shared loss, hoping, against hope, that the pieces of your shattered hearts will one day feel less sharp.

YOUR HANDS CHILLED FROM THE BRISK AIR, DIG DEEPER INTO YOUR COAT POCKETS AS YOU GAZE OUT INTO THE SWIRLING SNOW, a faint numbness settling in your bones. Each snowflake that brushes against your cheek feels colder than the last, a physical reminder of the frost that’s taken root in your heart, a void Ricky's absence left behind. Life has lost its rhythm, its purpose, and the bustling world seems foreign, moving on a beat you no longer recognize.

Nursing, once a passion that filled your heart, now feels suffocating. The once-simple act of caring for patients, seeing them through their darkest times, now stirs something darker inside you—an envy for their hope, their chances. These creeping, bitter thoughts had scared you enough to step back from the only profession you knew. The faces of crying relatives haunted your dreams, their grief striking chords too familiar, too close. You’d sworn to heal, never harm, yet here you are, carrying shadows of guilt too heavy to bear.

The café’s warmth hits you as you push through the door, a momentary comfort against the gnawing cold. You shuffle forward, fingers fumbling in your pocket for money as your eyes wander the room. Ricky had always spoken fondly of this place, a little corner shop with its cozy mismatched chairs and the sweet aroma of cocoa and baked pastries. A small pang clenches your chest, regret whispering its usual 'what ifs.' If only you’d agreed to visit here with him, if only time hadn’t been a cruel master.

The barista, a young woman with weary eyes, glances up as she speaks. “Ma’am, are you ordering?” Her voice, though polite, carries a slight impatience with the growing line behind you.

“Ah, yes… a cold coffee,” you manage, the words falling flat as if they don’t quite belong to you. Her brows lift, a flicker of confusion.

“In this weather?” she asks, a hint of genuine concern lacing her tone.

Realizing the absurdity, you swallow, forcing a small, resigned nod. “Hot chocolate then,” you say, the warmth of Ricky’s recommendation tugging at the edges of your memory.

The exchange is brief, the hot drink pressed into your hands a minute later. As you turn to leave, the weight of the ancestral ring around your finger pulls at you, its cool surface grounding and yet suffocating. The bittersweet metal reflects a dull glow, a silent reminder of promises made and broken, of the love lost and the void left behind.

The wind picks up outside, tugging at your coat as you sip the hot chocolate. Its warmth spreads through you, but it’s fleeting, never enough to touch the ache within. You shake your head, Ricky’s face vivid in your mind, his teasing smile as he’d planned your future dates. You’d push the thought aside, but every step feels like dragging a part of him behind you.

“Why can’t I let go?” you murmur, voice snatched away by the icy air. Your brother-in-law’s words echo in your mind, urging you to stop living in Ricky’s shadow. But how do you tear yourself away from the ghost of a love that never got to finish its story?

Snow clings to your coat as you continue to trudge through the city, each step heavy with an ache that refuses to fade. The glow of the streetlights bathes the snow in a warm, golden hue, contrasting the bitter chill that settles in your chest. Sipping the hot chocolate, you try to focus on the warmth sliding down your throat, but the sweetness only sharpens the emptiness inside. The steam curls from the cup, a fleeting comfort as your breath mingles with it in the frigid air.

You pause near a park bench, eyes darting to couples bundled up, their laughter piercing through the quiet snowfall. One couple stands close, the man adjusting the scarf around his partner’s neck with a smile that makes your heart clench. You bite the inside of your cheek, the taste of copper sharp on your tongue as you fight back the sting in your eyes. The jealousy gnaws at you, sour and uninvited.

The memory of Ricky’s voice flits through your mind, warm and teasing: “Good things happen to good people.” You scoff, the bitterness in that statement now a cruel joke. Were you not good enough? The universe seemed to think so, because it had ripped him away, leaving a hollow shell in his place.

Lost in thought, you find yourself on the bridge, fingers trailing over the iron railing that has frosted over, leaving cool streaks on your gloves. This place, once so filled with light and memories, feels haunted now. You trace a path where your and Ricky’s hands once met, where laughter and shared secrets once echoed.

A voice, small and familiar, intrudes on your thoughts. Semi’s question echoes, fragile and innocent: “Aunty, when will Uncle come home?” You close your eyes, the lump in your throat thickening as the memory sharpens. You remember her wide, unknowing eyes searching yours for an answer you couldn't give, the guilt of that half-truth searing into you as you whispered, “I’m not sure, sweetie.”

You grip the railing tighter, feeling the cold seep through your gloves as the ache of regret claws at your heart. The river below moves steadily, unaffected by the chaos in your chest. You look down, watching the water catch the light in rippling patterns, your reflection distorted and wavering. The noise of the city fades as you breathe in the freezing air, each exhale a shuddering attempt to steady yourself.

A gust of wind stings your face, and you force yourself to look up, straightening with a resolve that feels fragile. Ricky’s brother and his wife were inside your apartment, their watchful eyes filled with concern disguised as casual chatter. You know why they stay—it’s not out of pity, but out of fear, a silent agreement to keep you tethered when your world felt like it was splitting at the seams.

The laughter from the park drifts over again, mingling with the hum of distant traffic. For a moment, you let yourself remember the warmth of Ricky’s embrace, the way he’d nudge your shoulder and murmur, “Life doesn’t stop, even when we want it to.”

“Maybe it shouldn’t,” you whisper into the night, the words barely a breath as they dissolve in the chill.

The warmth of the hot chocolate fades as the biting wind grazes your skin, a cruel reminder of the numbing void left behind. You stare at the bridge, eyes tracing the railings where Ricky’s laughter once echoed. A memory surfaces, unbidden yet vivid.

“I know this isn't what either of us planned, but... I wish we could work it out,” Ricky had said, a touch of hesitation softening his confident voice. His hands, hesitant but steady, hovered near you, respecting the space you held between.

“I wish that too,” you had murmured, the lie sliding off your tongue too easily. You’d convinced yourself you didn't care enough for Ricky then, but the pang of that memory now gnawed at your insides. Regret had a way of reshaping the past, twisting even the most indifferent moments into sharp blades.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Ricky had prodded gently, eyes bright even as he leaned down to meet your gaze.

Caught off guard, you’d raised an eyebrow. “Like what?” The question felt foreign, untouched by anyone's curiosity until now.

“Your ideal type,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting as though challenging you. His height had always made you tilt your head back to catch his expression—a detail that now felt like a cruel nostalgia.

“Why would you ask that?” You'd played along, teasing but curious.

Ricky chuckled, the sound resonant and warm. “Because we're getting married, and maybe knowing each other better will make it feel less... strange. Maybe, just maybe, we'll fall in love.” His hand, finally settling on your shoulder, had felt reassuring, a silent promise in its touch.

The memory cleaves through you like a knife, leaving behind a raw wound that no time or distance can heal. A single tear slips down your cheek as you blink, the reality of the moment washing over you like a wave. The park across the street bustles with couples walking hand-in-hand, laughter and warmth breaking through the cold that wraps around you. A fresh ache takes root, sharp and relentless.

You drop the empty cup into the trash can, the metallic clang breaking your reverie. The grief, heavy and suffocating, presses you to the edge as you turn and begin the long walk home. Your footsteps are heavy, every step an effort against the pull of the past.

“Aunty, you're so late. Did you bring Uncle with you?” Semi’s small voice meets you at the door, eyes bright with innocent hope. The guilt hits you like a punch, stealing the air from your lungs. Your throat tightens as you shake your head, eyes avoiding her searching gaze.

Jieun, seeing your reaction, sighs softly as she pulls Semi closer. “Semi, we talked about this, remember?” Her voice holds the practiced patience of a mother trying to shield her child from the pain.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Semi mumbles, eyes dropping to her tiny hands that fidget nervously. The sight twists your heart, guilt layering over the grief that refuses to ease.

You force a hollow smile. “It’s okay, Jieun. She's just a kid,” you say, your voice low and void of emotion as you shrug off your winter coat and hang it up. The familiar routine feels like a play you no longer wish to act in.

“Still, I just—” Jieun’s words falter as you cut her off, your voice breaking the tension.

“Please,” you murmur, the word sharp and desperate, silencing the room. The stillness that follows is suffocating, your breaths shallow as you fight to keep your composure.

Jieun's eyes search yours, understanding but hesitant. “We just don’t want you to be alone,” she whispers, her voice thick with worry.

“I know,” you reply, sitting on the couch with your head hung low, hands clenched tightly in your lap. After a long pause, you add, “But you need to leave. This is your home too, but you have your own life to get back to. I need time... time to figure out how to grieve.” Your eyes don’t lift to meet theirs; you can’t bear to see the disappointment or concern there.

Semi’s voice pipes up again, the innocence piercing through your defenses. “Are you sending us away, Aunty?”

The weight of guilt deepens, pressing into your chest. You close your eyes, feeling the sting behind your lids before you answer. “No, sweetie, I’m not sending you away. You can come whenever you want. Aunty will always be here.” The words come out flat, and you feel them land like lies in the air between you.

Jieun picks Semi up, nodding at you as if she understands, though her eyes glisten with worry. “We’ll give you some space. But we’ll check in. Don’t forget that, please.”

When the door clicks shut, silence wraps around you, heavy and thick. Your gaze shifts to the note you’d prepared earlier, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. The words, written in your own hand, feel foreign now: apologies to the people who stayed, memories they never knew you held, and the final confession of a heart too weary to go on.

You were battling with the urge to just end it all.

The rational part of your brain told you that you were young and had your whole life ahead and that you'd meet a lot of guys in your life but the stubborn heart won't give up and held onto the memory of the guy you once called your husband.

So, you gave up.

A smile, then another.

The city glows beneath you, lights sprawled like constellations cast on earth. The wind at this height is sharp, tearing through your clothes and chilling your skin, as if trying to pull you back from the edge. Your shoes scrape against the concrete ledge, the slight tremble in your legs betraying the battle waging within. The night air smells faintly of rain, metallic and crisp, mingling with the faint hum of traffic below.

You steady your phone in your trembling hand, its cold surface grounding you momentarily. A notification pings, an ironic reminder that life continues to tick on, indifferent to the turmoil within you. The camera lens reflects the shimmer of unshed tears as you hit record, the small red dot staring back like a silent witness.

A smile forms—hesitant, broken. Then another, and another, each one a mask that crumbles too soon. “To everyone who still cares,” you begin, your voice low and cracking, “Semi, sweet, innocent Semi. Jieun, always so patient. Jay... my husband’s shadow in every way. My sister, my friends, all of you who tried.”

The wind picks up, whipping strands of hair across your face as you pause, the weight of the unsaid pressing on your chest. You blink rapidly, tears slipping free, their warmth stinging against your cold cheeks. “Ricky wouldn't want this. I know he'd call me stubborn, weak even.” You let out a hollow laugh, the sound swallowed by the wind. “But he wouldn’t understand how loud it is in the silence he left behind.”

Your heart hammers as you shift your weight, the city seeming to inhale with you, holding its breath in anticipation. The edge of the building digs into the soles of your feet, the space between you and the world below both terrifying and liberating.

“I miss the little moments, Ricky,” you whisper, voice breaking as you squeeze your eyes shut. “I miss you making me feel lonely, and now... now I’m lonelier without you.” The ache in your chest is unbearable, a cavernous void that steals your breath.

One last deep breath, air burning through your lungs, and you step forward. The world blurs into a rush of sound and sensation—wind roaring in your ears, your body weightless, suspended in a moment between despair and peace.

And then the fall hits.

Pain surges through you, sharp and overwhelming, before darkness takes over. Around you, the chaos erupts into a cacophony—screams, the frantic pounding of feet, and the sharp cry of ambulance sirens slicing through the night. But these sounds are drifting away, becoming faint murmurs from a world slipping out of reach.

Silence wraps around you, one that made you feel like everything would be okay after this. Maybe, just maybe, peace waits on the other side. In death.

YOU WALK THROUGH THE DENSE, MILKY FOG, EACH REVERBERATING IN AN ECHO THAT NEVER QUITE SETTLES. The air is cool, feather-light, whispering like distant memories. Is this heaven? The question circles in your mind, unspoken. If it is, where is Ricky? A quiet laugh escapes your lips, hollow. He couldn’t have done enough wrong to land in hell, you think, the hint of humor biting through your longing. Yet, the anticipation twists your heart—an ache that makes you want to see him so desperately.

You try to call out, “Ricky?” but the sound stays trapped in your chest, choked by the thick fog. Another step forward and there’s nothing but endless white, stretching out, swallowing you whole. Your breath catches; suddenly, the air thins, compressing your lungs, squeezing out every ounce of oxygen. You gasp, your hands clawing at the invisible force stealing your breath. It feels like drowning in emptiness.

Then—without warning—everything shifts. White light erupts around you, blinding and all-consuming. You brace for oblivion, muscles tensing for an end you’re sure is near. But instead, there’s a softness beneath you—a mattress that cradles you like an embrace you forgot.

Your eyes snap open, pupils adjusting to the familiar pale ceiling. It’s your ceiling. Your shared room. The bed, the faint scent of Ricky’s cologne still lingering in the sheets, as if he just left. You sit up, heart thundering, hands brushing over your body frantically. No pain, no bruises, no broken bones—nothing. You’re whole, intact.

Then the realization hits you like cold water, and your fingers tremble as you pull them away.

“What the…?” you murmur, eyes darting around, seeking answers that the silent room won’t give. Your gaze falls to the phone on the bedside table, its screen blank and mocking in its stillness. You grab it, breath hitching as the time blinks to life.

January 29th, 2024. 6:30 a.m.

A shiver races down your spine. The date stares back at you, sharp and impossible. You set the phone down, legs feeling weak as you stand and approach the mirror. Your reflection isn’t that of a woman who has been weeping endlessly. Your eyes, dry and wide, reflect confusion rather than the storm of emotions that you carry.

“Is this one of those flashes they say you see before death?” Your voice trembles as the words escape, and you reach up to touch the cold glass. The girl looking back at you does the same, fingers meeting yours in a silent plea.

Then, your eyes catch it. The blue gel pen resting on the dresser—a pen that has no place outside your drawer. It’s a small thing, but the sight of it makes your breath hitch. Memories slice through you, sharp and unforgiving. That pen was the one you’d used for the note to Ricky, the one that demanded space, an end.

“No,” you breathe out, shaking your head, bile rising in your throat. The pen feels like a cruel token, mocking you for what came after. In a swift motion, you snatch it up, the cold plastic biting into your skin as you grip it tight. The weight of your guilt, your regret, turns your stomach, and with a sudden burst of anger, you hurl the pen into the trash, its clatter punctuating the silence like a final plea.

Chest heaving, you close your eyes. If this is some kind of twisted second chance, you don’t know if you should feel terror or relief. But the room, the sheets, the absence on the other side of the bed—everything points to one impossible truth.

You’re back.

But this isn't a romance novel, is it?

Your eyes trail back to the empty bed, where Ricky should be. “Ricky?” The name falls from your lips, hopeful, trembling, but the silence stretches on, suffocating.

Your heart thuds like a wild drumbeat, erratic and desperate, the rhythm matched only by the single hope that propels you forward: seeing Ricky. Alive. Healthy. Breathing.

You practically jog out of the shared bedroom, your bare feet sliding slightly on the hardwood floor as you turn the corner. The guest room door is ajar, a sliver of dim light illuminating the narrow hallway. The pulse in your chest quickens, breaths shallower with each step until you reach the threshold. You pause, drawing in a trembling breath before stepping inside.

There he is. Ricky. Lying on his side, dark hair fanned messily over the pillow, the soft rise and fall of his chest hypnotic in its simplicity. Relief washes over you so powerfully that your knees almost buckle. You inch closer, careful not to make a sound. The blanket is snug around his torso, exposing his bare, muscular chest—the way he prefers when he’s alone. Your throat tightens at the sight, familiar yet so foreign now.

Your hand, almost on its own accord, hovers over his face, fingers trembling as you place them under his nose. The soft, warm breath that meets your touch is enough to sting your eyes with unshed tears. Your hand drifts down, resting against his chest, where you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat—a rhythm you thought you’d never sense again.

Ricky stirs, the sudden shift pulling you out of your trance. His eyelids flutter open, dark eyes glazed with sleep but sharpening as they land on you. He blinks once, then again, brows drawing together.

“What are you doing?” His voice, rough with sleep, carries a note of confusion that makes your hand fall away as though burned.

“I-I…” The words snag in your throat, scrambling to make sense of the madness. How could you possibly explain? Your eyes dart nervously to the floor, heat searing your cheeks as you mutter, “I missed your kisses.”

The room freezes. You can feel the weight of his gaze, heavy with disbelief. He shifts, sitting up, and the blanket slips down to his waist, revealing the sharp lines of his torso. Your eyes betray you, flickering over the familiar planes before darting away in embarrassment.

“But… we never kiss,” he says, voice low and edged with confusion. The statement slices through you, painfully reminding you of the distance you both had grown used to.

“I know... I...” you whisper, fingers clenching into fists at your sides. The silence stretches, heavy, until the sharp trill of his phone alarm shatters it. Ricky’s attention shifts, eyes narrowing as he leans to silence it. When he looks up again, the space where you stood is empty.

You rush back to your room, shutting the door behind you with a soft thud, heart hammering in your chest. Sliding down until you sit with your back pressed against the cool wood, you cover your flushed face with shaking hands. Your pulse thunders in your ears, mixing with the replay of his sleepy voice, the fleeting touch of his warmth.

Is this really the past? The question festers, tugging at the edges of logic, but the ache in your chest and the rawness of your emotions tell you it is. And if so, this year holds one horrifying certainty: Ricky’s death.

The mere thought twists something deep inside you, bringing back the soul-crushing grief, the endless nights of regret. You glance down at your wrist, breath catching as your eyes lock on the ink-black date that marks it: November 4th. The day Ricky dies.

Frantically, you rub at the skin, as if the stubborn mark will simply smudge away under your touch. But it doesn’t. The date remains, stark and immovable, taunting you.

A shiver crawls up your spine, but then a thought—a glimmer of defiance—roots itself.

What if you change it? What if this was given to you, not as a cruel joke, but a chance to rewrite what went so terribly wrong? To love him in a way you never did and save him from the fate that once tore your entire world apart.

“I can do this,” you whisper, determination threading into your voice. The regret may have once paralyzed you, but now it fuels you. If you only have until that date, then every second will be spent fighting fate, no matter how impossible it seems.

THE SOFT MURMUR OF THE COUPLE’S CONVERSATION DRIFTS DOWN THE STERILE HOSPITAL CORRIDOR, brushing against your ears like a whispered secret. The woman lies propped against crisp white pillows, her leg encased in a cast, eyes fixed on her partner with a blend of exhaustion and comfort. He leans forward, fingers interlaced with hers, voice low and tender.

“Can you please see what's wrong?” he asks, eyes glistening with concern. He gently squeezes her hand, words spilling out as quiet reassurances. “You're doing so well, love. It's going to be okay.”

A tight warmth coils in your chest as you approach, a familiar pang of bittersweetness shadowing the sight. The love, the unwavering devotion-it's moments like these that remind you why you cherish your job. The fragility of life, held together by threads of connection, has always moved you, even when those threads unraveled in your own life.

When you started nursing, blood was your greatest fear, the sight once enough to turn your stomach. Time had softened those edges, transforming anxiety into steady resolve. It was also during those early years when you married Ricky, the man whose smile was warm enough to banish shadows but whose presence now only haunted your memories. The marriage had lasted five years before everything shattered with the crash.

No. Stop. The thought rushes at you like a wave, cold and suffocating. You grit your teeth, eyes burning as you push it down, push him down, refusing to let the grief claw at you. He's alive here, in this fragile present you've been thrust into. Don't let the past bleed into now.

“Sure,” you say softly, the practiced smile you wear settling on your face. You reach out, fingers moving gently over the girl's cast, checking the edges, ensuring everything is as it should be. She nods in silent gratitude, eyes fluttering shut with relief as her partner exhales.

The end of your shift arrives with the deep hues of twilight stretching across the sky. The drive home is long, punctuated by the soft rumble of the engine and the anxious thrum of your thoughts. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel, tapping out a nervous rhythm. Avoid home, your mind suggests, listing off a million errands you suddenly think of, any excuse to delay the inevitable.

But the excuses run dry when you're standing in front of your door, keys cold against your palm. The air outside is crisp, biting at your cheeks as you draw a deep breath and hold it. The weight of the morning—Ricky’s sleepy, questioning eyes and the ghost of your impulsive words-hangs between you and the door.

“Is it too late to back down?” The whisper escapes your lips, trembling in the chilly silence. You picture his expression, the puzzled furrow of his brow as he replayed your words. The way his fingers brushed over his phone, gaze lifted just in time to see you flee. He isn't stupid. Ricky never was.

With a sigh, you slip the key into the lock, the click loud and final. The door opens, and warmth spills out to meet you, along with the faint scent of his cologne. Your pulse quickens as you step inside, the hum of your heartbeat louder than the quiet creak of the floor under your weight.

Don't run, you tell yourself, even as the urge coils tight in your muscles. You close the door behind you.

As you push open the front door, the faint glow of the television casts flickering shadows across the living room. There he is-your husband, Ricky, reclined on the couch, eyes fixed intently on the news. His brows knit slightly as a montage of suited politicians gestures on screen, their voices droning promises as hollow as a whisper in the wind.

He is basically watching those politicians give some weird and untrue promises for the sake of votes.

How romantic. How normal. The bitter thought twists in your chest. But it isn't. Nothing about this is normal. Why would he be watching the news, of all things? Then, a pang of irony hits you like a wave. How hypocritical, you think. You promised Ricky your forever in a ceremony that now feels like an echo. The vows shared between you had been spoken out loud but never truly lived.

You shake the memory away, an old wound you refuse to pick at as you step inside, the floor cool under your feet. Ricky doesn't notice you at first, his attention locked on the screen, oblivious to the fact that the person who left him a note asking for space now stands in the doorway, wrestling with the tension roiling inside her.

“Hey,” you finally say, the word falling between you like an anchor. It comes out awkward, unsure, a fragile hope that he won't read too much into it. But Ricky's eyes flick to yours, a spark of recognition cooling to something unreadable.

“You're back home?” His voice is measured, neither warm nor cold, but there's a tightness to it that you can't ignore. He shifts, the blue glow of the screen catching the sharp line of his jaw as he waits for your response.

The note. You had slipped it into his hand, asking for a break from a marriage four years deep but hollow. Your heart thuds in your chest, fingers clenched at your side as you speak before fear can pull the words back.

“The note-I take it back. I don't want a break from you or this relationship, Ricky.”

The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the low hum of the news anchor's voice. His eyes search yours, a hint of disbelief darkening the warm brown you once memorized. “Why?” The question slices through the quiet, clipped and cautious. You almost flinch at the hardness there, a wall built brick by brick in your absence.

“Because I don't want to stay away from you.” Your voice trembles, raw honesty exposed between you like an open wound. Ricky's eyes widen slightly, the stoic mask cracking as a flush creeps across his cheeks.

“Y-You're blushing?” The soft, astonished laugh tumbles out of you, a momentary break in the storm that makes you feel like you're standing on the edge of something new. The corners of his mouth twitch, the faintest sign of a smile, but he shakes his head.

“Sure, sir. You're just cold.” You chuckle, sinking onto the floor beside the couch, knees drawn up as you hug them close. The laughter is sharp, almost giddy, the sound foreign in the room that has held so many silences.

Ricky watches you, confusion settling into his features, the red on his cheeks fading as he leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You're acting weird,” he murmurs, the words half swallowed, uncertain.

“How am I acting weird if I'm seeing my husband show some attraction to me, which isn't platonic, for the first time?” The jest slips out, tinged with sincerity, but it brings a hush over both of you. The truth stands stark between you, glaring and painful. For a moment, neither of you speak, each of you weighed down by memories, by the heavy knowledge of what's been lost and what still aches to be found.

But determination flares in your chest, a stubborn warmth. So what if love had been absent before? So what if promises were half-kept and hearts guarded? You could start again. You could relearn how to be two flawed people willing to try. Your gaze meets Ricky's, the hope in your eyes unyielding.

Don't let go, you silently plead. Let this be the start of something real.

Ricky clears his throat, a subtle attempt to dissolve the tension settling over the living room like a blanket too heavy to lift. His fingers fidget, running nervously over the seam of the couch as he shifts his gaze downward. There you are, still seated on the floor, legs tucked to one side, eyes catching the soft glow from the TV. Cute, he thinks, the word rolling silently through his mind, too heavy with unsaid truths to speak aloud.

“So...” The word escapes him, thin and unfinished, hovering in the air. His eyes flit over your face, searching for a reaction. The awkwardness clings to the silence, but you don't falter.

“So?” you echo, your tone a notch steadier, holding the slight tremor that betrays your effort. You lean forward just slightly, a gesture that feels braver than it is. If courage could rewrite fate, you'd wield it now, not just for yourself, but for him. For Ricky, who might not know the sharp edge of reality that's cut you.

He rubs the back of his neck, glancing to the side where the blue light paints his profile in soft, wavering lines. “You know... Semi's birthday is next week.” His words stumble, trailing off as if second-guessing their own existence. But you aren't in the dark. You know exactly what this moment leads to.

“Yes, I'd love to go shopping for gifts for her,” you respond, your voice quick and practiced. His eyes widen, caught off guard, the surprise stark against his usual composed expression. The tension in his jaw slackens, and he blinks, unsure if he heard you right.

“Excuse me?” He stares at you, the faint crease between his brows deepening.

“Isn't that what you were about to ask?” You tilt your head slightly, a small smile playing at your lips, testing him. He hesitates, realizing that denial means trouble, but his face softens into a relieved kind of acceptance.

“No, no... of course. You could... accompany me to shop for Semi's birthday presents.” His voice picks up, the uncertainty lifting as he finds the path back to normalcy. He notices your smile widening, the tension slipping just enough to let him breathe.

“Okay then, see you tomorrow, husband.” The word slips from you, unbidden, laced with a warmth that surprises even you as you turn on your heel. You make your way toward the guest room, feet padding softly against the floor. Ricky's brows knit again, eyes following your form until you pause, hand on the frame of the doorway.

“Why are you heading to the guest room?” His question is quick, a thread of confusion laced with something else-something vulnerable.

“Because we sleep apart, and I wouldn't want my husband's back to break on that stiff, rough bed. The sheets aren't even comfortable,” you say, voice light but with an edge that dares him to react. You step into the room, but glance over your shoulder with eyes that glimmer, a playful smirk pulling at your lips. “Besides, I'd rather you break your back or get tired doing me than struggling on a bed.”

His jaw drops, eyes wide with stunned silence as the door closes between you. Ricky sits back, eyes fixed on the now-empty hallway, replaying the moment in disbelief. The wife who barely spoke above a whisper at their wedding, who tiptoed through years of silence, had just turned the tables with a single teasing line. His pulse hammers beneath the stillness.

What on earth just happened?

“ARE YOU TELLING ME Y/N JUST TURNED INTO A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PERSON?” Jay's voice, casual yet curious, echoes through the phone. He's speaking to Ricky, who shifts from foot to foot, eyes glancing around the boutique as he waits for you to finish picking out a dress for his niece. The sound of soft music drifts around him, mixing with murmurs of other shoppers.

“Exactly that!” Ricky’s voice comes out louder than intended, drawing looks from the store's staff. A woman in a sleek uniform, brows raised in disapproval, approaches with a pointed glare.

“Sir, please keep your voice down or refrain from talking altogether,” she says, sternly but professional.

Ricky's ears burn as embarrassment blooms across his face. “Yeah, I'm sorry” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Through the phone, Jay's laughter rings clear and unapologetic. “You seriously got told off by staff? Man, you're killing me!” Jay's chuckles fade into a smirk that Ricky can practically hear. Jay's the same as he's always been-playful, relentless, the older brother who teases but listens when it counts.

“Fine, fine, I'll stop. Tell me what you mean by Y/N changing, just... keep it PG, will you?” Jay's tone is teasing, but curiosity laces through.

Ricky’s jaw tightens, eyes scanning the store for you as if your sudden return would put him on the spot. “There's nothing intimate going on between us,” he blurts, the words a knee-jerk reaction. His chest tightens with the memory of you resting your hand on him in your sleep last week, the way warmth had crept through him then. He clears his throat. “I mean, she's talking to me more, being... sweet. She listens. It's almost... submissive.”

“I told you, no bedroom details!” Jay chimes in, sarcasm sharp enough to make Ricky's teeth clench.

“THIS IS NOT A BEDROOM DETAIL!!!” Ricky retorts, frustration coloring his tone. It earns him another hard look from the store associate across the room, who pointedly glances over her glasses. Ricky sighs and mouths an apology again, shoulders drooping as he lowers his voice.

“What I mean is, she's more... attentive. She's not arguing as much. It's like she's listening to me for the first time.”

Jay's voice softens, just a hint of seriousness slipping through. “Isn't that how she always is with others?”

“Yeah, with everyone else. Just not with me,” Ricky admits, the admission heavy with a history neither of them mention.

“Interesting.” Jay's reply is contemplative, but before he can say more, Ricky's voice interrupts, distorted through the line. “Oh shoot, she's coming back. I'll call you later.”

As the call ends, Ricky pockets his phone, glancing up just in time to see you walking back with a smile. Jay, on the other side of the city, sets his phone down, a smirk playing at his lips as he thinks of sharing this tidbit with his wife later. Whatever was happening between his brother and sister-in-law, it was about to get even more intriguing.

On the other side, Ricky stands, a mixture of amusement and curiosity on his face as you hold up a tiny pink dress. It's perfectly frilly, fit for a little girl. But all he can think is how charming it would look in a size for you—a thought that makes him shake his head, realizing how ridiculous it sounds.

“So, what do you think? Should I get this for Semi?” you ask, eyes sparkling with anticipation. There's already a growing collection of clothes for his niece in your arms, a reminder of how you've embraced being part of his family.

“Are you getting all of them?” he asks, more out of shock than judgment. He never imagined children's clothes could come with such hefty price tags.

“Yes, why? Is this too much? I can cover it if—”

Before you can finish, he interrupts, affronted. “I'll pay. It's for my lady, after all.”

The statement hangs in the air, not romantic as he'd intended but awkward, making your brows twitch slightly. You resist the urge to grimace, forcing a polite smile instead.

A staff member, the same one who had shushed Ricky earlier, walks over with an unimpressed expression, exchanging a silent, almost comic glare with him. She gave Ricky a look that said 'you're weird and I don't want to talk to you'

'what have I ever done to you' was the look that Ricky presented back to the staff before she looked away. You glance between them, slightly confused. Then Ricky clears his throat, moving the conversation forward.

“Do you have a similar dress in a bigger size?” His voice drops to almost a whisper. He feels self-conscious asking, but the idea has stuck.

The staff member blinks, taken aback. “Excuse me?” She tilts her head, uncertain if she heard right.

“Yeah, do you have something like this,” Ricky gestures at the dress in your hands, “but, you know, for an adult?” A flush of red creeps across his cheeks as he points to you. The staff member nods after a moment, walking off to search, while you stand there stunned, watching her go.

“Why are you buying something for me? Semi’s dress is already pricey. A woman's size will be—”

“It's just a dress,” he interrupts with a small sigh, eyes softening. “Think of it as a gift.”

“But today isn't anything special.”

“Maybe not. But I'd like to make it special,” he replies, voice lowering. “I haven't given you anything since our wedding. That was four years ago.” His words carry a quiet vulnerability as he looks at you, taller and more serious than you expect. You hold his gaze before shifting and mumbling a reluctant, “Fine,” looking away to hide the way your cheeks warm.

The staff returns holding a similar dress, but in an adult size. It's pink, short, and undeniably cute-something that looks a little too daring for your style.

“Will this do?” she asks.

“Absolutely not,” “hell yeah,” you and Ricky say in unison. The staff's eyebrows raise as she turns to you, sensing you as the more level-headed one.

“We're not buying it,” you insist, giving Ricky a look.

He doubles down. “We are.”

“Ricky, no.”

“Why not?”

“It's too short!” you argue, exasperated. He shrugs, eyes softening as he counters, “It's knee-length. That's normal.”

With a dramatic sigh, you roll your eyes and give in. But you don't try it on in the store; the idea of wearing it in front of him makes your heart thud with a mix of nerves and embarrassment. After all, you've barely even shared a bed in weeks—how could you possibly show him a dress like that now?

RICKY’S HEART STOPS FOR A MOMENT AS HE TAKES IN THE SIGHT BEFORE HIM. You, standing in the baby pink dress that hugs your figure just right, with its soft fabric brushing just above your knees. The playful, shy smile you wear as you twirl slightly sends a wave of warmth through him. He never expected to see you like this; the reality strikes him so suddenly that it leaves him breathless.

The laughter of Semi fills the room as she runs around in her matching pink dress, giggling and pulling you along by the hand. The soft glow of the post-birthday celebration lights casts a golden hue, warming up the atmosphere in the living room. Ricky sits on the edge of the couch, one hand resting on his knee as he watches you and Semi, his gaze softening with an emotion he hasn't felt in what seems like ages.

A gentle nudge breaks his trance, and he turns to see his mother looking at him with raised brows and a hopeful gleam. “When are you two going to have kids?” she asks, her voice light but laced with longing.

The air in the room shifts. You pause mid-spin, eyes darting to Ricky with a look of surprise. This isn't part of the script of your past life; this question throws you off balance, the sudden attention making your heart race.

Ricky’s father, seated across with a glass of wine in his hand, lets out a dramatic sigh. “I think I'll be long gone before I see any grandchildren from this one,” he jokes, though the weight behind it is unmistakable. The statement slices through the room's cheerful mood, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. Ricky's jaw tightens, a subtle tension creeping up his spine. He wants kids too, he really does—but not in a house that feels as unstable as theirs has become.

Before he can respond, you surprise everyone, including yourself. “We're trying,” you say, the words slipping out with practiced ease, even as your pulse pounds. The room freezes, all eyes turning toward you in shock.

Ricky’s eyebrows lift in silent question, but he plays along, shifting to put on an unreadable expression. He nods, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he covers the uncertainty boiling beneath. The room shifts back into a mixture of excitement and surprise.

“Is that true? You're both trying?” Ricky’s mother's eyes glisten, her hope rekindled as she looks between you and her son.

“Really?” Ricky's father echoes, leaning forward, his earlier sarcasm replaced by genuine interest.

Jay, standing near the fireplace, furrows his brow, lips parting in disbelief. Only last week, Ricky had confided in him about how distant and weird things had become between you two.

Ricky forces a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah... we've been trying for a while.” The lie feels heavy in his mouth, and he shoots you a look that says, Why'd you lie about that?

Your sister-in-law, Jieun, raises her hand, pointing at you with wide eyes. “Since when?” she blurts out, unable to contain her shock.

Ricky stutters, “It's been a-a month,” the answer sounding rehearsed yet shaky. He glances at you again, his eyes pleading for an explanation that won't come.

The conversation quickly shifts into an excited buzz, with well-meaning wishes from your in-laws filling the air. You catch Ricky's gaze, and despite the tight-lipped smile you give the family, there's a flicker of humor in your eyes. The absurdity of it all makes you want to laugh.

You both know the truth: the notion of trying for a child is impossibly far from reality.

Heck, it was funny for you to watch.

You were still a virgin. You two didn't even kiss more than once in those four years and they expect a baby to suddenly pop out of you?

And once the party winds down, you find yourself sitting on the couch with Semi by your side. Her wide, curious eyes shine with excitement as she swings her legs back and forth. At just four years old, she's a bundle of endless questions and innocent wonder.

You smile, reaching over to gently ruffle her soft, dark hair. “Does the birthday girl like her dress?” you ask, voice playful.

Semi beams, glancing down at the pink ruffled dress with pride. “It's so pretty,” she chirps, then looks up at you with a thoughtful expression. “But yours is prettier. You always look pretty, Aunty.”

Your heart melts, and you chuckle softly. “Aww, you learned how to give compliments, huh?” you tease, watching as her cheeks turn rosy and she averts her gaze to fiddle with her fingers.

“Aunty!” she whines, wanting you to stop teasing. Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans in closer and motions for you to do the same. With a curious tilt of your head, you move closer, letting her whisper into your ear. “Will you eat a baby to have a baby?” she asks, voice so serious it makes you freeze for a moment.

You stifle a laugh, your eyes crinkling at the edges. Gently cupping her cheek, you whisper back, “No, sweetie. That's not how it works. But that's grown-up stuff, and we don't talk about it now, do we?”

Semi giggles, her little fingers playing with a toy she received from her grandmother. The sight makes your chest tighten in a bittersweet way. You can almost picture your mother-in-law doting on a future child, fussing over toys and tiny clothes. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, making you shake your head lightly as if to dispel the image.

But a small part of you can't help but smile at the idea, a blush rising to your cheeks. The dream is distant, almost unreachable, and not yet yours to claim.

When you and Ricky step out into the cold night, the air nips at your exposed legs below your knees. The dress he had picked out for you, delicate and pastel pink, offers little warmth, and the heels are beginning to pinch with every step. You trail behind him, taking careful, aching strides to avoid twisting your ankle.

Ricky notices, stopping suddenly to turn toward you, eyes scanning your shivering frame. “What’s wrong?” His gaze softens as he realizes how exposed you are, legs trembling from the chill. Without hesitating, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. The sudden warmth is welcome, but your teeth still chatter as you mutter, “Wish I had something covering my legs instead.”

He exhales, half exasperated, half amused, before a wry smile forms. “Should I carry you like a princess? You’d be warm then.”

Surprised, you bite back a retort, matching his teasing tone with confidence. “Maybe you should.”

Ricky’s eyebrows shoot up, stunned. “Wait, what?”

“Chill, I was just joking,” you mumble, looking down at the ground. But before you know it, he’s stopped again, this time dropping to one knee. Your eyes widen in shock. “WHAT THE HELL?” you blurt out, stepping back in reflex, heat rising to your cheeks at the unexpected gesture. (more so because you believed he was trying to look up your dress)

Ricky looks up, mildly annoyed but patient. “I’m helping you,” he says simply. Before you can argue, he pulls out a pair of slippers from a little carry bag he had brought from home. The realization hits, softening your expression as he glances up. “Lift your leg.”

You comply, feeling foolish for your earlier outburst. He slips the heels off your feet and replaces them with the soft slippers, careful and precise as if proving he has no ulterior motive. The chill in the air suddenly seems less biting.

“You had these the whole time?” you ask, voice softer now, eyes wide with realization. He places the heels into the carry bag, stands up, and meets your gaze with a smirk.

“Yeah. Thought you might need them,” he says, a hint of smugness in his tone. You’re about to thank him when he reminds you with a mock-accusing look, “And you were ready to accuse me of being a pervert.”

The memory makes you feel small, but you muster a sheepish, “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, a touch of amusement in his eyes as the two of you start walking again, your steps now confident and comfortable. His jacket around your shoulders holds a warmth that seems to seep straight to your heart.

“So...” Ricky’s voice cuts through the silence, the question you've been dreading finally arriving. “Why did you lie about... us trying for a baby?” His tone is cautious, probing.

You sigh, the answer already clear in your mind. “It was the only way to get them to stop bothering us,” you admit. A pause follows, your gaze flitting up to meet his. You don’t dare to say more, not with your secret burden looming—coming from a future where he is no longer alive and your mission is to keep him safe.

Ricky hums in agreement, the tension easing a bit. “I can’t argue with that.” A comfortable silence settles between you, only broken by the sound of your footsteps. He glances at you again and asks, “Are you hungry?”

As if on cue, your stomach grumbles. Relief flashes across his face before he reaches out, taking your hand and leading you forward. The two of you approach a small, tucked-away restaurant, its sign faded but familiar. Ricky’s eyes light up. “You have to try the cold coffee from that café across the street,” he points out, the fondness in his voice unmistakable.

You nod, memories flickering back. His odd, endearing preferences were things you never forgot. “Fish curry with plain rice and some shrimp on the side?” you guess, eyes twinkling with recognition.

Ricky’s head snaps to you, surprise clear as day. He stares, a laugh escaping him as he shakes his head. “Since when did you start memorizing my favorites?”

You had heard about his fav things to eat from your brother in law, Jay. But Ricky never said it to you himself so the boy was pretty much stunned when you literally memorised them, as if you were waiting to flex this whole time.

You offer a small, knowing smile. “I have my ways.”

The waiter arrives promptly with your orders, and the rich aroma fills the space between you and Ricky. He takes a bite, but pauses, eyes drifting to you with a soft, contemplative expression. “We’ve never done this before…” he murmurs, his tone a mix of realization and gentle amusement.

You tilt your head, savoring a piece of shrimp. “You mean this date?” you ask, half-smiling.

“Yeah. I guess that’s what I mean,” he replies, taking a moment before continuing, as if gathering the courage. “I like it. I like how we are now.” He takes a sip of water, and the way he watches you is tender, raw. His hand slides across the table to rest over yours, fingers warm against your skin.

“I don’t know what changed, but I…” He hesitates, eyes locking with yours, a profound intensity that silences you. “I like how we’re not avoiding each other anymore, how we talk instead of fighting over every little thing.”

The sincerity in his words pierces through you, tugging at memories of a future where his absence left a hollow ache in your chest. The pain you’d carried, the distance, the loss—all of it feels heavy in this moment, but now, something else unfurls within you. An unexpected warmth that swells as his thumb brushes over your knuckles.

He draws in a shaky breath. “I know I’m not perfect. I’ve made mistakes, maybe too many, and that’s why we kept drifting apart in those four years we were married. But I want us to stay like this. Is that too much to ask for?” His voice cracks, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

The depth of emotion he shows takes your breath away, and your vision blurs as your own tears spill over. The raw honesty in his confession reaches a part of you that had long been buried under grief and guilt. But this isn’t grief—it’s something different, a warmth that wraps around you and fills the spaces that loss once consumed.

“Ricky…” you whisper, voice trembling. He blinks rapidly, tears tracing paths down his cheeks as he tries to manage a laugh, a hand lifting to wipe at his face. “Did I go too overboard?” he chuckles, awkwardly, brushing his fingers over yours, an attempt to ease the intensity.

But you can’t answer with words, your heart too full. Instead, you wipe your own tears away, watching him as he takes a deep breath and resumes eating, eyes still red-rimmed, his emotions raw and vivid between you. The silence that follows is... a little satisfying this time around. Your chest tightens, and you realize this feeling—this unexpected, overwhelming tenderness—is the spark you hadn’t felt in what feels like forever.

The confession... It did something to you. It made you feel things or you believed so.

You reach for his hand, this time without hesitation, and hold on as if anchoring both of you to this moment. A shared glance tells him everything you can’t yet put into words: you’re here, with him, and for now, that’s enough.

AS THE DAYS PASSED FOLLOWING THAT UNEXPECTED DINNER, a subtle shift had occurred between you and Ricky. It had been a month since then, and despite your hectic lives—you, a dedicated nurse, and him, an ambitious lawyer—something had changed. You continued to sleep separately, a necessity due to your conflicting schedules. Late nights saw you returning home to find Ricky already asleep, and early mornings had him leaving before you awoke. This unspoken arrangement was born out of mutual respect for each other’s rest.

However, the reminder of the future haunted you. The date on your wrist, November 4th, hadn’t faded or smudged. It remained stark and vivid, a grim reminder of the fate you knew awaited Ricky, filling you with silent dread.

Despite your busy lives, the dinner at that small restaurant had stirred something unspoken between you. A shared tenderness had taken root, and in the brief pauses between work, you found yourself drawn to those moments that whispered of possibilities—moments that spoke of a bond that hadn’t existed before.

The room feels charged with an unspoken tension as you stand there, watching Ricky. The question slips from your lips, “Are we sleeping separately again?” masking the tremble in your voice with an attempt at confidence. Ricky’s eyes meet yours, an amused smile playing on his lips as he tilts his head. “Do you want to sleep with me?” he asks, casual yet knowing.

You stammer, trying to find an answer that won’t reveal how vulnerable you feel. “No—yes—but—” The uncertainty in your voice makes him chuckle softly, the sound sending warmth through your chest. The realization of your feelings for him washes over you again, clear and inescapable.

“It’s normal to want to sleep with your husband. Don’t worry,” he says reassuringly. His tone is light, yet there’s an edge of tenderness as he turns and walks to the bedroom. He pauses at the doorway, looking back with an expectant eyebrow raise, and you follow.

Inside, the dim light casts soft shadows. The atmosphere feels different tonight, heightened by the realization that, while you’ve shared this space before, this moment feels profoundly intimate. He hesitates for a moment, the usual playful confidence in his manner replaced by a quiet consideration.

Should he lie down first?

Wait for you?

Or speak?

“You don’t need to worry. I won’t touch you unless you want me to. We could even put a pillow between us if you prefer,” he says in a rush, trying to ease the tension. But his words leave you both flushed. You respond, flustered yet honest, “No—you can touch me—I mean...”

Ricky’s eyes widen, and a surprised silence falls over you both, broken only by your slightly quickened breaths.

Finally, you break it, murmuring, “So... do we sleep?” You wish the dim light hides your expression, but Ricky’s shifting on the bed signals that he’s as unsettled as you are. He lies down first, and you follow, settling into the bed with a space that feels simultaneously too close and too distant.

Minutes pass as the darkness deepens around you. You’re aware of every sound, every breath he takes, and the slight rustle of sheets as you both try to find comfort. The knowledge that he’s staying dressed out of respect doesn’t escape you, and neither does the chill that seeps through the room, despite the blanket. It’s enough to make sleep elusive, even as your heart drums with quiet, unspoken hope.

The air feels thick with tension as neither of you can fall asleep, despite the dim light and the shared silence. Ricky gently sits up, his voice breaking the stillness. “I’ll get changed into my night clothes—this is uncomfortable. You should get changed too,” he suggests. His words are practical, but they stir a shyness inside you. The thought of wearing shorts around him makes you feel self-conscious, though the blanket and darkness give you some comfort.

With a deep breath, you agree. You grab your oversized top and shorts, retreating to the bathroom to change. When you return, Ricky is already asleep, dressed in a soft T-shirt and shorts. His peaceful expression makes a pang of guilt settle in your chest. You feel both relief and unease at the same time, knowing he’s so close yet so far away.

You lie there, tense in the stillness of the night. Ricky’s hand lands instinctively on your stomach, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you. You hold your breath, carefully shifting his hand away. Just when you think you're safe, his leg shifts under the blanket, pressing gently between your legs. A rush of heat floods your chest as you gently push his leg away, silently exhaling in relief.

In the quiet, you watch him sleep. His messy hair, a small trail of drool escaping his lips—something inside you stirs. Without thinking, you bring your thumb to wipe away the drool, brushing it lightly against your shirt. You stare at him for a moment, your heart racing in ways you can’t fully understand.

For Ricky though,

He wakes to find you so close, your noses nearly touching. A small breath escapes him as he pulls back, but then he notices your body, curled into him—one of your legs and arms wrapped around him, as if clinging to his warmth to escape the cold. You’re nestled so comfortably against his chest, and though a small part of him wants to get up, he finds himself content in the moment.

He stares at you, watching as he slips his fingers through your hair, the quiet intimacy settling around him like a comforting blanket. When you stir, half-awake, he expects you to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you bury yourself further into his chest, and he smiles, a little amused by your unconscious need for closeness.

“Morning... Baby,” he says softly, though he’s hoping you’ll move just enough for him to slip out of bed.

“Morningg,” you murmur, nuzzling his chest. He notices how you don’t seem to mind the nickname, a small sign that you’re still in that dreamy, sleepy state. He wants to pull away, but he doesn't want to disturb you, so he asks, “Can you move a bit, baby?”

You barely stir, your arms and legs still tangled with his. “Too cold,” you mumble, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“I know, baby. I’ll turn the heater on for you, is that good?” he whispers, his voice tender. He’s careful not to wake you fully, knowing you won’t even remember this when you wake up.

An hour later, you wake up alone in the bed, the soft comforter still wrapped around your legs. You stretch and yawn, rubbing your eyes, only to hear the door creak open. Ricky stands there, a plate in hand—an omelette and a fruit salad. You blink, unsure if you’re still dreaming, and pinch your cheek, just to make sure this isn’t some figment of your imagination.

“What's that?” you ask, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Breakfast in bed,” Ricky says with a playful grin, setting the plate down in front of you.

“For me?” you ask, surprised and touched.

“Who else?” he replies with a shrug, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

“Why...?” You blink at him, unsure of why he's being so considerate, so affectionate.

“Why not?” he answers, teasing, but there’s a sincerity in his eyes that makes your heart flutter.

You stare at the food in front of you, but the nerves kick in. “Well, uhm... I haven’t brushed.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures, waving off your concerns.

“No, it’s not. It’s gross. I do care about germs,” you argue, a bit embarrassed. Before he can say anything else, you rush off to brush your teeth, feeling a little self-conscious. You quickly freshen up, brushing your teeth with the toothpaste, hoping that’ll help with the lingering awkwardness.

When you return, you take a bite, and the emotion hits you harder than you expect. You don’t quite know why, but the tenderness of his gesture fills you with gratitude, and a soft lump forms in your throat.

“Why?” you ask again, your voice shaky, as you sip some water. The question has been swirling in your mind ever since you saw him standing there, holding that plate.

“Hm?” he hums, genuinely confused, not fully understanding why you're so emotional.

“Why are you being so nice... and romantic?” You wince after speaking, regretting your words, but you can't take them back now.

Ricky tilts his head, his smile fading slightly. “Like I said a month ago... I meant those words. I want us to stay like this... And not go back to how it was in those four years.. Are we really that immature to let it happen again?” The vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard, and for a moment, you can see the hurt in his eyes.

It's raw, honest, and you feel a knot twist in your chest, not having a reply to his genuine question.

THE DAYS AND MONTHS THAT FOLLOW ARE UNEXPECTEDLY TENDER, filled with moments that remind you of what being husband and wife is meant to feel like. The shared smiles, lingering touches, and quiet mornings are sweeter than they have ever been, and for the first time in a long while, peace seems attainable. Yet, there is an undercurrent that stirs beneath it all—the date that looms, casting a shadow over your contentment.

November 4th.

With the month drawing nearer, your heart starts to tighten with an anxious grip. Paranoia seeps into the quiet moments, the fear of what November 4th could mean—what it has meant in the past—makes the days feel more fragile. Your mind races, replaying scenarios and doubts that you can’t shake off. Each sweet gesture, each kind word from him, is tinged with the knowledge that the date approaches, threatening to unravel everything you’ve rebuilt.

Ricky’s expression is heavy with exhaustion, dark circles under his eyes hinting at the long day he’s had. You offer, “I’ll heat up the dinner,” and turn toward the kitchen, but he stops you with a gentle grasp around your wrist. Before you can react, he pulls you back, pressing you against the wall. The soft strains of a romantic song drift from the living room, creating an intimate, almost fragile atmosphere.

He’s close—closer than usual—and you feel the warmth radiating from his body as well as the subtle scent of his cologne. The proximity sends your pulse racing.

“Ricky?” you say softly, confusion lacing your voice as you look up at him. His face is unreadable, the dim lighting casting a shadow over the tired lines of his features. His eyes meet yours, carrying an unspoken emotion.

“Mm?” he murmurs, his voice hushed, as if not to disturb the moment. His hands find their way around you, holding you securely against him, and he leans his chin on your head. The gesture feels protective, desperate even.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your words barely above a whisper, unsure if you’re seeking clarification or reassurance. His embrace tightens for a moment, and you feel his chest rise and fall against yours as he takes a deep breath.

“Can you stop calling me Ricky?” he says quietly, the request landing softly, yet weighted.

Surprise flashes through you. “What do you want me to call you?” you ask, voice muffled against his shirt. The question feels vulnerable, as if shifting something fundamental between you both.

“I don’t know... something like... baby, darling, honey... or anything,” he admits, a subtle flush spreading across his cheeks despite the solemn tone. You catch the shy dip of his eyes, and a faint smile tugs at your lips.

“You’re being quite demanding,” you tease, looking up into his face. His lips part slightly as he considers your words.

“This isn’t being demanding,” he counters, pausing just long enough for the silence to underline his meaning. His eyes search yours, raw and full of an unnamed plea. “I just want to spend my last months with you, thinking we’re just... normal. Like any other couple.”

His words sink in, bringing with them an ache that spreads through your chest. The silence that follows is heavy, laced with all the things unsaid and the truth that’s pressing in on both of you. You lift a hand, letting your fingers brush the hair at the back of his neck. His eyes soften, dark lashes casting shadows against his skin as he watches you.

There’s something fragile in this moment, a bittersweet understanding passing between you that makes your throat tighten. The future looms, uncertain and unkind, but for now, you’re here, held close, suspended in the tender present.

Ricky’s voice lowers, a tremor in its depths that betrays the weight of his words. “You might not believe me, but... I come from a reality where I’m dead. So, I hope we can at least be nice to each other in my last moments. Can you do that?”

A stunned silence follows, your breath catching in your throat as his confession hangs in the air. You believe him; how could you not when you come from the same reality? Eyes widening, you step back, raising your wrist to show the dark, unerasable mark: November 4th. The ink-like number seems to pulse, a constant reminder of a fate that binds you both.

Ricky’s eyes mirror your shock. He releases you, just enough to reveal his own wrist. There it is, the same haunting date. The mark seems alive, almost mocking, as if counting down with every heartbeat.

Neither of you speaks for a moment, the silence heavy with shared grief and realization. The next second, you’re in his arms again, your face buried in his chest as he pulls you close, his own face pressed into your hair. The world around you blurs, reduced to the rapid thumping of your heart and the warmth of his embrace.

“I... please don’t... leave me this time,” you plead, your voice breaking under the weight of your fear. The memory of finding him lifeless in the world you came from, the coldness of that reality, rushes back with a cruel force.

“I will try,” he whispers, his voice barely steady as he runs a hand down your back in a soothing gesture. “We changed the relationship, right? So maybe... just maybe, we can avoid death too.”

You both stand there, unmoving as the moment stretches out. It feels absurd, two souls transported from a fractured future, now clinging to each other in the present in a fragile hope. Yet the thought of letting go is unbearable, so you don’t. For now, the reality of the present is enough.

RICKY’S FINGERS TREMBLE SLIGHTLY AS HE HOLDS OUT THE SMALL BOX, A HINT OF NERVOUSNESS CREASING HIS BROW. “This is for you.” His voice is softer than usual, his eyes searching yours for a response. The box is familiar, a relic from the present you left behind, steeped in memories. Inside is the ancestral ring, one that Ricky’s mother entrusted to you after his death—a token that held more value than any wedding ring could.

“I wasn’t... couldn’t give it to you before, but now... I’d like you to have it.” His voice is almost a whisper as he takes your hand, slipping the cool metal onto your finger. His touch lingers, warm and careful, as if anchoring the moment between you.

You look down at the ring, its delicate design catching the dim light and glistening softly. The weight of it brings back a rush of memories that mix grief with an unexpected warmth. Meeting his gaze, you let a small, genuine smile curve your lips. “Thank you. After you… I mean, after your death, your mother gave it to me,” you say, voice thick with the past, “but I’m glad it’s you giving it to me now.”

The way his eyes widen before softening speaks volumes—acceptance, regret, and hope, all blending seamlessly as he draws you closer.

Ricky’s expression shifts, a soft smile forming as he leans in, his body pressing yours gently against the bedroom wall. His breath mingles with yours, warm and scented faintly with his cologne. His eyes trace your features, holding a glimmer of something tender and fragile. You raise a brow in playful defiance, a silent challenge, and a sheepish smile tugs at his lips. Without another word, he cups your face, his thumb grazing your cheek, and leans in until the space between you disappears.

The first touch of his lips is tentative, testing. A shiver races down your spine as his mouth moves with a gentleness that makes your heart stutter. Your eyes flutter open for a second, catching the serene expression on his face before closing again as you respond, deepening the kiss. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to reality.

When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing in short, uneven gasps. The room is silent except for the soft crackle of a song playing somewhere in the background. Ricky’s eyes open, and in them, you see a question—a hesitation laced with anticipation. “Do you want to go further?” His voice, barely above a whisper, holds a vulnerability that makes your pulse quicken.

You exhale softly, a hint of a smile teasing your lips as you match his boldness. “How far can you go?” The playful edge in your voice makes him chuckle, low and breathy.

“As far as you want to go.” The words are a promise, and before you can respond, his lips capture yours again, more confident this time, as his hand moves to the strap of your dress, gently sliding it off of your shoulders.

THE NEXT FEW WEEKS PASS IN A COMFORTING CALM, the bond between you and Ricky strengthening with each passing day. You're no longer weighed down by the regret of the past, but instead, you focus on cherishing the present. Yet, there's still a lingering unease.

Ricky driving the car is something that continues to gnaw at you. It's not just a simple fear; it's the haunting memory of the future you came from, where that very action led to his tragic end. As November nears, the pressure builds. You look at the date on your wrist—November 4th—and the thought of losing him again, of it becoming reality, is too much to bear. Your chest tightens, and you feel a mix of helplessness and dread, hoping with every fiber of your being that this time, things will be different.

Ricky offers a reassuring smile, the kind that tries to mask his own unease as he softly says, “Chill, I’ll be back in an hour, alright?” His hand moves up to gently smooth your hair, eyes soft with understanding as he takes in the worry etched across your face. You cling tighter to his arm, voice trembling as you ask, “Is it important?”

He nods, and the hopeful part of you crumbles. The instinct to keep him close, to refuse, is almost overwhelming. But before you can protest, he leans forward, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. His hands slip down to rest on your shoulders as he looks at you earnestly.

“I promise I’ll be back. Now, will my pretty wife give me a smile so I can come back even sooner?” The playful plea tugs at your lips, and despite the fear swirling inside, you manage a small, forced smile. He chuckles softly, ruffling your hair before turning to leave.

You trail behind him to the door, eyes glued to the taillights of his car as they fade down the street. The ache in your chest sharpens, and you glance down at the ancestral ring on your finger, tracing its smooth surface as if the touch alone could make your wish come true: Please, come back safely.

The minutes stretch painfully long, and every ten minutes, you can’t resist sending a text, the same anxious message: “If you’re okay, just send a heart emoji.” True to his word, Ricky replies with a heart every time—until the fifty-minute mark.

The silence is deafening. Your heart thunders as you stare at your phone, willing the screen to light up. Nothing. The dread coils tighter, stealing the air from your lungs. You take a shaky breath, but it barely settles you. Panic sets in, and you hit the call button. The phone doesn’t connect; the ring tone never plays. Your chest tightens.

In desperation, you call Jay, your brother-in-law. His voice is laced with confusion as he picks up. “Jay, is Ricky with you?” The silence that follows your frantic question only amplifies your fear. “No, why? What’s going on?” he asks, suddenly serious. Before you can answer, he cuts the call, sensing the urgency and attempting to help in any way he can.

The next hour drags like an eternity, your anxiety swallowing every rational thought. You pace the room, eyes darting to the clock, phone clenched in your shaking hand. Then, after what feels like a lifetime, you hear the distant purr of an engine. Your pulse stutters as Ricky’s car comes into view, whole and unharmed.

But you don’t relax. Not until you see him. The door swings open, and there he is, frustration etched into his features as he steps inside. Your breath catches, relief and anger colliding within you.

Ricky's expression softens as he speaks, keeping his voice low despite the frustration. “Why’d you call Jay over something like this? My phone died while I was working. I charged it and got caught up in the case. It’s embarrassing.”

Your eyes well up, the weight of worry turning to a sting of hurt. “So? It’s not important?” Your voice wavers, raw with emotion. “I was terrified, Ricky! I didn’t want to lose you again. Sorry for being the clingy wife you’re ashamed of.”

Turning to leave, you barely make a step before he’s there, blocking your path. His eyes search yours, but instead of a defensive remark, he pulls you close, enveloping you in an embrace that tells you more than words could. His arms tighten, anchoring you to him as he murmurs in your ear, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s strange, but I promise I won’t say that again, okay?”

His breath is warm against your hair as he leans his cheek on your head, his heartbeat steady against your own erratic one. Despite the tension, you sense his understanding, a silent acknowledgment of your fear. He’s learning to hold your worry without judgment.

“I was so scared, Ricky. I thought I’d lose you all over again.” Your voice cracks, and he feels the tremor in your body. He wants to say the right thing, anything to soothe the tremble in your words, but all he can do is hold you tighter.

Both of you are haunted by that date imprinted on your wrists, “November 4th.” A reminder that looms like an uninvited shadow, a constant whisper of what could happen.

THE DAY ARRIVES, a heavy silence filling the air between you and Ricky. His promise lingers like a protective shield around you both: he won’t drive, he won’t leave. His presence is a balm for the fear that pulses in your chest. As the two of you snuggle on the couch, the soft glow of the TV playing a rom-com, you turn to him with a worried look, your voice low and unsure.

“What if something bad happens while we’re in the house?” you whisper, nuzzling into his warmth. The thought of losing him, of the world continuing without him, feels unbearable.

Ricky shifts, his arm wrapping tighter around you as he looks down at you, his breath warm against your neck. “Nothing will happen. And if it does, I’ll protect you,” he assures, his tone strong and sure, though his own heart is heavy. He knows how much your fear weighs on you, and he wants to shoulder it for you.

But the thought of you living without him—he can’t imagine it. He brushes your hair from your face gently, his voice a soft promise. “I love you too much for that.” His words come out naturally, like it’s something he’s been holding back but feels right now to say. It’s the first time you hear him say it, and the weight of those words floods your heart with warmth, knowing this is real.

“I get it. I won’t put my life at risk,” he murmurs, though there’s a quiet uncertainty in his words, an unspoken truth that he would never let anything harm you—even at the cost of his own safety.

You glance up at him, your lips pressing together in a worried frown. “You better not,” you mumble, not able to let go of the fear completely. You’ve spent the whole day together, in the safety of your home, trying to ignore the impending dread that the date will pass and nothing will change. Watching TV, cooking together, each small moment a reminder of how much he means to you—and how fragile life can be.

You curl up closer to him, as if physically wrapping yourself around him can keep him safe. Your eyes glance at the clock, the seconds ticking by too slowly. Every moment spent together now feels like a treasure, and you want to hold on to it forever.

The two of you lie in bed, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a gentle warmth over your forms. His hand rests tenderly over yours, fingers interlocking. He watches you as you sleep, your face relaxed, peaceful. A quiet whisper escapes his lips: “I love you.” His eyes linger on your peaceful expression, your other arm still clinging to him as if you’re unwilling to let go even in sleep.

He leans over to turn off the lamp, and then his gaze falls to his wrist—where the date once was. It’s gone. A wave of disbelief washes over him. The tension that has gripped him for so long begins to melt away. Perhaps it wasn’t an omen after all, but a reminder that after November 4th, a new chapter awaited them both.

He takes a deep breath, reaching for your wrist to find the same thing: no date. Relief floods him, and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, pulling you even closer into his arms, savoring the moment.

But he knows, as much as this moment feels like a new beginning, there will still be challenges ahead. The fear you carry about him driving is not something that will fade overnight. Your worry, rooted in a past he knows you can’t shake, will take time to heal. But for now, he holds you close, understanding, and promises silently that he’ll be patient, allowing you to find peace in your own time.

TWO MONTHS HAVE PASSED SINCE THE FATEFUL DATE, and though life has taken you and Ricky through different stages, there’s an undeniable warmth between the two of you. Sitting at the family dinner table, surrounded by loved ones, the air is filled with laughter, conversation, and the quiet hum of joy.

Semi, now a cheerful five-year-old, eats her meal quietly, occasionally looking up with shy glances.

You glance over at Ricky, noticing him take a deep breath as he prepares to speak, his hand resting on the table near yours. It’s clear he’s nervous, even though it’s just family. He clears his throat, the words finally tumbling out: “So… We’re having a baby.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Ricky’s father scoffs, not giving him an ounce of reaction, while his mother rolls her eyes. “Oh, c’mon, you can fool us one time, not twice,” she says, clearly referencing the last family dinner, where you had tried to casually mention trying for a baby, only for him to play along. He felt the blame was entirely on him, but you knew the truth—it was a team effort.

You chuckle softly to yourself, leaning into Ricky’s side, your heart fluttering at the thought of a new life, a new chapter. He meets your gaze, his lips curving into a small smile, even amidst the teasing.

This moment, while filled with playful mockery, marks something deeper. You’re finally here together, stronger and more united than ever before. And this new adventure? It’s the start of a new journey that no one can take from you.

“Really, Y/n’s pregnant. We're having a baby,” Ricky says, his voice laced with excitement. His mother, skeptical, eyes you closely. “Is that true?”

Without waiting for Ricky’s confirmation, you nod, feeling his fingers intertwine with yours beneath the table, his touch calming your nerves.

"I won’t hesitate to beat your ass if this is fake," his dad grumbles, irritation mixing with a hint of hope.

Jay, barely containing his amusement at the scene, watches the family react, while Ricky proudly pulls out the ultrasound pictures, revealing the truth. His parents take turns looking at the images, jaws dropping in surprise. Jay, knowing already, can’t help but chuckle.

"Father was starting to question your masculinity. Glad you proved him wrong," Jay teases, earning a gentle nudge from Jieun, urging him to keep it light.

"Wait... So there’s a grandkid on the way?" Ricky’s mother recovers first, grinning with hopeful excitement. Ricky nods, and your heart swells at the thought of everything that's to come. This moment, this family, it feels like the beginning of something truly special.

Ricky’s mother leans forward, still processing, but the excitement is slowly bubbling up. “A grandchild? Really? My little boy having a little one? I’m going to spoil that baby so much.”

Ricky chuckles, glancing at you. “Well, you already spoil Semi enough, so I guess it’s fair.”

“Hey, I’m a great grandma-in-training,” she quips, giving Semi an affectionate pat. “But if you two need any advice, I’m here.”

Your heart swells seeing the warmth in her eyes. But then, Ricky’s dad, clearly trying to keep his cool, mutters, “I’ll believe it when I see a baby in my arms.”

“You’ll see him,” Ricky says, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Or her, right, Y/n?”

You smile, feeling the weight of the moment. “Definitely,” you whisper, feeling a rush of emotion.

Jay, still grinning, can’t help but poke at his younger brother. “So, what’s the plan, huh? You two gonna have one of those perfect Pinterest-worthy baby showers or just skip the whole thing?”

Jieun smacks his arm lightly. “Don’t make them nervous, Jay. Let them enjoy the moment.”

Ricky laughs, looking over at you with that same loving gaze. “Honestly, I think we just need to take it one step at a time. But yeah, we’ll get there.”

“You know, when you have a baby, you’ll see just how much you need each other,” his dad says more seriously now, a rare moment of wisdom breaking through his tough exterior. “It’s not just about being a parent, it’s about being there for each other even more.”

Ricky nods, his hand tightening around yours as if to say, “I’ve got you, always.”

The whole family seems to settle into a comfortable silence after that, everyone soaking in the news in their own way, but all of them sharing the same unspoken bond.

“Guess we’ll need one more chair for next time,” Jay jokes, breaking the silence, and everyone bursts out laughing.

You glance at Ricky, his eyes full of joy, and your heart feels fuller than it ever has. There’s something about being surrounded by family—being with him—that feels right. “Yeah, we’ll need one more chair,” Ricky agrees softly, his gaze drifting to the future, to the family that’s just beginning.

In the end, you and Ricky had proven the vows true—til death do us part. Through all the challenges, fears, and moments of doubt, you had always found your way back to each other. The promises made, the trust built, and the love that had endured everything now stood as a testament to what you had together. With every touch, every shared laugh, and every quiet moment, you knew that no matter what, your hearts were bound—for life—and beyond.

© fanbasetwo | tumblr

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 ꒱ 沈泉锐

summary : you got a new chapstick for your boyfriend to try

genre : suggestive, fluff, ricky x gn!reader, drabble, established relationship tws : kissing asf, pet names, suggestive author notes : was thinking about this while showering lmfao word count : 0.2k

“ricky,” you said as you approached the man sat peacefully against the soft plush of the sofa. you stopped in front of him, ricky letting his phone fall down to his lap. as he looked up at you, you continued, “i bought a new chapstick.”

“that’s nice, baby. what kind?”

you smiled innocently, feeling his hands trail over your thighs and pulling to get you to come down onto him — just as he liked — the closeness was comforting.

“guess!”

he rolled his cat-eyes at you, smirking as you got comfortable. you closed your eyes and puckered your lips, awaiting his kiss. his quickly pressed to yours before pulling away. you watched as he licked over them briefly, throwing out his guess, "strawberry?"

you shook your head, "try again!" you suggested, taking the reins and grabbing his cheeks to pull his face back to yours. your lips connected almost as if they were never apart. you found it silly how well you two could fit together, moving with perfect precision and team work. his hand moved up your arm, ghosting around the base of your jaw to keep you steady. his other hand rested on your hip, squeezing the skin gently. he detached momentarily, moving down your face, jaw and neck — which was being forced to the side by that perfectly placed hand.

your breath was heavy, stomach in knots, skin left with a yearning every time he'd move on. he was against your collarbone when you finally mumbled out his name, earning a hum in response as he never stopped his ministrations, leaving glistening marks in his wake.

"i d-don’t have any chapstick on."

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[seoktized]

zerobaseone’s reaction to you in a sundress!

mdni!

zb1 legal line x fem!reader (no gunwook)

warnings: fem!reader, unprotected sex, oral f. receiving, mirror sex, smuuuttt…..

jiwoong

this man.. he usually has so much composure but that shit is GONE as soon as he sees you in a sundress. he’s got his hands all over you, going to squeeze your ass while he kisses your neck.

“jiwoong..! we have errands to run! can’t this wait?” you whine, trying not to give in to his advances.

jiwoong grunts, “not when i’m this hard.. fuck you look so beautiful in this dress.” jiwoong is pulling you towards the nearest counter, gently pushing you to bend over.

“i’ll be quick, baby. just wanna stuff you full of my cum..” he groans as he rubs your ass against his crotch. “just hurry up n fuck me, woong!” you cry out. jiwoong is quick to rid himself of his bottoms, pushing up your dress to sheath himself in your warm cunt.

hao

you had brought hao along on your clothes shopping trip, asking him for his opinion on the clothes you were trying on. everything was going fine until you came out with a sundress with a color that clashed well with your skin and made your tits pop. hao IMMEDIATELY popped a boner, a bit embarrassed on how quick it made him get hard..

“how do i look?” you smile, twirling around to give hao a full view of the dress. you’re a little concerned when hao doesn’t answer and he’s looking at you with his jaw dropped.

“you look..” he said while standing up, “so beautiful, baby.” he runs his hands down your waist, pulling you closer to him. “somethings got you excited, huh?” you giggle, gesturing to the tent in his pants.

“mmm yea. let’s buy this dress so i can get you home and fuck you in it..” he said, ushering you back into the dressing room.

hanbin

hanbin would think he had a heart attack seeing you in the sundress you’d bought a while back. he’d reach out to caress every part of skin that he could get his hands on. “my angel… this dress looks so good on you.” he says, taking your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of your hand.

“thank you binnie..” you blushed. hanbin is spewing compliment after compliment, making you get all shy and giggly. hanbin reached out to gently cup your jaw before leaning down to press his lips to yours.

the kiss soon escalated, hanbin pushing his tongue past your lips when you gasp due to his hands going down to grab your ass. hanbin pulls away, once again admiring the dress you were in before he pulls you to the bed.

he let you lay down before he pushed up your dress, revealing your bare cunt. hanbin looks up at you with his eyebrow raised causing you cover your face with your hands.

“no panties..” he chuckled, “who knew my girl could be so dirty..” he said before he dived into your cunt, eating you out like a man starved.

matthew

you were getting ready for your date with matthew when he came up to you who was in the mirror, making sure your outfit looked okay. you watched as matthew snaked his arms around your waist, easily melting into his touch.

“baby.. this dress..” he trailed off, his lips pressing against your neck. “mmm you like it?” you smiled.

“like it? princess i love it.” his hands went to squeeze your hips, pulling you against the bulge in his pants. “might have to reschedule our date so i can fuck you real good..” he said lowly.

matthew bent down a bit to pull your dress up, bunching it around your hips. he quickly unbuttoned his pants letting them along with his boxers pool around his ankles.

matthew’s hand went under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to expose your soaked cunt. “fuckk.. this pussy all soaked for me.” he groaned, dragging the tip of his cock through your folds.

matthew aligned himself with your hole, slowly pushing his cock in. matthew watched in the mirror as your eyes rolled back at the initial stretch.

“so fuckin’- tight!” matthew groaned, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. “matt, please! m-move-!” you whined, trying to push yourself back onto his cock. matthew’s hands gripped your hips tighter before he began thrusting his hips against yours, making you a moaning mess on his cock.

taerae

you’d just come back from a day out with your friends and we’re showing taerae what you’d bought while you were out. taerae was at his desk, watching as you excitedly showed him the little trinkets you had got.

“this one’s a surprise.. i’ll be right back!” you said before disappearing into the bathroom. taerae turned back to his computer, busying himself with some game while he waited on you to return.

“raee, are you ready?” you called from the bathroom. “yeah, baby, lemme see.” he answered, turning back towards the direction of the bathroom. you stepped out, wearing a pretty sundress that was taerae’s favorite color. 

his jaw dropped when he first saw you, his eyes trailing down your figure. “c’mere baby..” he said lowly, gesturing for you to sit in his lap. when you scurried over, quickly finding place in his lap, taerae’s eyes darted all over your body.

“do i look pretty?” you asked, a smile plastered across your face. taerae nodded, “so pretty,” his response made you giggle and taerae ran his hands up your arms, before wrapping them around your neck and pulling you into a kiss.

“go lay on the bed, baby.” he said, pushing you off his lap and following you to the bed. “gonna show you how much i love you in this dress..” he said before hiking the bottom of your dress up and pulling your panties off. his lips made contact with your clit before he began messily eating you out.

ricky

when you arrived home, on the bed was a gift for ricky waiting for you. the gift was wrapped in a pretty lace with a card attached to it saying, ‘for my pretty angel.’ you smiled as you unwrapped the present, holding up to reveal that it was a beautiful sundress, one that greatly complimented your skin and features.

you quickly went to try it on, spinning around in the mirror, admiring the dress that ricky got for you. almost as if it was on cue, you heard the front door open and you quickly ran downstairs to meet ricky. “mmm thank you, ricky.” you said wrapping your arms around his neck. ricky pulled back from the hug to place a kiss on your lips before moving back farther to look at the dress.

“i knew you’d look beautiful in this..” he commented, spinning you around just like you had did in the mirror before. “you look beautiful in anything.” he added.

ricky pulled you over to the couch, sitting you in his lap. his hands rubbed up your thighs, squeezing your plush hips softly. “ricky…” you sighed as he peppered kisses along your neck and collarbone. your hands went to the back of his head, softly pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck.

“you up for riding my cock, pretty girl?” he mumbled into your skin. you nodded before trying to pull the dress off, but before you could do that, ricky stopped you. “ah ah dress stays on, doll..”

gyuvin

you were going out to go shopping for some groceries and the weather was just right to wear your new sundress. you quickly got ready, throwing on the dress and doing your hair all pretty. you went downstairs where gyuvin was on the couch, watching some show on the TV.

“hey, baby, i’m going out to the store. do you need anything?” you said, coming up behind him to place a kiss on his cheek. gyuvin looked up at you then turned around to look at what you were wearing. you were visibly confused when he started shaking his head repeating no no no over and over again.

“you can’t wear that, baby..” he continued to shake his head. “why not??” you asked, getting more confused by the second.

“you look too good..” he said, standing up from the couch and making his way over to you, “i’d have to fight every man that looks at you..” he pulled you close by your waist, burying himself in your neck.

“maybe if you mark me up they’ll know i belong to you..” you smirked. gyuvin pulled away to get another good look at you before suddenly bending you over the back of the couch.

“maybe i’ll cum in this little pussy then mark up your neck…” he said as he drug a finger over your soaked panties, making you whine and push back against him.