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the-boy-meets-evil · 1 month

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on second thought | jww

(where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?)

pairing: wonwoo x f.reader genre: roommates/friends to fwb to?? | smut, tiny bit of angst if you squint rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni word count: 6.5k warnings: there's some plot here but it's mostly smut, multiple sex scenes (some quickly referenced), roommates who enter a fwb agreement, kissing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, use of actual lube, some scratching, after care, mentions: masturbation, kitchen sex, teasing, overstimulation, edging, i think that's it.

authors note: happy birthday to my bby @wongyuseokie! i'm thankful to have met you through nets. i hope you like some wonwoo to celebrate. thank you to @wonwussy for helping me with a title, you're a savior. this is unedited because i only started it yesterday so sorry in advance. also tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone

Another disappointing date. Another man who couldn’t even seem to let you finish a sentence. Was so intent on proving how well he could provide for you that he forgot to treat you like a person. So intent on establishing his dominance that he tried to order for you at the overpriced restaurant with too-small portions. So irritated that he paid for your dinner and drinks only for you to leave separately from him and refuse his offer to drive you home. There was no way you were letting that man know where you lived. Is it really asking too much just to have a decent date? You aren’t going to let anyone try to tell you that your standards are too high. You’re really just asking for the bare minimum.

That’s why you’re sitting on the counter in the kitchen of your shared apartment, spilling your guts to your sympathetic roommate. His hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles in some places because he’s been playing video games for hours. Probably streaming at some point. You admire that he’s able to do something he loves to fill up most of his days. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and you try not to find it so endearing. But, you fail at that. He really is impossibly cute sometimes.

“Do you want a bite of this?” you ask instead, holding out the instant ramen you made as soon as you got home.

“No, I ate earlier,” he answers.

“An actual meal or a Wonwoo meal?” you challenge and he rolls his eyes.

“I ate real food. Go back to bitching about your date,” Wonwoo says.

“I don’t know, maybe I was being too harsh,” you say.

“He sounds like a fucking nightmare,” he disagrees.

“Ugh, maybe I just need to redownload one of those apps,” you whine. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t look at me like that. I hate fucking on the first date, but I’m so pent up that I need to release it somehow. I’m going insane.”

This makes him laugh, at least. It releases a little bit of the tension, too. You’ve lived with Wonwoo nearly three years and were friends for years before that. Nothing is secret between the two of you. Not anymore. The first time you realized he caught you getting off in your room because you didn’t think he was home was mortifying. Even if he didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. After you got over it, things settled. And in the time since, you’ve both heard the other doing a lot of things. Some of your friends think it’s weird, but you just chalk it up to the comfort of living with someone. After all, you would tell your female friends all about your sex life. Why was that weird to share with Wonwoo?

“Toys not doing it for you?” he throws out. You only fix him with a glare. It’s more proof that you’re entirely too comfortable.

“Our walls are thin, what do you think?” you answer.

Wonwoo snorts a little before seeming to consider something. “Why don’t we just fuck? Get it out of your system.”

The sip of water you’re taking when he suggests that comes bursting out of your mouth. A real life spit take. Thankfully, he’s out of the blast zone. He looks unamused at water coming out of your mouth, but he doesn’t look like he was kidding. It can be so hard to tell with him. You think that you know his face well after all these years. But, you never thought you’d hear that coming out of his mouth, so you’re not sure.

“Please give me some indication if that was a joke or not,” you say.

“It wasn’t a joke,” he says.

“Pretty clear indicator,” you mumble.

“Is it that crazy? You think I’m hot…” Wonwoo starts. If you were still drinking, you’d spit out your water again.

“Uh, what?” you ask.

“You think I’m hot. Hao told me,” he says as if it’s no big deal. You’re mentally running through what the appropriate payback is for this breach of trust. “It’s fine. He told me because I was saying I also think you’re hot.”

“I mean, thanks,” you laugh, still considering how you’re going to torture Minghao. “But, we can’t have sex.”

“Why not?” Wonwoo presses.

“Because we’re roommates?” you ask like it’s obvious.

“So I can hear you fuck yourself with a toy or hear you fake an orgasm with another bad date, but us fucking each other is the line?” Wonwoo asks.

“I don’t fake that many orgasms,” you scoff to buy time.

“Yes, you do,” he argues. “I can hear the difference. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be faking it with me.”

There’s a little bit of cockiness in the statement that shouldn’t be doing anything for you. But, it is. There’s also the very real possibility that Wonwoo does know the difference in the sounds you make. It’s not like you’ve bothered being that quiet since the first conversation where he heard you. What’s the point? The walls are pretty thin and you’re both adults. It’s not like you’re going to kick him out every time you bring a date home. And you’re definitely not going to only get off in the shower because it drives up the water bill.

Beyond any of it, there’s also a little curiosity. Wonwoo is insanely attractive. Someone would have to be blind to miss that. He’s got that whole nerdy thing going on for him on initial inspection with the glasses and gaming. Or there’s the fact that he’s content to just hang out around the house, even with company over, wearing his pimple patches. But then, there’s this whole other side to him. It comes out when you’re both out with friends and he leaves the glasses behind. Swapping out graphic tees or hoodies for form fitting clothing and leather jackets. Casually leaning against a bar and whispering honey into some nameless, faceless stranger’s ear.

And that leads you to the reason you’re actually curious. Sure, he’s heard you having sex with people you’ve been dating or just someone you brought home for the night. But, you’ve heard him too. If any of your orgasms sound faked, the ones he coaxes from the pretty girls in his bed sound anything but. There’s nearly always an incoherent string of praises. That thought alone has you considering his proposition. It has you shifting a little on the counter.

“Let’s pretend for a second that I’m considering this,” you start and he smiles.

“Pretend, sure,” he echoes.

“We’d need ground rules, right? Like we don’t want this to get awkward,” you say.

“It’s not gonna be awkward. But, we can set whatever makes you feel comfortable,” he says nonchalantly.

A very strong, very hard to ignore voice in the back of your head argues against setting rules at all. Actually urges you to just drag him into your bedroom. Or his bedroom? Maybe you do need some ground rules.

So, you talk. You don’t say that it’s only going to happen once because you never know what needs might pop up. The most important thing that you agree to is that nothing can change between the two of you. If either of you feels like it’s going to, then you have to talk about it because preserving the friendship is most important. It doesn’t matter what bed you have sex in as long as the other helps clean anything up. You’re not planning on this being a regular thing, so you don’t need to negotiate any kinks or anything like that. If it does become more of a thing, then you can revisit the kinks. There won’t be any weirdness about dating or talking to other people. This is just a solution between two friends that are both going through dating dry spells.

Once the rules are set out, Wonwoo brings you into his room. Even though you’ve been in here more times than you could ever count, it feels different now. He tells you to make yourself comfortable on his bed. When he turns around to take his shirt off and toss it aside, your eyes map out his back. And, yeah, you’ve seen Wonwoo shirtless before, but never given yourself permission to so openly appreciate his body. His shoulders are impossibly wide and he’s in deceptively good shape for someone that hides under baggier clothes.

“Should I take a picture for you?” he asks. It’s only then that you realize that he’s facing you.

“Funny,” you say with an eye roll.

Wonwoo crosses the space to his bed and settles next to you. The way he reaches out to pull your face into his own is so smooth. His lips are on yours before your brain has a chance to catch up. You gasp a little and pull back.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Uh, didn’t we just go over this?” he asks.

“No, I mean, we’re kissing?” you ask.

“What am I supposed to do, sweetheart, just get right down to fucking you without foreplay?” he asks.

You feel a little stupid for asking that because of course you don’t want to skip the foreplay. It’s just that you don’t want to force it, either.

“Just let me take care of you,” Wonwoo says to keep you from overthinking anything.

It’s not something that you expected to be doing. Giving up control to Wonwoo. But, it’s surprisingly easy when he starts kissing you again. Any thoughts that this might be weird fly right out of your head as soon as he deepens the kiss. Instead, your focus is on what a good kisser he is. The way his lips mold effortlessly to yours. The way his tongue licks into your mouth. The way his hands roam your body as if they’re trying to memorize every curve.

You’re breathless by the time Wonwoo pulls back from you to pull your shirt over your head. When you changed after the date from hell, you hadn’t considered putting anything nice on. Hadn’t bothered to keep your bra on. What was the point when you were just going to be going to bed after having something to eat? Now, you’re wondering about that decision. Because your very hot roommate is drinking in the sight of you. It’s making you a little self-conscious, the way his eyes move over your body.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he utters.

It’s a little too intimate for you to respond to. It doesn’t seem to matter, anyway. Wonwoo starts kissing down your neck and working his way to your breasts. He spreads his kisses between them, rolling your nipple between his fingers when his mouth is on your other breast. There’s something so consuming about the way he kisses your body, like he’s worshiping you. Like this is a lot more than roommates helping each other out.

He works his way further down your body, kissing along your stomach, stopping at the waist band to your shorts. Thankfully, he doesn’t give you the chance to overthink here either before he pulls the shorts and underwear down your legs. Tosses them off to the side for good measure. You’re totally naked in front of someone you find you do actually trust. And someone that, yeah, maybe you’ve thought about fucking before. There was no reality where you thought it would happen, though. Even if it does make a lot of sense. Every part of you truly does feel safe with him. He knows you better than most people in your life. Which clearly translates to this part of you.

Since you’re so comfortable, you’re finding it easier to not be embarrassed at the way he’s got you squirming under the barest touch. The way he ghosts his breath across your center makes you let out a whine. It’s unfair, the way that he wants to take his time like this. It’s also unfair that he’s the first person to ever make your mind go this blank during sex. Nothing exists to you outside of this moment and this man.

Wonwoo moves back to where you need him the most, blows gently against your center. The sensation sends a shiver down your body. You barely hear him mumble out a “so pretty” before he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up your core. There’s just enough time to think this slow pace might actually be the death of you before he goes back in. Using his fingers to spread you apart, he starts tonguing your pussy. A mix of slow and deliberate movements with faster ones. His thumb circles your clit before his mouth moves up there to give it the attention it needs.

With his mouth on your clit, he presses one finger into your pussy. You’ve never really thought much about his hands and now you’re wondering how you missed them. His long finger pumps in and out of you quickly. It seems that he’s reading your body and can tell that you don’t want something too slow. There’s so much pent up in you.

“Fuck, please, Wonwoo. I need another finger,” you whine.

“Anything you want,” he mumbles into your pussy.

He slides another finger inside of you and it makes you clench around him. That only seems to make him move faster. His mouth continues to work along with his fingers and your hands grip whatever they can reach. You’re a babbling mess and you suddenly understand what you overheard from Wonwoo’s room. There’s something so hot about knowing he’s this good with his mouth and his hands. It’s got you coming hard on his face. Harder than you can remember coming before.

“That’s my girl,” he praises as soon as you’re coming down from your high. Your hazy brain doesn’t latch onto it the way it clearly should.

He presses a gentle kiss to your inner thing and then pulls himself up to lie next to you. His fingers trace patterns into your skin while he’s waiting for your breathing to come back to normal.

“Jesus, I guess I know why I always heard so much praise through the wall,” you mutter.

“None as pretty as the sounds you just made,” he says quietly. It’s so gentle, so intimate. There’s a lot of love between you and one of your closest friends, so you don’t dwell too much on it.

You turn your head to face him. His eyes are still dark with desire, fingers still keeping contact with your body. There’s like some kind of bubble around the two of you where nothing else exists. It’s a comfortable feeling, even in the quiet. Something pulls you in closer to him and you can feel his erection brush against your leg.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “You know, I’m still a bit pent up…”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“What? I’m gonna come on your face but we can’t actually fuck like we meant to?” you joke, a little braver than you feel.

“This was about you, not about me,” he says simply.

“It can be about both of us,” you say, hand running down his stomach. He tenses a bit under your touch and it’s unfair. He’s got perfect abs and you kind of hate it. Kind of hate that it’s so hot to you, too.

You run your hand over the outline of his dick threw his shorts, enjoy the sharp intake of breath at the contact. It feels like a sign for you to keep going. But, he grabs your hand and pins it above your head. Kisses you hard and desperate. All of his restraint from before seems to be gone now.

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart,” he warns.

“Then show me how good you can fuck me. You were so sure earlier,” you press back.

Wonwoo rolls over and pulls his shorts and boxers off. Casts them off to the side with your clothing. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls a condom out. He rolls back over to position himself between your legs.

“One final time, are you sure?” he asks. It’s the first time since you came into his room that you’ve seen him look unsure.

“As long as you’re sure too, yes. I need this Nu, please,” you say, a little breathy with desire.

“I love it when you call me that,” he admits.

With your go ahead, he slides his tip along your entrance. You know you’re still wet from his hard work, but he still reaches into the dresser again. He pulls out some lube and runs it along his cock. Once he’s done that, he puts the cap back on and tosses it aside. He presses his tip against you again and this time slides in, slowly. Gives you a chance to adjust.

You’re completely at Wonwoo’s mercy like this, with his arms on either side of you like he’s caging you in. Instead of wanting to get out, you can only think that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Your hands find their way to his arms, gripping him tightly as he bottoms out in you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he hisses.

“Nu, fuck, please move,” you beg.

“Give me a second, sweetheart, I’m trying to adjust so it doesn’t end too fast,” he says, voice so impossibly deep.

“Please,” you beg again.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

It finally does get him to move though, barely pulling out at all and fucking slowly into you, so deep. He’s filling you up in the most perfect way. Your nails dig into his arms, but you can’t help it. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it spurs him on. Makes him pull nearly all the way out of you before snapping hard into you again. He repositions one of your legs so that he can reach a different angle. With each hard thrust, his dick hits exactly where you need him to be. The rhythm is fast, which is really everything you need for how stressed you’ve been feeling. Each thrust uncoils more of the tension in your body. Each moan seems to spur him on more.

When he leans down to kiss you, it’s messy. A clash of tongues and lips and teeth and need, so much need. Your hands find purchase anywhere on his body they can, even as his own arms seem to be a little shaky. So, you pull him down on top of you, bodies pressed tight as he continues fucking you. You’re still so sensitive from the first orgasm that you’re building up entirely too quickly. Even though you wanted it fast like this, you’re a little sorry to think it might be almost over.

Wonwoo must feel that you’re close by the way you’re clenching around him and begging for him to give you everything. He pushes himself up a little, just creates the tiniest amount of space between your bodies, and you miss it a little. Miss the feeling of skin on skin. But, he’s only doing it so that he can circle your clit. He just wants to take care of all that tension. You give control over to him completely. Let him set the pace. An embarrassingly short time later, you’re coming for the second time. He removes his hand but still fucks you through the high.

When your body stops shaking, you realize that he’s stilled inside you. He’s barely even moving as he looks down at you.

“It’s okay, Nu, I’m not that sensitive yet,” you assure him

“Thank fuck,” he whispers.

His pace is fast and you reach up to run your nails down his back. That seems to get him like nothing else does. When you do it a second time, he hisses out and you know he likes it. Each time your nails find a new part of his skin, his thrusts stutter. You clench your pussy around his cock and that’s all he can handle. He’s coming undone.

You return the favor through his high, lightly keeping the rhythm going and helping him settle his weight on top of you. His breathing is still heavy when he meets your eyes and gives you the gentlest kiss. Slowly, he slides out of you and rolls over. The next second, he’s up to dispose of the condom. He disappears into the bathroom and returns with a wet washcloth a few moments later, sitting on the edge of the bed to help you.

“Well, I guess I learned one thing,” you say when he gets up to take the washcloth back to the bathroom.

“What’s that?” he calls over his shoulder.

“All that confidence was definitely warranted,” you say through a light laugh.

You can just feel him rolling his eyes. “And here I thought you’d have less to say after a good fuck.”

“Nope, chatty as ever. No more tension, though,” you say.

“I’m glad,” he says, but it looks like he actually means it.

You move to get out of the bed and look at the sheets. Probably in need of a change. “Hey, do you wanna throw these in the hamper and just sleep in my bed tonight?”

“Are you sure that doesn’t break any rules?” he asks.

“No, we’ve done it…are you teasing me?” Your question morphs in the middle when you catch sight of his face. He can be such a shit for someone who acts like he’s chill all the time.

“I would never tease you,” he says, faux seriousness lacing his voice.

“That’s a shame, I like being teased,” you toss back.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” he shrugs.

“Next time?” you wonder.

“Just go get in your bed, I’ll be there in a minute,” he says.

It wasn’t like you agreed for sex with Wonwoo to be a one time thing. That felt like putting too many rules in place. Still, you’re not expecting it to happen again quite so quickly. You also genuinely didn’t realize he was home when you pulled out your vibrator. But, he was home and he barged into your room without knocking, pulled you to the edge of your bed, and fucked you hard. Made you wonder why you’d ever even consider using your vibe in the first place.

The next time comes after another failed date. It kind of seemed like that was the recipe. Something goes wrong or you’re pent up and he’s there to let you use him. Although, he’s really using you just as much. You like to let him be a little rough with you. There’s something satisfying in the way he doesn’t treat you like he’s going to break you. It’s unquestionably the best sex you’ve ever had, but that’s your business. You don’t need to share that with the class. You do figure that it might be time to talk about some kinks and boundaries, though. It would be good to be on the same page.

That seems to be how it goes for a while, at least. It’s mostly you needing something, Wonwoo being able to sense that, and helping you out. It doesn’t seem to ever start from him being the one to need something. He doesn’t even seem to be going out and bringing people home so much anymore. Not that you’re keeping track, you just can’t remember the last time he did. Or maybe he’s trying to only bring someone home when you’re not around.

He definitely holds true to his promise to tease you. One night, after a really long week at work with a lot of little things going wrong, he asks if he can take his time with you. In hindsight, you should have known it meant that it was going to mean teasing. But, you agreed anyway, and let him set the pace. Instead of hard and fast, he takes everything slow. He brings you right to the edge over and over again without letting you have your release. It’s insane how well he seems to read your signs. It seems like he can tell you’re close before you can. That night, it feels like it goes on for hours before he finally lets you come. It’s the biggest mess you’ve ever made. A fact that you would be embarrassed about if Wonwoo hadn’t looked so proud. Still, it feels like you’re the one always working something out.

Until it doesn’t.

One night, you come back from a night out with friends and are rummaging through the cabinets looking for a snack. This is the thing you hate about living with Wonwoo. He’s taller than you and doesn’t think twice about using the higher cabinets. You, on the other hand, can’t reach them so easily. You’re on your tiptoes trying to reach something when you feel him press into your back. His hand comes up and grabs the box you were reaching for with ease. You press further back into him when your heels hit the floor again.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles into your hair. His hands find a place on your hips, holding you against him. This feels different from how every other time has started.

“What do you mean?” you ask quietly into the silence of the apartment.

He lets one hand slide down, quickly meeting the bare skin of your thigh. You know your skirt is a little shorter than normal, but the night seemed to call for it. “This. Did you go out hoping to bring someone home?”

“Maybe,” you say, shivering a little at the way his breath tickles your ear.

“Are you trying to tease me?” he asks. It comes across almost like a demand.

You wiggle your ass against him a little before you answer. “I would never.”

“Of course not,” he says.

Everything that happens after that feels different. It’s never started like this. It’s been passionate, but it’s never been driven by so much raw desire. It’s never been the kind of sex where Wonwoo pushes your skirt up around your hips and pulls your underwear down to your ankles. Never been the kind of sex where he buries his face in your pussy while you grip the counter for support. Never been so desperate and needy and rushed.

He makes you come twice on his tongue with your knees going so weak that you can barely stand before he even moves onto actually fucking you. You’re so weak by the time you finish that he has to help you to the bathroom to clean up before he tucks you into your bed. You’re so tired that you don’t even realize how intimate it is when you ask him to get into bed with you.

The disappointment that sets in when you wake up to get some water in the early hours of the morning hits you hard. Entirely too hard for something that’s supposed to be free of feelings. Your bed feels a little empty without him taking up space. Which is really stupid because it’s not like that’s been something you’ve been doing all of the time. It’s not something you’re used to. But, there’s an unexpected comfort in him. Something that catches you completely off guard. As you drift back off to sleep, you resolve to deal with your feelings in the morning.

That’s how you find yourself sitting on Minghao’s couch as he makes you both a cup of tea. He hasn’t asked about your roommate yet, but you know that it’s coming. He just wants to have everything he thinks you’ll need first. A few minutes later, he sets two cups of tea down next to the plate of snacks he threw together. If you weren’t in such a crisis, you’d have time to be envious over how pretty the presentation looked.

“So things with Wonwoo have gotten awkward?” he asks without preamble.

“Jesus, Hao, let me take a sip first, at least,” you groan.

“I don’t want to say that I told you this was a bad idea…” he starts.

“You were the one who spilled the beans that I thought he was hot. This is your fault too,” you point out.

“I told him that he wasn’t alone in thinking his roommate was hot. I didn’t tell you both to start fucking without realizing it was bound to blow up,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh.

“So, what’s going on?” he asks.

Minghao is a lot of things. He can be a bit of an art snob. He’s that kind of impeccably dressed where he looks like he just stepped off a runway. He can appear a bit detached. But, he’s also one of the most thoughtful people you know. He’s complex and he cares for his friends more than he cares for himself most times. Both you and Wonwoo are among those he counts as his closest friends. So, he just listens as you lay out everything that’s happened since the first time you had sex. He doesn’t judge or interrupt. Patiently, he just waits as you get it all off your chest, including how you felt after last night.

None of that really comes as a surprise. You know that he’s going to give you shit and be there for you at the same time. What does come as a surprise is what he says when you’re done laying out your issues.

“I haven’t wanted to set you up because I wasn’t sure you were in the right place for it, but I actually have a friend that I think you might hit it off with,” he says. “He’d definitely get you out of this whole Wonwoo funk you’re in so things can go back to normal.”

“You wanna set me up?” you ask, surprised.

“Yeah, I think it’d be good for you,” he says.

“Okay, tell me about him,” you agree.

“He’s really kind. Kind of talks in a permanent pout, but it’s endearing somehow. He’s a giant softie at heart and he’s so incredibly loyal. He’s been talking about how he’s looking for something a little more serious. I think you’d like him,” Minghao says.

“What’s his name, Hao?” you ask skeptically.

“Mingyu,” he answers and your eyes go wide.

“Mingyu? As in that hot model you’re friends with?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Minghao says evenly.

“Okay, you can see if he’s interested,” you agree.

It’s been a couple days since Minghao threw out the suggestion of setting you up with Mingyu. The two of you have exchanged a few messages and he does actually seem really nice. He’s also funnier than you expected him to be. When he asks if you want to get dinner the upcoming weekend, you find you’re a little bit excited.

There’s only one issue. You feel like you need to tell Wonwoo. You know that he’s not going to care, but it still feels weird when you’ve been fucking around. Maybe Minghao was right and the whole thing was a terrible idea after all. It’s hard for you to tell him when you seem to keep missing each other, though. Lately, he’s been playing video games over at Vernon’s place more than normal. Even if they’re streaming, something feels weird.

“Hey,” he calls out from the front door, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Oh hey,” you answer, looking up at him. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he moves to head back to his room. “Everything okay?”

He stops to look at you when you ask that question and his eyes still look a bit distant. “Yeah, fine. Why?”

“I don’t know, you’re being short with me,” you say.

He just shrugs. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“Okay,” you say, drawing out the first syllable. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that Minghao set me up with his friend Mingyu and I was thinking I’d go out with him.”

“You don’t have to tell me about your dates,” he says evenly.

“I just thought…” you start.

“We agreed,” he interjects. “Enjoy your date whenever you go.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly to his retreating figure.

The whole point of agreeing to go out with Mingyu was to get things back to normal with Wonwoo. It was clear that you had gotten in over your head. Now, you’re wondering if things are going to be able to go back to normal at all. This isn’t your normal dynamic. You always shared stories about dates, hook-ups, anything and everything under the sun. Your other friends always said it was weird for the two of you and you just ignored them. Now, you feel like you’re in it alone. Maybe they’re right and it is weird.

Since it’s a little on the later side anyway, you decide to grab something from the kitchen and just head into your room. You can go to bed early and forget that whole conversation even happened. That’s probably for the best. It’ll be easier to get back to normal once you’re going on dates again. Once you stop fucking your roommate like you could have ever done that without forming some kind of feelings.

It’s the middle of the night when you feel someone slide into bed around you. A familiar scent slips into your consciousness as an arm slides around your center. You nestle back into the chest and know for sure that it’s your roommate. The same man you’re trying hard to get over.

“What are you doing, Wonwoo?” you mumble in sleepiness.

“Don’t go on the date with Mingyu,” he says. He sounds completely awake.

“What?” you ask. Your brain is still foggy from sleep.

“Don’t go out with anyone else,” he says.

That makes you open your eyes as the words bounce around in your brain. You turn over to your other side so that you’re facing him. His hair is messy and all he’s wearing is a plain white t-shirt, but your heart still constricts a bit at the sight of him.

“What do you want, Wonwoo?” you ask, voice thick with mental exhaustion.

“Exactly what I told you. I want you to turn Mingyu down,” he says.

“Why should I?” you challenge.

“Because, well, we’ve got this…” he starts and fumbles over his words.

“We haven’t got anything. You’ve been avoiding me for days,” you point out. “Hell, I asked you to stay in bed with me after you fucked me in the kitchen and you couldn’t even make it til morning.”

“I know, but I was scared that night because I realized I was starting to feel something,” he says. “And then Hao texted me to tell me he’d finally given your number to Mingyu…”

“Finally? What do you mean?” you asked.

“He’s been asking for your number for months,” Wonwoo says through somewhat gritted teeth. “So Minghao told me you’d agreed to be set up and I don’t know, I guess I just decided…”

“To avoid me?” you supply.

“I didn’t know what to do. And I didn’t know how to process you not telling me,” he admits.

“You weren’t around for me to tell you,” you point out. “We’ve been fucking. I wasn’t just gonna be like oh by the way, I’m going on a date.”

“Please don’t go on a date with him,” Wonwoo asks again.

“I will consider not going if you can actually talk to me,” you say.

“About what?” he asks.

“Everything you’re feeling and why this whole let’s just be roommates that fuck was stupid,” you say.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he says immediately.

You sigh, realizing that you’re not going to be able to go back to sleep, and send Wonwoo to the kitchen to get you something to drink. By the time he’s back, you’re sitting up in bed and ready to have an actual conversation.

You stay up entirely too late talking about everything between the two of you. It’s a little hard to believe Wonwoo is so open with admitting how he feels. It’s harder to believe that Wonwoo knew he felt something for you before the very first time you had sex. In his mind, it was clear that he wasn’t just offering because the two of you were friends. He offered it as a way to gauge your own feelings. But, after that first time, he kind of figured it was just sex and tried to detach himself from it. That was when you started to feel something for him.

When he’s done admitting his own mistakes and feelings, you figure that it’s time for you to own up to your own. It was really silly to just make up his side of the conversation about why he didn’t stay in bed with you that night. After all, the one thing you both stressed before sleeping together the first time was that you had to be honest in your communication. That’s what friends did and you were friends before anything else. As it turns out, you’re both way more on the same page than either of you realized.

“You’re wrong about one thing, though,” you admit.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“It was never just sex for me. I was totally done the first time you kissed me,” you share, picking at a thread on your comforter to avoid looking at him.

“I kissed you before we even had sex,” he points out, incredulous.

“Yeah, turns out I’m not so good at the just friends who fuck thing,” you say with a shrug.

“If I’d have known that was all it took, I’d have kissed you months ago,” Wonwoo grumbles.

That brings you up short. “Nu, just how long have you liked me?”

“I don’t know, a while,” he says.

You just shake your head at him before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Just talk to me next time.”

“Can we go back to having sex now? I miss the feel of you,” he whines out. “And the taste.”

“We literally fucked less than a week ago,” you point out to try and avoid the way it makes heat pool.

“I could taste you every day and never get sick of it,” he says without any embarrassment.

“Are we really giving this a try?” you ask.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Wonwoo says.

“I do, I’m just scared. What if we try a relationship and it doesn’t work?” you ask. “You’re one of my best friends. I don’t wanna lose that.”

Wonwoo reaches out to tilt your head up. “We’ll just promise to be honest with each other. We can figure this out together.”

“Okay,” you agree.

“So, we’re doing this?” he confirms.

“Yeah, we’re doing this.”

Just like that, you agree to take a leap with the only person that you’ve always trusted to catch you every time you fall. It feels scary, but also completely natural.

i hope you enjoyed it! 💕

2K notes · View notes

thisfanisgonesorry · 9 months

Text

groupie love — hobie brown

guitarists dont get as many groupies as you’d think they do. 😮

tags: smut, vaginal sex, mirror sex, hairpulling, hookups go crazy, dom/sub, teasing/praise kink obv, creampie bc i forgot the condom at home, brief cockwarming. bro is a lovesick idiot fr. possessive as HELL. porn w feelings kinda? infatuation? idk theres feelings! im mentally ill! pussy so good that hes down bad! consent is sexy tho.. parasocial relationships arent

(but it’s so hard sometimes with the star when you have to share him with everybody; and i know what you’re thinking of, you want my groupie love)

🕸️

One thing led to another and he was leading me through the backstage entryway, his arm draped over my shoulder as he walked with a pep in his step, filled with adrenaline and trying to get it out of his system in ways that didn’t end in him pouncing on me. (Though admittedly, that’d be short lived.)

Backstage was mostly empty besides a few select crewmates who overall didn’t seem too phased by my presence. Hobie greeted them as he walked past, as if he knew each one personally. The rest of the band had seemingly dipped, and weren’t too worried about Hobie being missing from wherever they’d gone to hang out.

“Li’l lady wants to check out the green room.” He winked at one of the crew as he continued, dismissing them to give us space. The green room was nice but it wasn’t his destination in mind. He stood there for a minute, looking down at me briefly, before spinning dramatically and pushing his back against the dressing room door, sliding in and pressing me against the wall in a fairly smooth action.

“Don’t think anyone saw that?” I muttered out quickly, it was more of a question as I really didn’t see much from the spin itself, caught a little off guard by the sudden movement and unable to process much until I was pinned firmly against the wall. The dressing room was small, and he took advantage of the fact.

“M’hm, no.” He shook his head, leaning in slightly. “Nah, y’re all mine.” He continued.

His hands lingered on my waist, his fingertips reaching under the fabric and restraining himself as much as he could as he felt the soft skin underneath.

“You seem energised.” I laughed softly.

“I’m fine, jus’ got my blood pumping. Was a good show. Can I kiss you?” He spoke quickly to the point where if you weren’t paying attention, you would’ve missed it. There was a short moment of silence where the air hung heavy as he waited, oh, how he waited so very patiently.

“... Yeah.” I nodded.

His patience ran thin, and his lips harshly made contact with mine, almost pushing my head into the wall. What a way to get a concussion. He groaned into it for a moment, enjoying the taste and licking my bottom lip slightly. My hands loosely hung around his neck,

“Bloody ‘ell...” He muttered, pulling away and going down my neck. His free hand reached to the door, locking it before anyone could walk in. He was kissing and licking my neck, letting small bitemarks dance across the skin.

He began tugging at the hem of my shirt anxiously, wanting to just strip me bare, bend me over, fuck my brains out, but all in due time.

“Doors soundproof.” He commented. “Let me—”

One arm was wrapped around his shoulders, grabbing a fistful of the leather jacket and tugging on it to beckon him forward as the other grabbed his hand, pushing it closer. In hindsight, it was kind of sweet how certain he was letting things be.

He quickly removed my shirt that had his own band’s logo on it, throwing it to the floor and fumbling on the bra, running his large palms over the fabric. I leaned forward to kiss him again and his hands dropped to my hips, hastily (and harshly) dragging me to the dressing table, pushing me up against it.

Our lips were reconnected once again, though the kisses were messy. My arm was still around his neck, my other on his chest. His hands began to slightly shimmy down my shorts and he moaned into the kiss. “S’pretty, darlin’, so..” He mumbled breathlessly, pulling away enough to let me kick off the shorts (albeit, struggling to because of my boots) and for him to shrug off his jacket. Both articles disappeared somewhere into the room to be determined later.

My hands lingered to his hips, reaching up and feeling his toned abs from under his shirt. “Y’so hot, Hobie.” I moaned back, feeling the way his stomach tensed under my fingertips.

“What? like ‘m not meant t’be fit?” He tried to joke as he palmed my tits again.

“Didn’t mean it like that.”

He only responded with a laugh, kissing my neck and collarbone as he removed the bra, thrown to the side and his hands explored downwards in an attempt to remove the last of clothing.

“This aint fair.” I breathed, seeing him still fully dressed.

“Yeh, I know.” He responded, taking his shirt off, another piece lost to the room.

He ended up turning the light off, so the only light in the room was the one radiating from the mirror itself. He looked good like this but I guess that was the point. His face was flushed, it would be hard to tell otherwise if it wasn’t for the heat that it was giving off, you could literally feel it from across the room; his eyes were hyper focused and his lips were swollen slightly.

He leaned forward to kiss me again. “Y’re so beautiful.” He groaned.

“I was about to say the same thing.”

I reached down boldly, my fingers twitching to unbutton his jeans, to pull the zip down, to—

“Y’re gonna hurt y’self.” He joked, swatting my shaking hands away. “Touch yourself f’me.” He asked softly, trying to speak clearly despite his otherwise dishevelled behaviour.

I slid my fingers between my legs, toying with him as he watched between kisses.

“C’mon, darl’.” He purred sweetly. “Work y’self open f’me, please?”

He swallows the moans that leave my mouth as I push my fingers inside, weakly thrusting as he continues to kiss me, hovering over me as he palms his hardness through his jeans.

“Hobie, c’mon.” I groaned, getting impatient with him. All he wanted to do was toy and tease me; holding me closely as his eyes scanned my naked body like a piece of meat, kissing as much of the flesh as he could, longing for the taste and feel under his lips.

“Alr’, alr’.” He drawled finally.

He pulled away enough to create distance between us, we both stood in anticipation, catching our breath slightly as he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zip. The jeans themselves were grungy, and his dick freed itself from the tight confines as quickly as it could, shimmying the jeans down to his thighs.

“No underwear? Anarchist goes commando?” I asked breathlessly as I continued to work myself, yet finding humour in comparing him to a militia.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Y/n. Don’t.” He warned.

“You go pantless just in case some pretty girl would fuck you tonight?”

I poked my tongue out between my teeth, biting down on it slightly, wanting nothing more than to be testing my luck with him. He grabbed my wrists, removing my hand from my insides and holding the sticky, shiny fingers up. It looked filthy in the bright light, he tutted slightly before licking the fingers clean, grinding his hard cock against the slick folds.

He held both my wrists in place, making it impossible for me to fight him with the movement of his hips, he was careful that he wouldn’t accidentally push himself into me, whether or not that accident was with his own free will or not. He was enjoying this, the torturous nature of it all. Yeah, definitely don’t talk back to him.

“Feels s’good like this.” He tried to speak clearly; “Could jus’ fuck you like this, yeah? Cum all over y’r cunt, don’t even go in?”

“I’m sorry.” I quickly spoke when I realised he could just stay like this.

“You’re sorry?”

“Please, Hobie, fuck me real good. I’m sorry, didn’t mean it.” I pleaded, though he could tell the words were only half hearted.

He tried to laugh but it got swallowed into a groan. He threw his head back and released my wrists. “Yeah, yeah. C’mon.” He spoke, finding amusement in it. He hissed slightly at the loss of contact as he turned me around to look in the mirror, bending me over the dressing table.

His breathing quickened as he admired the view of me bent over the table, elbows supporting my weight and my pretty eyes looking up at him through the mirror. He swallowed thickly, still grinding lazily against the wetness as he tried to shimmy his pants down further, they got about a little past his knees before getting snagged on his boots and he realised that it wouldn’t go much further than that.

“Ngh.. Fuck, y’so good.” He struggled out, a low moan erupting from his throat. “Gettin’ m’cock all nice ‘n’wet.”

“Hobie, I’m sorry.” I threw my head forward, not wanting to look at our reflections. “Fuck me, please, want you.”

“I know.” He groaned as he aligned himself. He gave a harsh tug on my hair, forcibly making me look in the mirror. “Look. Watch.” He panted.

He slid his thickness deep inside in one slow, stuttery motion. I watched carefully, my mouth fell open and my eyes threatened to close. His eyebrows knitted together and his mouth mimicked mine, falling agape.

“Oh my fucking god.” I moaned out, unable to hold my head up but quickly felt the tug on my hair as he held my limp neck in position.

He buried himself completely, “Look at how I’m stretchin’ you out, y/n, my darlin’.” He grinned lopsidedly.

He began thrusting slowly, watching the faces that I made, his eyebrows stayed knitted like he was focused on my expressions and nothing else.

“So good, Hobie.” I muttered, my head threatening to dip forward if it wasn’t for his grip on my hair. I tried to squirm away from him and his grip on my hip got tighter. “So big.”

“Yeah?” He spoke condescendingly, relishing at the way I felt around him. “Y’ve been dreamin’ about this, haven’t ya’?”

“Mhm, all the time.” I moaned quietly. “Fantasise about y’so bad.”

“I bet’cha always wondered how good I’d feel buried deep in y’cunt.” He commented, picking up his pace as he felt the warmth swallow him perfectly; it wasn’t necessarily rough or fast, but the size of his cock as it nestled all the way in was almost too much. Almost. “The real things s’much better, ain’t it?”

“Ah! Yes!” I cried, reaching back to push at his hips.

“Takin’ me s’well, darlin’.” He groaned, not letting up. He wasn’t being relentless but the position and the harsh pound of his cock was all too much at once, I closed my eyes tight and he fought the urge to give another harsh tug on my hair.

“S’deep, Hobes, baby—” I groaned, though it was immediately followed by pathetic whines which completely diminished the point I was trying to make.

“Why y’pushin’ at me, sweet thing? What’s wrong?” He teased, knowing damn well that there wasn’t the faintest of an issue.

“So deep.. So big. Slow down.”

“What? Y’don’t think y’can take it?” He joked through slurred speech, giving a particularly harsh thrust.

“Mhm!” I jerked forward with a whine, then feeling the harsh tug on my hair as my body pulled away from his tight grip.

“I think y’can take it jus’ fine.” He continued teasing, still desperately nudging my insides. “M’pricks too big f’you, ain’t it, darlin’?”

I shook my head weakly, keeping my eyes glued on his face as he fucked me from behind. “No, mhm— I can take it.” I struggled out.

“Y’doin’ s’good.” He slurred with a groan.

The audible wet sounds began to fill the dressing room and I could do nothing but let out a pathetic whine as I could feel the sticky liquid make a mess on both our thighs. The slickness was making it easier for him to slide in and out, using it to his advantage to fuck into me even harder. It did nothing to ease the slight slapping sound, and if that door wasn’t soundproof like Hobie claimed, we were probably being louder than the show itself was.

I shook my head weakly, jerking forward at his movements and taking whatever he would give me. “So good. So deep. So big.” I rambled, the only words that my brain could come up with at the given moment.

“I want y’to watch, darlin. Look at y’r pretty face as I fuck you.” He spoke, knowing I wouldn’t be able to open my eyes in the slightest, coming across like nothing but a cock drunk groupie whore, though I guess, it wasn’t far off. “Y’re basically droolin’ for me.”

“Keep talkin’ to me like that, holy shit, make me cum.”

“Eyes up here. On me. Y’got it.” He praised, his harsh tugs became more gentle as he got more stern in keeping my eyes on the view. “Keep lookin’, c’mon, darlin’, look. Y’re s’beautiful. All f’me, look at ya. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

His voice began to ramble, whines and groans leaving his throat at intervals.

“I’m trying.” I mumbled out; “It’s hard.”

“Darl’, ‘m not gon’ keep tellin ya’ to keep y’head up.” He moaned, removing his hand from my hair and rubbing figure 8’s right where I needed it. “Yeah, y’re gonna take it.” He panted, leaning over my body to press kisses on my shoulder and neck. “Take it, darlin’, doin’ good. Doin’ so good.”

I leaned my head back on his shoulder, looking down through half-lidded eyes at the filthy view of him fucking me into his dressing table.

“See? You can handle watchin y’self gettin’ fucked like a good girl.”

“Hobie, ‘m gonna cum.” I moaned, struggling to watch myself but worried that if I stopped, he’d pull his hands away from me.

“Watch y’self, good girl.” He praised again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Fuck, can feel y’squeezin’ me.” He whined. “Cum for me, darlin’, s’pretty when y’clench this big cock, yeah? ‘M stretching it out, y’gonna be so perfect f’me.”

I took a bite out of my knuckle as I felt it hit, he slowed down slightly but kept the movements methodical besides the gradual slowing as he praised me throughout it.

“Hobie—” I cried out.

The way I clenched around him made him harshly hold onto my hip, the moans filled the room loudly as he fucked me through the wave. Small purrs of praise were audible but it was almost impossible to focus.

“You right?” He rasped out, slowing his movements to a halt. He would’ve cum right then and there if he didn’t have half the mind to prolong himself.

“Mhm.” I hummed, dazed and confused. “Keep goin’.” I acknowledged, wanting to make him feel good.

“Wish I could fuck a pretty thing like you after all m’shows.” He spoke sweetly in my ear, thrusting up again for his own orgasm, it started slow but he increased his pace when he began riling himself up with ideas. “Tease y’before so y’re all wet and ready when ‘m done.” He laughed softly. “Y’can help me warm up m’fingers for the guitar.”

He spoke softly and calmly as he could, feeling the wetness twitch around him from overstimulation. He kept this slow as he could, knowing that he didn’t want to end things just yet. His dazed eyes tried to memorise every detail he could; hooking up with a groupie meant the chance of never seeing them again, his movements on my clit picking up too; he was desperate to bring me pleasure, he needed this just as much as I did, which was saying a lot.

I weakly tried to keep my head up, watching his face attentively, he looked completely dishevelled with need; something about this was driving him crazy but all I could focus on was how good he felt.

He started kissing my neck again before deciding to ask a question he knew I probably wouldn’t answer otherwise. “Why ain’t you got’a boyfr’nd?” He grunted over my limp body, feeling himself hit the deepest parts and watching me react to it. My vision would go white and I’d jerk into the feeling.

“Don’t want one. Only want you.” I spoke matter-of-factly despite my dazed demeanour.

“Fuck, Y/n, Don’t say that.” He choked. “Wan’ keep you all f’myself.”

I groaned, pressing myself closer against his body. His arms wrapped around my torso, pulling me to stand upright and my arms reached around to touch him the best I could, though his hand stayed glued to the pussy that he’d grown infatuated with.

“Y’re gonna be thinkin’ about this for a long time, yeah?” He breathed. “Gonna think about m’cock fuckin’ into y’cunt?”

“Hobie—”

“I feel y’gettin’ close again. God, want y’so fuckin’ bad.”

His hand took a faster pace than what it previously was, rubbing hard and fast circles into my clit, wanting to feel me be undone on him when he cums.

“Better than I could’ve imagined.” I panted in admission.

“Y’re.. ‘M right there.” He moaned. “Y’so hot, makin’ me s’hard. Gonna make m’cum.”

There was nothing I could do to respond besides lewdly take what he was giving me, nodding weakly and trying to watch the view in front of me. He looked so beautifully debauched, and feeling his ragged breathing against my spine was something I didn’t know I needed to feel, something I unknowingly longed for.

“Mhm, y’can stay wit’ us.” He nodded, as if what he was rambling made any sense. “Bring you along, keep you f’shows. Darlin’, you’d be my perfect li’l groupie..”

His pussy-whipped drunk ramblings sounded like a love confession as he neared his release, knowing he didn’t want it to be over so soon but desperately wanting to feel the warm, tensing tightness around him as he filled me as much as he could.

“I want you, I want you.” I nodded back, too cock-drunk to care.

“Cum f’me, y/n, cum with me, need— Oh fuckin’ shit.”

He groaned as he felt the clenching of my walls around his hard cock, desperately wanting to take him for all he’s got. Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me is the only phrase that repeated in my head as I felt the twitching and nearing signs.

“Give it to me, please, give it to me.” I pleaded through orgasm.

His body shook with want and he forced his eyes to stay open, needing to watch this unfold before him in a weak attempt to convince himself that it was real. Keenly watching the way my face contorted as I came on him, my eyes barely open enough to see the way his face mirrored mine. He let out small pants and whines, before his hips pushed deeply, his hips stuttering weakly as he filled me with his cum.

I felt the warm liquid between my legs, throwing my head back and sighing as I tried to relax from the high. Beautiful afterglow; beautiful boy. He collapsed forward slightly, holding me in place but using one arm to support us.

“It’s a really nice tour bus. Don’t even need y’own bed, just sleep in mine.” He continued in a whisper, pressing a soft kiss into the sticky flesh of my neck, nuzzling the hair away.

We stood for a moment before he pulled a chair from the side of the dressing table, slowly sitting us on it and keeping the position, his arms wrapped around me tightly like he never planned to let go.

I squirmed at the feeling. “Mhm.. Y’think?” I laughed softly; not taking him close to serious.

His eyes were heavy and he continued to look at us in the mirror, an unreadable expression as he buried his head behind my shoulder, his eyes barely poking above the flesh for him to admire the view. “I’m serious.” He mumbled awkwardly before going to a complete whisper. “Stay?”

1K notes · View notes

miraclewoozi · 5 months

Text

[ 22:38 ] - b.sk

pairing : seungkwan x fem reader. content : smut. literal pwp. (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT.) w/c : 1.5k. notes : i’m down horrendous for boo seungkwan and his fucking hands. what else is new? SMUT TAGS UTC. notes 2.0 : my first timestamp! wow. how fun. (i honestly just needed to get this out of my system, so. sorry about it.) boosadans, u guys are are so starved. pls accept this little token of my love to you.

smut tags : soft!dom seungkwan, sub!reader. swearing (obv). physical restraining (if you squint there’s maybe the tiniest implication of a size kink but not really?), some possessiveness but it’s minimal and mc likes it, unwrapped piv sex (he pulls out but still. be safe out there team), nipple play, clit stimulation, praise, pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart), some orgasm control. LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT ANYTHING.

Both of your wrists fit so perfectly in just one of his hands.

It’s the best revelation he’s ever made. In the months you’ve been together, there have never really been any true power dynamics at play in the bedroom, both of you always too caught up trying to please instead of dominate. But when you release your hands from where they’ve been tangled in his hair and they fall onto the mattress just above your head, something clicks inside him. Seungkwan finds himself now gently pinning your arms down to your bed sheets as he leans over you, his long fingers spread wide to keep you in place, his hips rocking against you rhythmically. Just hard enough to rile you up. Just a little too slow to have you shaking.

It’s perfect, Seungkwan thinks, because it keeps his other hand free to use however he desires. He can cup your cheek, and murmur ‘my pretty baby’ at you as your eyes roll back into your head. He can toy with your nipples, if he wants, and tell you how perfect your tits look when he thrusts hard enough to make them bounce. He can grip your waist, holding you still as he fucks into you slightly rougher, watching your smooth skin depress under his touch.

He can even tease his fingers over your clit and make you squeeze your sweet little pussy around his cock. That’s his favourite, he thinks. By the way you react, it might just be yours, too.

“Harder,” you gasp as he readjusts his hold on your wrists, and he looks down his nose at you with that raised eyebrow, sideways smirk signature he has. You swallow, biting your lip briefly before you say, “fuck— please, Kwannie. Hold them tighter.”

“Oh, princess,” he coos, cock throbbing at how you sound so angelic and beautifully fucked out. More-so as you whine in desperation when his fingers curl more harshly, giving you enough pressure to immobilise your hands entirely. “Is this it? This how you like it?”

“Yes,” you tell him, nodding and tugging against his hold, testing it, but it’s to no avail as he presses you further into the sheets, rolling your clit now between his thumb and forefinger on his other hand. “Fuck, I’m—”

“Not yet,” he interrupts you, shaking his head with a pout that you’re almost inclined to believe is condescending. “You can’t come yet, okay?”

Well, fuck. You’ve never been too good at holding your orgasms off, and thankfully Seungkwan has very, very rarely asked you to try. He loves the way you feel around him when you unravel, and he’s always so eager to get you off before he does that the moment you tell him you’re close, it’s music to his ears. You’re just so velvety around him. So warm and wet and he sometimes feels bad that he can’t always last that long, but it’s all your fault for being so damn perfect.

You try your best, but you don’t even have anything to grab onto. You can only ball your hands into fists to try and anchor yourself as he snaps and snaps and snaps his hips into you, as he pinches and massages at the bundle of nerves between your thighs. That little smirk makes a comeback on his features, but you don’t notice. Not until —

“Wish you could see yourself right now,” he sighs as he angles his thrusts a little bit deeper and your eyes fly open, your lips parting in a squeak of surprise at how far up in your stomach you feel him. “God, you’re doing so well, baby. Feels like this pussy was made for me.”

It makes your head spin. This is the first time he’s ever said anything like this in bed — he’s usually so… shy, so decorous. But thinking about how every vein in his cock must surely leave imprints on your insides, how the fucking your cunt takes multiple times a week makes you inarguably his? You’ve only ever been turned off by a possessive man, before now, yet this, from your usually so sweet boyfriend? Sends pulse after pulse of pleasure straight to your core.

You think you need to try and bring this out in him more often.

Talking back to him is a waste of the effort you’re using to try and hold yourself back from the edge, so you just nod, pinching your lips together as you swallow the words. The issue here, though, is that in your silence, your ears are left to pick up on every single other thing. The lewd sounds of your hole sucking him in over and over. The way your old bed frame squeaks with every single movement. His breathy sighs and moans. The slap of skin on skin when he eventually uses that free hand to hike your left leg up around his waist and he manages to get even closer, still.

“Please tell me you’re—” you start to say, the fire inside you warmer than it’s ever been without you letting it consume you. “I don’t know if I can…”

“You really need it, huh?” he asks, dipping down to kiss your lips softly, slowing until he almost stops. “You gonna come?”

“Please,” you beg, trying to move beneath him, trying to fuck yourself on his length. You’re so close. You just need a little more. “Please, please, please—”

He lets go of your wrists altogether and immediately, you wrap your arms around him, pressing your fingertips into his back as he settles back into a delicious rhythm.

“Okay,” is all he says, the word hot as it fans over your parted lips, as his exhale disappears into your mouth. But it’s all he needs to say. Frankly, it’s all he gets the chance to; it happens before you’re ready, before you can communicate it, even though you’ve spent what feels like forever being built up to this. All of your muscles stiffen as it hits you and you’re seeing stars behind your tightly closed eyelids. Your breaths escape you in a series of moans and whines, each inhale more like a gasp. He feels you clenching around him, feels how you try to pull his whole weight down against your stomach, feels how much wetter your cunt gets and how your leg tightens around his waist to try and keep him buried inside you.

It almost tips him over the edge, too, and even though he stills, he finds himself having to go back naming all of his highschool teachers in his head just to try and keep a shred of composure while your walls do their best to milk him dry. Thankfully, it doesn’t take too long for your arms to go slack around him, and (though reluctantly) he hurries to pull out of you. Seungkwan takes his cock into his hand instead and he fucks into his fist at the same pace as before – and no, it’s not as plush or warm or tight as you, but it doesn’t need to be. You take him to the point of no return every time — this just needs to be enough, and wow, it is. In seconds, his balls tighten and his forehead scrunches and he grunts as he releases in spurts all over your stomach.

He comes, and he comes, and it feels a bit like he’s never going to stop coming. But whenever it does end, when his agonisingly sensitive length starts to soften, and squeezing out every last drop onto your waiting body is almost an impossible task, he feels exhausted. He made such a mess. It’s everywhere. All on his hand, on the sheets, on you; you’re lying there looking so fucking pretty, breathing like you’ve just finished a race, and your belly is pearlescent with his cum, and all he wants to do is go to sleep.

But you half-sit up and reach out to him, taking hold of his wrist, now. He lets you (he’d let you do anything in these afterglow moments, and he knows that you know it too), softening the muscles in his arm to straighten at the elbow, and he watches you. Watches you drag your tongue over the skin between his thumb and his pointer finger. Watches as you lap up and swallow back the cum he was about to get up to wipe up with a tissue. Watches as you clean up every trace he left of his orgasm on his own hand, before you flop back onto the pillows, giggling and licking over your kiss-swollen lips.

He almost feels like he could get hard again at the sight of it. But — much to his own dismay — Seungkwan’s refractory period has never been quick. Even if he did pop another hard-on right now, he knows he’d be way too sensitive to do anything with it.

“You can’t do that to me,” he pouts, leaning over you to the bedside cabinet to grab a few tissues to start cleaning you up. “Not without a warning.”

"A warning wouldn't help and you know it," you tease him. He gives a 'hmmph', pulling a few free from the box and rolling his eyes as you squirm, ticklish when he starts to wipe his release from you. “You’d whine about it anyway.”

“I don’t whine,” he-… well. “Come on. Get up — bathroom, baby.”

You think that this is supposed to be distracting, to stop you being able to call him out for his immediate contradiction. On the other hand, maybe this is just his way of looking after you — it could be both, even. But you reach both arms up, first, silently asking him to come down to you one more time. He does, rolling his eyes and meeting you in another kiss, the tissues still scrunched up in his palm.

“Two minutes?” You ask, locking him into a cuddle he could probably escape from, if his strength ever happened to overpower the love he has for you. Yet, he rolls onto his back and tosses the tissues with alarming accuracy into the bin next to your dresser, pulling you into his chest.

“One and a half,” he agrees, nodding up at the ceiling.

He can never say no to you. Not especially when you hum into his collarbone and drag your fingers down his arm to take hold of his (clean) hand.

thank u sm for reading!! as always, likes, reblogs & feedback are all greatly appreciated.<3

#seungkwan smut #boo seungkwan smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seungkwan x reader #j writes.#*#timestamps.#sorry if the ending feels a bit all over the place i promise i agonised over it for like forty minutes lmao.#n e way bye <3

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duhnova · 1 year

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corruption - hhu headcanons

blame @jihoonsrubylips for asking for this (hehe ily holly mwah, i hope you enjoy)

hhu x fem!reader

word count: ~1.8k

warning(s): nsfw under the cut!! (mdni), basically pwop, CORRUPTION KINK, use of princess & sweetheart & angel & dove & darling as a petname, daddy is used (1), choking, face riding, ab riding, thigh riding, throat/face fucking, talks of the reader being a virgin (and their first time), mentions of going to the hospital (nothing major), some degradation?, a little praise?, subspace, a whole lotta filth, let me know if i forgot anything! - don’t mind grammatical errors/typos (i tried extra hard this time and had @junkissed & @onlymingyus proof <3 my beloveds fr ily and thank you MWAH) (also tagging @hyucks-rose & @onlyseokmins for helping and being along the journey ILY MWAH)

(YES THE OT4 HEADCANONS ARE THE SAME AS THE PU ONES CAUSE THEY’RE IMPORTANT!!)

ot4:

despite them wanting to absolutely ruin you, they waited until you were 100% ready - especially since the first time they got to be with you you were still a virgin

the whole aspect of them wanting to corrupt and ruin you means they’re rough and mean and sometimes it can be overwhelming so they take aftercare very serious (they know that you need a lot of time to recuperate afterwards so they’re always quick to clean you up, and lay with you and even getting you food and water when you finally come out of the haze)

the color system is huge with them!! and there’s a safe word always in place (even if it never gets used it’s always there and neither of you ever forget it)

seungcheol:

look it came as a surprise to seungcheol that he had a corruption kink ok? he wasn’t exactly a fiend for sex and he could care less if you two had gotten intimate like that, he just loved you and loved being around you.. however the first time you fell into bed together was absolute bliss and it opened a flood gate for the both of you (you couldn’t keep your hands off each other)

he always thought you were beautiful, always thought you looked so cute in skirts but he noticed you liked to wear them shorter, liked to bend over and show off your pretty thighs and panties to him and god did it drive him insane, he just loved to bend you over his thigh and smack your ass until you were dripping wet and begging to ride him (however he never gives you the satisfaction of that, instead he makes you ride his thigh until you’re legs are shaking and you can’t keep going)

his hands are always so rough on your hips, his fingers digging into the plush flesh as he moves you to drag your swollen and sensitive clit on the fabric of his pants, his muscles flexing to give you more stimulation and all you can do is whimper and hide your face in his neck where you desperately kiss and suck dark marks

it’s almost like your body is trained to react to him (it kind of is honestly) because he could just be sitting there doing absolutely nothing and he shifts a certain and suddenly your legs are closing as a wave of arousal washes over you (he thinks is cute how just seeing his legs barely being contained in his pants makes you drool)

“you do this to yourself darling, you wear your skirts shorter just to tease me with that cute ass of yours and now it’s all red,” he rubs soothing hands over your stringing ass cheeks before they find their way to your hips again to help you find the rhythm you lost when he removed his hands. “but you like that don’t you? like it when daddy smacks your ass raw just to have you ride his thigh till you’re a crying mess, dripping all over the place.” and all you can do is nod as your legs shake, your thighs squeezing around his one as your orgasm is fast approaching. “ah, you don’t get to cum just yet.” he lifts you up enough so you’re just hovering over his drenched leg, smirking when you squirm and whine about how close you were. “bad girls don’t get what they want, now behave or you’re not gonna cum at all tonight.”

mingyu:

mingyu never really thought about the fact that he was going to be your first, and he always thought it was going to be sweet and soft (because he felt it’s what you deserved to have as your first time having sex) but boy was he wrong

you weren’t oblivious to sex (you’ve definitely had your fair share of orgasms, although they were all self imposed) and youve seen a lot of porn and read a lot of books so you had a pretty decent understanding of what you wanted: and what you wanted was for mingyu to absolutely ruin you

your quiet whimpers about how much bigger he is than you, the slight tummy bulge and the way you can’t make coherent sounds make his brain short circuit and all he can think about is fucking you hard and making you cum as many times as possible before he’s unloading his cum deep inside you

the first time you ever sat on his face he slipped into sub space - he was so overwhelmed with the feeling of you suffocating him with your thighs and your juices flowing down his cheeks and to his neck where it pooped in his collarbones that he couldn’t help but slip away a little (only coming to when you worriedly cleaned him up and brought him water)

^ he might like to ruin you but god does he love it when you inadvertently ruin him

“look at you princess, taking my cock so well,” his hips slap against yours harshly, a strangled moan escaping you at the sheer force of him slamming his cock into you. “so fucking tight yet i fit inside you so perfectly. fuck.” his mouth falls open when your walls flutter around him. “feel that baby? pussy squeezing around me so nicely, it’s like i was made for this pussy, made to ruin it and fuck it till you’re crying that you can’t take no more.” he noses against your jaw when all you can do is whine. “you’d like that, wouldn't you? stupid little whore just wants me to ruin her till she can’t walk the next day, isn’t that right?”

wonwoo:

from day one this man knew he wanted to ruin you, wanted to see you fall apart below him as you take every inch of his cock (something not many have succeeded in doing and god did he lose his mind when he finally bottomed out, the tip nuzzling your cervix deliciously: almost like you were made for him (and in his corrupt little mind you were)

he loved every second of training you to take his cock in both your pussy and mouth (though he still can’t stuff it all in, however he loves the effort you make and he thinks it’s so cute how full your mouth looks as your eyes flutter close and you moan around his cock) but something he loves more is watching you fall apart on other parts of his body

sure he tried thigh riding, it was fun but not pleasing enough for him, and he loves eating you out but he still thinks it’s not fulfilling enough for him.. what is fulfilling enough is watching you make a mess as you drag your poor swollen clit over every ridge of his abs; whining about how strong he is when he flexes his muscles for you (and god does it boost his ego to see his precious little sweetheart fall apart for him like that)

he thinks it’s absolutely delicious how your juices pool in the duvets of his abs and he groans when you move up closer to his chest so he can get a close up of your pussy gliding and coating his skin in a layer of your arousal; he loves even more to make you clean it all up with your mouth, he groans as you keep eye contact while you slowly run your tongue over ever ridge, sucking lightly and leaving faint love bites as you make your way towards his face so you can shower your tongue in his mouth so he can taste you.

“look at you making such a mess sweetheart. you’re so desperate, so needy that you’ll fuck your pussy against anything won’t you?” he groans lowly when you whimper and rock your hips faster against his abs. “fuck princess, im not going anywhere, take your time.” but all you can do is dig your nails into his chest as you keep your fast pace, your orgasm coiling up in your stomach. he flexes his stomach more when he notices the way your eyes flutter as you bite lip, something you do when you’re concentrating on your own pleasure. “that’s it sweetheart, fall apart for me.” he whispers as he keeps flexing to give you more friction against your clit.

vernon:

don’t let his charming smile and pretty laugh fool you, he’s far from an angel (and all he ever seems to think about nowadays is you between his legs, taking every inch of his cock down your throat)

he was always soft and gentle with you at first, your first time together was exactly how he thought it would be, passionate and full of love, but god when you got on your knees for him later he knew he was going to absolutely wreck you (and vice versa)

this man is so whipped for you, and for your pussy, he’ll do pretty much anything you asked him to do and when you asked him to fuck your throat like he fucks your pussy he just about cracked. he’s not gonna lie that he did lose a little self control when he fucked your throat (like actually fucked it) for the first time; and he was only slightly embarrassed when you two had to go to the hospital the next day cause your throat hurt so bad (he has since learned how to be more gentle and careful about it but god he’ll never forget how you got on your knees and begged him to ruin your pretty mouth)

he’ll rest a hand on your throat so he can feel his cock sliding in and out of it as he’s fucking it, and he’ll even squeeze a little eliciting a strangled whine from you and a breathy moan from him; and when he realized you whined because you liked how he squeezed your throat? he never misses a beat now to wrap his pretty fingers around your neck

“what’s wrong angel? is it too much for you? can’t handle having my dick inside you anymore? maybe i should fuck that pretty mouth instead since it can’t seem to make any sounds.” he grips at the underside of your jaw, squeezing your neck a little. your eyes are rolling into the back of your head with every sharp thrust he delivers to your swollen pussy and all you can do is make a pathetic excuse of a moan, your pussy clenching around him and effectively creaming his dick for the umpteenth time that night. “shit, can you handle one more dove? if not i can-“ and just as vernon’s voice was softening, making sure you could physically handle another orgasm you’re wrapping your legs tighter around his waist to pull his hips into yours again, drawing a low groan from him. god you were insatiable, but so was he.

feedback + reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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nav-i-nav · 3 months

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My thoughts on OMORI and its message

I feel like I should talk about the impact OMORI had on me as a whole and recent posts made the thoughts I had after finishing the game for the first time come back, so here we go!

Remember this is my own interpretation, so don't take anything I say as the irrefutable truth! Likewise, feel free to add anything I might've missed in either tags or reblogs! I love hearing about other people's interpretations of the game!

Lastly, please forgive me if something I write isn't clear or easy to understand, I just needed to get this out of my system, so apologies for any typos/formatting issues ヽ(*。>Д<)o゜!!!

TL;DR: OMORI is a complex game about acceptance and choosing to move forward, and how the choices you make will influence the path ahead of you.

There are two routes the player can choose to follow during OMORI, as well as three endings you can reach based on those choices. The true route (which can lead you to either the good ending or the bad ending) and the hikkikomori route (which leads to the neutral ending).

As I've stated in previous posts, I firmly believe this game is not about "unconditional love" or "always forgiving"; rather, it's about not running away from your mistakes and confronting, accepting, and moving past them.

The hikkikomori route

One thing I've seen a lot of people do is disregard the fact that Sunny completely forgot about Mari's death. Yes, even if Headspace Basil or Stranger remember, and even if Something is a constant "reminder" of the truth, Sunny does NOT remember this UNTIL the day before he moves away, which in turn leads to him looking for Basil and thus, this resulting on a fight breaking out between the two of them which lead us to the hospital, where we choose one final time.

We know the cycle and resetting of Headspace has happened AT LEAST four times before the events we see in the game thanks to this dialogue found right before the Black Space segment of the game.

What we don't know is if Sunny actually remembered the truth during those instances or if Omori managed to put a stop to it. Personally, I like to believe this is the case. Why, you ask? Simple. I like to believe the hikkikomori route is but another one of these cycles.

Nothing special happens, nothing that alters Sunny's routine. Sure he is going to move away, but he still chooses to isolate himself in his house and wait until that day, doing nothing but the occasional chore and sleeping. He doesn't open the door for Kel, there are no external stimuli that indicate something is wrong and the ones that are already present inside the house have been blocked (the piano room, the closet, the backyard). And so, there is no reason for Sunny to question anything. There's no reason to accept or forgive anything.

To Sunny, Headspace is real. To Sunny, the truth is that his name is Omori and that he goes on all sorts of adventures with his friends while his dear sister stays behind. This is the truth he's accepted for four years, the life he's taken on and the life he'll continue to live should he not open the door.

Sunny has forgotten himself. He cannot accept the truth or forgive himself because of this. Daddy Longlegs confirms this thanks to the following dialogue:

Not only that, but Sunny also starts seeing himself as Omori in the mirror at the end of the hikkikomori route, which only solidifies the fact he has lost himself at this point and has given in to the safety of Headspace.

Lastly, let's not forget one of the biggest differences between the true and hikkikomori routes—the "boss" fight. Whereas in the true route, it's Omori, in the hikkikomori one, it's Stranger.

Something really interesting is the change of Stranger's dialogue between the true and hikkikomori routes. Here is the dialogue during and after the fight we have against him:

There is a distinct aggression that Stranger lacks in the true route. Stranger is the embodiment of everything Sunny wishes to forget. No matter how hard he tries to separate Basil from the incident, the truth is that he will always be linked to Mari's death one way or another, and, as Daddy Longlegs says:

However, even if Sunny didn't open the door, the fact he is moving away remains. We know this causes Sunny some sort of uncertainty and discomfort, as seen by the "Time" area in Black Space. Sunny is aware something will change and that causes him anguish. It's both figuratively and literally, a timer. To leave and forget or to step outside and find out the truth.

The reason Stranger is the final "boss" of the hikkikomori route is precisely because he is the last obstacle Sunny must "overcome" before he's able to fully forget himself. He is moving away and he's chosen to go with it, to let go of the past forever and completely abandon his identity as Sunny to embrace Omori fully.

Stranger, of course, knows that Sunny has chosen to turn a blind eye to the truth, so as a last attempt, he forces him to face him, to confront everything he's run from, and try to snap him out of it. But by this point, Sunny has given up all hope. He refuses to accept the truth, he refuses to see the pain and suffering his actions have caused, and so, Stranger backs off. Because he knows that at this point Sunny is far too gone.

The true route

With that out of the way, let's focus now on what is canonically considered the true route of the game. We all know what happens: Sunny opens the door and steps out of his house for the first time in years, which leads him to reconnect and mend relationships with old friends and make new ones, all within the span of three days until he moves away.

This is already a huge difference to the alternate route, as he actively interacts with all sorts of people and environments, allowing him to explore the real world and reconnect with it again. Of course, Headspace's influence is still present (as seen by the Headspace imagery that we can see around Faraway on the first day we go outside), however as time goes on, these disappear and instead Sunny starts remembering memories he had buried deep underneath the vibrant colors and fantastical aura of his dreams.

We all know this, so why am I bringing it up?

Thanks to all the stimuli that he's being exposed to, Sunny is able to remember more and more of what happens. He can no longer run away because Mari's death is a fact that he is constantly being reminded of by the world around him. Little by little he pieces what happened back together right until the sleepover he has with everyone else at Basil's house.

During three days, Sunny begins remembering who he is, and although Omori is him, he is not Omori. He is not as strong as him, nor is he able to ignore his fears like his counterpart. Just like the branch coral dialogue indicates:

Omori can mimic a human, but Sunny will never be an empty husk. His human nature remains above all and that is precisely why he can only run for so long. One way or another, Sunny must confront his mistakes and choose.

He can still run away by not opening the door on the second day, he can still escape during the sleepover by choosing not to save Basil, but by this point, he's already faced with the truth.

Now, let's talk about Basil and Sunny's fight. Although Sunny realizes Mari's dead, he doesn't learn the full truth until after Black Space. Again, one of the main things that distinguishes these routes is what happens with Stranger after we've explored this area. The main difference is that, unlike in the hikkikomori route, in the true route, Sunny knows that he has people he can count on. He knows he is not alone, as stated by Stranger:

Sunny is no longer isolating himself. He can finally see that people care about him and that he counts with them. This is reinforced by Hero, Kel, and Aubrey's dialogues right before the fight with Omori:

As well as Basil's before Sunny enters his house for the last time>

Both of these scenes happen right before Sunny takes the initiative to confront and accept what he's done. The difference between the true and the hikkikomori routes is the fact Sunny is no longer alone and he trusts that he'll have his friends by his side until the very end.

And then, we reach the final moment. The final decision.

Just like how Stranger was the final boss for the alternate route, we stand before Omori, who readies his blade as he blocks your path. Sunny has learned the truth, he has seen what he's done and now he has to fight. To prove that he is ready to move on.

Omori has been Sunny's shield for so long. So now Sunny must show Omori he is ready to let go and be himself.

This is the difference between the journeys we go through on each route.

The reason I believe that the hikkikomori route ends with a “neutral” ending is because Sunny never faced the truth. He didn’t even try to do so, instead choosing to hide away and forget, rejecting the idea that Mari died once again. Whereas in the true ending and the bad ending, he accepts this fact and embraces it. He sees the incident once again and remembers the role he had in everything that happened over the course of four years. And then he chooses if he wants to move forward or not.

Let's look at the cutscenes that play after the fights with Stranger and Omori respectively. (I will be using the good ending cutscene for the true route):

One of my favorite things about these is the fact that in the Hikkikomori route Sunny is still submerged in the darkness of Black Space. He is still blinded and therefore he can't see those who still care for him, those who cheer on him and wish him to move on. Instead, all he sees is Omori, because that's all he's known for four years. He is the only one who's been able to provide comfort to him because he won't let anyone else inside.

This changes during the true route, and regardless of what happens in the fight, one thing is clear: Sunny has accepted the truth. He is no longer blind to what happened, and he has finally come to terms with it. Only then does he decide if he wants to take the next step forward or not.

My thoughts

If you've read this far, thank you! Now, you must be wondering what does all of that have to do with the game's message. Well, I'll get to that.

First, I want to make one thing clear. I firmly believe Sunny's journey is not one of forgiveness but of acceptance.

Sunny's been stuck in an endless loop for roughly four years. All he's done is relive the same stories and go over the same path again, just as the following dialogue shows:

He will never be able to move forward unless he accepts the truth. What's done is done, and no matter how many times Headspace is reset, Sunny will never be able to undo it.

This is why the hikkikomori route is a neutral ending compared to the bad ending, even if the outcome is considered worse but most of the fanbase. Because in the hikkikomori route, Sunny never took a step forward. Nothing changed. Meanwhile, in the bad ending, Sunny knows what he's done and he chooses to take his own life as a response. He took a step forward but didn't have the courage to take the next one.

This leads to the last ending. In the good ending, Sunny takes two steps forward instead of one.

In the secret cutscene for the true route's good ending, when Sunny and Basil’s Somethings disappear, it isn’t their guilt or their regret. Rather, it’s the delusions (both literally and figuratively) that have blinded them for so long, the delusions that made them unable to move on. And now they can finally see past them and find each other.

They can finally accept that YES, Sunny killed Mari, and YES, both of them hurt the rest of their friends AND each other with their actions.

That’s the first step for them to heal.

But it’s definitely not the last one.

Trauma doesn’t go away so easily. And sure, life will be rough for a while. But at least they’re LIVING. They finally see things for what they are, and they are able to move past them and try to forgive themselves.

Maybe they won’t forgive themselves. And their trauma is never going to go away. But at least they’re no longer trapped in a lie and can choose what they want to do with their lives.

This is why, to me, OMORI is not about forgiveness. The story never shows Hero, Kel and Aubrey's reactions to the truth because this isn't what the game wants to focus on. Sunny's journey is for him to accept the truth and come to terms with it. But it's not the only journey we see along the way. Take Aubrey for example. She too came to terms with her actions towards Basil during those four years, and although there is not a conclusive ending to this, we see how she realizes her actions weren't justified no matter how hurt she was and she chooses to try and make amends.

Choices are extremely important in Omori. Sure, we can choose if we want to run away from an enemy or fight it, we can choose if we want to buy an item or not, we can choose to play the minigames or do the side quests we get along the way. But at the end of the day, the choices we make determine the future of the characters.

By opening that door, we can see the different outcomes of the story. And to me, that is just how real life is. We don't know what will happen in the future, we don't know if we are going to hurt others or if we'll regret our actions once everything's over, but what's important is to have the courage to make those decisions in the first place, the courage to accept when we're wrong and then choose to move forward or not.

Omori has taught me that making mistakes does not equal you being a terrible person. It is your choice to learn from those mistakes and improve. No matter what, you must have faith in yourself and those around you, and know that even if you didn't make the "right" choice, you can learn from it and you can become a better person thanks to it.

And I think that's beautiful.

#omori #omori game #omori sunny #sunny omori #omori headcanons #omori spoilers #navi.txt

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fbfh · 2 years

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rocks at your window pt. 4 - ricky bowen x reader

disclaimer: this series contains smut and chapter by chapter warnings, so as with all nsfw works, ricky is aged up to 18+!! ricky and reader are 18 and in their senior year

additionally, we're working towards a ricky x therapy plot so he's going to start expressing some symptoms of mental illness and bpd starting in this chapter but I promise he does get therapy eventually and has a good support system (he gets worse before he gets better yk) and obviously i'm not a professional and this is for entertainment so while I have done my research pls take this with a grain of salt!! or several!! /lh

!! contains some spoilers for season 1 of hsmtmts, and previous chapters of this fic !!

wc: 11k I know

genre: smut, slice of life/coming of age, one sided pining, fluff

pairing: ricky bowen x (afab she/her) reader

warnings: NOT PROOF READ AT ALL, more facebook messanger texts we'll politely pretend aren't facebook messanger, protecting carlos and seb during hoco (+ one use of the word homophobia), you're the dolly levi of the friend group, a LOT of hello dolly references??, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF, ricky's falling HARD, antagonist!nina, one sided rina angst (like BIG gina angst), big red is ricky's temporary therapist, ricky has bpd, ricky kind of splits on gina??, ricky has anxiety too, dr phil and big red and natalie's emotional support hamster are the only consistant things in anyone's life, drama/general messiness, oral (m + f recieving), sneaky quiet late night don't wake up the parents sex, making out, ricky thinks you smell so good he has to bang you right now, "stay quiet or I stop", switch!ricky, switch!reader, calling ricky a good boy, praise kink, giggly sex, waking up the morning after to an empty bed but not at all on bad terms (and no ghosting)

summary: ricky works up the guts to ask you to homecoming. if you can navigate all the drama, maybe he'll get to rearrange yours after dancing together all night.

song recs: old friend - mitski, 10 minutes ago - cinderella (1997), dancing - hello dolly (1969), in love on valentine's day - paul sandrone, daniel farrant, james knight (spotify link bc it's literally not on youtube??? tracking down this song was a nightmare /lh), you turned the tables on me - billie holiday, born to be brave - nico iaciancio cover (bc that's what I think the original sounds like in canon), soulmate who wasn't meant to be - jess benko, perfume - new hope club

a/n: could I have split this up?? yes but I'm not going to. also congrats 2 me bc I'm officially in the 10k one shot girlie club!! this is the longest thing i've ever written and my eyes are burning. ricky has bpd, I knew from the moment I saw this motherfucker I was like "yup bpd and mommy issues" and I was RIGHT why is no one talking about this also go watch crazy ex girlfriend

EDIT: I FORGOT TO ADD THE LINK TO THE VAMPIRE DIARIES VIDEO YOU REFERENCE IN THE BEGINNING (obvious spoilers for vampire diaries lol)

tags: @yesv01 @afidiofobia @aliyahsutherland @hopefullhearts @afidiofobia @aliyahsutherland @matiere-detoiles @ifilwtmfc @uselesssapphickitten @nxstalgicnxbxdy @ggclarissa

There’s no reason to be nervous. Ricky has literally no reason to be nervous. You’ve been together practically 24/7 since… all this began. He ducks his head down and his eyes land on the smooth counter top of the booth you’re sitting in. Heat rushes to his cheeks as it so often does around you, as he remembers all the time you’ve spent together. He tries to pay as much attention as he can to your summary of the video essay on vampire diaries you’d watched while doing homework last night, even though his thoughts are racing, and all centered on you. On asking you something really important - but also like, totally not a big deal or whatever.

“So apparently they just regularly bring characters back from the dead,” you inform him with a laugh, and take a sip of your coffee. He didn’t think people could look particularly cute while sipping something until he met you… until he got close with you.

“Yeah, that’s pretty crazy,” he agrees, hoping he sounds normal. You glance up at him to make sure he’s okay. You can tell he seems a little distracted, and he knows he has to ask you. It’s now or never.

“So…” he begins.

“Yeah?” you lean forward, already invested in what he has to say. God, he loves that. He loves the way you care, really care about what he has to say. He lets out a small, breathy laugh, that you mirror when you hear his.

“So, homecoming is soon,” he smiles, and is pretty sure you know where he’s going with this. Your eyes widen in moderate surprise.

“It is? Already?” you ask, pulling out your phone to check your very messy calendar. “Jesus, I thought we still had a few more weeks…” you muse, and Ricky smiles. God, how can you make everything - even being a little scatterbrained sometimes - so fucking cute?

You look back up from your phone, snapping him back to attention. His breath is shallow.

“So…” he says again, and rubs the palms of his hands up and down his jeans. Why is he so nervous? He has no reason to be nervous. You’re silent, waiting for him to continue in a way that feels patient, encouraging even, instead of critical like it would be from someone else.

“...Do you want to go? To homecoming?”

His heart is in his throat.

“Like, together?” You take another sip. He’s so choked up, so worried you’ll say no. He nods. You smile.

“Hell yeah,” you lean back and pull out your phone to text your mom, who is currently at a PTA meeting, about dress shopping this weekend, biting your lip as you type. Relief turns to elation as you discuss plans, coordinate rides with your friends, and get a plan together. He bounces his leg, getting really excited for all this. He’s never been one for school dances, but with you… it’s a whole different story. He can’t stop looking at you.

“So, what color is your dress going to be? You know, so I can get a tie to match.” A light, happy chuckle dances across the table and you hum in consideration, glancing down at the scone in your hand, your favorite flavor that’s become somewhat of a signature with you and Ricky.

“Peach.”

You both giggle.

“Perfect.” he smiles. You’re going to look so pretty in a peach dress. At homecoming. With him. A burst of kinetic energy waves through him at the thought. The atmosphere is nice, comfortable. It always is with you. You finish the bite of pastry in your mouth.

“You know,” you start, “maybe you should go suit shopping with your dad. It might be nice to have a guy’s day together.”

His mom has been gone for a few weeks now, and he told you how badly his dad is struggling. He means well, it’s just… been hard on him. It might be nice, he thinks, really nice to go out and spend some time with his dad, have some fun. He doesn’t remember the last time they had a day like that together. He’d really like that, if his dad wanted to.

“Yeah,” he agrees, wondering when a good time to bring it up will be, “that would be nice.”

Around the time you’re ready to head home, your phone lights up with a text from your mom, informing you everything at the PTA meeting went great, and she’ll fill you in on the details at home, and you thank her, informing her there’s a hazelnut coffee coming her way.

It’s Friday night, and you have less than 24 hours to homecoming. You’re not sure how you were able to find a dress you actually like in the right color on such short notice, but somehow you managed. You and Ricky have been texting all day, filling each other in on how last minute shopping had been going for each of you. He was shocked at how well today went with his dad. He was bracing himself for the worst for a lot of the afternoon, but the day progressed and nothing bad happened. They even got dinner afterwards.

Now, you’re sitting at your desk, finishing some homework while you facetime each other and fill him in on the whole cast’s plan to be there for Carlos and Seb tomorrow night.

“And, like,” you continue rambling as you wrap up your science worksheet, “it’s so ridiculous that that’s even necessary, you know? Out of all the living things in the world, humans are the only ones who thought to make up homophobia.”

“Right? Worst idea ever,” he muses.

“Exactly!” you exclaim in agreement, looking up at your phone. You mutter something about how stupid people can be, eyes moving down and skimming your paper, double checking your answers one last time. Ricky watches you do this. Your desk light casts a warm glow over you, and he can see some of your posters on the opposite wall from where you have your phone propped up. He knows exactly which ones they are, too. He has every detail of your room - and of you - memorized by now.

He’s supposed to be finishing his english homework, that’s the whole point of facetiming each other this late, to keep each other company while you work. Instead his papers lay discarded on his desk as he watches you, a look of fondness dusting his face. You tap your pencil against each question on your worksheet, eyebrows scrunched, mouthing the answers to yourself as you go. Occasionally you’ll stop, turning to your book to check a chart or vocabulary word, then erase your answer and select a different one.

“And that’s why we proofread,” you mutter to yourself, and Ricky giggles. You look back up at him, smiling, then back at your paper for one last once over.

“Okay, I’m just about done,” you say, putting your homework in your bag to turn in later, with a satisfactory sigh. Ricky glances at the time. It’s getting late already. He’s torn between wanting to make sure you get enough sleep, and wanting to talk to you all night. He watches you rub your eyes, suppressing a yawn.

“We should probably go to bed now,” it’s more of a question, but you agree anyway. You pick up your phone and walk into your bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush as you say your drawn out good nights.

Ricky thought he was nervous asking you to homecoming? Turns out that’s nothing compared where he is now, waiting for you in your foyer. Somehow your house had become the unofficial get ready spot for the girls and Carlos, and meet up place for everyone else. So that’s where Ricky finds himself, barely unable to socialize or talk with his friends, all his thoughts preoccupied with you. He hasn’t seen you all day; you and the girls have been getting ready together, and he’s been trying to teach Big Red to dance all day.

Ashlyn comes down first. Her bubbly presence immediately eases some of the tension in the atmosphere from Ricky and EJ having to wait together in such close quarters. She waits with them for the others while they finish getting ready. It doesn’t slip past Ricky how nervous Big Red suddenly gets when she comes down the staircase.

Natalie is next - almost. Half way down the stairs, a snap resonates off the walls, and she freezes. She looks down at her left shoe, the heel of which has completely snapped off.

“Oh my god,” she mutters, and walks carefully back up to your room. A minute later, presumably after she informs you about her wardrobe malfunction, Ricky hears your voice, faint and bouncing off the stairwell.

“It’s okay, that’s the risk you take with stilettos,” you say, trying to calm her justified panic. He hears you say something about how Margot Robbie broke a heel at an award show a few years ago as your bedroom door closes again.

The door opens, and Carlos appears at the landing. His face falls slightly as he realizes Seb isn’t here yet.

“It’s okay, he’s probably going to meet up with us at school.” Ricky comforts.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a laugh at his own nervousness, “yeah, you’re probably right.” Carlos takes a deep breath, and Ricky notices the swirly, metallic red pattern on his suit.

“You look great, man,” He says, hoping to take Carlos’s mind off the unexpected radio silence from Seb. The comment is appreciated, but seems to catch him off guard.

“Thanks,” he replies, “dude,” he punctuates with a friendly - very awkward - punch to Ricky’s arm. It’s more of a nudge, but he appreciates the sense of comradery nonetheless.

Footsteps echo down the stairs, and Ricky looks up, stomach twisting in anticipation. Natalie emmerges, much more carefully this time. She greets everyone, then starts talking to Ashlyn about the shoe incident. Ricky is trying really, really hard not to look like he’s waiting for you, but it feels almost impossible to focus on anything else.

Finally, several painfully long minutes later, he hears the click of high heels approaching the steps. He walks to the bottom of the stairs, heart thumping as you round the corner, and all the breath is pulled from his lungs at the sight of you. You descend the stairs, hair and dress flowing and bouncing with every step, glowing under the chandelier light. Your dress, mid length and flouncy, a peachy champagne that compliments your hair and skin tone perfectly, shimmers subtly when you move, glistening like starlight.

Your makeup is understated and glowy, bringing out every beautiful feature you have - which is all of them. Your hair is perfect, glossy and voluminous. Your earrings look like little pink silk flowers, and there are matching, larger silk flowers on the side of your heels. Your nails are manicured a soft peachy pink, with little sparkling accents. You even smell like peaches, he realizes, subconsciously taking a step closer to the bottom of the stairs as you get closer. You seem to descend in slow motion as Ricky takes in every detail.

Your expression mirrors his the moment you see him. You did not expect him to look that good in a suit. It couldn’t fit better, the cut and seams of the dark fabric perfectly accentuating his physique. His tie matches your dress, the same shade of peach, and you bite back a smile. The expression on his face can only be described as a breathless wow, and it’s something you'll never forget. Your cheeks are warm and suddenly it all feels real. You find yourself very excited to have fun at homecoming with him tonight.

You finally float down to the bottom of the stairs, stopping in front of him. It’s quiet for a moment, as you take each other in, face to face. You’re both struggling to find the words, thrown off guard by the energy in the air, by each other. Behind you, Ashlyn claps awkwardly.

“Alright, everyone ready to go?”

You and Ricky both giggle at the same time, and his chest warms at how in sync you are.

“Yeah,” You confirm, smiling over at Ashlyn and grabbing Ricky’s arm in a way that makes his heart palpitate, “let’s go.”

Standing with you on the dance floor, his hand on your waist as you attempt to teach him how to waltz, Ricky is so thankful for homecoming, for an opportunity to be close to you like this.

“I told you,” he laughs, enamored with your optimistic determination, “I can’t dance.”

“Yes,” you smile, “you can. You just haven’t had the right teacher.” His cheeks flush at your words, the feeling of your hands on his, and he’s hit with the sudden memory of the last time your lips were on his neck.

“I think you’re probably right about that…” he mutters under his breath. You bite back a smile, adjusting the position of his hand on your waist. You step closer, and his heart beats faster. He watches your face closely as you explain the basics of a waltz, a box step.

“Like in ‘Dancing’ from Hello Dolly.” you smile, eyes widening at the blank look on his face. “Oh my god, it’s a musical classic! Carol Channing played Dolly in the original broadway cast in ‘64, then Barbra Streisand in the film adaptation in ‘69.”

“Wow,” he smiles. He loves when you talk about theatre and Broadway, loves the way your eyes light up. “They’re like, really famous, right?” You let out a light hearted scoff.

“Broadway legends.” You smile, “The movie was directed by Gene Kelly, too, it’s amazing. We should watch it this weekend, if you want to,” you look up at him, eyes glittering under the soft twinkling lights.

“Yeah,” Ricky laughs, “definitely.”

After a moment, you remember why you brought Hello Dolly up in the first place.

“Right,” you say, memory jogged, “there’s a song called ‘Dancing’ where Dolly is teaching Cornelius and Barnaby how to dance so they can impress these girls who work at a ladies hat shop-”

“Cornelius and Barnaby?” he asks with a laugh.

“It takes place in 1890!” you say, jokingly defensive.

“Right,” he agrees, “so a… ladies hat shop…?”

“Totally era appropriate.”

You’re both giggling, trying not to be too loud. You lean your head forward, resting it on his shoulder. The sound of your laughter, the feeling of your head resting against him brings back that warm feeling he always gets around you. It takes you a moment to regain your composure. It’s been like this all night, the conversation flowing like a river, always making each other laugh over something or other.

“So,” you begin, once again ready to dance with him, “put your hand on her waist and stand.” You recite, moving his hand from your back to your waist and adjusting your posture.

“With her right-” you hesitate, making sure you have the correct hand, then continue, “in your left hand. And…” You step back with your left foot, motioning for him to follow, then back and out with your right, then together.

“One… two… three…”

You repeat the steps.

“One… two… three…”

And again.

“One… two… three…”

You look up at him, your smile blinding.

“Look, you’re dancing!”

He looks up at you, excited, disbelieving that he got it so quickly.

“Wait, that’s it?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” you nod, “see? I told you you can dance.” You start to move again, and he follows, hesitant but slowly getting the hang of it. After a second, he says your name, voice quiet and still watching the ground.

“Can you keep singing? It’s making it a lot easier…” he chuckles, hoping you can’t tell how much he loves hearing your voice.

So you do. You sing quietly, just enough for him to hear, about dancing and how it’s the perfect excuse to hold someone you like close to you, as you waltz carefully around the room. An electric, intimate feeling ties you together as you weave through the room. It's like something clicked, he thinks, because it makes sense. This, dancing, makes sense. He’s pulled from his epiphany by your melodic voice.

"We should do Hello Dolly, it would be so fun!" You giggle.

"Yeah?" He asks, smile mirroring yours, "Who would you play?" You let out a light hearted huff, considering.

"I would love to play Dolly," you admit. You had always hoped to portray the classic role, dreaming of being able to follow in the footsteps of other iconic actresses like Carol Channing and Barbra Streisand. You barely get the sentence out when Ricky nods, agreeing.

"You would make an amazing Dolly." You laugh, cheeks warm, flattered by his response.

"Who do you think I should be?" He asks, that playful energy flowing comfortably between you as he raises his arm, spinning you around.

"Well," you begin with a laugh, "if you played Cornelius we’d get to waltz together. But if you played Horace and I played Dolly we'd get married at the end."

His heart squeezes at your words, imagination already taking off like a wild horse. Again, your melodic voice pulls him back down to earth.

"But playing Irene would be fun too…" you sigh, twirling in his arms again, your dress glittering under the soft lights. Your hands return to their previous position resting on his shoulder and your waist, free hands clasped together, and you begin to move in tandem. You twirl and float around the room, feeling the music wrap around you like a warm blanket in autumn.

In that beautiful moment between the two of you, he doesn’t just understand dancing, he realizes, he loves it. Like, a lot. He loves this, being close to you. He loves the connection between you, and he wants to keep dancing with you all night.

He giggles, twirling you around in his arms again. On your way around, you see Carlos behind you at your table holding up his phone, a smile on his face. You’re glad he seems okay; Seb still hasn’t shown up and everyone’s been worried about both of them. A split second later, you’re back in Ricky’s arms, and your heart soars at the smile on his face. You’d been hoping dancing together at homecoming might help him in rehearsals. Based on how well he’s doing - and how much fun he seems to be having - you can tell your hunch was correct.

After a few more songs, you begin to make your way back to your table. Ricky’s hand settles on your back, guiding you through the crowd. Two more people are seated there than when you left, and your eyes widen.

“Oh my god.” you say quietly, “Gina and EJ came together?”

Ricky glances up, gaze almost immediately turning back to you as you get closer.

“Oh, they did? I didn’t notice.”

Fighting to maintain her poker face, Gina’s stomach drops at his words. Her eyes dart between you and Ricky, the way he’s looking at you. She grips her clutch tighter. This is really, really bad for her. Gina barely had a plan for making Ricky jealous and freaked out so he’d quit the show to begin with. She definitely did not plan on you waltzing into the picture - literally - and stealing away all of his attention. He can’t get jealous if all of his focus is on you. A sinking feeling begins to invade the pit of her stomach.

Ricky’s phone buzzes with a text from his dad.

“Hey,” he says, showing you the screen, “which shirt do you like better?”

He’s been filling you in on his dad’s hot date he has tonight, and you’re both very relieved to see that he’s doing okay, putting himself out there. You look at the pictures, and consider.

“Hmm… the second one.” you conclude.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” he agrees easily. He loves how you always seem to be on the same page.

“Wow,” comes EJ’s voice from across the table. He sounds really stiff. “I had no idea you were each other’s dates to homecoming.” He states, sharing a quick look with Gina he hopes no one notices.

“Yeah, we are,” Ricky smiles, “we’re each other’s dates.” He doesn’t think it would be too far fetched to say you’re… dating.

“Yep, partners in crime.” You smile, showing off your plastic ring. Ricky holds up his, kept on a chain, sitting right over his heart.

“Aw,” Carlos says, an almost bittersweet undercurrent to his voice, “you guys are so cute.” He gestures for you to lean closer to each other. “Let me get a pic for my story!”

Ricky does not need to be told twice. He throws his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you hold his arm and giggle. It’s the perfect shot, the sincerity of the fun you’re having evident in the photo.

Gina runs her tongue over her teeth. She really does not like that.

Across town, sitting at a table in a shitty karaoke spot, Nina scrolls through instagram while Kourtney rants about the bitch who criticized her costume suggestions. Something about a lime green sweater? She’s not really paying attention, she’s too distracted by the hideous dress that Gina’s wearing. And the fact that she went to hoco with Nina’s ex boyfriend.

“Look at this,” she says, showing Kourtney her phone. “She looks like she’s wearing a bedazzled tablecloth.” Kourtney looks at her phone, disapproval written all over her face.

“And,” Nina says, gearing up to point out the obvious jab at her, “she’s with EJ.”

Kourtney knows where this is going. Before Nini can go off about how obviously Gina has it out for her, she takes a sip of her drink.

“Is there anything on their stories?”

She taps EJ’s story and it’s just a boomerang of the food.

“No, just-” Carlos’s story plays next and Nina almost pukes. Right there on her screen is Ricky, kissing your cheek, leaning into you like a cat. You’re in an unfortunately gorgeous dress, grinning so sincerely, your nose effortlessly scrunched. Next is a video of you two dancing. Like, really, properly dancing. She can’t believe you got him to dance - he doesn’t even dance in rehearsal when he’s supposed to! She watches the two of you ballroom dancing around the gym, breath speeding up slightly at the realization that he’s actually good. The sick pit forming in her stomach grows as she rewatches the video again. She wants to know why, after all the practice, all the failed attempts and his reluctance, why it works when you do it? Why isn’t she good enough? She dwells in the feeling for a few minutes. She scrolls through a few more hoco posts before finding one that has your account tagged. It’s private.

“Kourt,” she says, showing her her phone, “you need to follow her.”

“Why?” Kourtney asks.

“So I can see what’s on her instagram.” Nina says. She can’t let you know she’s lurking, so the obvious solution is to lurk through Kourtney’s account. Kourtney sighs. She requests to follow you.

A few feet away from your table, Ashlyn gives you a look, gesturing subtly to Carlos, then to the hallway. Seb still isn’t here.

“Hey,” you say quietly to Ricky, “I’ll be right back.” you smile, eyes flicking over to Ashlyn and Carlos.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, watching you leave with them to give Carlos a pep talk. A soft smile kisses the corners of Ricky’s mouth, watching you in utter adoration. He lets out a small sigh, gaze lingering on where you stood even after you’re out of sight.

Gina watches him watch you, his dark auburn hair glowing in the warm twinkle lights strung up throughout the gym. His eyes seem to sparkle with joy when he finally tears his gaze away, staring absentmindedly at the table.

“EJ,” she says, “could you get me some punch, babe?”

“Uh,” he says, clearly unused to the term of endearment, “sure… babe.” He heads over to the drinks, the tension between them thinly veiled. This seems to snap Ricky out of whatever his train of thought was, and he scoots closer to Gina. She watches him lean closer to her and begin speaking in a low, almost strangely intimate tone of voice.

"Hey, you know EJ went through Nini’s phone before they broke up, right?”

She raises her eyebrows.

“Just… you know, be a little careful around him.”

“I can take care of myself, Ricky.” She states incredulously.

“Yeah, of course you can.” he says, head tilted to the side with a little smile, like it should be obvious, “You’re so talented and ambitious, and - honestly, way too good for him.” He mutters the last part, but she definitely hears it.

“You’re way too cool to get your heart broken by a guy who plays water polo.” He says, drawing a reflexive laugh out of her.

“Just… take care of yourself.” he concludes, locking eyes with her before moving back to his seat. It’s only for a moment, but long enough for her to commit the color to memory.

“Right.” she says, working harder than she usually has to to keep her expression neutral.

Later, between dances, you and Ricky catch your breath at the snack table. You take a sip of your drink, eyes landing on Gina and EJ, who are very obviously arguing. You nudge Ricky, motioning over to them.

“What are they saying? Wrong answers only.”

He considers, then begins to narrate in his best EJ impression.

“Ugh, Gina! Stop moving! I haven’t posted on instagram in 35 seconds and blurry so doesn’t fit my theme.”

You try to stifle the loud, beautiful laugh that brings warmth to his cheeks and a smile to his lips as your eyes lock, sharing a look so close he never wants to look away.

“I said wrong answers only…” you say through muffled giggles. He stares at you, fixated. He’s blinded by your warmth, your beauty, and he can’t look away from you. His attention is snapped back to where it had been when you gasp dramatically, shock written all over your face. He follows your gaze to EJ, who’s dripping with punch, and Gina, who’s storming away from him.

“...Oh my god.” you say, already dissolving into laughter again, Ricky following suit.

Soon you’re dancing again, pressed up against each other, swaying gently to the oldies playing softly over the speakers. Ricky can feel your body heat, smell your shampoo, and the way it mixes with your sweet peachy perfume. You smell so good, he thinks he could probably get high off you alone. His hand rests firmly on your back, holding you close to him, and his fingertips brush over the exposed skin peeking out over the straps of your dress. He traces your shoulder blades, your spine, feeling how close together your hearts are beating. One of your arms is wrapped around him, your head resting on his shoulder. Both your free hands are intertwined, and he loves the feeling of your fingers intertwining with his. He’s steeped in a hazy sort of ecstasy, spurred further on by your warm little breaths tickling his neck.

He lets out a soft sigh, more content than he’s probably ever been. He feels you smile against his blazer when he traces the outline of the back of your dress. You hum softly to the music, singing along to a few of the words. He’s not surprised that you know this song, of course you would know a song this pretty and romantic. He hopes he’ll remember to ask you the name of it later. Dancing, he realizes, isn’t just fun - it’s amazing. He loves dancing. He loves dancing with you. After a few moments, he realizes there’s not many people on the dance floor. He doesn’t get why so many guys don’t like slow dancing; when you really love someone, isn’t any reason to hold them close to you a good one? He thinks it is. His heart flutters when you let out a breathy sigh against his skin.

You adjust your head on Ricky’s shoulder, watching Carlos across the room. He looks so… melancholic. You should go check on him. And Gina. And probably EJ. Christ, tonight has been a lot. You adjust your head again, facing towards him.

“We should check on Gina,” you say reluctantly, murmuring into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. He loves when you do that, loves how you know when people are hurting and what to do about it. But right now, he really, really does not want to let go of you for anyone or anything. Maybe it’s selfish, he thinks, maybe it’s selfish for wanting you all to himself like this, but he just can’t bring himself to let go of you yet. Maybe he deserves to be a little selfish sometimes. Maybe he should just give himself permission to do whatever makes him feel better. He holds you tighter, face burying into your neck.

“After this song,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed in your embrace. You nod gently.

“Okay,” you agree, voice so low he can barely hear it.

Eventually the final piano chords sound, and he holds you tight as the last few, painfully bittersweet notes reverberate through the room. The song ends, and he lets go of you slower and more reluctantly than he’s done anything.

You sigh, tracing your hands on his shoulders, slowly coming out of that cozy trance like state you’ve been in together.

“Okay,” you start, “let’s split up. I’ll check on Carlos, you can check on Gina, and I’ll have Ashlyn check on EJ cause they’re cousins.”

He agrees, hit with a sudden wave of nerves about the confrontation. You can sense his hesitation.

“What should I say?” he asks, with a chuckle. He’d told you about how he warned Gina about EJ earlier in the evening, which you had agreed was totally the right move. He told you how she seemed irritable after the interaction, and wondered if he’d done anything wrong, if he could have handled it better. “I don’t think so”, you had said with a sad shrug, “some people just refuse to acknowledge the person they’re dating is kind of shitty.”

You’re right, he realized, now ready to approach this with more compassion and less confrontation. You think for a second, then reply.

“You can apologize if what you said before came off wrong, that you didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

“Okay,” he nods.

“And try to relate to her - you’re new to theatre, she’s new to east high, you gotta stick together, you know?”

“Right.”

You send him a thumbs up as you part ways, looking for Carlos. After chatting with Carlos, he left to get some water. You see Ricky approaching you through the crowd, and stand up from your table, meeting him halfway.

“How’d it go?” you ask. He seems hesitant.

“She asked for a ride home.” Your eyes go wide with understanding. He knew you’d get what’s going on, you always know just what to do.

“Oh, dude, the last thing she probably wants right now is to get in a car with EJ.” Ricky thinks that’s the last thing anyone would want. “If you want you can give her a ride, then come back and we can keep dancing.” He smiles, and agrees. Any plan that ends with dancing with you more sounds like a good plan to him. You quickly fill him in on how things are going with the Carlos/Seb situation in spite of its anticlimactic nature - no one can get a hold of Seb, and Carlos is really, really regretting this whole thing. You and Ashlyn are going to try and hype him up and turn the night around for him so it’s not a totally horrible memory to look back on, and Ricky agrees that’s a good plan.

“I’ll be back really soon so I can help you guys out,” he says, hoping to extend the conversation a little, to stand close to you and talk confidentially with you just a little more. You smile, looking relieved at his support, and it makes his heart flutter. You touch his arm, sending him a knowing look.

“We need all the help we can get, so thank you.” you state with a chuckle. He tries not to be obvious, but he knows he can’t hide his flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. He hopes you don’t notice.

You really didn’t expect to be the glue holding everyone together tonight, but you love your friends, so you’re not complaining. After a lengthy conversation with Carlos about how amazing he is regardless of who he is or isn’t seeing, and that there will be so many guys throwing themselves at him after high school, you finally get him out of his funk a little. You were about to go dance together and have a good time, because he shouldn’t let anything ruin his homecoming, when Natalie scurried over to you holding the side of her dress.

“It snagged on the back of a chair and my whole leg is out, Angelina Jolie style.” She says in a rush, clearly getting more freaked out. You and Carlos share a look.

“It’s okay,” you say gently, “I have a sewing kit in my bag and I can have you fixed up in two minutes flat.” You look over at Carlos again, making sure he’ll be okay. He confirms silently, nudging you two towards the doors.

“You go fix this wardrobe malfunction,” he says, already trying to pull out of the funk he’d been stuck in all night, “I’m going to warm up the dance floor. When you get back, get ready to dance your heart out.”

He’s not all the way there, but he’s trying. You both agree, and you send him one last encouraging look before moving carefully to the hallway, trying not to let Natalie’s dress rip any more than it already is. You look back one last time as you pass through the doors, and finally, Carlos is out on the dance floor. You smile, excited to dance with him once you get back.

“God, I wish I had my hamster right now…” Natalie mutters, and you know if she needs her emotional support hamster, it’s pretty bad.

A few minutes later, you have your sewing kit and Natalie’s dress is back to its former glory. She has on a fresh coat of lip gloss, just finished showing you pictures of her hamster, and is ready to head back out. You stay behind to touch up your makeup a little, telling her you’ll be right behind her. As you’re walking back out, someone turns the corner at the other end of the hallway. You freeze in place, eyes growing wide as they land on none other than Seb. He smiles nervously, raising a hand to wave at you. Before he can, you let out a shocked squeak, scurrying back into the gym. His heart sinks. He hopes you don’t hate him, and he’s really worried Carlos is going to.

When you enter, you see Carlos dancing his heart out. You don’t have time to be relieved, weaving your way through the crowd to Mr. Mazzara. You slam your hands on the table, avoiding the sound and light equipment he’s managing.

“Mr. Mazzara!” He looks up at you, startled, as you begin to explain in a rush. He looks at you, a pleading puppy dog look written on your face, and sighs.

“I suppose that’s fine…” he says, making a few adjustments to the switch board in front of him.

“Thank you!” you say quietly, before running onto the dance floor. Carlos is finally in his element. He dances beautifully to the music, free and expressive. Right when the beat drops, a circle of spotlights go up. One lands on him, the other lands across the room on Seb, and they lock eyes in a moment that can only be described as magical. Ashlyn looks at the scene, straight out of a movie, then over to you. You high five her.

“Nice!” she whispers. You can see it between them, the energy, the chemistry, the electricity. You look at Ashlyn, nodding toward your table. You both sit down, giving them some time to talk and catch up. You try to be subtle as you watch them talk, not close enough to eavesdrop, but watching their expressions, gaging how it's going. They're smiling, then they're laughing, and soon they're dancing together. It's going well, you think. You can't wait for Carlos to fill you in later.

Sitting in Gina's driveway, a surprisingly more comfortable energy in the air than either of them had expected, Ricky tries to think of how to say what he wants to say.

"Not quite the evil mansion with wrought-iron and gargoyles you were picturing?" She asks, a hopeful playfulness to her voice. She almost sounds nervous.

"What? No…" he says. The comment takes him by surprise, snapping him back to attention. "...Well maybe some gargoyles." His joking tone and comforting energy has her giggling. She doesn't remember the last time she giggled. She feels his eyes on her, and tries not to look over at him. She does anyway.

"You're not that bad, you know." He muses. She tries to control her breathing. She doesn't say anything.

"Also," he continues, looking back over at the windshield, "I should thank you for that night at the skatepark, keeping me in the show. It means a lot, it's… a really big deal to me." He looks up and left at the top of the car window, mind already wandering about how if he had quit, he never would have gotten close to you like this, never would have fallen in… your arms the way he had that night. He can't imagine you not being in his life, and he has Gina to thank in part for that. He feels a sense of gratitude blooming for her. They talk a little more, and the feeling grows; Gina really is not that bad. He can feel a friendly bond growing between them, a sense of comradery.

"So… now is probably a good time to ask about the whole drink thing," he starts with a chuckle. She ducks her head, equal parts embarrassed at her actions, and that he saw her at such a low moment. She lets out a sigh. The gesture reminds him of something you might do. He thinks you two would be good friends. He’s already imagining what you’ll say when he fills you in on all this, he’s excited to get your opinion.

“...My mom moves around a lot for work. Like, a lot…”

Once she starts, she can’t stop, and it’s not long before she’s unintentionally spilled her guts and her life story to him. She wishes she could stop talking, but it’s like she totally lost her filter with him. She’s always been so reserved, so calculated, and now she doesn’t even have time to think before the words are already spilling out. It’s a new feeling, being so candid with someone, and an unsettling one.

She risks a glance over at Ricky, who’s just… listening to her. Taking in what she says. That somehow makes her more nervous than if he’d just ignored her or told her to shut up already. She wishes someone would tell her to shut up, she wishes she could. She finally gets to the end of her never ending stream of consciousness, and she’s stunned as they sit in the silence, Ricky really absorbing her words, her feelings. He reaches over and grabs her hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze before letting go - a mannerism he picked up from you. Heat floods her chest, prickly and almost painful, hyper aware of where his skin just touched hers.

“You know, you-” She’ll never know what he was going to say, his words are cut short by the porch lights flashing through the windshield. Gina’s stomach sinks. She doesn’t want to go inside yet. She doesn’t want this moment to be over, but she has to listen to her mom. She reaches for the door, then hesitates. She turns back to Ricky, desperate to try one more time, to put herself out there, to plant some roots.

“I meant what I said at the skate park… about you having your own style.”

He smiles, looking down with a breathy chuckle. His leg is bouncing slightly, he can’t wait to get back to school and dance with you more, spend the rest of this magical night with you.

“Thank you, that’s-” He’s cut off again, this time by the kiss Gina presses to his cheek. She’s out of the car and inside before he can look at her face. She holds her coat tight around her against the chilly rain beginning to drizzle down, and a second later, the front door closes and she’s inside.He lets out another chuckle, different this time. ‘That was weird.’ He thinks. He barely has the thought before his stomach drops, a sick, cold fear clutching him. What if you find out Gina kissed him? What if you find out and you hate him, what if he breaks your heart into a million pieces without trying? Or worse, what if you lose interest in him because you think he likes Gina? He can feel himself panicking at the idea, unable to stop the onslaught of all too real feeling anxieties wracking his mind, creating a pit in his stomach as he peels out of the driveway and makes his way back to school.

No, no, that’s not going to happen. He’s not going to lose you because he’s not able to express how much he cares about you. He’s not going to let that happen. Trying to hold this panic at bay, he pulls out his phone as he walks through the parking lot towards the school again. How to show someone you love them. He types the words into google, skimming article titles, reddit threads, quora responses, until he finds himself at the gym doors. He sees you across the room, dancing in a group with Carlos, Ashlyn, Natalie, and Seb. ‘Oh, Seb’s here. That’s good,’ he thinks, a momentary relief that at least one or two fires had been put out tonight. He spots Big Red on the opposite side of the room, and makes his way over to him carefully, trying not to be seen by you. He can’t be around you until he figures this out, he can’t hurt you like this.

Ricky approaches Big Red with an intense energy he has trouble reading, before Ricky starts to speak.

“Dude,” he says, voice intense and hushed, “Gina kissed me on the cheek.”

“That’s great!”

“No, it’s not!” Ricky says, clearly very frazzled. Okay, that’s where this is going.

“That’s awful!” Red course corrects as Ricky fills him in on the car ride with Gina. As he tells Red everything that happened, Ricky finds himself kind of hating Gina right now. Why would she do this to him, why would she put him in this position? Does she hate him or something? He thinks she must, there’s no other reason for her to sabotage his relationship with you like this. She must hate him if she’s trying to ruin the most important thing in his life.

“Listen, I really, really like her…” his eyes keep flicking over to you, gaze magnetized by your presence, “like, a lot. How can I make sure I don’t fuck this up? Because I can not fuck up with her.”

“Woah, man,” Red starts, trying to help Ricky ground himself a little, “chill out. In all fairness, cheek kisses can be platonic.”

“Right,” Ricky nods, starting to feel assured, and Red continues.

“So, if Gina wants to date you when you’re… kind of seeing someone, she has to make that more clear to you.”

“Right.” Ricky states, agreeing. He really hopes she doesn’t.

“I think you’re okay,” Red says, sensing his energy changing already, “just make sure she knows how much you like her. Make it really, objectively obvious.”

Yeah. He just has to make it obvious.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says to Red, his eyes locked on you as you laugh at something Carlos says, making his stomach twist and tingle, “I just have to make sure she knows how much… I like her.”

Red watches him make his way over to you, a spring in his step and a plan in his mind. Thank god for Dr. Phil, Red thinks, or else there’s no way he’d be able to help his friends navigate all their drama. He chuckles at the thought, watching Ashlyn fix the strap of your dress.

Ricky checks his phone one more time on the way over, looking over a chart of love languages one more time. He’s not sure what your love language is, so he’ll just have to try all of them and see what you seem to like best. Gift giving and acts of service aren’t really options right now, so tonight he’ll focus on words of affirmation, physical touch, and quality time. If he has to drown you in all five love languages at once to make sure you know how he feels about you, he will.

“Hey,” he starts, watching your reaction nervously, scared you somehow already hate him. You turn around at the sound of his voice, eyes lighting up.

“Hey!” you smile, “You’re back!” you grab his arm, pulling him in closer to the group.

“Seb’s here,” you say, and he smiles, relieved at your reaction.

“Hey, man,” he smiles.

“Fill me in later,” you say quietly, referring to giving Gina a ride, and he nods, a little bit ready to forget the whole thing.

Now that all the drama, wardrobe malfunctions, and late entrances are out of the way, you and what remains of your friends spend the rest of the night like you intended; dancing, laughing, and taking great pictures together. Later on into the night, everyone’s just about had their fill of fun and the party starts winding down. You split up, most of your friends piling into the Salt Lake slices delivery van so Red can drop them off. After some more hugs and laughs, you finally part ways, climbing into the passenger seat of his orange Volkswagen Beetle.

His heart is thumping as you grab his hand and squeeze it a little once you’re on your way back to his house, causing a fresh wave of heat to rise to his face, and god he's nervous right now. His mind is still screaming at him that you're going to hate him, that he has to prove his feelings to you. He lets out a small little laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you start, tired from the night, but thriving off the energy between you, “that could have gone way worse…”

“Yeah,” he laughs, nodding in agreement. You talk for the whole drive back to his place. You’d planned on staying over tonight since Ricky was driving and you figured it would be late, plus your mom’s car is at the mechanic so she’s using yours until some time tomorrow. You exchange sleepy chuckles as he parks. He checks his phone one more time as you leave the car, opening an article of women submitting stories about how they knew a guy loved them in a new tab. He sees a text from his dad - the date went well, he hopes Ricky and you had a good time at homecoming, and he’s going to bed so try to keep the noise down when you get back.

“My dad’s asleep,” he says softly, unlocking the door. He guides you inside, hand resting low on your back, and closes the door quietly behind him. Walking quietly from his foyer to his room shouldn’t have been a problem, but standing in the darkness with Ricky, you both suddenly find it hard not to start giggling. Hushing each other, you quickly sneak up the stairs past Mr. Bowen’s room, down the hall to Ricky’s room. He barely closes the door and flicks the lock closed before dissolving into giggles. You kick off your heels, glad to finally take them off, and grab a makeup wipe from your bag. He digs through his clothes for a second before handing you a big t-shirt to sleep in.

“Thanks,” you say, throwing away the makeup wipes. He gazes at you, watching you transition from formal and made up to casual and comfortable, your beauty unwavering. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone as pretty as you before. You watch him take off his jacket and tie, and undo the first button or two of his shirt. The action sends butterflies to your stomach and heat to your core. You glance away. You stand up, seeing if you can reach the zipper of your dress. Before you can ask, you feel Ricky behind you.

“Need some help with that?” He asks, closer to your ear than you’d expected and resting his hands on your waist. You both chuckle.

“Yeah,” you state, voice low and soft. He moves slowly, unzipping the back of your dress, careful not to snag the delicate fabric. You feel the bodice loosen around you, the end of the zipper stopping at the small of your back. He doesn’t move away. You can feel his breath fan over your shoulder, hand still resting on your waist.

His face is so close to yours, and he mutters your name softly before pressing a kiss to your jawline, then another and another. He moves down, burying his face in your neck as he continues to press hot, open mouthed kisses against your skin. He breathes in your perfume, peachy and sweet and intoxicating. He nips at your neck causing you to gasp, his hands moving below the draping fabric and directly onto your warm skin. You sigh at the contact. He pulls you closer to him, holding you tight as he sucks on your neck. Your dress is slipping off your shoulders, barely on at all anymore, as he begins to feel you up, touching you and caressing you so tenderly.

“Ricky,” you sigh. Your voice sounds so pretty when you’re like this.

“God, I-” he breathes, barely catching the words before they’re out. He lets out a nervous laugh, causing you to giggle in his grasp. He shushes you through his own laughter, his hands never ceasing the way they rome over your body.

"We have to be quiet," he says, turning you around in his arms, pressing himself up against you, trying so, so hard not to kiss you yet.

"I can be quiet…" you state, a jokingly incredulous tone in your voice. You stare each other down, and he tries not to break first, tries not to smile or laugh, but god, it’s impossible not to smile when he looks at you. Before he can crack, before he loses all composure and bares his soul for you, places his heart eternally in your hands to do as you please with, he pivots.

"Yeah?" He asks, and you feel the energy change, growing electric between you. "Is that a challenge?"

His tone is dangerous and he watches your eyes get wide. A second later he has you pinned against his mattress, pressing playful nips and kisses against your skin as muffled giggles and sighs escape your pretty mouth. His hands move down, grabbing your exposed skin as he kisses you harder and harder, riling the both of you up. You tear off the little remaining clothes either of you has on and he begins to roll his hips against you, grinding his hot, throbbing member against your heat. You let out a breathy moan, louder than before, as he continues to rock his hips against yours.

“That wasn’t very quiet,” he murmurs into your ear between kisses to your cheek and jawline. Your chest vibrates against his, and a wave of relief washes through him. You don’t hate him. He loves that feeling he gets when he makes you laugh, he wants to make you do it again.

“I can stay quiet,” you insist, already swept away by his touch, distracted by the warm kisses and bites he’s planting on your neck and chest. You’re even more distracted by the feeling of his fingers making their way down, brushing against your clit as they come into contact with the arousal dripping down your folds. He smiles, realizing if he can get you this turned on, this touchy, you must like him. He pushes his fingers in, finally met again with the cathartic feeling of your cushy, bumpy walls squeezing and folding around him. Arousal gushes, dripping down his fingers as he begins to stimulate the tight, sensitive muscles stretching around his fingers. He dwells on the feeling for a moment, maybe two, before you’re moaning again. It makes him laugh.

“I sure hope you can,” he says, another dangerously playful look on his face, “cause if you get too loud…” He watches you for a split second, hanging on his words, anticipation written across your face, “I’m gonna stop.”

Your stomach flip flops, exploding with butterflies at his words. Before you can look at his face, before you can gauge how serious he is about following through on his threat, his lips are on yours again. He kisses you, mouth open, tongue already prodding into your mouth. You’re lucky, you think, that he’s unintentionally muffling your noises with his mouth. You’re really lucky, because he quickly finds your g-spot, and there are a couple moans you couldn’t hold back if your life depended on it.

Every sigh, every gasp, every beautiful heart pounding moan Ricky elicits from you sends a fresh wave of relief and reassurance through him. You don’t hate him, and you’re not going to. You could never when he’s this good, this devoted to you. It’s impossible for him not to be when you’re so good to him. You’re so responsive to his touch, you’re totally on the same wavelength.

You must know what he’s telling you through his actions, through the way he looks at you, the words he’s had to bite back from spilling out more than once. You wouldn’t be dripping down his fingers and moaning into his mouth and grabbing at him like this, you wouldn’t be in his bed if you didn’t feel the way he does about you - or even something close to it. He’ll happily take whatever you want to give him. Of course he wants it all, he wants to completely take over your heart, but just a little bit will keep him happy until he can.

“Right there,” you whine against his lips, “fuck, just like that… feels so good…” you mutter.

‘See?’ he thinks, ‘You don’t say stuff like that if you don’t like someone a lot, much less moan it…’

It’s working. His plan to not lose you is working, he just has to make you cum so hard you can’t think straight, as many times as possible. And he’s going to, because there’s no way he can risk losing you. So he brings up his thumb, rubbing it over your clit as he curls his fingers against your gummy walls. It’s euphoric and overwhelming, and you barely have time to tug his hair before you’re cumming and pulsing around his fingers.

You squeeze and clamp tight around him, and he can’t resist anymore. He needs his tongue inside you, he needs to taste you, feel you squeeze his tongue and cream into his mouth. So he pulls away, already missing the feeling of your mouths against each other, and gazes at you, breath fanning across your cheeks, eyes locked. He takes you in, thumb caressing your cheek while the other continues to fondle your clit. After a moment he’s able to break his gaze away, and he moves down, pushing your legs open. You heart thumps in your chest in anticipation as he begins to lick and suck on your heat, tongue flicking into your drippy hole.

As soon as he gets a taste, he wants more. He stretches out his tongue, going to town on your cunt. Every sigh and tug of his hair, every attempt to muffle your moans makes him more eager to have you gush your sweet sticky cum all over him. This time he has some experience, and he’s making the most of it. He finds those spots inside you that make your eyes roll back, switching between them, bumping his nose against your clit, drawing stifled moan after stifled moan from you. One slips out, for real this time, and he pauses. It takes all his willpower; your scent is intoxicating and your taste is addictive, but the look on your face when you realize he’s standing by what he said is totally worth it.

“I told you,” he murmurs against your core, the vibrations and tone of his voice sending electricity through you, “we have to be quiet…” Your hand is clamped over your mouth, and you nod. Your timing couldn’t be better, because you don’t have time to finish the gesture before he dives back in. After that, it doesn’t take much to send you over the edge.

You give him everything he’s wanted all night, squeezing and gushing all over him while he laps up everything, holding down your hips while he shoves his tongue deeper inside you. It’s always surprising how far inside you he’s able to get it. You whine and moan, choking out praise as he already begins building up another high. He’s throbbing, desperate for anything you’ll give him, and he wants to make you say more shit like that. He wants to be good for you.

“Oh god- fuck, Ricky!” you choke out in a whisper, one hand tangled in his hair, the other clamped over your mouth. You’re already close again, he can feel it. He knew this would work. He knew he could prove to you how much you mean to him. He doubles his efforts, squeezing your thighs and grinding his face against your pussy, still dripping from the last times he made you cum. His eyes are half lidded and locked on you, watching your face, the way you squirm below his touch, the way your tits bounce with every movement. You’re not sure how long it is until he has you absolutely gushing and convulsing around his tongue again, but every moment is filled with ecstasy.

“Fuck you’re good at that…” you murmur, hand now playing with his hair instead of pulling it. “You’re one of the good ones, huh?”

You probably could have knocked him out with a feather. Your words reverberate in his mind, and his cheeks flush. One of the good ones. Yeah.

He’s throbbing harder than before, almost painfully turned on. He climbs back up over you, but before he can reach into his nightstand for a condom, you flip him over, straddling him. You look down at him with those beautiful eyes that hold every star in the night sky, biting your lip in that endearing way of yours. Your hands are warm on his shoulders, and he’s stunned at the suddenness of your action, and really eager to see where you’re going with this. He could watch you like this for hours, freezing this moment in time forever, eternally content with you, the way you touch him and look at him. You lean down closer to him, breath tickling his cheeks.

“My turn.”

You smile, the words coming out in a hushed giggle. Before he can blink, you’re grabbing his rock hard cock, squeezing it in your hands and teasing the tip as you spread around the precum already dripping down the side. He watches you, eyes wide and excited as you open your mouth, wrapping your lips around him. Your mouth is velvety soft, warm and wet, and he has to try not to cum on the spot. You pump the base of his cock, taking more of him in your mouth, and he tries not to buck his hips. He tries so hard not to move at all, tries to be good for you while you work your magic on him. He lets out a long, low moan. Suddenly you freeze, popping your lips off with a small wet noise as you look up at him.

“Stay quiet or I stop…” you tease, throwing his own conditions back at him. He nods, panting at your words. “Good boy.” You murmur under your breath, but he definitely hears. Good boy. He can feel the oxytocin flooding his brain, and you barely get your lips around him and start bobbing your head before he feels it.

“I’m close,” he chokes out, and you look up at him. He watches a smirk appear at the corners of your eyes before you drag your tongue along the bottom of his cock. It’s more than enough, and he watches in utter awe as he shoots his load into your mouth, and you swallow all of it. The sight is enough to have him throbbing again. He bites back more moans, desperate for you to keep going, for you to call him a good boy again. You bob your head along his length, tongue dragging along the vein on the underside of his cock.

One hand comes down to fondle his balls, and a choked moan slips out. He never knew he could feel this good. He never knew one person could make him like this. You continue to lick and suck, squeeze and pump and rub, and soon he’s fighting another orgasm, hoping to bask in the feeling of your mouth around him for just a little longer. His prayers are in vain, he realizes, as he shoots another load of sticky, salty cum into your mouth. You have no trouble taking this one either. You continue to suck and lick, riding out the last of his high, before finally releasing him with a soft pop.

Thoroughly fucked out, he watches you climb up next to him, awestruck. You grab a blanket, pulling it over the both of you, and moving his face to press a few more kisses to his lips. Your tastes mingle as your tongues connect, and Ricky doesn’t think he’s ever tasted something that delicious. He wants more of it. It’s only when you eventually pull away that your eyes land on the clock behind him.

“Christ, it’s late,” you murmur. You blink heavily, Ricky mirroring the action, and you trace your thumb over his cheek, just looking at him a little longer. You tug the blanket up a little higher, snuggling up next to him. He holds you close on instinct, still trying to process everything that happened tonight in spite of how exhausted he is. It hits him suddenly, and he struggles to stay awake so he can appreciate the kiss you press to his jaw, the warm feeling of your hand on his chest.

He tries so hard to stay awake, to look at you for a little while, because no amount of time with you feels like enough. He refuses to acknowledge the heavy way he blinks and squeezes his eyes, trying to force them to focus on you, but he can feel himself losing the fight against the deep sleep he’s about to slip into. This night was a success, he thinks. He did a good job.

Late morning sunlight streams through his window, finally dragging Ricky back into the waking world. He looks over, missing your presence, and finds his bed empty. As he rolls over, he’s struck by the sweet, intoxicating scent of your peachy perfume. It’s all over his pillow, his sheets, his blankets. His whole room smells faintly of your scent. He buries his nose in the pillow where you’d slept, breathing it in, taking him right back to last night.

Eventually, he checks his phone. It’s later than he’d expected, but he’s greeted with a text from you, bringing an immediate, even bigger smile to his face.

He sighs, lovestruck. He doesn’t want to get out of bed, doesn’t want the scent of your perfume to fade. He just wants to bask in it.

#ricky bowen smut #hsmtmts ricky #ricky bowen x reader #ricky bowen imagine #ricky hsmtmts #ricky bowen #hsmtmts imagine #hsmtmts smut #hsmtmts #rocks at your window #also your moms pfp is lorelai gilmore cause shes cool not bc its a face claim or smth #yk

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