#ricky x reader

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗ao ﹙𝔃.﹚

cowgirl, but he’s sitting up too (think it’s called the lotus?)

Hao is a pillow princess. Or like… semi-pillow princess on your usual sex sessions. Like a power bottom in a way. Part of it is because he still wants to be able to boss you around without doing too much work, but also because he likes watching you lose yourself to the pleasure. He likes watching you take how you feel into your own hands as you bounce on his dick with the utmost intensity. What makes things even better, though, is when he’s still able to be close to you. He likes feeling your heartbeat and the way your breaths quicken as you get closer to cumming, so his preferred position still includes him being chest to chest with you.

You were falling apart quicker than usual tonight. Hao could tell by the way your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders and how you’d succumbed to the feeling of keeping almost the entirety of his dick inside of you. Now, you were just barely lifting up before sinking back down to the base. With a small huff, his hand comes down to lightly hit your thigh, making you yelp. “Oh, please. I didn’t even hit you that hard,” he mumbles, eyes half-lidded as your hands move to hold onto the sides of his neck. “You close?”

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes locked onto his as you keep working your hips over him, riding him like your life depended on it. The friction against your clit from grinding against his pubic bone every time you took his whole length had you teetering right on the edge. 

“Shouldn’t even let you cum. M’not even close.” It was a lie, but Hao felt like giving you a hard time, especially since it meant you would bounce up and down on his cock even harder. A loud groan leaves him. “Oh–” Your cunt clenches around him, the slick sounds of your pussy making his eyes snap open a little wider, not wanting to miss the sight of you falling over the edge. A sight that he would watch over and over again. “Such a good girl… Go ahead.”

And with that, your body is tensing above his, your head falling forward to hide in his neck as your hips jerk against his. Your nails drag down his chest as you cry out his name, making Hao such in a sharp breath from the minimal pain. He holds you tightly against his chest as you finish riding out your high, only for his hips to snap up again. Because once was never enough for him.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗anbin ﹙𝓼.﹚

missionary

Hanbin’s definitely a missionary guy. There’s something so appealing to him about how the position is so intimate and is something reserved for more romantic couples. He likes feeling truly connected with you during sex, and this position only reassures that craving. Because having you under him–having you feeling like you need him to get off in the way he needs you shows him just how deep (no pun intended) of a connection the two of you have. That, and his breeding kink comes into play here. The thought of him being able to fuck a baby into you in such a loving position, his lips on yours as your legs wrap around his waist is his dirtiest and favorite fantasy. 

The sloppy sounds of Hanbin’s dick drilling into your sopping pussy fill your shared bedroom–practically music to his ears. That, along with your moans. “There! Right there– God, you’re so big,” you whine, only spurring him on further. Hanbin knows he’s big, and the thought of him being right there next to your womb due to being in missionary is everything he needs to feel like could cum right then and there.

“Yeah… Your pussy’s practically begging for my cum. Y’hear her? Hear how bad she wants to be filled up?” You moan in response, a small smile twitching at the corners of Hanbin’s lips. And when your legs wrap around his waist, your moans only get louder, a result of him hitting deeper inside of you, of course. “Love you,” he pants. 

It was easy for him to feel overwhelmed in these moments. When he was completely consumed by you in every way. “L-Love you,” you somehow manage to respond. When his pretty brown eyes find yours, he can see the desperation in them. The need for him, the same need that’s aching in his chest, and the love. Hanbin can’t help it as he leans down to kiss you, his lips crashing over yours as he feels you cum from the declarations of love. And he’s right there with you, but for a different reason. 

“Gonna love to see you pregnant with my baby too…”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓜atthew ﹙𝓼.﹚

backshots / bending you over something

LOVES hitting it from the back. In my opinion, Matthew is such an ass guy, and this definitely influences his favorite sex position. He likes manhandling you into those positions: where your ass is up and you’re face down. Whether that’s over the back of the couch or on the dining room table or in bed, he doesn’t really care. As long as he’s able to make you scream by how deep he’s hitting–another perk of this position. He fucks rough, and he can really let loose when he’s hitting it from the back. 

His hand almost covers the expanse of your lower back as he forces you down onto your hands and knees, the sudden change of positions making your arms bend and sending your face into the pillows. Matthew chuckles softly at the small yelp that leaves you. “Look at you… So fucking pretty.” He punctuates his sentence with a small smack on the meat of your ass, gripping the cheek to jiggle it softly before he’s pulling them apart to reveal your dripping hole. “Ready?”

You turn your head to the side so he’s able to hear you clearly. “M’ready. Need you, Matt.”

And hearing those words for you never got old.

Matthew slowly eases his thick cock into you, knowing the slight curve to the left always brushed against your most sensitive spot when he was all the way inside. And once he’s sure that you’re adjusted, he’s going from 0 to 100. His hips meet your ass roughly as he pounds into you, his hands gripping your hips to both pull you back against him and to keep you from squirming away. Because you’re screaming, your arms going weak as your eyes roll back. 

“Feel me?”

“Yes, I fucking feel you!” you cry out like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Matthew chuckles, angling his hips to make each of his thrusts deeper, making sure your pussy would really feel everything he had to offer. His balls smack against your clit with every thrust, strings of your wetness sticking to them, and the rough sensations have you reeling. 

Everything about this was perfect. For both you and him.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓣aerae ﹙𝓴.﹚

cowgirl

Taerae likes watching. Likes watching you do everything you do in day-to-day life. And that includes taking his cock. I think that Taerae would prefer cowgirl for some of the same reasons Hao does–namely, you being able to take control of your own pleasure because that’s ultimately what he’s doing this for: to make you feel good. And Taerae has a thick cock. Like, leaves your hole gaping after y’all are done fucking big. So, you being on top helps you manage that a little better as well. Plus, Taerae loves watching your tits bounce when you ride him.

Sweat gleams on your skin as your hands rest on his chest, a way for you to balance yourself as you ride him slowly. Maybe it’s wrong for him to enjoy seeing the way you struggle to accommodate his size, but Taerae can’t find it in himself to care at the moment. And your head feels dizzy even when you’re working over him so slowly. Thankfully your pussy was soaked. Both with your juices and with his spit, making it easy for you to bounce up and down.

You’re taking your time, and Taerae loves how you’re teasing him without even realizing it. He reaches up, rolling one of your sensitive nipples between his fingers and making your hips jerk. “You’ve taken it before, but you’re enjoying it tonight, hmm?” 

“S-Shut up,” you whine, increasing your pace just a little bit at his teasingly, and your tits bounce a little more with your harsher movements. Taerae watches as you roll your hips, feeling the way your pussy greedily sucks at his cock, and he almost feels bad for making you do all of this on your own. But it was so much more satisfying this way. For both you and him.

He chuckles softly, letting go of your nipple, settling back further against his pillows as he prepares to just lie back and enjoy the show. You almost want to complain at the way he tucks his hands behind his head like the way your cunt milking his cock isn’t affecting him. “I’ll shut up and you’ll ride then.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓡icky ﹙𝓼.﹚

standing

Having sex standing up is just so much better in Ricky’s opinion. He isn’t sure if it’s because he likes using his strength on you in a minimal way, or if it’s because his dick is so good that your knees quite literally give out because of it. He thinks that standing sex makes things feel so much better too. Like your pussy feels so much tighter when he has your front pinned against a wall as he fucks you, and how he can tell by the expression on your face when you cum that the orgasm feels so much more intense.

“Feels weird!” you cry, nails digging into his forearm as Ricky keeps his arms wrapped tightly around your middle. You squirm a little at the pressure, but Ricky does it for the sake of making sure you don’t fall to the floor. And while it might feel a little weird, he knew that it was only the pleasure consuming you as his cock kissed your cervix with each thrust. Your pussy flutters around his base again as he shallowly fucks into you.

Ricky pants against your neck, pausing his efforts of marking you as well as slowing his movements. “Good weird or bad weird–”

“No, no, don’t stop!” And that was enough of an answer for him. Ricky picks up the pace again, one of his hands coming to toy with your clit as you feel your knees tremble from the added sensation. “Oh!”

His biceps have gotten so much bigger lately, and his subtle ways of showing them off have been leaving you feeling dizzy. This was no exception, and you couldn’t wait to see the way the marks your nails left on his skin would look with his new muscles. Ricky’s nose nudges your jaw, prompting you to turn your head to the side, only for his lips to meet yours.

Similar to how his cock fucks into you, his tongue pushes inside your mouth, and you can’t hold your orgasm back anymore. The sounds of your release hitting the floor has you gasping against his lips, oversensitivity kicking in as Ricky’s fingers lightly circle your clit through the orgasm. Turns out, that weird feeling was your pussy getting ready to squirt from how good it felt to be fucked standing up.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖yuvin ﹙𝓴.﹚

mating press

Starting this one off with the obvious: Gyuvin is huge. No doubt about it. And who is he to waste his size if not in a position where you’re going to feel everything. Being able to pin you down is one of the things that makes the mating press position so appealing to Gyuvin–keeping your knees back by your tits just by leaning the weight of his chest over you. It was his way of making sure you couldn’t run away from the pleasure. You just had to lie there and take it.

Sex with Gyuvin is messy. Even more so when he has you so exposed like this. Both of you have already orgasmed at least once (you more than he), but neither of you wants to stop. His thick cock parts your folds in a stretch that you still struggled to believe was real sometimes, as his tip abuses a spot inside of you that has you seeing entire galaxies. His cum and yours leaks out around his cock, a creamy, white ring forming around the base.

“O-Oh, fuck,” Gyuvin groans as another spurt of pre-cum shoots out into your cunt, only adding to the wetness between your thighs. The feeling has you squirming, your hips trying to escape despite wanting more. Thankfully, though, Gyuvin knows this. His hands come to your thighs, folding them up to your chest to pin you down. 

The expression of how much bigger he is than you has a rush of warmth going through your overstimulated nerves. “You drive me crazy,” he breathes, face coming down to hide in your neck. “I feel like it’s never enough, I just need more all of the time, and I feel insane–”

“Me too,” you pant out, trying to sound reassuring, but it sounds more meek than anything. A result of being fucked out of your mind. “Want more of you– So cum in me again.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖unwook ﹙𝓹.﹚

spooning

I literally have such a hard time picturing Gunwook as anything other than a soft lover, so I think that the spooning position is so perfect for him. Like this position is so incredibly intimate, and that’s all he ever wants to feel with you. He wants to feel like you’re the only person in the world, and he wants you to feel the same thing towards him. So, he tries to consume all of your senses through fucking you like this. Because when he’s mouthing at your neck while one of his big hands rests over the bulge of his dick in your belly, it’s hard to think of anything else except for him.

“I’m tired, Wook,” you mumble, but your boyfriend’s being stubborn tonight. That much is clear by the way he rolls over in bed, his body cuddling up closely behind yours. You try to ignore the very obvious bulge in his pajama pants. “We need to sleep.”

“I’ll be quick. Promise.” 

And before you know it, Gunwook’s lazily fucking into you, your thighs parted just enough to let him between them. Your thighs rub together, causing your folds to rub your clit in a way that has you keening softly. That, and the heat of Gunwook’s mouth against the sensitive skin of your neck is only making your body sink further into the mattress.

Steady waves of pleasure go over the both of you, making this feel like so much more than getting off quickly. It feels like your souls are truly intertwined with the way he’s weakly fucking into you, breathing in your scent and panting your name. His words mirroring his thoughts. “Need you like this every night. Need to show you how much I love you.” You want to tell him that you already know how much he loves you. He shows you everyday, but he’s fucking you so good and so lazily that everything just feels so much deeper. “You’ll let me stay in after I’m done, right?”

you cross the room slowly, taking him in. the ordinary idol polish is gone — sweat-darkened collar, sore muscles, that hollow look in his eyes — and what you feel is immediate and tender. you kneel beside him on the couch, slip your hand under his chin, tilt his face up. “ricky,” you murmur, thumb brushing his lower lip, “hey. i’m here. you came home.”

he lets out a breath that’s half laugh, half sob. “i needed to see you,” he confesses, all sharp edges and honesty. he chews his lip, blush warming his neck. “i didn’t think i could— i just wanted you to be with me. is that dumb?”

“not dumb at all.” you kiss the corner of his mouth. your lips are a small, steady anchor. “come here. tell me about your day if you want, but you don’t have to. just stay.”

he shoves the last of his composure away and folds into you like a map being refolded. his hoodie smells like the studio, and it grounds you both. his hands, when they find your waist, are rough from work but trembling. he presses his forehead against yours. “i’m tired,” he says, voice small. “i’m so tired. my feet hurt, my head’s full of counts and steps and… i just want you. i want you to fix it.”

the way he says it — shy, pleading, the hint of a blush coloring his ears — does the thing you’ve always known it would: it makes your insides melt. you press your forehead back to his and laugh softly, the sound a caress. “then let me,” you whisper. “stay. don’t go anywhere.”

he nods, then buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling you like a medicine. “don’t leave me alone tonight,” he says, muffled. “can i… can i have you? please. touch me? kiss me? i don’t know how to ask without sounding pathetic.” his hands clench at your shirt, nails light and needy.

you cup his face, gentle but decisive. “you’re not pathetic,” you tell him. “you’re human. needy is okay. come here.” you let him climb into your lap, let his tired weight press into you. the couch creaks, the apartment hums, and for a heartbeat you’re both suspended in the small, private world of shared breaths.

he kisses you like a man who’s been counting seconds until this: soft at first, careful, a tentative apology in each press of lips. then he deepens it, clumsy with exhaustion and hunger, tongue slipping in like he’s forging a path back to himself. when he breaks away he’s breathless, cheeks red. “i missed you,” he whispers. “i missed you so much.”

“i missed you too.” you stroke the nape of his neck. your hand is steady; your touch says you’re here to hold him together. “show me what you need.”

his eyes drop to your mouth then flick to your chest, hesitating like he’s shy about want but can’t hide it. “can i… please? can i touch you? i don’t even know where to start,” he admits, voice cracking and adorable.

“start wherever you want.” you guide his hand down, let his fingers find the hem of your shirt. he does it slowly, like he’s afraid you might vanish if he’s rough. when his palm lands on your bare skin he breathes out a small sound — part relief, part worship. “you’re so warm,” he says, as if making a discovery.

he’s needy but not clumsy: the exhaustion makes his movements tentative and soft, and the shyness makes every touch seem charged. he trails kisses from your collarbone down to your breasts, his breath hot, his lips leaving quick, needy marks. his tongue flicks a soft worship around the edge of your nipple and he looks up at you in a flash of vulnerability. “are you okay with that?” he asks, cheeks scarlet.

“yes,” you answer, low and steady. “i want this. i want you.”

your permission loosens something inside him. he begins to move with a patience that’s almost sacramental, hands learning the curve of you, mouth mapping with slow, adoring kisses. when he finally takes a breast into his mouth, he sucks with a quiet desperation that makes you gasp. he’s careful but greedy, alternating between soft licks and firm, intent pulls that leave you breathless. “god, you taste so sweet,” he murmurs against your skin, voice so small it makes the back of your knees go weak.

you grind lightly against him; the friction hums up through both of you. he grunts, a small, embarrassed noise, and then swallows, cheeks flushing deeper. “can i— i want to be inside you,” he says, each word measured and shy and urgent. “i want to feel close. please. i’ll be gentle. i’ll— i’ll be whatever you need.”

you bite your lip, everything bright and humming. his voice is ridiculous in the best way — a cracked, raw admission that strips you of any pretense. “i want that,” you say, smiling. “i want you.”

he moves with a tender clumsiness as he sheds clothes, fumbling the zipper with one hand because the other is busy holding you. when he situates himself between your legs, he kisses you long and slow, like an apology and a promise all wrapped up. then he enters you carefully, inch by inch, both of you making a wet, shared sound when he bottoms out. he stays there a moment, overwhelmed by the sensation of being fully present inside you.

“are you okay?” he breathes, forehead to yours, eyes searching.

“i’m perfect,” you lie smiling, and he snorts, breaking. “you’re perfect,” he corrects, voice already thick. his face is flushed, wet with exertion and the sheen of sweat.

the rhythm starts slow — deliberate, grounding. his hands cup your hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles that tether you as his thrusts find a steady, comforting groove. he’s not rough; he’s tender, yet there’s a surprising edge to his need. when he speeds up, it’s like watching someone burn fuel — the exhaustion becomes propulsion, and he buries himself into the motion with a ferocity that is both surprising and breathtaking.

between thrusts he peppers kisses across your throat, murmuring things that make you laugh through your breath: “you smell like the studio,” he pants once, and later, “i never thought i’d want this so badly.” his shy little confessions tumble out in breathy bursts. at one point, when he hits that perfect angle and you cry out, he looks almost embarrassed at your sound and whispers, “you’re very loud. i'm sorry, but you sound beautiful.”

he begs softly when his body tightens. “i’m close. please, please let me come. can i? please let me.” the pleading is half-adorable, half-urgent, and when you let him, it breaks him open. he comes with a keening sound, shuddering, warm and sticky inside you, gripping your hips like you’re the only thing anchoring him.

afterwards, he collapses forward, forehead against your chest, breath ragged. his arms lock around you like your weight is the only thing keeping him upright. he’s quiet for a long while, just breathing you in, the world settling around the two of you. “sorry i was so needy,” he murmurs, a faint embarrassed laugh vibrating against your skin. “you took such good care of me.”

“i always will,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair. you adore the little sighing noises he makes when he relaxes, the sleepy, sheepish smile that slowly spreads across his face.

he peeks up at you, eyes soft and glossy. “thank you,” he says, voice small and honest. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

you pull him into a hug and let the warmth between you be the answer. “you don’t have to know,” you say. “just come home, and i’ll be here. always.”

he nuzzles into the crook of your neck and laughs quietly, sleep pulling at his lids. “deal,” he whispers, then, a beat later and with a bashful grin: “i love you. and i’m sorry for being such a mess tonight.”

you kiss his temple, smiling against him. “i love you too, idiot.” and in the quiet aftermath, with the city dim behind your windows, the exhaustion finally unwinds into a deep, contented sleep — together.

© jongst4r, 2026

EXPLICIT SMUT WARNINGS: penetrative sex (reader is being penetrated, no specifics of anatomy); this one is angsty bc ricky is fun to write as a bit of a dick that redeems himself!!

ricky shakes his head as he watches gyuvin pace back and forth from the far side of the practice room to the door, over and over again. every so often, the lanky boy will stop dead in his tracks, inhale sharply, pause for a few moments in concerning silence as he looks up at the ceiling, and then continue pacing.

“why are you doing this to yourself, gyubinnie?” matthew asks with a laugh. “you’re obviously going out of your fucking mind.”

“because i’m not a loser like you,” gyuvin shoots back, laying one of his large hands on the door frame. he pauses again and then turns around, the speed of his pacing increasing slightly. 

“alright, fuck off and die then,” matthew sulks, pulling out his phone.

“seriously though, how’s everyone doing?” gunwook asks, running a hand through his hair. “it can’t just be gyubinnie who’s starting to lose it.”

“i’m fine,” hanbin answers quickly. a little too quickly. ricky looks around to see if anyone else noticed, but no one seems to be paying all that much attention. “like i said originally, i have an abundance of self-control when it comes to these things.”

“mmmmhm,” taerae humphs disbelievingly. 

“i don’t really think you’re in much of a position to say anything,” hanbin quips back in a huff.

“at least my partner’s satisfied,” taerae replies, tongue poking at his cheek.

“yeah? so is mine,” hao says, rolling his eyes. “you just couldn’t hold it together.”

“come on, cut him some slack,” jiwoong swoops in, putting a hand on taerae’s shoulder. “it was a big moment for him. could it have been bigger? sure. but he’ll get there.”

taerae frowns. “uh, hyung? are you helping me or patronizing me?”

“ah, ricky?” gunwook suddenly calls. ricky looks up from his lap to find the whole room staring at him. “you’re awfully quiet over there.”

ricky considers this and then nods. “not much to say.”

hanbin’s eyes widen. “what do you mean? has this all been easy for you?”

ricky shrugs. “no, but… it hasn’t been hard either.”

“hArd…” gyuvin sputters from the other side of the room, two hands colliding hard against the door. he takes a moment to gain his composure and then he starts pacing again.

“huh,” hao hums, brow furrowing together in consideration. “i guess you’re more disciplined than i thought you were.”

“how’s your partner handling all this?” jiwoong asks. “can’t imagine that part’s been all that easy.”

“it’s been fine, actually,” ricky answers nonchalantly again. “we’re on the same page. we’ve hung out a few times and it honestly feels like normal.”

“alright boys, break time’s over,” the choreographer announces as the door to the practice room swings open, knocking a very unaware and vulnerable gyuvin onto the floor. “back to work!”

–

it was another long day working on the drama you were currently filming. it’s a rom-com about a werewolf that has to work the night shift at a hospital. maybe not the most serious role you’d ever taken, but you were certainly having a blast. you and your costar and romantic lead, park jihoon, has become fast friends over the past few weeks and you were finding that you were really coming out of your shell on this set. you’d been hanging out with all of your costars more regularly and, since you were usually quite shy in work settings, this had been pretty meaningful progress for you.

you’d shared your excitement with your boyfriend around the end of october, but he hadn’t really responded the way you’d hoped he would. you figured he had a lot on his mind with zb1’s comeback date now set in sight.

“ricky? what did you want for dinner, babe?” you call from the kitchen as your boyfriend scrolls through social media wordlessly. he doesn’t answer you. you sigh heavily, grabbing both mugs of tea and bringing them over to the couch. you set them down on the table in front of you and then sit yourself down next to your boyfriend. you see now that his airpods are in. you raise your fingers to his right hear and gently remove the airpod. “dinner. what do you want?”

ricky snatches his airpod back, shrugging you off dismissively. “don’t care.”

you’d actually started to become used to this treatment over the past couple weeks. it didn’t even hurt your feelings anymore— it just pissed you off. when ricky had first told you about his stupid no nut november bet with his group members, you’d thought he was joking. the entire idea was wildly uncivilized and ricky usually prided himself on being a more refined man than the rest of the boys. 

you were surprised when he told you that he wanted to win. it just wasn’t really like him to care about something seemingly so trivial like a bet. but there was something in his eyes when he’d said it— something hidden behind his words and you couldn’t quite figure it out, but you knew he’d already made his mind up.

and you decided to be supportive. you could keep it up for a month.

for him.

but when you’d agreed to play along with this bet, you’d agreed to not having sex with your boyfriend for a little while (or, to be precise, not making him cum). you hadn’t agreed to essentially nuking your previously perfect relationship with the most perfect man you’d ever met. 

but it seems like that’s what happened anyway.

you’d thought about it way more than you’d liked to admit. were you not getting along anymore because sex was the only thing you had in common? was ricky just sick of dating you? was he waiting in hopes that you’d break up with him first? was there even a fucking bet in the first place?

you shouln’t be catastrophizing. you should just toughen up and ask him. but… you’re scared. if you finally say something, will this nightmare be over?

or will your relationship?

you lean back into the couch in frustration, pulling your phone out and finding a new message from jihoon. you open it, leaning to rest your head on ricky’s shoulder, and, when you do, he shifts away from you. 

it might be unintentional. and it’s so simplistic. but an ache just radiates deep in the center of your chest.

you stand up quickly, walking into your room before your boyfriend can see you cry.

ricky looks over at the now vacant spot on the couch beside him, finding your phone in your place. it’s on, fully open on an imessage chat, that, when ricky leans in closer, he finds is with…

jihoon.

ricky’s sigh is more like a growl. whenever his name popped up as a notification on your screen, he had to consciously suppress his anger.

or really, his jealousy.

jihoon was a really nice guy. he was a great friend to you on set and was always respectful. maybe that’s why ricky was so jealous to begin with. he was afraid jihoon was just a little too nice.

ricky knows he shouldn’t, but he leans in just a little closer anyway. enough to see the last message jihoon sent you:

so ricky had been right all along. if he’d left you alone long enough with jihoon, you’d start wanting him instead. ricky had been hoping his hypothesis would be wrong, but his genius intuition unfortunately knew no bounds…

ricky grabs your phone from the couch before walking to your bedroom door and throwing it open. you look up at him in the darkness, only your mood lamp casting shadows about the room. he can’t see the tears staining your cheeks.

“do you like jihoon?” ricky asks suddenly.

“what?” you reply, stunned by his question. “what are you talking about?”

“do you like jihoon?” ricky repeats, a sigh of annoyance escaping him. “are you interested in him?”

“of—... of fucking course not!” you say in utter exasperation. “why would you even ask that!?”

ricky tosses your phone at you and it lands next to you on your bed. you pick it up, seeing the messages that jihoon had last sent you. you hadn’t even read them. 

“are you fucking kidding me!?” you yell, throwing your phone on the carpet in anger. “you think i give a flying fuck about jihoon right now? i’ve been a little too upset by the love of my life treating me like a fucking leper this whole month.”

“you agreed to the bet—,” ricky starts to argue, but you cut him off.

“i agreed to the stupid fucking no nut november bet, ricky. i did not agree to cry myself to sleep every night because you suddenly want nothing to do with me!”

ricky’s eyes widen suddenly. “what? baby—... is that true?”

he takes a few steps toward you cautiously and, as he gets closer, the light must hit your face. he’s on his knees immediately in front of you, big hands on either side of your face as his thumbs wipe the wet streaks beneath your eyes.

“baby… (y/n),” he coos, using your name when you won’t look at him right away. “i—... fuck, this is all my fault.”

“who else’s fucking fault would it be?” you pout, eyes narrowed at your boyfriend.

“yours. i mean, i thought that you—...” ricky shakes his head in dismay. “i think i might've gotten... a little… jealous.”

one of your brows piques un confusion at his confession. “jealous? of what?”

“of—... of jihoon,” he admits, wincing in embarrassment. “i mean, of how close you are to him. you’re usually at least a little more distant with your male leads. and i’d never stop you from having friends. i'm really happy that you're becoming so confident. but i'm... maybe i'm not as confident as i thought i was. this whole bet thing is so stupid, but i guess—... i guess i kind of saw it as a way to test our relationship.”

“test our relationship?” you repeat.

“i sort of thought that maybe if you weren’t getting what you need from me,” ricky explains shamefully. “i’d find out for sure if you’d try to get it from somewhere else.”

you blink back at him in shock. “you thought—... you thought i was going to cheat on you!?”

“no! i mean… i didn’t know,” ricky replies, biting his lip. “i didn’t know if you would or not.”

“is that why you were being so cold to me, too?"

“i guess i was just kind of… mad at you,” he admits, taking your hand in his. “preemptively.”

“ricky, i’m not interested in jihoon,” you say plainly. “i’m interested in you. i’m in love with you. i want to spend every moment with you and i want you to be inside of me for most of them.”

ricky gulps at this and a smirk tugs at the corner of your lips.

“how could you ever think i wouldn’t want you?” you ask, leaning down to your boyfriend— lips hovering inches from his. “didn’t you literally tell me you were perfect when we first met? that i wouldn’t be able to resist you.”

“i’m a fucking liar, (y/n)” ricky whispers breathlessly, hands finding your waist and squeezing tight on either side. “i’m actually a pathetic wreck and i just say whatever the fuck i have to to convince myself i'm not.”

“no,” you say simply, connecting your lips with his in a slow, sensual kiss. “you’re perfect. and i’m quite literally unable to resist you.”

“fuck,” he says, leaning up to kiss you again. “fuck, i’m so sorry, baby.”

“i’m sure you are,” you nod in agreement. “but i’m curious… what were you gonna do when you walked in the room just now?”

“hm?” he asks, tilting his head sweetly.

“if i had said yes,” you clarify, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the nape of his neck. “or if i hadn’t said no. and you thought you were going to lose me. what were you gonna do?”

ricky looks at you, his breath shallow as you trace a finger down the pretty vein in his neck. “i was gonna fuck you until you got it through your thick fucking skull that you’re mine.”

“well you should’ve said that,” you say, undoing a button on his shirt. “i might’ve played along if i knew it was the only way to get you to fuck me.”

“played along?” ricky repeats, pulling you off your bed and into his lap. “you’d break my heart just to get off? maybe you are just a fucking whore.”

you can’t help but moan. you’d really missed this. and ricky was right.

you were just a whore. but he was missing one crucial detail…

“for you,” you say, grinding into him reflexively.

ricky growls in your ear, hands kneading at your ass. “hands and knees. now.”

you follow orders and fast, not wanting him to change his mind. you remove your shorts quickly and get on all fours, knees stinging from the chafe of the carpet. you don’t care.

“so obedient, hm?” ricky remarks positioning himself behind you. he grabs your ass, pulling you backwards— as close to you as he can possibly be without being inside you. you feel how hard he is against you and, no matter how badly you want him to cave, you need to ask.

“are you sure?” you ask as ricky takes off his pants and throws them to the side. his atypical lack of care for his clothes speaks for itself, but you need to make sure. “you could still win the bet if you want. another ten days would be nothing! we could—.”

ricky takes you in his arms, pulling your back flush against his chest— his hand around your neck as he holds you. the tip of his cock finds your entrance, teasing you as you whimper up at him over your shoulder. “i’m gonna fuck you. you’re gonna love it. and then i’m gonna paint you with my cum. got it?”

you nod rapidly. “got it.”

ricky sinks himself inside you. the angle is delicious and when he bottoms out, you already see stars. 

“oh my god,” you cry, reaching for something to grab onto. ricky wraps his other arm around your waist to steady you and you latch on. 

“fuck, i missed you so much,” he breathes, finding a good rhythm. “you feel fucking amazing.”

ricky puts up a good fight. you wouldn’t know he’s gone twenty days without cumming. you’re pretty sure he’s not even used to going one. he must be so pent up, he can’t even see straight. maybe that’s why he let himself get so in his head.

“i love you,” you whine after your orgasm, ricky’s fingers covered in your cum. he sticks them in your mouth and you suck obligingly. “just want you.”

“nobody else, right, baby?” he asks, hips starting to falter. “just me?”

“just you,” you answer, totally blissed out. “only you.”

“fuck, look at me, baby,” he says, adjusting himself so that your eyes can lock. he tilts your head to the side, kissing you deeply as his thruts grow more and more haphazard. “i love you. love—... love you so much, fuck…”

one more good thrust and he’s done— painting your insides with his cum just as he promised. you feel perfectly full and content.

you can’t help but giggle. “so… should we do this every november?”