#and the fact that he wants him back more than anything is so sweet

[sugarplum217]

Essence Of Loyalty (Pt.1)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Plus Size Female Reader

Warnings: MDNI (18+) contains sexual explicit content, heavy smut, spit play, oral sex, A VERY HEAVY USE OF “daddy” and “mama”, unprotected sex, cursing, major dirty talk, creampie, mentions of murder, lots of heavy sexual flirtation, detailed sexual acts , fluff

AuthorsNote: Please excuse any mistakes or grammatical errors. I hope you enjoy the story and remember to be kind and if you want to be tagged in the next part let me know.

Summary: Everyone and their mama has been trying to either set you up on a date with someone or continuously remind you that your clock is ticking away. That you weren’t getting any younger and your looks would eventually fade. What they didn’t know is that you already had your special someone. In fact you’ve had him a while. You know how that saying goes, “Good things come to those who wait” and for you in this instance. It was nothing but the waiting game for your special someone to finally walk into your life. The question is .. would it be acceptable for everyone else?

You never expected to fall in love with a man behind bars. It started as nothing more than a random click—some late-night curiosity fueled by boredom and an ad that popped up between Facebook posts. Find love where you least expect it. Meet single men looking for companionship. You damn near scrolled past it, but something made you stop. Maybe it was the way the words “love” and “companionship” stood out, teasing something you didn’t realize you were craving. Maybe it was just the boredom, the same mundane routine of work, home, sleep, repeat, stretching on like a treadmill you couldn’t step off. Either way, you clicked. Scrolling through the profiles felt like flipping through a catalog you had no business browsing. Men of all ages and backgrounds, some looking for friendship, others for love. But none of them caught your attention. That is—until you saw him. Inmate 07541, Terrance Richmond. Baby, that mugshot stopped you cold. Rich buttery light caramel skin, sharp jawline, and full lips that looked like they could whisper secrets straight into your soul. His nose was strong, his features chiseled, but it was those damn piercing uniquely colored eyes that did it. Deep-set, hooded, with a stare so intense you could feel it through the screen. Something about them made your heart stutter—like he was looking at you, past you, into you. There was no forced smile, no tough-guy posturing. Just that stare. You hesitated, hovering over the message button. What the hell were you doing? Messaging a man serving time? A man who, according to his bio, had been locked up since he was 18? Still, curiosity won. You typed out a casual introduction—something light, something safe—and hit send. Then you pushed it to the back of your mind, fully expecting no response, but he wrote back. And not just some half-assed, one-line reply. He wrote you back.

That first message turned into another. And another. Emails became long letters, paragraphs bleeding into pages, until you found yourself rushing home from work just to see his name in your inbox. You learned everything about him—the way he used to play football before his life changed, the music he listened to, the books he read to escape the four walls of his cell. He told you about his past, the pain, the betrayal, the night everything changed. And you told him about yours—how life felt like it was happening at you instead of for you. How you wanted more, but you didn’t know what more even looked like. Then came the sweet video calls. The first time you saw him move, saw that sharp jaw flex when he smiled, heard that deep, velvety voice rumble straight through the screen—you were done. Hooked. Gone. Two years later, here you were. In a relationship—a real one, even if nobody knew. And in a few days, he’d be free. And that? That scared you more than anything.

“You always got an excuse, girl. What is tea?”Sonya’s voice snapped you back to the present, and you blinked, realizing your fork had been hovering over your plate for way too long. It was lunchtime at Taste Of The South Cafe, your usual Friday spot with the girls. The table was cluttered with half-empty margarita glasses, plates of fried catfish and mac and cheese, and the scent of honey butter croissants floating in the air. Normally, this was your escape from the monotony of work. But today? You were ready to go.

“I just wanna relax,” You half way lied, pushing your food around. Sonya wasn’t buying it. Neither was Deja.

“Girl, please,” Deja scoffed. “Every time we plan a girls’ night, your ass come up with something. What’s up? You sneakin’ around with somebody?”

“Ain’t nobody sneakin’.” You forced a laugh, shaking your head. 

“Then why you always rushin’ home like you got a man waitin’ on you?” Sonya arched a brow, swirling her margarita.

“Because I do.” You thought to yourself. But you didn’t say that. Instead, you shrugged, hoping they’d let it go. They didn’t.

“You sure it ain’t that new dude in accounting?” Deja pressed. “The one with the Audi and the beard? Girl, he is fine.”

“Not my type,” You said quickly.

Sonya snorted. “And what is your type? Because last time I checked, you were single as hell.”

You just smiled, keeping your real thoughts locked up tight. Because your type wasn’t something you could explain to them. Your type wasn’t sitting in an office, making six figures, and posting gym selfies on Instagram. Your type was locked behind bars. A man who had spent more of his life inside than out. A man whose voice alone made your thighs clench, whose absence felt like a missing limb. But they wouldn’t get that. So you just laughed it off, switched the subject, and counted down the hours until you could talk to him. The day dragged. By the time you made it to your car, your feet were aching, your patience was shot, and you were tired. But none of that mattered. Because in just a few minutes, he’d be calling. The drive home was full of bumper-to-bumper traffic and the usual call from your mama.

“Hey ma” You greeted, honking the car in front of you to move their ass. 

“Hey my baby. You comin’ to dinner this weekend?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” You make a face, thanking god she can’t see you.

“Good. Your sister’s bringing her fiancé.” She said, her tone laced with excitement. Of course, she was. Your older sister had the picture-perfect life—a man, a ring, a timeline that fit neatly into the family’s expectations.

“And he’s bringing his brother,” You mother added casually.

You sighed. “Ma—”

“Just be open-minded! You’re a beautiful girl, and you ain’t gettin’ any younger.” She reminded for the hundredth time. You gritted your teeth, gripping the steering wheel. If only she knew. But you decided to let it go. 

“I’ll see you Saturday.” You shook your head, hanging up.By the time you got home, it was 6:59pm. You barely had time to drop your purse before your phone lit up with that Incoming Call from your ‘Big Daddy’. You squealed, feeling your heart flip. 

You snatched it up, answering with a smile. “Hey, baby.”

“Damn, I needed to hear your voice.” A low chuckle rumbled through the speaker, deep enough to send heat pooling between your thighs. 

You melted instantly. “Long day?”

“Long as hell,” He sighed. “But I knew I’d be hearin’ from you, so I got through it.”

Your chest tightened. “I missed you.”

“Yeah? I missed you more baby” He smirked. You could hear it in his voice. “Tell me about your day, baby.”

So you did. You told him everything—lunch with your nosy-ass friends, your mama trying to set you up. And he listened quietly like always when it came to your day and what crazy ass story you had ready for him. That was one of the many things you loved about Terry, how he could just listen and never get tired of you talking. 

“Don’t sweat that shit, baby. You got a man.” He chuckled, low and smooth. That possessiveness made your toes curl.

“Yeah?” you teased. “I got a man?”

“Hell yeah,” He murmured. “And in a few days, you gon’ have me in every way possible.”

Your breath hitched and your body got hot. Because in just a few days, Terry Richmond would be free. And you would finally be his.  You adjusted the phone against your ear, stretching out on the couch, letting his voice roll over you like thick honey.

“You talkin’ real reckless, Mr. Terrance,” you teased, biting your lip. “What makes you think you gettin’ all this good good so easy?”

A deep, knowing chuckle rumbled through the receiver, sending shivers down your spine. “Baby,” He drawled, voice rich and slow like he was savoring every syllable. “Don’t play wit’ me. You and I both know the second I touch down, I’ma have you laid out for me, just how I like it.”

“Oh yeah?” Your thighs pressed together at the promise in his tone.

“Hell yeah. First thing I’m doin’ is spreadin’ them thighs, makin’ up for lost time. You know I been starvin’ for you. Ain’t had a taste of sweet pussy in years. I need my plate, ma.” He stated, making your breath hitch and heat coil in your lower belly. 

“Terry…” You breathed, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Say my name just like that when I’m between them legs,” He murmured. “Matter fact, scream it. I’ma put my mouth on every inch of you. Them thighs? Mine. Them hips? Mine. That spot you say makes you weak right under your belly button? I’m kissin’ it first. And you already know where I’m endin’ up.”

Your body responded to his words instantly, your nipples tightening against the fabric of your blouse. The ache between your thighs grew unbearable. You were so tempted to rub on your clit as he talked to you, but you knew big daddy’s rules. You weren’t allowed to touch yourself at all unless he gave the permission and could listen to you without any interruptions. 

“You talkin’ crazy,” You whispered, your voice thick with need.

“Nah, baby, I’m talkin’ facts. You gon’ see. Soon as I get out, you ain’t leavin’ that bed for at least three days.” He chuckled. 

“Oh, so I’m just gonna be held hostage?” You let out a shaky laugh, your fingers toying with the hem of your skirt.

“Damn right,” He said without hesitation. “Ain’t no way I been locked up this long just to finally get my hands on you and let you go. Shit, you gon’ be beggin’ me to let you breathe.”

Your stomach flipped. You wanted that. Needed that. But then, reality settled back in. The system didn’t make things easy.

“Speaking of that…What did your lawyer say about your release date? Will you be out on my birthday like we want?” You exhaled, shifting the phone closer to your ear. It was silence for a moment. The weight of it pressed heavy between you, thick and uncertain. You held your breath preparing for the worst case scenario possible. 

“They still pushin’ for my original release date, but you know how this shit go. Paperwork, red tape, all that. My lawyer confident, though. He say if everything lines up, I should be out right on time. Maybe even a couple days before.” Terry let out a slow breath.

“For real?” Your chest tightened with cautious hope. 

“For real, baby. But…” He hesitated. “You know they been tryin’ to trip me up in here. COs, some of these jealous-ass inmates. They know I’m close to freedom, and they hate that shit. I gotta keep my head low, stay out the way, but it’s hard sometimes. Real hard.”

“They still on that bullshit?” Your jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” He muttered. “They hate a nigga like me gettin’ a second chance. And these lame ass inmates tryna set me up don’t help either.”

“Terry, I swear to God if they—”You closed your eyes, frustration bubbling inside you.

“Relax, mama,” He said, voice dropping into that deep, soothing register that always made you weak. “Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from comin’ home to you. I promise you that. I done made it through too much to let these motherfuckers take my freedom again.”

“Baby, please promise me you won’t do nothin’ to mess this up. I need you here. I need you home.” You frowned, Terry remained silent allowing you to vent because he knew this was becoming harder everyday for you to cope with. You swallowed hard, throat tight.

“I just…” You hesitated, then admitted softly, “I just need you here. I don’t want anything messin’ this up. My 28th birthday… Terry, all I want is you.”

“I know, ma. Trust me, I know.” His voice softened, turning serious. “You the only thing keepin’ me sane in here. The only thing keepin’ me goin’. I promise you, I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ get in the way of me comin’ home to you.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I trust you.” You inhaled deeply, letting his words settle over you. 

“You got me for life baby,” He said assuring you, voice thick with emotion. “I swear to you, baby. If I gotta fight every damn day until that judge signs my release, I’ma do it. ‘Cause you worth it. We worth it.”

“You better mean that,” You whispered. Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away.

“I do. And when I’m finally out, when I got you in my arms, I’ma make sure you never question that again.”

“I love you so much.” You exhaled shakily.

“I love you more, baby.” He bit his lip, feeling his heart speed up. 

“You swear you gonna come home to me, Terry?” You exhaled, stretching your legs out on the couch, your free hand absently trailing over your bare thigh. 

“Baby, listen to me.” His voice came through the receiver, deep and unwavering. “I need you to hear me when I say this. Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from comin’ home to you. I done wasted enough years locked up, dreamin’ about what it feel like to be free, to wake up next to a woman who actually give a damn about me. I ain’t lettin’ no CO, no hating-ass inmate, no system take that from me.”

You closed your eyes, soaking in his words. A small tear escaped your eyes as you just let him talk and calm all of your fears. 

“And you really think I’m about to let you be out here spendin’ another birthday without me? Nah, ma. That ain’t happenin’.” He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Matter fact, you should start gettin’ ready now, ‘cause soon as I step through that door, I’m givin’ you somethin’ to celebrate.”

“Oh yeah? What you givin’ me, Terry?” A slow smile spread across your lips. 

“Ain’t it obvious? My last name, first of all.” He stated matter of factly. 

“Boy, stop playin’.” Your breath caught in your throat.

“Who playin’?” He challenged. “You really think I been doin’ all this talkin’, dreamin’ about you, makin’ plans, just to be out here on some casual shit? Nah, baby. You my woman. And when I get home, I’m puttin’ a ring on that pretty lil’ finger. You ain’t gon’ be nobody else’s but mine.”

Heat spread through your chest, settling deep in your belly. He always had a way of making you feel claimed, but this? This was different. This felt all too real and that he was promising you the moon and the stars and would actually reach up in the damn sky and get it for you. 

“Terry…” You purred slightly. 

“Say it again,” He murmured, voice dropping to that low, dangerous octave that always did something to you. “Say my name just like that.”

“Terry.” Your lips parted, slowing your words down for him. 

“Mmm,” He groaned. “That’s what I wanna hear every morning, every night. That’s what I wanna hear when I’m makin’ love to you, when I’m in it so deep you forget how to say anything else.”

“You tryna kill me, huh?” You sucked in a breath, your thighs pressing together instinctively. 

“Nah, ma. Just tryna remind you who you belong to.” He smirked, licking his lips. 

You chewed your lip, heart pounding against your ribs. The thought of him finally being here, of feeling him, touching him, owning him in the flesh—it was almost too much.

“Terry…” You started, voice soft, hesitant.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He adjusted the phone on his ear, eyebrows furrowing. You hesitated a moment afraid to tell him what’s really been on your mind. Afraid he wouldn’t understand but truth was Terry was more than understanding when it came to you. 

“I just… I keep thinking about what’s gonna happen once you’re really here. Like, when it’s not just phone calls and emails. When it’s real. When it’s us.” You honestly confessed, sighing. You heard a brief pause making your stomach tighten out of angst. You held your breath afraid he’d be upset but after a few seconds, he then spoke gently. 

”That’s what you scared of?” He asked, voice soft. 

You swallowed. “Not scared, just… it’s gonna be different. You been inside since you were 18, Terry. That’s—” You did the math in your head, stomach twisting. “Seventeen years. That’s a long time.”

“I know,” He said simply. “You think I don’t know that? Every damn day, I been countin’ down to this moment. I know it’s gon’ be an adjustment. I ain’t naive to that, baby. But what I do know is that I want this. You. I ain’t spent two years fallin’ in love with you for nothin’. And I damn sure ain’t finna let somethin’ as small as a transition period shake me.”

You exhaled, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “I just want you to be happy, Terry.”

“I am happy, ma. You make me happy.” He professed from his heart, making your heart squeeze and stomach flutter. 

“Now,” He continued, voice laced with that familiar hunger. “Can we get back to what I was sayin’? ‘Cause I still got a whole list of things I plan to do to you soon as I get out.”

“Oh yeah? Go ‘head then, baby. I’m listenin’.” Your stomach flipped.

Terry exhaled through the receiver, the sound slow and deliberate. “Aight, so… First thing I’m doin’ soon as I step through that door? I’m droppin’ my bag, pullin’ you close, and kissin’ you like I been starvin’ for it.”

“Mmmm.” You bit your lip, already picturing the scene.

“Ain’t gon’ be no soft, sweet shit neither. Nah,” He rumbled. “I’m talkin’ about deep, wet, tongue all in your mouth, my hands locked around that waist, pullin’ you so tight you feel my dick pressin’ up against you.”

“Damn, Big Daddy. Can I at least take my heels off first?” You let out a breathy laugh.

“Hell nah,” He said smoothly. “Matter fact, leave ‘em on. I want you just like that. Fresh off work, tight lil’ skirt ridin’ up, them pretty ass legs wrapped ‘round my waist while I pin you up against the door.”

“Oh shit..” Your entire body heated at the image. You had to fan yourself, and cross your legs to avoid any wetness seeping out. 

“You know how long I been dreamin’ about that, baby?” His voice dropped an octave, turning into something dark, possessive. “Seventeen years. Seventeen years I been locked in this hellhole, surrounded by nothin’ but concrete and steel, knowin’ I ain’t got a real woman to touch, to taste, to claim. And then you came along…”

“B-Baby..” A soft gasp slipped from your lips. You squeezed your thighs shut tighter, already soaking your panties. 

“And now all I can think about is how you gon’ feel underneath me. How soft your skin is. How good you smell. How sweet you taste.” He growled lowly in your ear. 

“Shit.” You cursed, shifting on the couch, thighs pressing together.

“Mmm,” He hummed knowingly. “You wet for me, ain’t you?”

“Terry—” You swallowed.

“Nah, don’t try to play it off now,” He interrupted. “I know you, ma. I know you sittin’ there, grippin’ that phone tight, breathin’ all heavy, body heatin’ up just listenin’ to me talk. I don’t even need to be there to know how bad you want me.”

“You lucky you locked up.” You let out a shaky breath, tilting your head back against the couch. 

“Lucky? Nah, baby. Unlucky. ‘Cause if I was home right now, I’d have you laid out, ass up, back arched, moanin’ my name so loud the neighbors call the cops.”He chuckled, voice dripping with amusement.

“Boy, stop!” You laughed, shaking your head. “You talk all that shit, I hope you got the stamina to back it up.”

Terry clicked his tongue. “Oh, you doubtin’ me? That’s crazy. Lemme find out my baby think I ain’t gon’ put in work.”

“I mean, it has been a long time, Big Papa,” You teased.

“Aight,” He drawled, tone dangerous. “Keep playin’ with me. You gon’ be beggin’ me to let you breathe when I’m done with you.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, so smooth and confident like he had zero doubt in his ability to back up every single word. The next few hours passed in a blur, the two of you tangled in conversation like it was your own little world. Terry told you about the meals he was craving—real food, not that processed mess they served on metal trays. He wanted collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, fried chicken, all made by you. “I need a home-cooked meal, baby. Something made with love,” He said, his voice full of longing. You laughed and promised to have a whole spread waiting for him. Then the conversation shifted to the small things—how he couldn’t wait to sleep in a real bed, how he wanted to go outside at night just to feel the wind on his face without fences in the way, how he wanted to sit on the couch with you and watch a movie with your legs draped over his lap. “Shit like that, ma,” He murmured. “The simple stuff. That’s what I miss the most.”

And you listened, hanging onto his every word, feeling your heart swell with each confession. The world had taken so much from him, stripped him of so many years, but somehow, he still had softness in him. He still had love to give. You found yourself telling him about all the things you wanted to do together, too—how you wanted to take him out to eat at a real restaurant, go on a drive late at night just because, lay up with him on a Sunday morning while the smell of breakfast filled the apartment. The more you talked, the more the reality of him coming home settled deep inside you. “You really gon’ take care of me, huh?” he asked, his voice low and full of something tender. “You damn right,” you whispered. “Somebody gotta make up for all that time you lost.”

If someone had told you years ago that you’d fall in love with a man behind bars, you would’ve laughed in their face. You always wanted love, prayed for it even, but you never imagined it would come in the form of Terry Richmond—a man with a past heavier than most, a man who had seen the worst parts of life and still found a way to hold onto his soul. He was the most fascinating, most alluring man you’d ever known, and you had never been more open with anyone in your life. You craved him in ways that scared you sometimes. You wanted to be the one to feed him, to run him a hot bath and wash years of struggle off his skin. You wanted to rub his shoulders, his chest, his back, to remind him that he was human, that he was home. And the way he talked to you, the way he poured into you, made you feel like you were already his sanctuary.

After you finally got off the phone, you moved into your nighttime routine, taking your time washing your face, patting your skin dry, smoothing your serums in like a ritual. You stared at yourself in the mirror, thinking about how your life was about to change. In just a few days, he’d be here, in your space, in your bed, in your life outside of those prison walls. As you reached for your bonnet and wrapped it securely around your head, your phone buzzed on the counter. FaceTime. Mama. You sighed, knowing she’d scold you if you didn’t answer, so you slid your thumb across the screen and propped the phone up.

“Hey, Mama,” You greeted, already bracing yourself.

“Hey, baby,” She said, peering at you through the screen. “Just callin’ to say goodnight and check on you before you went to bed.”  

“I’m alright , Mama. Just gettin’ ready for bed. Doing my usual routine.” You smiled. 

“Mm-hmm,” She hummed, then her face lit up. “Oh! Guess who I ran into today? You remember Kiana Perkins from high school?”

You frowned, digging through your memory. “Kiana Perkins… oh yeah, the one who used to run track?”

“Yes, her! Baby, she married now, got two babies, livin’ all happy with her husband. She showed me pictures and everything. And I just… I don’t know, baby, it got me thinkin’.” She started in on you. 

“Mama—” You groaned internally.

She held up a hand. “I know what you ‘bout to say, but hear me out. You not gettin’ any younger, baby. I just want you to have somebody. You always been my dumplin’, my soft-hearted baby, and I just—” She sighed. “I just want you to be loved, baby. I want somebody to take care of you for once.”

You bit your lip, heart squeezing at her words, but she didn’t know. She didn’t know that you did have somebody. That you had Terry. That soon, you wouldn’t be coming home to an empty bed anymore. You leaned back against the bathroom counter, swallowing the lump in your throat as your mother continued, her voice full of concern. 

“You know, I just don’t want you to end up like me, raising a family all on your own. You’ve got so much to offer, baby, don’t let it go to waste.” She paused, waiting for you to respond, but you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions. You wanted to tell her the truth, but you couldn’t—not yet. Terry was still behind those walls, and the world wasn’t ready for your truth. Not yet.

“I hear you, Mama,” You said softly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “But I’m good. I’m happy with how things are right now.”

She eyed you, her brow furrowing, but she didn’t push it. “Alright,” she finally said, her tone softening. “Just don’t wait too long, baby. Time don’t wait for nobody.”

“I won’t, Mama. Promise,” You replied, though you knew the promise wasn’t to her. It was to yourself. You weren’t going to waste any more time. The conversation moved on, and you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not telling her about Terry. She didn’t know that every night, you fell asleep with thoughts of him, that his voice had become the lullaby you never knew you needed. You thought about his touch, his words, the way he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world. But for now, it was a secret. Your secret. You wrapped up the call with your mother, promising to be at Sunday dinner over the weekend, and hung up. The air felt thick now, like the weight of your own desires had settled in your chest. You finished getting ready for bed, your mind racing with thoughts of Terry, wondering if he was thinking about you too, wondering how much longer you’d have to wait before he was finally home. As you slipped under the

covers, your mind drifted to your happy place and that was Terry. Eventually after saying a quick silent prayer for him and his safety like you did every night, you finally went to sleep. 

The morning light seeped through the blinds, casting long golden streaks across your bedroom. You lay there for a moment, tangled in your silk sheets, staring at the ceiling with a heavy mind. The anticipation sat on your chest like a weight. Today could be the day you got answers—real answers—about Terry’s release. No more guesswork, no more waiting in limbo. Either he’d be home in time for your birthday, or he wouldn’t. And if it was up to you, there wouldn’t be a wouldn’t. Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, shaking you from your thoughts. The number was unfamiliar, but you knew who it had to be before you even swiped to answer.

“Hello?” Your voice was groggy, thick with sleep, but there was an urgency beneath it.

“Good morning, this is Michael Walker, Terry Richmond’s attorney.” The voice on the other end was smooth, professional, but you caught that slight edge—like he was bracing himself for a conversation you might not want to have. “I wanted to give you an update on his case. Do you have a moment?”

“Of course. What’s the update?” You pushed yourself upright, resting your back against the headboard.

Michael exhaled. “So here’s where we are. We’re still waiting on the judge’s final decision regarding his release. As you know, we’ve been pushing hard for full release instead of parole, but the system moves at its own pace. Right now, it’s looking like one of two things will happen—either the judge will sign off on his release, and he’ll be free to come home, or he’ll be granted parole with conditions.”

Your stomach twisted at the word “conditions.” That could mean anything. A curfew. Mandatory check-ins. Restrictions on where he could go, what he could do. You wanted Terry free—not still tangled in the system’s web.

“Is there a chance he’ll be home by my birthday?” You asked, your voice smaller than you intended.

Michael hesitated. That damn hesitation. You hated it. “That’s what we’re aiming for,” He said finally. “But it’s all in the judge’s hands. We’re doing everything we can to make it happen, but we need to be realistic.”

Your fingers tightened around the phone. “I just… I need him home.” The words left you before you could stop them, more vulnerable than you wanted to sound.

“I get it,” Michael said, and for the first time, there was something softer in his tone. “But here’s the thing—you need to make sure Terry understands how important it is for him to stay in line right now. He’s close. So damn close. But if he gets into it with the COs, if he so much as breathes wrong in there, it could delay everything. Or worse.”

A lump formed in your throat. Terry had been through hell in that prison. You knew how hard it was for him to bite his tongue, to play the game when the guards disrespected him just for breathing. You also knew how much some of those inmates hated to see another Black man about to touch freedom. Envy was a dangerous thing.

“I’ll talk to him,” You said firmly. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

“Good,” Michael replied. “I’ll keep you posted on any updates. Until then, just keep him focused on what’s waiting for him on the outside.”

And that’s exactly what you planned to do. Because he was coming home. To you. To the life y’all had spent two years dreaming up. And you weren’t about to let anything or anyone take that away. The weight of everything that needed to be done before Terry came home sat on your shoulders like a mix of excitement and pressure. There was so much to prepare, so much to buy, so much to perfect before your man walked through that door and took his rightful place in your life. Clothes, toiletries, shoes, cologne—he was stepping into a world he hadn’t been a part of since he was barely legal, and you were determined to make sure he had everything he needed to start fresh. And then there was you. Your own upkeep was just as important. You wanted to look good good for him. A fresh Brazilian wax so your skin was baby smooth, eyebrows snatched, lashes full and fluttery, and your hair? Oh, that had to be flawless—not just for your birthday but because you already knew he was going to have it all over the place by the end of the night. You could already hear the headboard knocking, already feel his breath on your skin, already picture the way he’d grip you like he was making up for lost time. The thought alone made your stomach tighten with anticipation.

But beyond all the surface-level preparation, there was a deeper feeling swirling inside you. Letting a man you’d only seen through a screen and heard through a receiver move into your home was a huge step. Some would call it crazy. Hell, a part of you knew it was risky, but love had never been about playing it safe. And with Terry? It had never felt like a risk. It felt right. He was your soulmate—plain and simple. The man you wanted to

wake up to, fall asleep with, build a family with. You’d spent two years loving him from a distance, and now, you were stepping into a reality where he was yours in every way. You weren’t naive to the adjustments that would come with it, but you also weren’t afraid. He was worth it.

With a stretch and a soft sigh, you finally pulled yourself out of bed, the silk of your nightgown clinging to your curves as you padded across your bedroom. It barely covered your ass, the hem rising with each step, and you lazily reached for your robe, wrapping it around you before making your way into the kitchen. The house was still, quiet, but soon, it would be filled with his presence. Him walking around shirtless, his deep voice filling up every room, his scent lingering on the furniture. You couldn’t wait. As you reached for the fridge, your eyes landed on the Polaroid photo of him taped to the door—one of the few glimpses of him outside of a call or a video chat. He had sent it during one of the rare inmate photo days, his expression serious but his eyes still burning with something that made your stomach flip. Damn, you fine. You ran a finger over the image, smiling to yourself before pulling out the eggs and milk.

The one thing people probably wouldn’t understand was why you had never visited him in prison. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. God knew you had begged to. But Terry? Terry was territorial to his core. It had taken months of back-and-forth, of pleading and arguing, before you finally accepted that he wasn’t going to let you step foot in that visiting room. He didn’t want no prison guards or inmates looking at his woman—studying you, lusting after you, imagining things about you that only he was allowed to. You belonged to him, and the thought of other men—especially those locked up with him—laying their eyes on you sent him into a rage he didn’t even try to hide. It wasn’t just possessiveness; it was protection. He had seen too many things go left in that place, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be a part of any of it. So, you let it go, trusting that the day would come when you wouldn’t have to love him from a distance. That day was almost here.

You were in the middle of whisking the batter for your waffles when your phone vibrated on the counter. Without hesitation, you snatched it up, already knowing who it was.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Terry’s deep, raspy voice sent a warmth down your spine. His morning voice was dangerous.

“Mmm, good morning, baby,” You hummed, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder as you continued mixing. “How’d you sleep?”

“Would’ve slept better with you underneath me,” He murmured, the smirk in his tone evident. “What my baby got planned for today?”

You bit your lip, smiling. “Just a quick Target and BJ’s run to stock the house up for you, then I gotta get my nails done. Oh, and I gotta swing by the post office to pick up my bundles that came in.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “Mmm, you tryna get fine for Big Daddy?”

“Mmhmm.” You giggled, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you.

“Damn, girl…” His voice dropped a little lower, and you could almost see him licking his lips on the other end. “Ima eat that pussy like crazy, baby girl.”

Your breath hitched, a heat sparking between your thighs. “Terry!” You squealed, laughing. “Stop being nasty!”

“Nah, I’m deadass serious.” His tone was dark, full of hunger. “You don’t even know what you got coming.”

You took a steadying breath, trying to shake off the goosebumps crawling up your skin. “Listen, nasty man, we need to talk.” Your tone shifted, getting serious. “Your attorney called me this morning. We need to discuss what he told me.”

“What he say?” There was a pause before he answered with a serious tone. 

You exhaled. “Baby…” You gripped the phone tighter, staring at the batter as if it had the answers. “It’s about your release.”

Terry was silent for a moment, and you could feel the shift in his energy through the phone. That easy, teasing tone from before was gone, replaced by something heavier—something cautious.

“What about it?” His voice was lower now, tight with restraint.

You sighed, setting the whisk down and gripping the edge of the counter. “He said they’re still waiting on the judge to sign off, and it could go either way. Either parole or full release.” You paused, running your tongue over your lips. “I asked if you’d be home by my birthday, and he said that’s what they’re pushing for, but the judge has to approve it first and it appears the judge is taking their sweet ass time. Same shit you told me last night.” 

“Man… I been waiting years for this moment. If they try to stall this shit…” Terry sucked his teeth, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Baby, don’t even put that energy in the air,” You cut in quickly, gripping the phone. “It’s gonna happen. You just gotta hold tight.”

“I’m tryna hold tight, ma, but you don’t understand. I been locked down since I was eighteen. Half my life. I done played by they rules, kept my nose clean, did everything I was supposed to do. And now, when it’s finally my time to touch down, they wanna drag they feet?” His frustration was raw, and you didn’t blame him one bit.

“That’s why we gotta be smart about this,” You soothed, lowering your voice. “Your attorney said you need to walk a fine line, Terry. These COs and some of them inmates? They don’t want to see you win, baby. You getting out means they lose power over you. And if you let ‘em get under your skin, if you give them any reason to stall this—”

“I know, baby,” He gritted, cutting you off. “I ain’t stupid.”

“I never said you were,” You softened, biting your lip. “But you know they’ll do anything to keep a black man locked up. You know that. You can’t afford to slip.”

Another deep sigh. “I just wanna be with you, ma,” He admitted, his voice quieter now, the vulnerability cutting through all the frustration. “That’s all I been holding on to. You. Us. The life we ‘bout to have.”

“And you will be with me, Terry. Soon. I promise.” Your heart clenched, and you closed your eyes for a second.

“You the only thing keeping me sane right now, baby,” He muttered. “You really are.”

“And you the only man I want. Ain’t nothing gon’ change that.” You swallowed hard, that warmth creeping back into your chest.

He went quiet for a beat, then, “Damn, you really love me, huh?”

“Boy, you already know.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Say it,” He murmured.

“I love you, Terrance Richmond.” You bit your lip, smiling. 

A deep exhale came through the line, like those words alone were enough to ground him. “I love you too, ma. More than you even know.”

“You better love me with your fine self.” You giggled, continuing to whisk the batter. He chuckled lowly, the sound making your ears perk up at the nostalgic sound.

“You know I want a baby soon as possible, right? Just like we talked about.” Terry’s voice dipped even lower, that familiar edge of possession curling around his words. 

“I know, baby.” You bit your lip, warmth spreading through your belly at the certainty in his tone.

“Nah,” He pressed. “I mean, soon as I get home, I’m filling you up. I ain’t playing.”

A giggle bubbled out of you. “Well, that’s good to know,”  You teased, twisting a strand of hair between your fingers. “Because I already got off my birth control, and I’m ovulating real soon.”

Silence. Then a sharp inhale from Terry. “You serious?”

“Mmhmm.” A smirk played on your lips 

“Good,” He growled. “‘Cause I ain’t pulling out. I want you pregnant, mama. You carrying my son or my baby girl. I already see it.”

A deep shudder rolled through you at the sheer conviction in his voice. There was no hesitation, no doubt—he wanted this, just like you did. Now you knew having a baby before a ring wasn’t the most conventional thing. You were raised better than that, taught that marriage first was the way to go, that being someone’s “baby mama” wasn’t the move. But Terry? He wasn’t that type of man. This wasn’t some half-thought-out, heat-of-the-moment decision. You knew exactly what you were signing up for. From the moment you told him you wanted his baby, he made it crystal clear—both you and that child would have his last name. There would be no question, no hesitation. You weren’t about to be just someone’s BM. You were his woman, his future wife.

The plan was already in motion—soon as he got out, y’all were hitting the courthouse and making it official. No long engagement, no drawn-out wedding planning stress. He wanted to be your husband immediately. And once he was settled, once he was back on his feet, working and bringing in real money, then he’d give you that big wedding, the

one with the flowers, the dress, the family all gathered to watch you walk down the aisle. But for now? The paper, the commitment, you—that’s what mattered most to him.

It wasn’t like you weren’t set up already. You made damn good money, and your degree in business administration had you sitting pretty in a high-paying corporate consulting job, helping multi-million-dollar firms streamline their operations. Your salary was more than enough to hold things down while Terry got back on his feet, and you’d already mapped out a business plan to help him reintegrate. Finding a job after doing seventeen years inside wasn’t easy, but you had resources, connections, a plan. You weren’t just bringing him home—you were making sure he stayed home. You were building a life with this man, and every step of it felt right.

“You think your family gon’ like me?” Terry exhaled through the phone, his deep voice softening just a little. Your smile, bright and easy just seconds ago, slowly faded. It was a fair question. A real one. But it wasn’t an easy one to answer. You knew your mama. Sweet, nurturing, and warm when she wanted to be, but judgmental as hell. A devout Christian woman—saved, sanctified, and filled with the Holy Ghost. She wasn’t fond of anything remotely sinful, and Terry… well, Terry was the walking definition of sinful.

There was no denying he was a fine-ass man. That wasn’t the issue. Standing tall at 6’3”, with those piercing hazel eyes that seemed to shift between ocean-gray and a stormy blue-green depending on the light. Rich, light caramel skin that deepened into a golden bronze in the summer but softened into a fairer hue in the colder months. A strong, chiseled jawline that made him look both dangerous and regal. His lips? Plump, full, always looking like they were ready to be kissed—or used for something far nastier. His short-cropped curly fro was just long enough to grab, and those thick, corded muscles? Yeah. His time behind bars didn’t just sculpt his body—it turned him into a damn statue, cut from flesh instead of marble. His tattoos, inked along his thick arms, added to his edge. Especially that sleeve—his latest one, a masterpiece he got done while inside.

He was the kind of man that turned heads when he walked into a room. The kind that made women cross their legs and bite their lip. But he wasn’t the “good, God-fearing man” your mother had envisioned for you. Terry was the complete opposite. And yet, his heart was the purest thing about him. Despite his past, despite the anger and the hurt buried deep in his soul, he was a good man. A gentle soul trapped in an exterior so hard, so intimidating, most people never got to see the real him.

You inhaled sharply, trying to find the right words. “Baby, I gotta be honest with you.”

“Mmhmm?” His voice was calm. 

You sighed. “I don’t know. My mama… she can be a bit much. And the fact that I’ve been hiding this—hiding us—for the past two years? Oh, she gon’ have a fit. And my sister? Whew, she gon’ have a mouth full too. You’d probably have better luck with my aunties than my own mama.”

Terry chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made your stomach flutter. “I get it, baby. I do.” His voice was soft, understanding. “But I ain’t going nowhere. She can side-eye me, throw oil on me, pray over me ‘til she blue in the face—I’m still gon’ be here. And I’ma do whatever I can to make her love me. To make her see I ain’t some monster. ‘Cause I want this, ma. I want us. I want your family to be my family, too.”

That made you smile. A big one. The kind that deepened your dimples and warmed you from the inside out. But there was something else weighing on you. Something heavy. Something you knew Terry wouldn’t want to talk about, but you had to ask.

You hesitated before carefully pushing forward. “Baby… you gon’ reach out to your mama once you’re free?”

“Nah, Y/N. I’m not.” He answered, his voice, tight and clipped. 

You swallowed. “Baby—”

“Ain’t like she gave a fuck about me in the first place,” he cut you off, his voice colder now. “I’m in here ‘cause of her. You know that.”

“I know. I do. But, baby… you gotta forgive. Not for her. For you. You need peace, Terry. You deserve that.” You exhaled slowly. His breathing was heavier now, like he was trying to keep himself from slipping into that dark place. You hated when he went there. When the bitterness and resentment started to eat away at him.

“I got peace, baby. I got you.” His voice softened just a little, but you could still hear the hurt beneath it. “That’s all I need.”

“I hear you baby.” You softly replied. You decided to respect his wishes and let the conversation about his mother rest. He had been through enough, and you weren’t about to push him into something he wasn’t ready for. Instead, you brightened up, shifting the energy as you let out a little squeal.

“Oh! Baby, my birthday dress came!” You announced excitedly, twirling a loose curl around your finger. “I can’t wait for you to see me in it.”

Terry’s smirk was damn near audible through the phone. “Oh yeah?” His voice dropped an octave, turning rich and smooth like warm honey. “That’s cool, baby… ‘cause I can’t wait to take that shit off you.”

“It is literally nine in the morning, and you already on go.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Because I got this pretty, brown-eyed woman waiting on me,” He murmured. “And I can’t stop staring at her picture, picturing our life together beyond these walls. I just need my woman bad.” He let out a breath, voice thick with longing. “I wanna turn your body inside out, have you laid up exhausted, and then make you breakfast in the morning while you recover, boo.”

“Leave the cooking to me, Richmond. Don’t need you burning our house up.” You smirked, scratching your head. You hadn’t even realized you said it like that—our house—until the words left your lips. But Terry caught it instantly. His heart swelled, warmth spreading through his chest like wildfire.

“Our,” He repeated, grinning through the phone. “I like the sound of that. And don’t worry, baby. I could never destroy anything of ours.” His words settled over you like a warm embrace, making your stomach flutter.

Terry cleared his throat after a beat. “So, your girls still takin’ you out for your birthday?”

“Mmhmm,” You confirmed, stretching lazily. “We’re hitting this grown and sexy lounge. Got a section, a table, should be real nice. I just wanted something low-key. Nothing too crazy.”

Terry hummed in approval. “That’s what’s up. You think your girls gon’ accept me?”

You snorted. “They’re gonna love you. Especially Deja. Sonya, though… she might take a minute. She’s Miss Fake Bougie, swearing she a real housewife of Atlanta. But deep down, she’s chill. Just real protective of me.”

Terry let out a low chuckle. “Aight, sounds like a plan, baby girl. Long as they ain’t plotting to run me off, we cool.”

“Never that.” You smiled, resting your chin in your hand, leaning on the countertop.

“Mm. Aight, tell me this, then—what’s the first meal I’m getting when I come home?” He inquired, with a devious smirk. 

“Well, I was thinking… me.” Your voice became real seductive, tilting your head. 

Terry’s laughter rumbled through the phone, low and sinful. “Ain’t no thinking, that’s a guarantee. But just to be safe, cook us something for after, ‘cause we gon’ need the strength.”

“Terry, you so damn silly.” You burst out laughing, shaking your head at him.

“You love it,” He teased, and he wasn’t wrong. Because behind all that reserved, stoic energy, Terry Richmond was a damn goofball at heart. And he was your goofball. The conversation between you and Terry continued, the two of you just vibing, killing time before you had to finally pull yourself away and get in the shower. He told you about a wild dream he had last night—some crazy mix of old memories and future fantasies of the two of you together.

“Man, I swear, I had the realest dream, baby,” He said, voice lazy and deep. “We was laid up in this big-ass house, had the baby in the crib next to us… you was wearin’ my T-shirt, lookin’ all sexy with your lil’ bonnet on, and I just kept pullin’ you closer, not even tryna let you sleep.”

“So you gon’ keep me up even in your dreams?” You laughed, rolling onto your side, twirling the bedsheets between your fingers. 

“Hell yeah,” He said without hesitation. “I been starvin’, baby. Soon as I touch down, I’m eatin’ you up, kissin’ on you, makin’ love to you every chance I get. You gon’ be sick of me.”

“Never that daddy,” You murmured, feeling warmth spread through your body at just the thought of how it would feel to finally have him home.

“Bet,” He chuckled, then let out a deep sigh. “I just be sittin’ in this cell picturing it, picturing us—you in the tub, all soaped up, candles lit, slow jams playin’… me right behind you, holdin’ you close, runnin’ my hands all over that soft ass skin, kissing up your neck… licking on your nipples..”

Your breath hitched, already envisioning the exact same thing. You had put together a playlist for his arrival—nothing but the smoothest 90s and early 2000s R&B, songs that made you wanna melt into somebody’s arms.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about?” You asked, biting your lip.

“What, baby?”  He feigned innocence.

“How you gon’ be sneakin’ into the shower while I’m tryna get ready for work,” you giggled. “Talkin’ about, ‘lemme wake you up the right way’—like I don’t have places to be!”

Terry laughed but then hummed in approval. “Shit, I am waking you up the right way. Gon’ have you walkin’ into work with a smile so big, they gon’ know somebody put it there.”

Your stomach flipped at the thought, heat rising to your cheeks. You were so gone for this man. “You just wait, Richmond,”You teased, sighing dramatically. “You about to be a full-time distraction.”

“That’s my plan, baby.” He grinned through the phone. 

After a few more minutes of sweet talk, you finally sighed. “Alright, I need to get in the shower before I lay here and talk to you all day.”

“I ain’t stoppin’ you,” Terry teased. “I just wanna hear the water runnin’. Let me close my eyes and imagine it.”

“Boy, bye!” You laughed, shaking your head before reluctantly hanging up.

—

The hot water cascaded over your skin as you leaned against the shower wall, letting the warmth soak into your muscles. Your mind was racing with all the intimate moments you’d been daydreaming about since Terry’s release date became a real possibility. Late nights soaking in the tub together, his strong arms wrapped around you, his lips trailing along your shoulder. Waking up to him pulling you into his body, whispering in your ear before making love to you first thing in the morning. The idea of sharing a home, a bed, a life with him made your stomach flip with anticipation. You had been living alone for so long, moving on your own schedule, answering to no one. But now, there would be him. His things mixed with yours, his scent lingering in your sheets, his presence filling the empty spaces. And you couldn’t wait.

Once you finished luxuriating, you stepped out, wrapping yourself in a plush towel. You took your time getting dressed—pulling on a pair of black leggings that hugged your curves and a Nike sports bra, slipping into your most comfortable sneakers. You tied your hair into a sleek bun, then grabbed a baseball cap to shield your eyes from the Georgia sun. After grabbing your Louis Vuitton Speedy 30, you were just about to head out the door when your phone rang and you saw it was Sonya.

You sighed before answering, already bracing yourself. “What’s up, girl?”

“Mm, what you got going on today?” She asked, her tone full of suspicion, like she knew you were up to something.

“Just about to make a quick Target and BJ’s run,” You said casually, hoping she’d just let it go.

“Oh, perfect! I need to hit Target anyway! I’ll meet you there.” She stated. You internally cringed. Sonya didn’t know about Terry yet. And you definitely didn’t need her up in your cart asking a hundred questions about all the men’s products you were grabbing.

“Girl, I’m moving quick today,” You abruptly said, trying to throw her off. “Gotta be in and out, no time for browsing.”

“Please, you never just ‘run in’ anywhere,” Sonya scoffed. “I’ll keep up.”

“Sonya…” You huffed, rubbing your temple. 

“What?” She laughed. “Why you sound so stressed? You tryna move funny or somethin’?”

“You know I move funny, that ain’t new.”You let out a dry laugh. 

“Mhm, and that’s exactly why I’m coming.” She snickered. 

You sighed dramatically, knowing there was no way out of this now. “Fine, I’ll see you there,” You relented, already planning how you were going to strategically avoid letting her see all the things you were picking up for Terry. You hurried up and grabbed your car keys and your Stanley cup from your kitchen counter before heading right out the door to your car. You hit the unlock button on your key fob and heard the chirp. Sliding into the plush leather seat of your Mercedes-Benz, you place your Stanley cup in the cupholder before pressing the push-to-start button. The engine purrs to life, and before you can even adjust the air, the CarPlay screen lights up, immediately blasting the smooth, honeyed vocals of Maxwell’s “Fortunate” through the speakers.

Your heart leaps in excitement. “SING IT, MAXWELL!” You squeal, gripping the steering wheel and swaying your shoulders as if you’re right there on stage with him. 

This is your song. Terry’s song. The one he always sings to you over the phone—completely off-key but with so much passion, like he’s pouring every piece of himself into it. You can still hear him now—“I never sang a song with all my might…”—his deep, rough voice twisting the lyrics into something that sounds nothing like Maxwell, but you never cared. It was him. It was you. It was love. You pull out of the driveway, easing onto the streets of Atlanta, the sun gleaming against the hood of your Benz. The beat of the song wraps around you, filling every inch of the car with warmth. With one hand on the wheel and the other tapping rhythmically against your thigh, you let the city move around you, the skyline stretching high above as you feel the music, feel the love behind every lyric. Terry is coming home. Soon. And as Maxwell’s voice croons through the speakers, you let yourself dream—of slow dances in the living room, of his arms pulling you close as you sway to this very song, of him pressing soft kisses along your shoulder while mumbling the lyrics into your ear.You exhale, your lips curling into a soft, knowing smile. It’s only a matter of time.

Pulling into the Target parking lot, you let out a long, heavy sigh, gripping the wheel as you mentally prepared yourself for Sonya. You loved your girl—no doubt about it. Sonya was one of those ride-or-die friends who would cut up with you on a Saturday night and pray with you on Sunday morning. But she was also the kind of woman who didn’t know the meaning of boundaries. She always had to be up in the mix, tasting the flavor, giving unsolicited advice even when it wasn’t needed. And it wasn’t that you didn’t want to share Terry with your girls—because you did. He was your man, and you were proud of him.

But you wanted to make sure this was real. That this was happening. That he was actually going to be home before you started bragging and boasting about him to your family and friends. You couldn’t count how many times you’d gotten excited about a brotha, only for him to turn out to be a disappointment. And every time, you had to do the walk of shame, explaining to everyone that it didn’t work out. You hated the look of disappointment on your mother’s face, the I told you so smirk on your sister’s lips, and God forbid Sonya’s infamous, “I knew that nigga wasn’t shit.” speeches. And then there was Deja, who always chimed in with, “Girl, want me to get my cousin to kill him?”

You loved your girls, but the last two years had been a sacred kind of peace. You had cultivated this private, intense, deeply intimate relationship with Terry while he was behind bars, and there was something pure about keeping it just between the two of you. You knew that sometimes, outside influence could ruin a good thing, and you weren’t ready to share your world just yet. But if things aligned perfectly—if the odds were in your favor, if the judge signed off, and if God was looking out for you—then they would meet him the night of your birthday outing. You just hoped everything would fall into place. You hopped out of the car, grabbing your Louis Vuitton Speedy 30 from the passenger seat and slinging it over your arm. Just as you shut the door, you spotted Sonya standing near the entrance, her arms crossed, her stance already radiating irritation. You took a deep inhale, bracing yourself, then walked over, greeting her with a quick hug.

“Girl, what’s wrong with you?” You asked, noticing her sour expression.

“Chile, my damn hairstylist just sent me that infamous ‘Hey boo’ text, and I just know it’s about to be some bullshit.” Sonya sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes.

“That’s why I told you to stop going to her, Sonya. She’s unprofessional as hell and always canceling on you at the last minute.” You snorted and shook your head. 

“I know, I know,” She whined dramatically, throwing her hands up. “But girl, she know how to lay my damn wigs. She makes that lace look like scalp! I do not wanna go to nobody else!”

You laughed, grabbing a cart and rolling into the store with her. You weren’t even five steps inside before you gave her a knowing look and smirked. “I don’t even know why you waste your time getting them wigs laid, knowing Omar gon’ pull that shit right off your head and have your lace looking crazy by the end of the night.”

“You ain’t lying, girl. You really ain’t lying.” Sonya stuck her tongue out at you before giggling, clearly thinking about how wild her and her man got. 

You shook your head, laughing as you made your way toward the laundry aisle, grabbing detergent, fabric softener, and some cleaning products. You wanted the house to be

perfect for Terry’s homecoming—fresh sheets, the scent of lavender and vanilla in the air, everything spotless for his arrival.

As you reached for a bottle of Febreze, Sonya nudged you. “So… you excited for your birthday?”

“Yeah… I really am.” You smiled, biting your lip as you nodded. Truth be told you were more excited for Terry’s arrival than your own birthday. For as long as you could remember you weren’t the most excited to celebrate your birthday. To you, it was just another day and another reminder that you were leaving your glorious twenties and getting closer to hitting your dirty thirties. That is until Terry came into your life and shifted your perspective on life itself. He taught you that every birthday should be celebrated and that life is too short to not celebrate the breath in your lungs and waking up everyday. Especially with his circumstances and how his life got snatched from him because he chose to do the right thing and defend his mother’s honor against her abuser, but in the end it wasn’t so honorable and his dreams and young life got cut short with the snap of a finger. So this year you chose to have a better outlook on your birthday, thanks to your baby Terry. 

 You continued to move swiftly through Target, pushing your cart with concentration, mentally checking off everything Terry will need once he’s home. You start with the Dove Men+Care bar soap, grabbing a few packs because you know the fresh, clean scent will suit him. Next is the Old Spice body wash—the deep, rich, masculine fragrance makes you weak in the knees, so you know it’ll be perfect for him. You toss it in the cart, followed by men’s deodorant, mouthwash, and toothpaste—because even though you’ve never stood close enough to breathe him in, you already decided that your man will smell fresh, clean, and irresistible.

You head down the haircare aisle, running your fingers over the different bottles before settling on a moisturizing shampoo and conditioner. You know prison air is dry as hell, and you’re not about to have your man coming home with his hair brittle and neglected. A large jar of Palmer’s whipped cocoa butter goes into the cart next—you love how smooth and rich it feels against your skin, and you can already picture yourself rubbing it into his arms, his shoulders, his hands… making sure he’s soft and well taken care of. Just as you’re reaching for a pack of Dude Wipes, Sonya turns from the next aisle, glancing over at your cart. She tilts her head, her perfectly arched brows raising as she takes in all the men’s products sitting inside.

“Uh-uh. Who’s all this for?” She asks, crossing her arms. Your heart skips a beat.

“Oh!” You force out a laugh, thinking quick. “My sister’s in town with her fiancé, and they’re staying at my mom’s house. She needed some stuff to keep there for him.”

Sonya narrows her eyes for a second, then shrugs. “Oh okay, that makes sense. I was about to say, girl, you got a whole grown man’s starter kit in there.”

You laugh nervously, nodding as you grip the handle of your cart, pushing forward. Just when you think you’re in the clear, your phone buzzes in your purse. You glance down and see the caller ID: Terry’s lawyer. Your stomach instantly tightens. He already called earlier—so why is he calling again?

“Hey, hold on,” You tell Sonya, trying to keep your voice light. “I gotta take this real quick.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you at checkout.” Sonya waves you off, already distracted by something on the next shelf. Stepping out of the aisle, you answer, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answer, voice low. 

“We’ve got a problem,” His lawyer says, his voice urgent.Your body stiffens.

“What? What happened?” You held your breath. 

“There’s been an incident in the prison yard. Terry was involved.” He deeply sighs. Your heart  plummets straight to your ass because you told this nigga—.

“WHAT?!” You shout, loud enough that people around you turn their heads. You clamp a hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to breathe, to stay calm.

“I’m still gathering details,” His lawyer continues, “ But from what I’m hearing, there was some kind of altercation. If the judge catches wind of this, his release could be revoked… or at the very least, stalled.”

The words ring in your ears, drowning out the noise of the store. Revoked?! Stalled?!Your hands start to tremble on the cart handle, your vision blurring with tears. Just when you thought you were so close to having him home—just when everything was falling into place—here comes some bullshit.

“Please… just tell me he’s okay,” you whisper, your voice cracking. You swallow hard, gripping the phone tighter.

“I really don’t know. I’m working on it. I’ll call you back when I know more.” He sighed again, sounding defeated. Then the line goes dead, making you tear up. You stood frozen in the middle of Target, your world spinning, your stomach in knots. And just like that, everything you had been dreaming of, praying for, feels like it’s slipping right through your fingers.

This couldn't be happening right now, not right now....

@captainwithoutmakingitlove

@naughtynolly-blog

@theglamclosetsl

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@fakxmbj

@solunaseira

@noir-lullaby

@kirayuki22

@blyffe

@planetblaque

@blackchickinthedesert

@megamindsecretlair

@teeresaresa

@kaylaahisthebestest-

@hotebonynearby

@lavaniiii

@cardi-bre91

[cursedcanon]

Jjk men in a relationship with somoene shorter than them.

Characters: Gojo, Choso, Sakuna, Geto, Toji, Nanami, Yuji and megumi

GOJO

Gojo would love the height difference and never let you forget it. He’s constantly resting his arm on your head, lifting you off the ground just to tease you, or holding things out of your reach so you have to jump for them. But beyond the teasing, he’s incredibly protective. As a non-sorcerer, you’re fragile in his world, and that terrifies him more than he lets on. He always keeps a close eye on you, and if he ever senses danger, he teleports you somewhere safe immediately. Despite being the strongest, he loves how normal you are—it’s grounding for him. Expect spontaneous dates, endless sweets, and him being incredibly clingy when he’s not working.

Affection Style: Super touchy—always pulling you into hugs, ruffling your hair, or carrying you around just because he can.

Pet Names: Shortie, Angel, Cutie, My Love

CHOSO

Choso is naturally very gentle with you, aware of his own strength and size. He rarely teases about the height difference and instead finds it endearing—sometimes he even bends down when talking to you just to make sure you're comfortable. As a non-sorcerer, he worries about your safety a lot. He doesn’t want you near jujutsu battles or curses, and he’ll always walk you home, even if it means following you in the shadows. He’s incredibly warm and affectionate, but his love language is more about acts of service—bringing you food, fixing things for you, and making sure you're always taken care of.

Affection Style: Protective and soft—he’ll hold your hand in public, press kisses to your forehead, and tuck you into his side when you’re walking together.

Pet Names: Little One, Beloved, My Treasure

SAKUNA

Sukuna sees the height difference as another way to assert his dominance. He lives to tease you—patting your head like a child, smirking down at you, and making jokes about how “fragile” you are. But beneath all of that, he’s insanely possessive. The fact that you’re a non-sorcerer makes him even more territorial—you're his, and he won’t let anything or anyone hurt you. He’s not the type to be openly affectionate, but when he does show it, it’s intense. He’ll lift you onto his lap when he's in the mood, tilt your chin up to make you look at him, and dare you to defy him. He might act cocky, but deep down, having someone as soft and human as you actually soothes him.

Affection Style: Rough but passionate—he’ll grip your chin when he kisses you, pull you onto his lap, and smirk every time you have to crane your neck to look at him.

Pet Names: Brat, Pet, Mine (he’s not one for cutesy names, but you are his.)

GETO

Geto is surprisingly sweet about the height difference. He loves that you’re shorter than him and enjoys wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your head. He’s very gentle with you, especially since you’re a non-sorcerer—he sees you as something pure in his otherwise dark world. He doesn’t want you involved in jujutsu society, and he’ll do everything to keep you safe from it. That said, he’s also possessive—he won’t make a scene if someone flirts with you, but his aura alone is enough to make them back off. He has a soft spot for spoiling you, whether it’s bringing you gifts or just pulling you into his lap after a long day.

Affection Style: Soft but protective—he’s always touching you in some way, whether it’s holding your hand or brushing your hair back.

Pet Names: Sweetheart, Doll, Little One

TOJI

Toji lives for the height difference. He teases you constantly—resting his arm on your head, calling you fun-sized, and effortlessly lifting you up just because he can. He’s cocky and playful, but underneath that, he’s insanely protective. The fact that you’re a non-sorcerer makes him hyper-aware of your fragility, and though he plays it cool, he’d go feral if anyone or anything threatened you. Toji isn’t always the best with words, but he shows his love through physical touch—throwing an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his lap, or just carrying you over his shoulder if you’re walking too slow.

Affection Style: Playful but protective—he teases you nonstop, but his touch is always firm and grounding, like he’s reminding himself that you’re safe.

Pet Names: Shortcake, Doll, Bunny (he likes that you’re smaller and softer than him).

NANAMI

Nanami doesn’t tease you about your height—he actually finds it endearing. He loves subtle things, like how you have to tilt your head to look at him or how your hand is smaller than his when he holds it. He treats you with quiet, deep affection, always making sure you’re safe, warm, and comfortable. As a non-sorcerer, he knows you don’t belong in his world of danger, so he keeps you as far from it as possible. Nanami is a gentleman—he’ll always place his hand on the small of your back when guiding you, offer you his coat when it’s cold, and give you the kind of unwavering devotion that makes you feel truly loved.

Affection Style: Subtle but deeply caring—he’ll brush hair from your face, hold your hand without a word, and make sure you never have to lift a finger if he can do something for you.

Pet Names: Darling, Love, Sweetheart

ITADORI

Yuji adores the height difference—it makes him want to protect you even more. He’s a golden retriever boyfriend, always hugging you, holding your hand, and getting excited whenever he sees you. He loves that you’re a non-sorcerer because it gives him a sense of normalcy, something to hold onto in his chaotic life. He’s always looking out for you—walking on the side of the sidewalk closest to traffic, texting you to make sure you’re safe, and giving you his hoodie when you’re cold (even though it’s way too big on you). He’s the type to lift you up and spin you around when he hugs you, completely oblivious to how strong he is.

Affection Style: Super touchy—he’s all about hugs, hand-holding, and forehead kisses. He loves physical closeness.

Pet Names: Babe, Cutie, Snugglebug (yes, he would call you something ridiculous and own it).

MEGUMI

Megumi acts like the height difference doesn’t matter, but secretly, he finds it adorable. He won’t tease you outright, but he will silently enjoy the way you have to look up at him. Unlike the others, he’s not big on PDA, but he shows he cares in little ways—offering you his scarf when it’s cold, making sure you’re on the inside of the sidewalk, and subtly stepping in front of you if he senses danger. He’s very protective, especially since you’re a non-sorcerer, and though he won’t always voice his concerns, his actions make it clear. He’s not great at verbal affection, but if you catch him off guard, you might hear him mumble something like, "I like that you’re small… easier to keep safe."

Affection Style: Reserved but thoughtful—he’ll carry your bags without asking, stand close enough to shield you, and quietly watch over you like a loyal wolf.

Pet Names: Dummy (affectionately), Angel, (Your Name) (he’s not one for excessive nicknames, but he says your name in a way that makes it sound special).

[mvctavish]

hesdcanosn for graves and price where the reader is pretty bossy and kind of intimidating? for graves she's sort of the co-commander of shadow co. and for price she's the 141's medic

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄 - 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐘!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐂𝐒

notes: i love this idea so so much you're a genius anon!! since the relationship wasn't specified... i just made the reader their wife... cuz it felt right to me. if u were hoping for platonic hcs or anything different don't be afraid to send in another ask and i'll do it!! anyways, happy reading <3

summary: (seperate) headcanons of graves and price with a bossy/intimidating wife

cw: wife!reader (for both), deputycommander!reader (for graves), medic!reader (for price), general war stuff idk, probably inaccuracies when it comes to the military/PMCs, reader is kind of bitchy, for price reader is mentioned to be at least smaller than him

cdr. phillip graves

౿ ۪ ݁ he's scared of you, and it's pretty obvious despite his attempts at hiding it. when you get mad, he gets all quiet and mutters a quick and respectful "yes ma'am" no matter what you request or say to him. it's rather funny seeing the commander so scared of his own wife. phillip has seen first-hand just how angry you can get when things don't go your way. the aftermath ain't pretty. while he knows you'd never actually hurt him (besides throw around a few choice words) he prefers to keep the peace at all costs. he hates seeing you upset, whether it's a mission gone sour or down to something little like him leaving the toilet seat up.

you two first met way back in the marines, fresh outta boot camp and ready to conquer the world. even then you were intimidating, a fiery attitude that could challenge the sargeant above you both. you ended up leaving the military when phillip did, and got married not long after. despite the fact that he'd much rather have you not risk your life — you were insistent on being part of shadow company when it was formed, and not behind the scenes.

as his deputy commander, you're right there by his side. the shadows are like family to both you and graves — they're your boys — but you aren't afraid to whip them into shape if necessary. some new recruits are being too rambunctious for your liking? you're giving a sharp, glaring look to your husband and he's quick to get them in line. it doesn't take long at all for them to learn to respect (and fear) you, perhaps even more than graves. you're a force to be reckoned with.

down to the more domestic aspects of your life, you're always on his ass about the upkeep of the house. when you're both home, the work is split 50/50 (which was a huge shock to graves at first since he's always been a bit more traditional) but he knows it's only fair since you both work. you like your house in pristine condition, down to the floorboards being dusted, to the lampshades being in just the right position. you're bossy about little things, like always pairing up the socks when they're taken out of the dryer or him rinsing his beard trimmings down the sink whenever he's done shaving. he knows you tend to get a little pissy when things aren't done exactly how you like them, so that's why graves makes sure he — and the shadows — always listen to your input.

capt. john price

౿ ۪ ݁ price is more impressed than anything. there's so much fire and spirit crammed into one small thing: you. it's funny to him, how most people you interact with can be so intimidated by you. you have the bossy attitude as an angry mother bear, yet can still be sweet when it's needed. price first met you when he was still a lieutenant, suffering from a bad injury on the field. you were the only combat medic on duty. he'd tried to convince you that he was fine — there were other men that needed your help, too, and that he could keep going — but you'd grabbed him by the ear and chewed him out. calling him a "damn fool with a death wish," and that if he wanted to live he'd "better listen to you and sit his ass down." he'd immediately gone quiet and did as he was told. price wasn't used to being spoken to like that, much less from someone of a lower rank. that was the moment he knew he had to have you, and the rest was history.

it took a while to gain your attention around base, and you were the reason he grew out his beard in the first place, after a passing comment that you'd made about how you thought it'd make him more rugged. it took time, but you were worth every second.

relationships in your line of work can be messy, and perhaps one of the worst aspects could be the judgment from others. in one interaction with a new face on base, you'd gotten into quite a heated argument. the guy thought you'd be easy picking, a way to make fun of you and show off in front of his new pals. your sharp tongue and quick insults resulted in the man leaving close to tears, whilst price watched round the corner with a little smirk on his face. deep down, he'd always worry about you. you were his wife, his woman, his world. it was only natural — but instances like that reminded him that you could stand up for yourself. you were strong and independent, and never let anyone walk all over you. you'd been a people pleaser in the past, but never again. you lived for yourself.

once task force 141 was formed, it's obvious that your husband recruited you to join as well. it was difficult, and he had to abuse a few loopholes in the policies to even be allowed to be your CO, but in the end, it worked. rounding back to the mama bear point, ghost, gaz, and soap quickly warm up to you. you're honestly the closest thing any of them have to a mum. a scary, bossy, picky one, but still a mum. your team's safety is your number one priority, and you certainly aren't afraid of getting your hands dirty both figuratively and literally. you keep the boys and price in line, constantly nagging about drinking water and insisting that they need to eat more than just a damn protein barn before a mission. MREs suck, but it's better than going hungry.

price lets you boss him round whenever you two are home from deployment. of course, on the battlefield, he's in charge. but home? it's a different story. the lawn needs to be mowed? you bet it'll be done by the evening. low on groceries? he's starting a list and planning to drive down to the shops. you and price never really get into any real arguments. he's seen you on the battlefield, frightening as you shout orders to anyone around as you're patching up an injured soldier — that sort of intensity is one he does everything to avoid seeing in you.

[revelboo]

May I request another snack featuring our favorite scheming boyo Swindle? :3

Sure!

18+ 🌶️

Hangman Pt 4

Swindle x Reader

• “Primus, babe, they’re going to love you. Worship you,” he says as he stops recording and mass shifts back, watching him do that still oddly off putting. Wiping your slick fingers on the inside of your thigh, you’d gotten close a few times with him watching you, but never managed to cross that finish line. Needing more. And you flush when he returns with a damp rag as big as a blanket and a handful of the premium snacks that have been off limits to you before. Sitting up and oddly more self conscious about cleaning yourself up as you take the rag than you had been about playing with him recording. “Anything you want from the bins, you just let me know. Gotta do some cleanup on the recording, but I’ll be back.”

• Carrying the equipment into the back, he shuts the door and gets it set up to edit his voice out and settles behind his desk. And frees his spike as playback begins. Knows he’s breaking his cardinal rule as he grips himself with one hand and begins lazily editing with the other. Stroking himself as the recorded imagine of you dips your fingers inside yourself with a breathy noise. Head falling back against his chair, he pumps his spike and forgets to edit. Watching you. Primus, you were so wet, weren’t you? Those sweet eyes uncertain as you’d sank those little teeth into your bottom lip. Hearing himself encouraging you as his venting grows ragged. So fragging innocent.

• Helping yourself to an MRE and some cookies, you can faintly hear the video playing in the other room. Hear his recorded voice cooing at you. Encouraging and praising you. And you’re aware of that hollow ache. That you’d played with yourself until you were almost numb and hadn’t gotten there. Always just shy. Maybe you should have used some of his toys? Cracking open a bottle of water and tipping it back before reaching and tearing open one of his packaged toys.

• Those sounds you make, the way your thighs quiver. Fisting his spike, his movements get rougher. Chasing a release and on the screen you whimper, hips lifting and he’s coming apart. Swearing and shoving back from the desk as he makes a mess. Venting as he flicks his damp servos, he’s unsettled. Because that should have taken the edge off, not made him even more aware of the fact that you’re just in the next room. Warm, soft, and wet. And that you’re a commodity. That his one rule is not to get hooked on any of his own products. Growling to himself as he cleans up, he hides his spike behind his plating, trying to ignore that he’s still hard for you and he stops short when he opens the door, servos gripping the wall.

• Head turning guiltily, you shudder and it’s not all the feel of the toy buzzing as you slide it deep trying to find some relief. It’s the way he’s staring at you. “Babe, you’re supposed to wait until I’m recording,” he growls as he walks over and leans on the counter your little set up is on. “Don’t stop,” he adds when you hesitate. “That feel good? Get familiar with those toys. Make me believe it feels good.” He’s leaning close, optics watching as you hesitantly slide the toy nearly free before pushing it back in. Pumping it inside you as he hooks a servo against your thigh to nudge it further open. “Yeah, you like that.” It’s his voice, not the toy. Hips bucking as you move the toy more urgently inside you. Head falling back as you tremble and find that peak, tipping over it with a cry and his servo gently pins your hand in place when you try to turn the toy off, suddenly over sensitive. “Not yet, babe. Ride it out for me.”

Previous

[106alibi]

good graces ; just a friend

w.c: 765

tw: reader compares her appearances

a/n: there's a mini pov switch between reader and jeno in the middle I hope you guys can catch that because I didn't really label it

“is something wrong?”

you spun around, hiding your phone behind your back as you came face to face with a concerned jeno.

“oh- um, just got some work texts.”

because you couldn't tell him your ex and the girl he had cheated on you with were currently at the same party as you both were.

jeno tilted his head, looking like a puzzled puppy, obviously skeptical of how suspicious you were being. you quickly stuffed your phone back into your purse, forcing a smile onto your face as you tugged on his blazer sleeve hoping to reassure him.

as much as you didn't want to see jake, a thought you didn't want to entertain gnawed at the back of your mind. a thought that sprouted when you saw his damn twitter post.

isn't this the perfect opportunity to show jake you're well you're doing without him?

and it was. the you of more than a month ago would've jumped on the opportunity, maybe even checked the guest list yourself to make sure jake was coming so that he could bump into you and jeno. but…

you glanced at jeno, who had somehow gone off to grab a few cupcakes while you were lost in thought.

you weren't here for this. yeah, you were mostly here because your boss threw you under the bus, but you came to have a fun time with other friends and jeno too.

you still could. as long as you avoided jake and natty, you could still salvage this party and-

“y/n?”

fuck.

you hated the fact that you knew whose voice it was. you took a desperate breath to calm yourself and turned on your heel.

there she was, latched onto his arm as an innocent smile sat on her pretty lips, her short hair that suited her so well styled to perfection, and her mini white dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. a painful reminder of everything she had that you didn't.

“they make some really good cupcakes-”

jeno paused as soon as he noticed their presence. his eyes darted between you and the man he didn't recognise, feeling a strange tension grow thick in the air the longer he smiled at you and the longer you remained expressionless.

“I didn't think I'd see you here, y/n.”

“same here.”

the girl seemed to notice the tension as well, her eyes scanning her partner's face, then yours, before she unlatched herself from his arm and stuck her hand out, a sweet smile plastering on her face.

“nice to meet you! I'm natty, a member of kiss of life. I came as jake's partner.”

there was a slight pause before you took her hand, and if it weren't for jeno’s close observation he wouldn't have noticed either. you forced a smile, it was painfully obvious to jeno who had your smile engraved in his mind, as you took her hand in yours.

“I'm y/n. this is jeno, he's a professional boxer.”

you couldn't help it, your curiosity had gotten the best of you. you slipped your hand around jeno’s arm, tightening it as your eyes scanned jake's face to gauge his reaction, hoping to sense at least a tinge of jealousy or regret.

a smirk. all you got was a smirk as jake shook jeno’s hand, muttering something about how big of a fan he was. natty whispered something in jake's ear.

“oh, y/n is just a friend of mine.”

that was your last straw. the past month of your life crumbled around you, burying you in a defeat you had never felt before. because this was the concrete evidence that slapped you into finally realising that jake never cared. that all this time and effort wasted, dragging jeno into your stupid scheme to get back at jake, arguing with kazuha about how genius your plan was, would have never amounted to anything because jake was the type of guy who could call you a friend after cheating on you.

you could feel the familiar stinging in the back of your eyes. you muttered a quick excuse and scurried to the washroom, hoping no one would question the speed you were walking at, or the way you were walking with your head down.

you locked yourself in a cubicle and quickly tore some toilet paper, dabbing at your waterline as you felt your nose start to clog and your breathing start to quicken. you couldn't think coherently. it was a tangled mess of anger, frustration, and the biggest of them all, guilt.

because now that this was all over, you had to tell jeno everything.

prev | m.list | next

a/n: haha y'all won't kill me if the next chapter is written too right... (it'll be half written half texts)

taglist: @yutarot @rksbae @sevn97 @dreamiestay @raevyng @catpjimin @mrsjohnnysuh @xiuriii @minkyuncutie @jaehyunsjasmine @cookiehaos @jenoleeaesthetic @tynlvr @ohwowzersthatscool @rubiiisyeon @multifandomania @natokkiz @veilico @jeonghansshitester @jkslvsnella @jungaji @xyzsiissnnsnsjs @17ericas @elsbunny @grassbutneo @nosungluv @flamingi @xxxx-23nct @baobeii55 @shoetaroshoe @tannieflix @myballsareitchy2 @doyotint @mood-nyvy @hyuoonp @joyzluvr @livingdoll-hara @hyuck-me @zzurao @luvandletter @jae-n0 @stqrgr7 @dudekiss3r @ksywoo @kodasity @jirsungs @hibernatinghamster @blamingontheboogie @neozon3nha @catdonut657

[monstersflashlight]

Were-Cane Corso husband x Shifter black maned Asiatic lioness ( she is a spotted gurl 😍)

He is on his full moon time, completely shifted into his cerberus black dog form, while she is in heat fully trusting that she will be greatly pleasured by her compassionate husband. Her heats had been very painful, and her husband will stop at nothing to aid his amoré, even going as far as syncing up with her heat period.

NSFW. Knotting in her mouth. Both oral receiving. Lion claws digging in his back.

A/N: Hi! I’m not comfortable with mouth-knotting, but I think this ended up pretty good. Enjoy!

Were-Cane Corso x lioness!reader || body worship, knotting, oral sex, implied breeding

He’d been trying to refuse intimacy with you since you started dating, and you accepted because you didn’t want to pressure him into anything he wasn’t ready to give you. Interspecies relationships were weird enough without the addition of sexual weirdness, so you waited.

And waited.

But at some point your libido was asking for more of you than he could give you, aka: your heat is approaching, so you had to ask. You had to get at least answers. And when he finally tells you he’s been pretty much bullied all his life because of his looks, you want to stab somebody on his behalf. Your pretty and sweet monster boyfriend is the best person you’ve ever met, and the fact that somebody made him feel like less makes your blood boil inside your veins. You have to bite your lip to avoid the hiss that’s threatening to escape, your claws extended and your breathing labored.

You don’t exactly jump him after that, but it’s something pretty close to it. You jump into his arms and he instantly catches you with his fucking big arms and strong body. You scratch his back as you devour his mouth, his pants against your lips driving you wild as you feel something inside of you release to the point of not coming back.

Your heat. Fuck.

He grunts against your open mouth, kissing down your jaw and biting right where your neck meets your shoulder, making you hiss in pleasure as you do the same with him. It’s instinctual and almost primal, the way you two kiss and bite and devour each other is exhilarating and when you part mouths and he whispers he thinks he’s matching your heat with his rut, you almost get crazy with pent up frustration.

You beg to suck his cock, and he complies, his body tense when he undresses in front of you. But you can’t have that. You don’t want that of him. So you kiss every inch of revealed skin, his fur tickling your lips as you travel down his full body until you are kneeling in front of him. Your legs are trembling and your pussy is so wet you are pretty sure it’s forming a puddle under you.

You throw yourself at him like the desperate lioness you are, mouth open as you suck around his tip until he’s begging you to go further, faster, harder… And you comply, swallowing around him, humming your favorite song and fisting his knot until he’s crying out and releasing deep down your throat. You savor every last drop, sucking until he begs for mercy and pulls you up against his body.

It’s desperate and frantic. It’s fast and hard, and he’s fucking you like a madman, and you are giving back as much as he’s giving you. You push him forward until he’s on his back and you are riding him like a mechanic bull and he’s telling you how good and pretty you look, and how glad he is he found you.

And when you finally slip his knot inside, your hips rolling over his and his face contorts with pleasure you can’t avoid the orgasm that rocks over your body even if you wanted. You throw your head back and sink your claws into his chest, making him howl even louder as you come around his knot. His release is hot and burning inside of you, and it feels so good you are almost drooling.

By the time the knot comes down, you are dripping fluids and he’s breathing hard under you, his smile so big you know he won’t be doubting how hot he is for a while...

[biggrimace]

Back Pain | Fred Weasley

Part 1 / 2

Part: 1, 2

Summary: You are heavily pregnant with your and Fred's first child and are experiencing some back pain that grows as the day goes on. Fred worries that you may be in labour, and it isn't until your water breaks that you take those concerns seriously.

Warnings: pregnant reader, talk about pain

Word Count: ~2101

—

You had been uncomfortable all day, which isn’t anything new considering you’d been uncomfortable the last six or so months, but this felt different. It started around four in the morning; you were awoken by the feeling of your lower back cramping, so you began tossing and turning, hoping to find a comfortable position, but to no avail. Fred was awakened by your movements and the gentle groans that followed. He was quick to check on you and nodded understandingly once you told him about your back. He asked you to turn to your other side and massaged the painful spot for you without a moment of hesitation. It took only a few seconds before you felt relief, in fact, it was so comforting that it actually soothed you back to sleep.

Now, it was one in the afternoon, and the cramping was back with a vengeance. You didn’t think much of it after noticing your belly dropped while standing in front of the bathroom mirror. You accepted that it was just an annoying consequence of the new position the baby was in, but you’d been cramping since eleven, and it was beginning to drive you insane. You tried ice packs, hot water bottles, pain relief potions, a warm bath, stretching, and anything else you could think of. You even asked Fred for more massages, which failed to provide the same comfort they did last night. Fred was beginning to worry about you, and in the very back of his mind, a thought buzzed about you possibly being in labour. You brushed him off multiple times throughout the morning, saying they were only Braxton hicks contractions or false labour. Your lack of concern for it soothed him slightly since you knew your body better than him, so instead of rushing you to the hospital like he wanted, he let the day go on. However, he was still worried, so after your bath, Fred decided the best thing for both of you was for you to come with him to the shop. After greeting George upon your arrival Fred guided you into his office and laid you on the futon he had in there in case of late nights or the odd overnight stays. He brought you your pregnancy pillow, a hot water bottle, an ice pack, snacks, water, and more potions. All to keep you comfortable and close as he runs the store just downstairs. He made sure to check on you every 30 minutes and if he couldn’t or was busy with a customer he would send up George. You, on the other hand, were trying to sleep off the pain.

—

At around three, your back felt like it was on fire, and you couldn't ignore it like you had been. Fred and George had been engrossed by the unexpected rush of patrons flooding in downstairs, their frequent checkups slowly dwindling down to none as the shop grew more busy. You were so frustrated and overwhelmed by the pain that you actually began to cry, wishing for it to stop so you could just relax. You tried so hard to keep your suffering quiet, not wanting to interrupt your husband's busy day, but you couldn't help it, and when your back cramped up again you were ready to roll out of bed and get him. Luckily, just as you went to roll Fred walked in with a tray holding a cup of tea and some of your favourite sweet treats. He froze when he saw you trying to sit up, your expression twisted with pain and your face covered in tears. He wasted no time in placing the tray on his desk and pulling his chair beside the small bed, taking a seat and hushing you comfortingly.

Love, I’m really starting to get worried...

He admitted as he sat in front of you. One hand moving stay hairs from your face and the other rubbing your belly. You let yourself fall back into your pillow and snuggled into it, sniffling.

It hurts so much, Freddie… I just want it to stop…

You whined. You were never good with pain and it was starting to really mess with you emotionally. Fred looked at you sympathetically, worry hidden in his furrowed brows.

Maybe we should go to the hospital yn.

He suggested again, looking down to your belly. You just shook your head.

I already told you, they’ll just send us home. I’m not in labour. My water didn’t break, and I don’t think I’m having real contractions; I’m just really uncomfortable.

You explained and tried pushing yourself to sit up again. After seeing you struggle, Fred swooped in to help. He gently grabbed your upper arm with one hand and wrapped his other arm around you to help support your weight. Once you were sitting, he relaxed back into his chair.

Well then what can I do?

He asked helplessly, leaning forward, his arms on his legs. The concern in his voice and the love in his eyes made yours start to water again, damn hormones. Then, there was another flare-up that forced a sudden gasp out of you and caused more tears to flow down your cheeks, this time due to the pain. Fred jumped a bit at this and reached toward you. You just cried as you leaned forward into him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, stretching out your back, and he wrapped his around your torso, massaging your back gently. After a moment the pain subsided back into a dull ache and you found yourself relishing in the small relief this position was providing.

Are you ok love?

Fred asked once your cries died down into gentle sniffles. You nodded, tightening your hold on him.

Ya. I’m ok. This feels really good.

You admitted. Fred smiled to himself and kissed your temple, happy to be providing some form of comfort to you. It only lasted a few seconds, though, before that once comfortable position became exactly the opposite. You pulled back, both of you releasing each other, and Fred watched as you stretched, cracking your back.

I think I just need to move. I’ve been lying down all day.

You said defeated. Fred paused for a moment to think, then nodded. He stood from his chair and reached down towards you. You grabbed each other’s forearms and worked together to get you on your feet. He didn’t let go immediately and looked into your eyes.

I’ll take you out to the shop but only for a few minutes. I don’t want you getting overwhelmed or shoved around by the crowd that’s out there. We’ll say hi to George and come right back, okay?

He demanded lovingly. You just nodded and leaned up to peck his lips. You released each other, and you waddled out of the room, holding your back as you did. Fred followed close behind, the panic stored in the back of his mind beginning to overtake him. He sighed, running his hand through his hair, as you opened the door and made your way out into the wonderful chaos of the shop. George was quick to notice your appearance, watching as you took a moment to look around and interact with a few patrons, Fred keeping a closed distance.

I see she’s up now..

George said as he came up behind his brother both twins watching you closely as you talked with an older woman, most likely buying a gift for her child. Fred sighed defeated.

Yeah… she is…

George didn’t hesitate to ask about you, and Fred answered to the best of his ability, filling him in on his rising anxiety and what you had been going through. George could practically feel the mental spiral Fred was going through and decide to take on the grunt of the days work so that his twin could be there for his family. Fred obviously refused at first but after getting shut down by George he agreed, thanking him for being so understanding.

—

It was six now. The pain had gotten much worse and more prominent. It came quicker and lasted longer, and you began to get worried that you might be in labour like Fred had suggested but decided to keep those concerns to yourself. Fred was going over some inventory paperwork for the week, and you once again found your spot beside him on the futon. You suddenly had the urge to pee and groaned, knowing you would have to stand once more. Fred turned at your groan, and you waved him off. Over the last few hours you’ve developed this new method of conversation, you’d groan or cry, he’d get worried and check on you, and you’d tell him you’re fine either verbally or with a gesture. You finally managed to pull yourself off the bed and began walking to the bathroom in the office when a sharp pain ripped through your lower abdomen, causing you to violently gasp and double over. You had nothing to support yourself and crumpled to the floor on your hands and knees, one of your arms cradling your belly. Fred jumped in his chair at the sound of you hitting the floor and whipped around to you. At the sight of you on the ground clutching your belly, he threw his paperwork aside and jumped out of his chair, running over to you.

Merlin yn! What happened? Did you fall?!

He yelled, crouching down and placing one of his hands on your back, the other on top of yours, which was holding your belly. You couldn’t answer, you were in to much pain. Fred was fully panicking now, analyzing your whole body, checking if you were ok, and looking for a way to help you. That’s when he noticed the wetness soaking through your pants and froze.

Freddie- I think you were right- I think it's actually happening.

You whine through the pain that is beginning to subside. As you caught your breath, you looked over at your husband. His eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open.

Freddie, sweetie, we should go.

You said, sitting back on your feet and breathing heavily. He still didn’t respond.

Fred!

You yelled, growing frustrated with his shocked state. He suddenly snapped back into reality and nodded frantically. In a moment, he was up and sprinting out of the office. He screamed to George that the baby was coming and to start closing up before apparating to your apartment to grab the hospital bag. You crawled over to the futon and propped yourself into a position where you could use it to support your weight as you stood up. Just as you stood straight, another contraction ripped through your body, sending you back into a position of leaning over onto the bed. You couldn’t stop the guttural moan that came from you as you rocked slightly, going through this new kind of pain. You missed it when you just had a sore back.

Where are you, Fred!?

You called out, desperate for your husband. You wanted to get to the hospital now. Fred apparated into the office with the large duffel bag in hand and approached your shaking form. George ran in a moment later, the shop successfully closed and all patrons kicked out. Fred shoved the bag into George’s chest and then bent down, guiding you to wrap one of your arms around his shoulders while he wrapped his arm around your waist. You grabbed onto his shirt with white knuckles, and he quickly made his way out of the office and down the steps of shops yelling at George to get the flying car. Fred, being the overly protective and prepared father-to-be he was, had asked Arthur if he could borrow it a week ago, knowing your due date was approaching and you would need a quick escape to the hospital.

It’s alright love you're doing wonderfully. George will be here soon with the car and then we’re going straight to St. Mungo's.

Fred reassured you although it sounded more self-directed. Just as you made it to the bottom of the stairs you heard a honk from outside the shop. George was sitting in the driver's seat waiting anxiously. Fred practically had to drag you outside, due to the contraction that was beginning to tear through you and gently guided you into the back seat before taking the spot next to you. As soon as he was sure you were secure, George sped off into the sky and took you to the hospital to deliver your baby.

—

For more fics: biggrimace

[miraculous-floconfettis]

Something i've been wondering about Emilie for a while

I have often wondered if Adrien suddenly wanting to go to school and sneaking out right after his mother disappeared had something to do with the fact that one of the two people who wore his amok wasn't there to control him anymore (especially since Emilie was the one who used the peacock Miraculous and thus, "created" Adrien).

Don't get me wrong, Emilie seemed to be a very kind and lively person. She definitely was a lot nicer to Adrien than Gabriel ever was, and Adrien always speaks very highly of her.

The Werepapas episode showed us a glimpse of what his life was before his mother disappeared and they definitely had a strong and sweet bond. They must have shared a lot of amazing and loving moments that will be forever engraved in Adrien's heart.

But nothing is ever black and white, especially in the show.

We've often assumed at the beginning of the show that Adrien growing up isolated from the world was Gabriel's doing, but we tended to forget that his mother was here when he was younger and he still wasn't allowed to go to school or have friends (let alone a birthday party). Emilie must have had a say in the way they raised Adrien and maybe she might have been against sheltering him, but she did nothing in the end, and Adrien was raised in a gilded cage till she disappeared.

We've only been shown crumbs of the person Emilie was when she was still alive and even though her light seemed dimmed in the videos Nathalie watched or in the Werepapas episode (because she was obviously sick), Emilie seemed to have a strong personality: Gabriel described Adrien as "emotional" and and also said things like "I have to apologize for my son, he’s like his mom, he’s way too overly dramatic" and "Quite a temper, you remind me of someone" before turning to his wife's painting in Simon Says.

What i'm reading between those lines is that Emilie wasn't an "overly dramatic" person, but seemed to be someone who stood her ground and didn't back off in front of her husband or anyone else, and wanted her opinions and wishes to be heard and fulfilled.

And even though i don't like the idea of her using Adrien's amok against him, it still was in the wedding ring she was wearing all the time.

Another thing is that Adrien is really fond of his mother so she definitely must not have been evil and she loved her son a lot and took good care of him. But as he lost her quite young, he also must have an idolized image of her.

The best example i can compare that situation with is Harry Potter: he grew up without parents so he created this perfect image of them in his head to compensate for his loss. Harry even defended his dad against Severus Snape when he accused James Potter of being "exceedingly arrogant". But in the later books, Harry came to face the hard truth that his father wasn't exactly the perfect person he thought he was (I'm not saying that Severus Snape was an angel, but he was actively bullied by James Potter and his gang so he has every right to loathe him). The only thing that differs in Harry's situation is that he was a lot younger than Adrien when he lost his parents. Harry never knew them, unlike Adrien who spent at least 13 years with his mom.

This is why i think that, even though Emilie was kind and loved her son more than anything, the only thing that Adrien remembers of his mom are the good times. The human mind often tends to choose to forget the bad times to compensate for the loss, and Adrien must have forgotten the bad memories like any person who lost a parent they loved would do (because there must have been bad times, any family as perfect as they want to be cannot be perfect all the time). 

[jeonscatalyst]

https://x.com/jjkgaIlery/status/1889108652562506096?t=1f1vMZ7Zd8otgS7Z_ZoX-Q&s=19

Jungkook with his "forced" excitement for the "forced" show with people who "forced" him to do the show, doing "forced" activities 😌

The way i have seen jungkook being more happy, excited for the whole show throughout the 3 trips than jimin himself? Like how do you see this and think the man was forced when he couldn't even contain his happiness? He said that he's happy, he's loving it more than jimin himself and I'm comparing both jk and jm because jm is accused of forcing jungkook and aa the idea was jimin's when it's jungkook who can't stop talking about happiness.

Seriously anon!

Jimin never mentioned this show…not even once. The only time he referenced it was during the last OT4 live before they enlisted, when they joked about Jungkook elbowing him in the nose. Beyond that, he never spoke a word about it. In contrast, Jungkook brought it up multiple times, showing clear excitement and encouraging fans to look forward to it.

Even during the show itself, how often did Jungkook express how much he loved it? Every couple of minutes, he made comments about enjoying himself, having fun, and loving his time away from work. He even suggested future travel locations after New York. Why would he do that if he wasn’t genuinely having the time of his life? By the time the show was ending, it was obvious that both Jimin and Jungkook hated that it was coming to a close. Neither could hide their disappointment, and Jungkook even admitted he wished he could go back to the first day of the trip. Who instinctively says that about a trip they were supposedly forced to go on and hated? I know Jimin enjoyed the trips as well, but I am certain he didn’t enjoy them half as much as Jungkook did.

One of the reasons why the cult and Jungkook solos are so bitter toward Jimin when it comes to AYS is because they can’t stand the fact that Jungkook looked genuinely happy in that show with Jimin. They wanted him to appear miserable, but when he didn’t, they redirected that anger toward Jimin because they despise seeing Jungkook happy with him. That’s why they desperately twist every moment into something negative, just so they can justify their hatred for Jimin. I’ve said it before: AYS was, and continues to be, a nightmare for them, especially the cult. Even now, they haven’t moved on from the reality check it gave them. After episode three which they liked because Jimin was sick and couldn’t participate in activities with jk and Tae, every following episode felt like a dagger to their hearts. And then came the final blow…the behind-the-scenes footage. That was their breaking point. The mass crying after the behind the scenes💀

They claim that AYS proved Jikook isn’t real, yet they hate the show with a passion and insist that everything was scripted and that Jk was forced. But if a show supposedly disproved a rival ship, why would you despise it so much? The truth is, they don’t want to hear anything about AYS because it forced them to confront a reality they didn’t want to see. They may never admit it, but deep down, they know that’s exactly why they hate it. It’s also why their resentment toward Jimin intensified afterward. Those who had previously managed to conceal their dislike for him could no longer hold back and revealed themselves as full-fledged Jimin antis.

Before AYS, many Tkkrs on Tumblr pretended to be the mature, reasonable ones…the ones who saw no reason to dislike “sweet angel Jimin.” But after AYS, everything changed. Now, if you visit their blogs, they are outright hateful and shady toward him. Why do you think that is?

They claim to like Jungkook and want him to be happy, yet they would rather see him miserable with Jimin than thriving, enjoying his time with him, and wanting to continue doing things together. I’ve said it before…Jungkook solos don’t love him. They don’t even like him for who he truly is, but for what they think he is and what they think he represents. They admire his success because they can use it to tear down other members, but as for the real Jungkook? They don’t give a furry rat’s ass about him, his feelings, his wants, his needs nada.

[wcrriorhearts]

Rhaenyra felt like she was ripping the seatbelt out of the side console to fit it around herself as she got seated and huffed in frustration, before it finally fastened and she sank back against the seat. Glancing over at Aemond, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "I am hurt. I have been living here for almost ten years and you still don't know my hood. Shameful, really. Time to visit more often", she said with mock seriousness, before relaxing back and letting her little brother take the lead. "Yes, start the car", she told him and waved a hand. "Down the driveway and then left", Nyra instructed and continued giving him directions for the next fifteen minutes.

He drove well for the fact that she had experienced Aegon first hand, so the drive was rather uneventful. By the time they drove into the parking lot in front of Walmart, Nyra was sufficiently uncomfortable enough to wanting to escape the car. As much as she loved her children and was excited about the third and last one, being nine months pregnant was definitely not pleasant. "Well done, we're still alive, we have not yelled at each other and my car still has both mirrors. More than I can say about my first drive with Aegon", she pointed out with a chuckle and got out of the car, stretching slightly.

"Right, get a cart, we have Harwin's credit card and we're gonna do some damage!" A joke, because her own company paid the majority of their bills, not exactly Harwin's job. Nonetheless, it was all shared equally between them and she didn't give a flying fuck about who made more, or that Harwin didn't earn as much as her. She waited for Aemond to grab a cart and then entered the supermarket with him. "Alright, we need snacks for tonight and the next days, so grab anything you like. The kids also need some snacks for school lunches, so let's get some fruit. If you ever end up having kids: save money, because strawberries and blueberries will be your financial ruin. Kids can eat their body weights in berries." All of that was being said while she stacked packages of berries into the cart to underline the truth of her words.

"Right. Is there anything non food related you need? They have clothes and stuff here as well, in case you want to grab any. Or toiletries. You do smell nicely of my peach shower gel but I'm not sure that's your general vibe." Nyra winked and put a few vegetables in the cart as well to make up for the many snacks and sweets they were about to buy as well. "And please don't feel inclined to be modest. I'm rich", she added as a reminder, because she was literally going to by him whatever he wanted.

Tilting his head, Aemond chuckled at her suggestions to make him feel ‘less predictable’. “Hmm, it’s a good idea but honestly I think it is a bit late to act surprised, isn’t it?” He mused as he shrugged a little. “It’s alright, I should have known. Helaena and Aegon see more than they let on, always have. They know me, I just didn’t expect them to know me better than I knew myself.” For Aemon, who had always struggled with intimacy and love, the fact that he had any feelings at all other than pure friendship towards someone that he wasn’t related to was … baffling. For years, he hadn’t been certain what love was, or if he was capable of it. In fact, he had been certain he wasn’t able to feel love, that he wasn’t wired for it. Yes, he felt fondness for his family, and he cared for friends of course, but nonetheless it had always been hard. Now, he realised that perhaps he was able to fall in love. It just seemed to take him longer to do so.

Emotions were confusing for him, and even now, he still struggled to make sense of what he exactly felt for the boy. Once upon a time, he had been easier with feelings, but years of being bullied had made him build a wall around him. An exterior he had crafted so carefully behind which he could hide his struggles.

With a nod, he smiled when she spoke about taking the Jeep. For him, either way it was alright, as long as he got some more practice in before his exam, he’d be happy enough. It wasn’t that he thought he wouldn’t manage, but things like this always caused a sense of stress, no matter how prepared he was. And of course, having only one eye, he had to focus even more to make sure he had seen everything when he dealt with traffic. It made it tiring sometimes, but he wanted to get that indepence as soon as possible. The idea of no longer having to depend on his relatives or public transport to get to places that were too far to walk or run was a dream really. 

“From here? Hmm, not really. I took the bus here this morning.” This part of town wasn’t familiar to him, because not only did he not live there, he also rarely ever ventured here. It hadn’t even occurred to him until the moment he’d tried to get here that he really didn’t know all that much about the area where Rhaenyra lived. Taking a deep breath as he mentally prepared himself to drive, he started up the car and turned to look at her, smiling. “Alright, you’ll tell me the directions right? Because I’ll need it.”

[jubshead]

Unpopular opinion: thank god Billy is bringing back Tommy and not Wanda

[qss-i-9]

just fully played tgogm. i still want to marry elias just like i thought i would

{spoilers in tags}

[saintrosalyn]

JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Edited to Add: Part Two is posted :)

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained. 

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor. 

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left. 

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge. 

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off. 

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator. 

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room. 

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a’ least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you? 

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him. 

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life. 

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon. 

Freedom. 

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing. 

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours. 

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat. 

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient. 

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet. 

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow. 

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.” 

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you. 

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either. 

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs. 

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone. 

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it. 

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard. 

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours. 

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

Part Two

[slvttyplum]

being roomies with a guy wasn’t what you had in mind, but what could you do when he was the only one offering the deal you wanted?

a bright smile on his face as he folds his arms over his chest, leaning against the marble counter, his eyes trailing your body.

“of course i can do that for you; don’t worry about paying a deposit; i got you.”

and with that, you were eight months deep into rooming with suguru, only catching each other for a couple of minutes every other day.

“what’s up? you hungry?” his hair tied in a messy bun with his shirt off and his pajama pants hanging low.

ugh… put some clothes on.

offering you dinner every time you came into the kitchen, his eyes dropping to your ass when you passed through to get to the pantry.

he didn’t know why, but he just couldn’t stop looking at you every time he got the chance; you were his type to a T.

suguru thought that was all it was ever going to be, just looking at you and exchanging a few words before you left the apartment or went into your room.

until he heard something, something he was never meant to hear.

when you did your “activities,” you made sure to be respectful; sometimes it even felt weird to do it when someone else was in the house, but you had needs. keeping it quiet, not risking a peep slipping through.

this time you got a little bit too carried away, but you just couldn’t stop. one hand working in between your thighs, your fingers pumping in and out of you at a good steady rhythm, while the other rubbed over your body, and suguru was there to hear it all.

suguru slowly walked to your bedroom door, leaning against the wall by it with his arms folded, red smeared all over his face as his heart raced, the sound pounding in his ears.

the walls were thin, the only downside of this place, but suguru found himself smiling at the fact he could hear you.

trying to imagine what position you were in, if you were using your fingers or a toy, the lewd faces you were doing, if you were building a sweat at this point, questions flying through his head.

he felt like a creep listening in just a few feet away, which he totally was, but your voice was keeping him there.

suguru loves your voice; it sent tingles down his spine every time you would speak, even if it was just a single "no, thank you." when asking you if you wanted dinner.

it was so soothing, so soothing, in fact, that he would purposely prolong the small talk just to hear your voice bounce off the walls of the apartment, his mouth salivating while he listened to you.

keep going, please.

your moans weren’t loud, but they could be heard; they were very distinct, but he could still make out your sweet voice, and that turned him on more than it should have.

unfolding his arms and grabbing for your door handle, if he had to listen to your moans for another minute, he was going to combust; he was going to go fucking insane.

sliding his hand off the handle and putting a knuckle to the door, calling your name as he knocked lightly, loud enough for you to hear.

“… i cooked; did you want anything?”

his eyes slowly looking over to the kitchen that was lightly lit, closing his eyes trying to come up with another excuse, while you quickly scattered, licking your fingers and throwing on the shorts beside your bed.

fast walking to your door and opening it, a bright smile on your face, trying to act normal.

"im fine, suguru; i already ate." your eyes sliding from his beautiful face to his body, once again shirtless with pajama pants hanging low, showing his v-line, but something else caught your eye.

suguru mirrored you, sliding his eyes over your figure and your disheveled look, feeling his dick growing more, his cheeks flushing as he slowly puts his hand over his bulge, making eye contact with you.

a lump was caught in his throat, his chest rising and falling so fast like he just came back from a run.

he needed you, or he was going to go fucking insane.

"do you want to fuck?"

[thalwri]

STUFF ME!

synopsis: your mission to collect intel on an auction seems to be going well until sylus catches an unexpected jealous streak.

warnings: porn no plot, couch sex, creampie, super loud possessive sex

wc: 1,2k

sylus was not a jealous man. he wasn’t.

he knew himself as a well assured person without much that could deter him. he knew you were capable of handling yourself well in any situation and that you were loyal to him just as he was to you.

but for some reason he couldn’t figure out why he felt a small agitating tick in his neck when he watched your flirt with an auctioneer to gather information for him. the way you smiled at him, the fact that his grimy hands touched you on your arm, his mere presence within your vicinity– it was maddening.

and that was why– just a floor above the auction hall in your hotel suite– he was balls deep inside you.

you hadn’t even managed to reach the bedroom before your clothes slipped off, your lips were attached to each other, and your hands wandered all over to places only you two had the privilege of touching.

your nails were deep enough to make sylus’ back bleed for how hard he was ploughing into you. his face was buried in your pretty breasts, swollen with arousal and slick from his tongue sucking harsh love bites onto you, bounced with each slap of your hips snapping together.

“sy– wait–“ you hiccuped but your pleas fell to deaf ears. you were overstimulated, overwhelmed and yet so hungry for more.

that relentless goal to drill his cock into you and stuff you until you were only capable of saying his name drove you insane. you didn’t think he’d get this jealous. you didn’t even know it was possible.

“i didn’t like– ah– how he was looking at you.” halfway through the route to painting you with his cum for the second time, sylus’s jealousy had long faded. now he was just relishing in enjoying you– enjoying the process of bringing you to exhaustion just from pleasuring you.

he gave your lips a long sloppy kiss, imagining torturing your clit with his tongue and feeling your walls tighten around his fingers. he knew how much you loved it, and he loved seeing you squirm. your tongues swirled and bumped, leaving you both so wet and hot.

“wanted– fuck, sy– wanted you to–“ you were babbling at that point reaching orgasm number three, all while feeling empty because he decided to punish you by cumming on you instead of deep inside knowing how much you loved it. he was being so, so cruel. leaving you so soaked with your only way of leaking on him is with your own slick and the ring of cream decorating his thick cock.

your back arched just as he bullied his tip consistently at that deliciously vicious pace right on your sweet, sensitive spot. and yet, it felt so tender at the same time. his lips peppered your skin like butterflies tickling your skin, his thumbs massaged your hips while his grip tightened in the gradual slip to lose control. 

“so warm,” his hips pounded into yours at your favourite angle to the point where his heavy sacks were slapping your skin, making that familiar wet plap! plap! plap! noise with the squelches of your soaked pussy being rammed into. “you looked so good tonight, sweetie.”

you couldn’t do anything other than moan out, clawing your nails on his back, fruitlessly sucking on the muscle of his shoulder to not be so loud. the walls weren’t that thick and if room service came by to deliver the meals you had preordered earlier that night, they’d hear the most obscene sounds imaginable. 

the most lewd cries and babbling rambles escaping your pretty lips.

“gonna– gonna cu– god, please sy!” you whined as your walls clenched around his cock for the nth time that night. if your teeth weren’t clamped onto his shoulder you wouldn’t have seen him almost vibrate from the feeling of your pussy almost sucking the cum right out of him. 

“don’t worry– f-fuck–“ he moaned, slowly drawing back to plough his cock back into your weeping cunny. now he was just being mean. his eyes were slowly rolling back as he neared his edge. “ ‘m close too.”

it was just too good to pull out, too good to torture you more and more when he could sink deep in you nice and snug and decorate your walls like a fucking picasso. he just knew that image would beat any form of art. and that was just a loud reminder of how he was completely at your mercy. everything you wanted, he would give.

if his eyes could form heart shapes, he’d be the most love drunk, pussy drunk sucker that would do anything and everything for you. he wanted to spend hours tending to your needs and desires and satiating your insatiable greed for him.

his hand reached down to your aching clit to mercilessly rub circles and pinch at it like his favourite toy. a whimper slipped through your lips from the friction of your wetness between your clit and his fingers. if his relentless pounding wasn’t enough to tip you over the edge you were sure the stimulation to your raw bud would make you pass out.

your babbles turned into complete incomprehensible nonsense mixed with your lewd, slutty moans sounding like a symphony to sylus, just enough to give you one final thrust to bring you to an intense, explosive climax.

a hoarse cry ripped from your throat as your head threw back from the sheer pleasuring force, driving you into a pleasure-fuelled craze. not seconds after, thick hot cum spurted into you like a current washing into a shore.

your fluttering cunny took his seed squeezing around his cock to milk all of it out of him until he shot countless blanks. sylus continued to pound his cum deep into you, fucking you both through your orgasms.

felt so fucking good– so disrespectfully raw and nasty that you felt your stomach tighten and your hips buck against his, squelching the excess cum all over the couch. 

as the thrill began to ebb away, your breathless pants evened out. you moved your hands to stroke sylus’ back in bliss, kissing all the areas you brutally marked and bit him. sylus gently returned the gesture with his massages around your hips, cock still hard, twitching and throbbing, leaking his cum into you.

“i got intel,” you murmured. he groaned into your neck, and indication for you to say more. “the auction’s a dud. the weapons are all rip offs.”

a deep chuckle rumbled into your skin. “knew it.” his grip on your hips tightened as he readjusted his position on the couch to throw your legs onto you before trapping you beneath him with his cock twitching with fervent desire.

“good job, sweetie,” he pecked your lips with satisfaction then kissed you again, swiping your swollen lips with his tongue. “i think i’ll take care of getting intel from now on.”

it was safe to say you weren’t going to go back to that auction. or leave the suite until you were stuffed to the brim.

a/n: lemme feed you guys some good straight up smut

[redcherrykook]

──𐙚 think i need someone older (s & f)

olderBoyfriend!Jungkook x inexperienced!reader

────୨ৎ────

content: some plot first, loss of virginity, age gap of 9 years (he´s 30), thigh humping, little dry humping too, cowgirl, he talks her through it, dom!jungkook, "sweet girl, baby, love", "gguk" lowkey insecure reader, praise, making out, breast play, clit play, creampie, unprotected, hickies on him, big c!ck Jungkook, small karaoke session, he´s whipped and wants to take care of her, short mention of alcohol (bc of that fucking bar he has omg), allusions to reader being short, she's very feminine

note from cherry: i tried to do justice to the people who wanted this, i hope you´re satisfied mwah! sooo sorry if it´s not giving lmao writing this was lowkey exhausting, also sorry for typos as always

────୨ৎ────

Jeon Jungkook is exactly like his preferred alcoholic beverage; whiskey. strong, rich, smooth, smells like oak and a hint of vanilla caramel. Much like your introduction to the drink, you met this man in a bar.

A real man- none of those barely twenty-year olds that paraded around in their sagged sweatpants and with a bright tap of unlimited unopened snapchats lighting up the dark corners of the bar. Jungkook is pure masculinity, a chest so full with security, so grounded in his abilities that it was practically impossible to ignore how his large, brown galaxy eyes focused on your face, zeroing in on your cupid´s bow while you licked the stinging remains of your moscow mule away- he paid for it, of course.

Once the enticing conversation that felt almost comically easy faded, you expected him to try and take you to his house- mansion, as he revealed in a sidetracked sentence. Although you were looking forward to seeing the small metal pearls below and over his eyebrow move as they crinkle in pleasure, the tight ropes of virginity had not yet been released in your 21 years of living. Shackles that keep you tied down- as promised out of your own, admittedly senseless morality, not to be opened by a stranger. The key to your cuffs belonged to a lover.

It was unforeseeable, nevertheless natural for him to droop his heavily tattooed arm around your waist while escorting you out of the establishment. The sleeve of his white button down folded up along his forearm for you to see the beauty of his skin, wondering just how many more of those carefully crafted works of art he´s hiding beneath the business casual attire.

Once engulfed in the harsh, bitter wind that itaewon possesses, his arm only drew you in closer, so near in fact, you were able to notice a small scar on his cheek, one you hadn´t been able to notice in the curse of a dimly lit place. The more your eyes adjusted to him, so grew your anger at the lighting inside your place of first meeting- it had done an injustice to the man you had already been disgustingly attracted to, stole the wholehearted, inescapable allure of such a mature presence.

The gentleman looks down into your awaiting eyes, only to ask if he may have your number, upon your agreement, he proceeded to tell you that he would be walking you home, wanting you to arrive safely since it must be dangerous for a woman to walk the streets of a party district at 2 am in the morning.

That encounter was four months ago, and only a month after that initial conversation, he had completely taken over you. Swallowed you whole in just how well he treated you.

Insistent of using his black card to buy you anything you remotely showed liking in, dedicated to communication, random flowers that showed up at your office and a constant offer of a ride in his luxurious black mercedes-benz GT63s; no matter how long it took- even if it was a inconvenience, sometimes taking longer to get to you than it would have taken you to simply retort to public transport.

"I told you i´d make it for you, didn´t I baby? hm?" his velvet smooth voice rings, from how he´s standing, with his body pressed against your back, towering over you, you could feel the hardened muscles of his torso meeting you. His large, slim hands reach to either side of your waist, to the glass filled with ice that you´re holding in between your own, gently removing them to resume the task that you were occupied with. Your eyes glance to the bulging of his bicep, that loose, casual tshirt did nothing to hide just how big he had gotten due to his newfound hobby.

you whine- almost, biting down on your lower lip to prevent just that from happening, "thank you gguk" you say, turning to peck the very muscle that´s invading your line of sight. He hums, a low, satisfied sound from the back of his throat.

"c´mere baby" patting one of his muscular thighs, his eyes drift to your figure walking towards him, iced tea in hand, just like he had made it for you. Sweet, light, refreshing, much like your presence in his life. Almost like a sign from the stars that his hearts content was somewhere, bundled in the form of a shorter girl with eyes that could entrance any sailor- far less siren like, no, wide with love and purity. Just what he had yearned for in any women he had met before you-whether tangled in meaningless sheets or involved in a month long, semi serious relationship, Jungkook was yet to cross paths with the one woman that would make him turn so desperate, he would have begged for their happiness on his knees. It might be romantic, even a tad dramatic to admit that from the very first word that left your pink glossed lips, he knew better than anyone else that he was in deep, deep trouble. Upon seeing the curve of your waist, hearing that soft, lulling voice, that embarrassingly obvious fact only intensified after finding out just how delightful you truly were, it made him want to rip his hair out- do anything in the possibility of his grip to see even a glimpse of your smile, of that lighthearted, cheerful giggle you let out regularly. He was drawn in my your feminine nature, by the way you let yourself fall into his caring embrace.

He´s quickly directed back to reality as soon as your legs make it to either side of the thigh he had patted earlier, a familiar position for this equally familiar occasion. Muscle memory sets in for him, grabbing the large karaoke remote to hand to you while he turns the microphone on. "Can you sing something to me first?" the question sets his bunny smile off, nodding instantly "Sure love, chose a song for me" he says. Your mind floods with ideas, but you settle for a song you´ve heard him hum millions of times, mindlessly going about.

"Malibu nights?", jungkook questions excitedly while the instrumental sets in, he knew the answer, but his heart swelled with joy at the notice you took to this song. After all, he loved to sing. Another layer to him that has you melting, growing into the embodiment of love that is endlessly cherishing what little fractions were revealed to your eyes in each fleeting moment. His honey voice reaches beautiful highs and lows you can only compare to something angelically otherworldly in nature.

It made you want to know just how deep he could growl, how far his sounds can drop with the dirty nothings you would love to have whispered in your ear. You felt filthy for letting your mind wander to such extends when all he did was sing, lulling you into drunken harmony with him. Still, you consciously lean back into his body, letting him wrap his arms around your waist, encircling it with his vanilla oak scent.

During the past four months, you were doomed to have to shatter his hopes, reveal the truth that somehow felt shameful ; that you´re fully untouched. Nothing further than a bad makeout had yet graced your skin, it made you feel even smaller admitting something so vulnerable to a man that carries almost an entire decade of experience more. Much to your comfort, his hands found the curve of your cheeks immediately, telling you that there is nothing to be embarrassed about, he would hand you the full control, you set the pace.

Internally, Jungkook drooled at the idea that the woman of his dreams was to have her first, the most memorable, sexual encounter with him. Your body belonged to him, devoted to only remember the touch of his lips, the curve of his cock, how he would mold you to his shape without the intrusion of another man having tried the same. Not that he would have wanted you any less if that had not been the case, but for one time in your relationship, he was oh so selfish to want you all to himself, aroused that your first person induced orgasm was going to be his and his alone. The prophecy fulfilled when on one, alcohol induced night a week ago, two of his long, tattooed digits made their entrance into your tight hole, relentlessly filling you until your soft thighs shook, until after your third high, he licked his fingers clean and let you taste yourself on his tongue.

The tunes get lost in silence, he sets the microphone down, having felt the warmth of your mound beneath the tights while you tried to subtly gain friction, scooting back on him. His palms find your thighs, tightly flushed around his muscle. They´re shamelessly wandering up and down the thin material that prevents his hot, calloused fingers from feeling up your smooth skin.

"Wanna do that again, love?" jungkook mutters, his pillowed lips latch on to your exposed neck, right at the gentle curve that paints the beginning of your shoulder, soft, faint kisses that leave a trail of barely sounding sighs behind.

"Do what?" feigning innocence to avoid internal humiliation, you ask him, knowing he wouldn´t let it go, not until you told him to. The sound of his husky chuckle sounds right on the sweetspot of your neck, he sucks a little harder, encouraging you with the constant rub to your thighs. Instinctively, the heat inside your panties grows as do the intensity of your desperate moans, your hips push back on his thigh, seeking the solidity that grants you the portion of satisfaction your needy button longed for

"that" he simply says, having found an anchor in your hips now, your plaid skirt bunches around his hands, slowly- tortuously so when met with the deliberate little humps he helps you to complete on him. You practically whimper once his tongue glides across your skin, dragging from your shoulder, up your neck, intertwined with his open mouth, loud kisses that don´t seem to stop.

"that´s it... do you even know how cute you sound?" he smiles, and you feel it, you feel the smile rise to his lips with every additional kiss, every noise you grant the hungry male. "gguk, wanna see you" you whine- the high pitched noise has him twitching in his training joggers, semi errect but about to stand stiff, just as noticeably as that night seven days ago, having formed a huge tent inside his slacks, there was no hiding his attraction, no use to conceal his utter need for you.. nor his size, not that he would be capable to anyways.

To your request, he helps you turn around, now facing that dim glow on your slightly embarrassed features, taking note of how you nibble on your lip with every grind forward, "that feel good sweet girl?" he asks, ghosting his lips over yours faintly, just enough to see how much you need it, "mhm.. really good" you mumble back, chasing after his lips that he can't deny you of any longer, the kiss is gentle, but nourishes your heat further

"wanna feel even better?" the pit in your lower abdomen grows at the tone of his voice, something much stronger is seeping through his system, something that screams dominance, you nod- naturally wanting to get lost in it. Jungkook's hands stop assisting you, instead, they take to your shirt, "can i take this off of you baby?" he waits for that little hum of yours before swiftly tugging it away from your form

It's almost frightening how quickly your mind reverts back to wanting to run away and hide, your arms fly across your chest, everything you felt so good doing stops and he stops too,

"don't hide, you're perfect, you're so fucking sexy" his eyes trace your skin, hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your arms away, revealing your chest hugged into your bra, and jungkook almost forgets how to breathe properly,

he groans- groans that delicious deep noise that makes your head spin, even more so when you feel his appreciation for your body, hands pulling you closer by the waist so can bury his head into your cleavage. "so beautiful" he mutters, darting his tongue out to lick the slit between your tits, "wanna touch all over you, make you feel so good" he says, finding the clasp on your back to open it with one hand. a silent reminder of his experience, one you did not have in the slightest but somehow, it felt even better that way

"mh.. feels good gguk" you can't help but moan at the forgein sensation, his lips wrap around your hardend nipple, groaning sweetly while he sucks on it, carefully swiping his tongue over the little nub- your other breast is securely fitted into his palm, thumb playing with it just like he does with his mouth, mirroring every little flick

"feels so good doesn't it? you smell so good baby" his lips move to do the same to your other breast, switching sides with a trail of saliva sticking to his lips,

In that moment you feel so sensitive, so lost in his secure hold and at the same time, so small in his skillful dominance that you simply relish in the feeling, grinding your soaked core into his thigh over and over, long, hasty drags over his muscle while his lips work magic on your skin, squeezing a little tighter, sucking a little harder because every stuttered whimper fuels his urge to take care of you

"that's it baby.. keep going, you're so good" your hands find his dark chocolate locs, threading through it with the need to ground yourself. it feels as though every time your clit meets him, instead of getting you closer to sensational relief it adds to the ache, feeds into your desire to take and take more of him, be consumed by his strength

"want this off please" your excited fingers fiddle with the hem of his oversized shirt, earning a smug grin from your boyfriend as he detaches from you, discarding of his top

Although you have seen him shirtless before, it's impossible not to salivate at the sight, at his toned broad torso that curves into a unfairly small waist, large arms flexing when he reaches for your tits again, massaging them once more,

"like what you see pretty?" he says, teasingly cocking his head and biting at the metal ring on the corner of his lip, you blush- the slick drools out even more between your thighs, "so hot gguk, annoyingly hot" he chuckles, joining the sound with your airy giggle, but he sucks in a breath as soon as you shift in his lap, now fully straddling him, naked chest pressed to his with your head burried in his neck, "hmm.. what are you up to baby?" his hands find your back, soothing himself not to pounce on you because the strain in his pants is staggering his breath, your errect nipples are rubbing against his skin and it´s making him shiver, desperate, oh so desperate for you

but he knows all to well not to overwhealm your sweet, virgin body, to let you take all the time you need until he can feel every breath of your submission

"wanna feel you gguk, can i?" jungkook almost purrs at how innocently you ask, suppressing the need to grind his hips into your heat from below, "of course baby, anything you want. it's all yours"

he meant it, every vein cursing through his body belongs to you, working, pumping blood through him for the sole purpose of loving you, taking care of you. "all mine?" you hum, aroused by the confidence he emitts, your hands trace up his torso, creating a small distance between your bodies to feel up the hard lines on his abdomen with laboured breath of your own, lips finding every small patch of his neck that make him hum, make his sighs of pleasure slowly turn into groans "all yours my love" the answer wasn't necessary, not when you already started to leave traces of you on his skin, faint, red bruises on his neck that he's impatiently waiting to run around with

"you feel so fucking good, need to feel more of you, will you let me sweet girl?" his words are intoxicating, washing away any doubt or fear and replacing it with a intense craving of sexual desire "please gguk i'm so wet for you" the sound reaches his ears and shuts down his entire system, his hands carelessly rip down your skirt and stockings, leaving you in those tiny grey boyshorts that he looses his mind over "baby how did you hide all this from me?" his hands caress your thighs, your hips, up your waist and to the soft flesh of your stomach with hungry, insatiable eyes that long for a taste of your every inch

"all yours" you mimic him, sounding just like him with your sultry, shy voice, already wanting to remove his own bottoms which he catches on, ridding himself of the nuisance "yeah, all mine. this is all mine" he says, smiling softly

Your drenched underwear meets his errection as he pulls you back on his lap, hands sitting on your waist, you look so vulnerable- almost fragile in his grip, shyly moaning because the curve of his cock presses into your skin like it was molded for you, needy folds clinging to your underwear and your clit throbs- throbs begging for another taste of friction

"I don't know how to do any of this" he suddenly he hears you mumble, seeing how you're playing with your fingers that sit on his lower abdomen, your head is turned to them, a slight pout decorates your features

jungkook feels the need to sob- to take away whatever is making that pretty head of yours feel so threatened even though you're the best thing he has ever felt, the only person he ever wants to lay his hands on ever again

"that's okay baby, hey, look at me for a second will you?" you comply, craving his lead, his security to catch you, most of all that gentle, masculine dominance that floods your senses effortlessly

"you're doing so so well pretty, you don't have to worry okay? i'll take you through it, make you feel so good" he says, cupping your cheeks in his palms while sitting up a little to press kisses to your nose, your forhead, your lips and cheeks,

unable to contain your smile, you nod, gaining back the heartbeat in your willing feminity to let him take care of you, "thank you baby" you say with upmost honesty, pressing your lips to his in a kiss of adoration

"mhm.. come on, let's get this off of you love" his whipers lingers on you, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear before pulling it off your lifted legs, he moans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick attached to the cloth and glistening over your feminity

"so beautiful, do you even realize how lucky i am? how thankful i am that this sweet, sweet girl is all mine to love?" he says softly, so softly that your eyes gloss a little bit, feeling so utterly vulnerable in front of him, so sexy in the most feminine way possible. blush creeps up your cheeks, his hands find your inner thigh, dancing around the sensitive skin "you're too sweet gguk"

he returns your smiles, lifting your hand to kiss it before intertwining it with his own, lacing his fingers into you because being apart from your body feels like torture in this moment. but you're eyes are busied elsewhere, locked on the large outline that stands rock solid insides of his calvins, a small, wet patch that indicates his arousal decorating the very top

"go ahead baby, take it off" not needing to be told twice, you help yourself to his boxers, tugging them down in one, slow motion that leaves him biting his bottom lip, he pushes them down to his ankles, kicking them off

both of you sit like this for a moment that feels like eternity, raw, bare and without a chance to hide in front of the other's desperate gaze, comfort, pure love that's inseparable with a pulsing you can no longer ignore, not when he´s so big, so broad and decorated with a vein alongside his curved shaft

he grabs at the flesh of your ass, pulling you to sit your gushing cunt over his stiff length, cursing at feeling how soft you are, how much arousal truly spills from your body

"you're so.. big gguk.. m'scared" your whine makes him coo, stroking your head while a possessive grip that stays on your hip, his left hand tethering to your hair in the meantime, "don't be, you were made for me sweet girl, made for it" your head falls to his shoulder, arching your torso into his body with a small hump to his leaking cock, "that's right baby, feel it, feel how hard i am for you" spurred on by his encouragement, you tighten your hands on his bicep, rolling your hips over his, his entire shaft is coated in your essence, angry pink tip meeting your swollen clit repeatedly, so much so you feel your thighs shake, feel an impending orgasm waiting to flow over your body,

Ripping yourself of that sensation, not yet- you tell yourself

"want it gguk, want it so bad" jungkook hums, kissing your neck messily, cock throbbing beneath you, "want what pretty? talk to me" he says, his own desire to claim you all to himself becomes unbareable with each passing second that you stay put

You shift forward again, whining, "please gguk" he groans, twitching at how desperate you sound, entranced with how needy you've become for him, he didn't even have to make you beg for it, you just did

effortlessly perfect for him, "come on, tell me my love" but he has to hear more, he needs to hear the dirty confession falling from your pure lips

"want your cock jungkook, please" there it is- that submissive, whiny plead for him, it makes him feel alive, throwing his head back on the black leather couch momentarily "good girl, fuck baby you're so cute" he praises, taking the base of his cock into his hand but something stalls him, "do you want me to eat you out first? make it nice and slippery?" his teeth graze your ear, kissing over the shell of it, "no gguk i want it, want it now"- another nibble, "anything for you"

Your hips lift, hovering your tight, clenching hole over his thick manhood, hands sweaty and grasping at his firm shoulders, he spots your anxiety, wishing nothing more but to ease it

"sit down on it baby, it's gonna sting okay? but you're so good, I know you can take it" more, more reassuring words that you drink in, just as you sink down on it, wincing as your brows meet in frustration

"hurts.." you mutter, fingers digging into his tanned skin- you can't bring yourself to move down further, clenching your muscle tightly around only his fat tip that feels like it's splitting your drooling pussy open. his hands find your back again, "ssh baby.. i know... but you'e such a good girl, i know you can take every inch of my cock"

It takes a couple more kisses to your shoulder for you to sink down fully on his length, painfully so- having your hands claw into him, your lips trembling in confusion of why it feels so good to have him stuffed into you so deeply you can feel it inside your tummy, stretching into every crevice of your gummy walls. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before, fulfilling, deep pressure that you could get lost in- bathe in

Jungkooks feelings have synchronized with yours- he's unsure where you end or where he begins but you're clamped down on his cock, your skin already wet with sweat as it sticks to his unforgivingly, moans and shaky breaths fill in the silence, a unspoken question lingers, awaits for you to answer it

until you do, taking his large hands to your hips before pressing yours against his full pecks, a glint of confidence spites your eyes that makes jungkook want to hear you cry out his name over and over again

"oh fuck- baby you-" you whine, rolling your hips forward, mouth parted when you feel him move inside of you, slolwy, deeply "that's it my love, take your time, so sexy like this" his voice is far from stable, you moan again- the grinding becomes faster, assisted by his hands that pull you onto him just the way you like it- just like he said, you have it all, its all yours

"what- what if you can't come?" he needs to contain a laugh at that- the question is so absurd to him, so unimaginable that it makes him slightly angry why you couldn't understand that he could cum from seeing you alone, from one kiss to your chaste lips- he's already twitching at how sloppy, how loud your cunt is around him

"I almost came from seeing how needy that little pussy of yours is, you feel how hard i am don't you? all because of you baby" he mutters in response, you flourish at it, getting familiar with the grinding motion but you need more, you deserve more- so you start bouncing on him- up and down, slamming your own, curved hips down onto him. he's mesmerized by your pleasure, watching how your brows are knitted, how your lips leak with drool and airy moans, how your tits bounce- he gropes at them, cupping them greedily, his hands itch for your skin, for you to let yourself go on him

"good girl.. look at you, a natural at riding my cock- don't even need my help" you shake, exhaustion already growing in your eager hips but you cannot stop, you don´t want to stop taking every inch of his cock back into you, lifting your hips only to take him back in, "you're filling me so much" you moan into his mouth, having formed a unity with his lips that welcome you like home, "just like that pretty, little humps for me" he mumbles back, interlacing his tongue with yours

he tugs at your nipples with his inked fingers, reciprocrating the moaning, he mirrors you, throbs when you clench, explores your mouth when you part for him impatiently. it leaves you to no choice but to become his own reflection, your hips ground themselves in a stable rhythm as your fingertips roll over his own nipples, unexpectedly he whimpers, bites down into your shoulder cautiously

"That's it baby, driving me fucking crazy" he grinds his hips up into you, unlocking a feeling of bliss that leads you to errupt into pornographic moans, your hand flings to muffle them, eyes rolling back into your skull,

Jungkook is making love to you, letting you reach a state you would not have been able to imagine, not even in the slightest when all you have ever felt are your fingers hastily, uncoordinated on your bundle of nerves. still, he can feel you´re holding back, afraid to be loud- to take up space, but he's having none of it

"Dont be embarrassed sweet girl, you sound addicting, so cute, give me every little noise" sinful sensuality floods you with his encouragement, "gonna make you cum for me, deserve it don't you think?" you don't- in fact, you can't think, long gone into pleasure while his hips piston into you from below,

he slaps your clit gently, your walls clench from how good that feels, "i asked you something baby" he repeats, distracted by your droopy eyes that threaten to shut him out at any moment, "answer me sweet thing, do you deserve to cum hm?" he taunts, rutting his hips with a slower but harder motion, force that hits your g-spot- reels you back into the moment, you head moves frantically "yes, yes please i need to cum"

Jungkook groans in satisfaction, "that's right.. best little cunt, all mine" he goes back lapping at your chest, licking his way to any patch of skin that your addictive smell lurs him to- he feels all over your skin, sneaking his fingers to where your bodies morph into one so he can draw tight circles on your clit, stimulating you to cry out his name,

"Jungkook.. i- i can't stop it i-" you stutter, thighs tensing around him, the feeling is so overwhealming that you can't keep your head up, can't warn him more than that since you're already letting your dew sprinkle out- letting the shocks roll over your body

"just like that.. make a mess on my cock baby, you did so well, come for me" he rasps, his heavy balls release into your tightness at the thought that crosses his mind- the knowledge that he had made you orgasm, that your virginity belonged to him solely,

It embraces the both of you, fills you with a sense of euphoria that none of you wish to end

As the high washes over you, you break out into a small shudder, aware of his milky cum that splurts your walls white, aware of the oversensitive area between your legs that jungkook's fingers slowly stop touching, landing to your unstable and sore thighs instead.

his heavy breathing is woven into yours, contrasting how slowly, lazily he manages to caress your naked skin, finding comfort in your warm body

the small whisper of his name catches him off guard, he hums, pulling back to cup your face, "are you okay my love? feel good?" his eyes rank over your tired features, glowing before his very own eyes,

"so okay. I love you" you breathe out, pressing a kiss to his button nose,

"I love you too baby, so proud of you" his nose nuzzles against yours, "you were so so good"

your shy giggle lights up his face like it always does, "thank you.. for taking my virginity... felt so good" you mumble with your bottom lip tucked away between your teeth- it awakens his soft- still nestled cock, his hands grip your ass- feeling the flesh spill beneath his fingers "thank you for your trust baby, but god, you're gonna make me lose it" jungkook says into your neck, nose tracing the delicate line of your shoulder,

"why? is it too much?" unbeknownst to you, Jungkook rolls his eyes in annoyance, how could you be so fucking adorable?

"Let me show you why" he answers, making your head perk up a little,

"Wanna lay down for me pretty? I can give you another one, as many as you want. You deserve it, wanna spoil you, fuck i wanna give you everything you want" faintly audible as he's speaking into your skin, having already laid you down onto the cold cushions of his unreasonably expensive leather couch.