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envy-of-the-apple · 17 days ago

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Pass it Forward

Dark!Sung Jin-woo x reader

Synopsis: You gain a new client. Even though you're sure you've never met him in your life, he feels familiar

note: commissioned by a very lovely anon. ty so so much for being patient!!!!!

Word Count: 5.4k

(Warnings: implied kidnapping, implied drugging, stalking, violence)

You never wanted to be a hunter.

Fighting magic beasts, doing raids, getting caught in red gates was all too much for your liking. Even if you did have an awakening, you doubt you’d go get tested. Besides, you weren’t a fan of hunters to begin with. You found most egotistical, violent. The higher-ranking ones especially thought they were above the law and above social order. You weren’t a fan of hunters.

It’s a shame that your job revolves around them.

Dungeons have created multiple industries. You may never get to explore one, but admiring the multiple finds hunters bring in is more than enough for you.

It’s nothing more than a glorified appraisal shop. Still, you enjoy your job, because you’re introduced to finds no one has ever seen before. The store is a little on the higher-end, so your customers are mostly B and low tier A-ranked hunters, each looking to see what their finds are worth.

It’s a nice job, the pay is wonderful, and if you can look past working with hunters directly, it’s not all that bad.

There’s a tap on your desk. You glance up.

She gives you a grin.

“We got five new swords.”

“Five new swords?” you repeat, staring back at your desk. “Amazing.”

She scoffs.

“C’mon be more excited!” Your co-worker whines. “It’s four more than my last haul.”

“I am.” You assure, “Honestly! What grade were they?”

“Bronze, mostly.” She deflates. “But they were all from a B-rank dungeon.”

“A B rank dungeon.” You repeat. She frowns. You send her an apologetic smile.

“Ignore my tone. I’m just exhausted. That’s amazing.”

“Don’t bother, no one gets impressed when they have your numbers.” She sighs before immediately perking up. “Before I forget: your special customer’s waiting for you.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re getting up from your seat.

“Stop making it sound dirty.”

“I’m not!” She argues, but there’s a grin on her face that follows you as you step out of the room and into the gallery.

The gallery is breathtaking, as always. Most of the displays are the ones you set up. You can’t help but admire them as you pass through rows of gauntlets and knives and crystals. It’s your work and your pride.

He’s in the same spot as always. You spot his blue hoodie a mile away, face always covered by a mask. The routine is the same as last time. You press a smile onto your face, stopping right behind the glass case.

“Hello.” You say politely. “How are you doing?”

As always, there’s no response. Instead, he’s placing a tiny sack onto the glass. Usually, he’s hauling around bigger items. His dungeon raid must not have gone too well this time.

You peek into the sack.

Two purple essence stones stare back at you.

It’s only customary to bring out the loupe, to check the weight, the density. You already know these are S-rank essence stones. You’ve only admired these from behind the glass, but to actually touch and inspect one? It’s almost too much.

“Okay,” you breathe, placing down the last crystal. “Each one is about 2.5 million won. Would 5.5 million be enough to part with these?”

Unlike the other hunters, he doesn’t negotiate or groan or boast. He gives a tiny nod, so subtle you had to actively look at his face.

Not like you could considering it’s buried in that mask. One of your most tolerable customers, and yet you barely even see his face. The only thing you can see of him are those eyes. It’s a familiar kind of blue. His eyes remind you of a hunter you once knew.

“Great.” You pull away with a smile. “Please wait for me to get my manager.”

It’s only ten minutes later when your manager is cheerfully sending the hunter away, still clutching the stones in his hands.

“Everytime,” he sighs, and you watch the hunter’s disappearing back. “I don’t know how you do it, but keep it up.” He pats your shoulder.

You smile, but you don’t know why this hunter keeps visiting this store, especially when he has such high-end items. You don’t know why he insists on working with you and only you. You don’t know why he hides his face, barely even looking at you.

He’s an odd one, but which hunter isn’t?

On your off days, you visit the outdoor mall that’s just outside of the city.

It’s a cute place. During hot summer days, they have free snow cones and ice cream, sales are almost always plentiful. You can spend hours milling around, walking from shop to shop, only to end up with nothing.

You don’t mind it. It’s fun to waste your time on nothing. You let your mind wander from shop to shop, stopping to pick up trinkets and Knick-knacks, only to place them down when they’re far too expensive.

One booth catches your eye. A lady with a practiced customer-service smile sits right behind it.

Awakened? Take the free hunter’s exam to find out!

They’ve even taken malls now, hm?

Hunter’s have completely overtaken culture. They’re everywhere: in media, podcasts, celebrities, actors, singers. Even D-list hunters are famous. They are completely untouchable by both the law and the public.

When will people finally realize that’s a bad thing?

There’s a scream.

You barely turn around before you see the truck. It’s wobbly, unbalanced. The driver had clearly lost control, he’s wildly honking in his panic, you can see his pale and horrified face, barely obscured by the dirty glass.

The truck is headed straight towards you.

You try to move. You can’t. You’re frozen. Your feet have planted themselves on the ground, too stubborn to run. Fight or flight, most ask. What would you do?

The answer is clear, now. Freeze.

You blink, and suddenly, you’re not on the road anymore. The sounds of panic feel more distant.

You moved? Teleported?

There’s a hand on your back, steadying you. You catch a glimpse of a blue hoodie.

He’s not wearing his mask this time.

“Youー” You barely have time to think before he’s gone, jumping back into the fray. You’re left on the side of the building, watching as everyone else picks themselves up.

When you look down, your bag has fallen.

You never even got a chance to thank him.

Usually, the appraisal shop closes along with the usual work hours. Today, your boss had closed a big deal with a favored investor, and as a ‘valued’ employee, you had to stay behind.

By the time you were freed to go home, it was already dark.

You clutch your jacket closer towards your body, but it does nothing to stop your shivers. You can still remember the way that A-rank hunter looked at you. He never did anything. Never touched you, barely even spoke to you.

He just stared with those beady black eyes. When you met his gaze for too long, his mouth would spread into this sick smile that made you want to slink behind your oblivious boss.

It was horrible, you were just glad you got out when you could.

All hunters were egotistical assholes.

…Okay, you were being mean. Not all of them were horrible. You know a couple of C-rank healers who were the sweetest pair of girls you’ve ever met. There was also that D-rank kid who just started out and was already filled with so much motivation and charisma.

That one nameless hunter wasn’t all that bad.

You almost miss your step, narrowly avoiding stepping into a giant puddle as you think about that nameless hunter with the blue hoodie and the white mask. Blue eyes. You remember he had blue eyes.

Almost silver.

Pretty.

He never once gloated over his rank, now that you thought about it, you didn’t even know his rank. It had to be high. B maybe even A? He looked strong, the kind that carried his strength with his silence.

Also, he’d saved you. You can still remember the pulsing in your heart as the vehicle slowly careened it’s way to you, showing no signs of stopping, and you just stood there, stupid, idiotic, frozen. You’d be badly injured, or worse, if he hadn’t saved you.

Not all hunters are bad.

At least, he wasn’t bad.

Just then, it started drizzling.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, feeling the droplets hit your head, as you clumsily pulled over your jacket’s hood. You know there’d be a slight chance of rain today, yet you hadn’t brought an umbrella. You assumed that you’d be home before the storm.

You fiddle with your jacket a little more, unaware that you were the only person on the street. Usually, you’d be more aware of your surroundings, not so distant, thoughtful.

You don’t notice him until he grabs your arm.

You open your mouth, intent on screaming, but he’s faster, shirking a hand across your mouth to hush you into a pitiful whimper. You kick. It does nothing. He’s so much larger than you, pushing you forward until you’re trapped between him and the wall.

Panic, you can feel it clawing up your throat, into your chest. You can feel his hot breath into your ear, a rasp of a laugh.

“Shut up,” he snaps, impatient, angered and you can feel your heart sink even faster. “Wallet. Now.”

He loosens his grip on your arm, just a bit. When you flinch, he squeezes down even tighter. You wince.

“No funny business.” He demands. “Just reach into your pocket, nice n’ easy and—“

He releases his grip. Silent.

You stay there, facing the wall, eyes shut and shaking for what feels like hours.

Nothing happens.

Slowly, you blink your eyes open. You look to the left, then to the right.

The entire street is empty.

You don’t think. You don’t care what happened. You don’t care that it might be a trap. You just run. You race down the street, past the flickering lamps, running up your apartment stairwell. You don’t stop until you reach your apartment, shoving your keys into the slot and slamming the door closed.

When you’re sure you’re alone, when the only company you have is your rapid heartbeat, you sink down into your carpet and finally let yourself have a sob of relief.

Hours later, when you’re calmer, showered, warmer, tucked into your blankets and a good book, you’d think back to that incident as well as your assailants strange disappearance. Everything about that interaction was so odd.

Also, this may just be because of the panic, but you could have sworn your shadows were longer in the flickering lamplights.

You only see him again a month after the vehicle incident.

Your customer is in the same spot as always, right in the corner, always silently waiting for you to acknowledge him. He’s dressed differently this time. Instead of that iconic blue hoodie, he’s switched to a long black cloak. The only thing that remains of him was that stubborn mask that always kept him anonymous.

Before you can say anything, he’s already dropping his latest findings onto the table. The sack makes you recalibrate. Buffer.

You forget your words, silently reaching forward, aware of his eyes watching you the entire while.

You take the chance, just then, meeting his gaze. Silver clashes onto yours. They remind of you a weapon, a sword, a dagger. Dangerous.

You look back down again, staring at the treasure he brought you.

This time, he’d brought weapons and mana crystals. A ton of mana crystals. You immediately total it in your head, the numbers getting higher and higher. After putting the crystals in their designated piles, you start on the weapons. The smallest of the weapons is a tiny blade. It’s featherlight, you can barely feel it.

“Careful. It’s sharp.”

He’s never spoken before. You jump at his voice. Deep, quiet. It suits him.

You offer a tiny smile; it flutters on your mouth.

“I will.” You give.

You place it aside, tallying the total before reaching for the second smallest. An arrowhead with a tinted yellow metal. You balance it on your fingers, watching as a tiny drop of liquid balances along the arrow’s edge—poison. That would easily up the price for this.

“Thank you, by the way.” You start, still not looking at him. “For saving me, that day.”

As predicted, he’s silent, still as a statue. It’s more of a quirk than a flaw at this point. Out the corner of your eye, you swore you saw him stiffen, just the tiniest bit so you know he heard you.

Eventually, you finish tallying up the worth of each item, handing him the total. He examines the price, and when he deems it acceptable, he gives a slight nod. You pack away the mana crystals and the weapons, promising yourself you’d put the weapons in that open part of the gallery you’d always wanted to fill. You doubt your boss would mind you taking the space—especially since you’ve snagged such rare items.

You wait for him to accept the money and walk off. He reaches over the table, fingers itching to grab the packet.

Then, he hesitates.

“You get into a lot of trouble.” He suddenly says.

It’s not an invitation for conversation. It’s a fact. The sun is yellow. The trees are green. Your eyes drift up to meet his.

That same familiar blue.

You think he’s talking about the day he saved you on the street, but somehow, you feel like he knows about the mugger incident. How? Was he there? Was he watching you—

He takes the packet, slipping it into his cloak and turns away. You watch him until the doors shut behind him.

You’re blinking, and then you’re laughing. No way, you’re overthinking this way too much. Of course he didn’t know. He was just worried, like any normal person would. You needed to stop seeing the worst in people.

You ignore your shadows, the way they jumped when he was near. It was almost like they wanted to follow him out the door.

Once again, your boss asked you to work in the back.

You don’t mind the job, with rent reaching sky high prices, you know you needed it. You just wished he’d give you more of a heads up when he told you about the amount of work you’d have to do. You highly doubt you’d be able to organize all the dungeon artifacts in a few hours.

At least, he was nice enough to give you a helper.

“What is this?” Your co-worker asks. She’s one of the newer ones, hired just last month, so she’s less of a competent independent worker bee and more of a baby you have to keep your eyes on. It didn’t really matter if she wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, you needed extra hands.

You look up, spotting her messing with a grade-A trinket.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.” You say, glancing back down to your own pile. “The last person who did disappeared.”

“What?” She drops it back in the pile, her voice is pitchy.

Your mouth curls into a smile.

“Kidding kidding.” You tell her. “But, seriously, grab the gloves over there before you start handling things. Most times, the hunters take care of runes and poisons, but they might miss something every one in a while.”

She nods, the color returning to her face, before strapping on the gloves. Again, not the brightest crayon, but at least she’s a good listener. You can work with that.

Above you two, the TV is running. Typically, you’d like to work in silence, maybe a podcast running if your boss allows it. However, the newbie insisted on playing the news, claiming there’s a new S-rank hunter that’s being revealed tonight. You heard about that. Although you were also curious, you felt it was a bit too soon for yet another S-rank to be announced. Wasn’t the last one unveiled just under a year ago?

“I’m excited!” She pipes up with little prompting. “It’d be nice to see people excited for once, instead of upset of all the gates forming. At the same time, they are kinda’ getting to be a hassle. One popped up on my way from work, two weeks ago. It took me three hours to get home and I live thirty minutes away. Oh, and this other time, my boyfriend got stuck in a subway because a gate had formed right on the tracks. Can you believe that? Honestly, I—“ You hum along, half-listening to her ramblings as you find your eyes drifting to the screen.

It was one of those old-fashioned TVs, the ones that were getting more and more outdated with every passing year. The images were grainy, a bit hard to focus on until you squinted your eyes a bit.

Movement caught your eye. The camera was pointing right at the entrance of the Hunter’s Guild. The speakers were quieter than you’d liked, but you could hear the excited murmurings as the reporters talked to themselves of the newest S-rank hunter being revealed.

Even your colleague had quieted down, just in time to watch as the doors swung open.

You recognized him immediately.

For the first time, he wasn’t wearing that mask. His eyes were staring straight at the camera, his hands were up, his mouth was open. He was surprised. It was the first time you’d ever seen emotion on his face.

It’s a little funny: Remembering that a human being is human.

Cameras and lights flashed at him. He winced, backing away as people shouted ‘Sung Jin-woo!’ ‘Sung Jin-woo over here!’ ‘Sung Jin-woo have you already chosen a guild yet?’ ‘Sung Jin-woo are you—‘

“He looks like a model!” Your colleague gasped. “Was he in a movie or something? He seems a little familiar.”

You shrug, turning back to your work. Strangely, you weren’t too surprised that he was the S-rank everyone was frothing over the mouth for. He’d always struck you as odd, out of place, otherworldly.

Now, that you thought about it, you felt like you’ve heard his name before.

After his reveal, he doesn’t show up at your shop anymore.

He doesn’t need to. S-ranks have their own private tradesmen that give them better deals and ever greater packages. Those days of silently looking over the artifacts and essence stones he suspiciously hauls over your desk were long gone.

He’s famous now. Everyone knows Sung Jin-woo, the 10th Korean S-rank hunter. You don’t tell anyone he used to come to the shop, looking to sell his items. Firstly, you don’t think anyone would believe you. Secondly, it felt like your way of repaying him; he seemed like a pretty secretive guy.

Thirdly, it was like a secret for you: personally catering to an S-rank hunter was an honour. Despite how badly you think of hunters, the sheer magnitude of what an S-rank hunter is, is enough to even bowel you over.

Despite having not seeing him for months, you still see his existence all over your screen. The ant raid, the numerous dangerous gates popping up left and right, red gates, double dungeons. He’s been everywhere, doing everything.

He’s there, but he’s far away. Always in the back of your mind. A distant memory. You forget to pay attention to him, and eventually, he disappears.

Hunters are a weird group of people.

The D ranks are the most tolerable. They’re the most humble, down to Earth. They treat it like a job: just go in and out. C ranks are a little full of themselves, but they mostly leave people alone. High and mighty, think they’re on top of the world. B ranks are the same, but most have the skills to back it up.

Anyone higher than that…those are typically the problems.

“What’doya’ mean it’s only worth 150 million?” The hunter demands.

A-rank. You can tell from the quality of his armour. Also, from his demeanor, the way he eyes you like a pest. The way he knows that if he crushes you right now, he’d get away with it.

“I’m sorry, sir,” You say as softly as you can, “but I’m just repeating store policy. These essence stones are–”

“Bullshit.” He hisses, the gaps of his teeth clench into nothing. “I worked my ass off for this haul, and all I get for it is 150 million? What, so you can just gimme a shitty deal and I’m supposed just to accept it, Bitch?”

You knew nothing you would do would calm him down. Hunters are volatile creatures. They spend their days in caves, holed away from the rest of the world, fighting monsters beyond humane comprehension, and when they come home, society is expected to treat them like humans?

What kind of humans would willingly do that kind of work?

No, they were monsters. Just like the monsters they shred apart for jewels and crystals.

You don’t negotiate with animals.

It’s why you know there’s nothing you can do to prevent this from growing violent. Just by his look, you could tell he wasn’t even mad at you specifically. He was just walking around, waiting for someone to give him the tiniest reason.

And then, you fell into his trap.

Your manager was nowhere to be found. Your co-workers were all in the back, cowering from the yelling you know they can hear. No one is going to save you. You can’t even blame them. You’d do the same thing if you could.

He raises his fist, ready to strike. You can see his power, fire sparks in his fingers.

And then, something blue barrels into him.

It’s a flash, you barely catch it before it zips from behind you and launches at the man. He and the thing are both sent crashing into the back, smashing into the display sets.

It’s a bear. But it’s larger, almost looks like a hologram, even though you know it’s real. It’s pinning the man to the ground with force. You could feel it as it flew past you.

The bear roars. It’s loud enough that it rings your ears. You cover your ears, keeping your eyes open as you watch the man kick the bear off of him, scrambling to his feet.

“What the fuck!” He yells, staring at you with a deadly glare. “Are–are you some kinda’ summoner? Who the fuck are you?”

This wasn’t your doing, though. You couldn’t summon. You weren’t a hunter. When you look around, the shop is empty. By then, everyone had fled. There was no one close enough that was controlling this creature.

Which meant, whoever did that had the power to control beings far away….what kind of power was that?

“Who cares.” He spits in your direction. It lands by your feet. “It’s just a B-rank. I’m gonna rip your precious pet apart. And then, I’m comin’ after you.”

It didn’t matter. None of this mattered. You had to go. Earlier, this man just wanted to scare you a little. Now, it’s clear he wants to kill you.

Your legs scramble across the floor. Your heart is thudding loudly in your chest, and you can barely hear the sounds from the fight. There’s more growling, there’s a spark of pain in your leg. You feel hands, the ghost of fingers trailing over your jacket, your clothes, about to pull you back into the fray.

And then, everything’s gone.

The silence happens all too quickly. You don’t realize it until you’re pushing past the glass doors when you slip and cling onto the railing. You expect to feel scorching heat from the A-rank’s hands–the unbelievable power from a man who foolishly thinks he is God.

Instead, you feel nothing but a freezing, calming chill.

The shop is in total disarray. Dungeon loot worth thousands and thousands were scattered around like measly trinkets. The only things that were kept safe were the precious armor, each cemented into glass by a powerful rune. The bear was gone, the A-rank was unmoving on the ground, face-first into cracked cement.

Like a Monarch of destruction, he looms right in the center of it.

He’s turned away from you, but you know it’s him. You can recognize his features even from miles away. Sung Jin-woo is leaning over the body, once a monolith of destruction, now just as mortal as you are, inspecting it. You don’t have to see what happened to put the pieces together.

Slowly, things start to come back to life. The police are there in just a few moments. You can see the blue and red sirens flicker from the windows. A paramedic checks up on you a little while later, and you understand why you tripped. Sometime, during the scuffle, something had cut your knee. The pain didn’t set in until after the moment faded, when your breathing was starting to calm down, when you started to feel like a person again.

The paramedics tell you it’s a minor scratch, looks worse than it actually is. You try to pay attention to them, but you can. Words filter in and out like muck. Your eyes drift, trailing over to the cops and the other paramedics that were checking on the A-rank hunter. He’d only passed out, he wasn’t dead.

Sung Jin-woo is gone, by the time the police take your statement and release you. You shouldn’t be surprised. He’s a man of few words, you’ve known that of him for months now. Still, your mind lingers on the man who saved your life for the second time, even after the police take your statement, even after you’re manager tells you that the shop will be closed until further notice, even after your remaining colleagues fret over you.

You’re still thinking of him, even when you step out of your co-workers car, thanking her for the ride home as you hobble up the stairs to your apartment.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s in your living room, lingering next to the bookshelf.

You don’t scream, even when your heart is pounding in your chest. The door shuts and clicks behind you. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even acknowledge your presence.

“Do you have a favorite genre?” Sung Jin-woo asks.

You stop, torn between thanking him and asking how the hell he’d even gotten in. His nonchalance keeps you from doing either.

“Yes.” You respond. You don’t say what your favorite genre is. He doesn’t pry any further.

He sets the book down, carefully tucking it back into its original place.

“Why are you here?” Your voice wavers, even when you’re not sure why. All logic points to that he’s harmless. You’ve known him for months. You’ve spoken to him. He’s saved your life multiple times. He’s a well-known hero.

And yet, that strange feeling of offness comes back. Your shadow is reacting to him, jumping every time he moves.

“How did you get in?” You try instead. Just like last time, there’s no answer.

Sung Jin-woo finally looks up at you. You expect to see that familiar shade of blue.

His eyes are different.

Blue and silver and so cold.

Like all the light is gone, snuffed from his being.

“You should sit,” he tells you, soft voice, impassive tone, “you’ve been through so much today, you shouldn’t stress yourself.”

You can’t do anything but listen. Odd, this is your home, but he occupies the space as though he owns it. When you take your seat, sinking in the cushions, he doesn’t follow suit, preferring to stand over you. You can’t tell if it was to provide comfort or to intimidate you further.

It’s barely a touch. One of his fingers lightly grazes your injured knee. Before you can flinch or even scream, gentle green light emits from your bandages. The aching and soreness fades. When the light is gone, you hesitantly lift the bandages up. Your skin is untouched, unscarred, not even a blemish. As though you’d never gotten hurt in the first place.

“How–how did you–” Your voice is dry and scratchy. You look up at him, mute, filled with questions but no clear answer.

There’s a twitch of a smile on his face.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” He asks suddenly. No presumptive buildup. Everything with him is cut and dry. To the point.

It’s why you can’t keep up with him.

“What?”

“It’s okay, if you don’t.” He tells you, ignoring your questions, moving on as always. “I was a little disappointed when you didn’t recognize me, but I’ve changed a lot since that day. I understand that now.”

This was the most he’d ever talked, but you can’t pay attention to that feat. You’re still lagging behind him, trying to understand what he’s trying to say.

“It’s also my fault.” He admits, the ghost of a smile growing a bit the more he talks. “I never formally reintroduced myself. Whenever I tried to, I always found myself backing out. I just wished I’d kept better care of that dagger you gave me. That way I could’ve given it back.”

Dagger? It sounded familiar. You rack your brain over and over again, turning over every corner, every nook, every cranny until–

How did you not see it sooner?

“You.” Your words feel like sand, sticking in your throat. “You were that E-rank…”

His smile widens ever so slightly as an answer.

It was years ago, back when you were still so enamored with the idea of hunters being good-standing Samaritans. You were standing right next to the road, like most other pedestrians, waiting for the light to turn red.

He was standing there too. You noticed him because of the bandages, one on his face, the other wrapped around his arm. His hair was hiding most of his face, you couldn’t see his features.

You also noticed him because he was standing way too close to the road.

It snapped him out of whatever fog he was in. He apologized profusely for disrupting you. You had laughed it off, thinking nothing of it.

It was easy to figure out he was a hunter, it was even easier to figure out he was a weak hunter. You saw the bandages stretching over his face and hands and skin. The slight limp in his step. You remember there was a raid near the area earlier.

Sometimes, your employer allowed you to bring some trinkets home. Loot that’s barely worth paper. That night, you’d snagged a dagger. Lower than e-rank, honestly. Probably would’ve only lasted a few more hits. Nothing more than a rusty kitchen knife. You were just planning on framing it. It’d be useless in your hands. Honestly, the more you looked at it, the more of an eyesore it became.

It was thoughtless. Nothing, on your part. But the way his eyes widened when you handed it to him. He clutched it like it was the most precious thing to him.

‘Thank you. Thank you so much. How—how can I ever repay you?’

You remember the words, they were forever etched in your brain.

“Do you remember what you said to me that day?” He asks, now in the present.

You blink, and you’re sitting back down on that couch, looking at the ghost of your past. Someone you didn’t even know was still alive.

“I—“ your voice fails “I-just.”

“You told me to pass it forward.” Sung Jin-woo finishes. “You told me to help someone who needed it next time. I just don’t think you realize that person was you.”

Too much was going on. Your brain couldn’t keep up. However, you just knew this conversation was headed to a place you didn’t want it to.

“I’ve kept tabs on you.” A confession, but there’s no guilt. “You keep getting into trouble, again and again. I’ve saved you countless times and I’m afraid that one day…” He trails off.

He’s shaking his head. “No, no, I won’t let that happen. Not again.”

You stand. You don’t think you should be below someone who’s looking at you like that. Like you’re: small, tiny, insignificant.

But if you were in his shoes, you’d probably think the same.

You can feel it in the air, now. Heavy, close to crushing you to dust. You’ve never once been face-to-face with an S-class hunter, until now. You finally understand why they were so heralded in society.

Power, unrelenting power.

And when you look into his cold, dead eyes, it’s all focused on you.

You don’t understand. But you do. Enough.

“I’m sorry.” He tells you, but it doesn’t sound sincere, not when it’s watered down by that look in his eyes.

“But you need to be protected.”

Something materializes in his hand. A glass bottle filled with something red.

Your vision blurs, before blacking out completely.

“I can do that.”

#yandere solo leveling #yandere sung jinwoo #yandere sung jinwoo x reader #dark sung jinwoo x reader #dark sung jinwoo #tw kidnapping #tw stalking #tw violence #yandere #dark content #sung jin woo x reader #yandere x reader #ooc jinwoo #i cannot get his character down fsr ughhhh

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sugarplum217 · 3 months ago

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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

#aaron pierre #terry richmond #mufasa #rebel ridge #green lantern #terry richmond x plus size reader #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond x reader #terry richmond x black female reader #terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond fic #terry richmond fanfiction #terry richmond smut #rebel ridge fanfiction #terry richmond x y/n #black fic writer #Spotify

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fixated-cookies · 1 month ago

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souljam play.... ooooo... yes... kissing, licking, borderline teasing pv without knowing that shmilk is prob also feeling all that..... omg... or or what if rubbing ur cutee pussy on pv's souljam???? his composure would drop and lose allll sense of control over himself..... this time, its your turn to please this people pleaser of a man! its about damn time HE receives the pleasure instead of giving! BTW SRRY FOR DISSAPEARING,... YOU'VE BEEN COOKING , I AM THE ONE WHO FED U THE IDEA OF CUCKING PV!!!! HEHE... I WILL GIVE MORE IDEAS FROM YOUR LATESTS POSTS... IN THE MEAN TIME, THANKK YOUUU FOR FEEDING US STARVED COOKIE FUCKERS!!!1 LUV U LOTSS /p <3333

CAN I BE 🔮 ANON.... expect me to be right HERE the very moment u post... i eat it up evry. DAMN TIME !!!!!

My mind could only focus on reader rubbing their cunt of pure vanilla souljam and shadow milk cookie feeling, whoops!!!!

SMUT INCOMING

Oh, you’ve cracked open something dangerous. Pure Vanilla Cookie, the ever-giving, ever-sacrificing soul, finally being the one to receive? The moment you press yourself sopping cunt against his Soul Jam, the very core of his being, his breath hitches— a sound so rare, so unrestrained that it sends a thrill down your spine. He's laying down on the mattress you hovering above him. golden locks splayed across the pillows, his usual serene composure nowhere to be found. He tries—oh, he tries—to maintain his composure, to be gentle, to whisper sweet reassurances like he always does. But the second your touch lingers, the moment your cunt graze the delicate jam that holds his very essence, his restraint shatters.

Hes reduced to a mess of incoherent murmurs and shaky gasps. His voice, usually smooth and soothing, now slurred beyond recognition, each word tumbling from his lips in breathy, desperate attempts at encouragement.

“Y-You’re… ah—doing so well, my lo—o… oh…” His sentence crumbles into a helpless whimper, his grip tightening onto your thighs that's around his head, unsure if he wants to pull you closer or ground himself. His vision is hazy, swimming between golden light and the intoxicating sight of you above him. His teeth are barred with drool escaping the cracks.

Oh, the moment you start grinding against his Soul Jam? It’s over.

At first, there’s a sharp inhale—a broken, shuddering gasp—as if the air has been stolen from his lungs. His golden lashes flutter violently, his grip tightening on anything he can reach—your hips, the silk sheets beneath him, your arms—as if grounding himself in reality before he drifts away. But even then, it’s useless.

His Soul Jam is his essence, his very being, and here you are, pressing against it, dragging your warmth against its radiant glow, teasing him in ways he’s never known. His body betrays him, his back arching instinctively, pushing himself further against you, chasing after your touch despite the embarrassment burning beneath his skin. A sound tears from his throat, raw and achingly loud, nothing like the soft, composed voice you’re so used to. It’s needy, desperate, and full of unrestrained longing. His hands grasp your thighs, trembling, unsure if he wants to still you or pull you closer.

“Ah—! W-Wait, I—” His words, usually so elegant, are slurred beyond recognition, tumbling from his lips in broken syllables. His mind, once filled with wisdom and kindness, is now completely fogged, drowning in the sensation of you. His eyes, his beautiful mismatched eyes—they roll back, disappearing behind fluttering lids, his lips parting in a helpless whimper. He clings to you like a drowning man, fingers pressing against your skin as if you are the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. The benevolent ruler, the gentle healer, the embodiment of warmth and kindness—reduced to nothing but raw, vulnerable pleasure beneath you.

And maybe somewhere, elsewhere deep in the twisting halls of his Spire of Deceit, he crumbles. His usual grace, his theatrical poise—all gone. He’s slumped against a wall, hunched over, his body trembling with something visceral, unbearable.

Drool slips past his parted lips, his breath ragged, erratic. His fingers twitch against the cold stone beneath him, gripping at nothing, as though trying to ground himself, trying to fight against the unbearable sensations rippling through his very soul. “Gh… ahh—haah—” His laughter is ragged, choked, delirious. His head jerks to the side, forehead pressing against the wall, eyes blown wide with something akin to madness. His usual smug arrogance? Shattered.

It’s you. You and Pure Vanilla Cookie.

Your touch. Your warmth. Your—ghhh, your every move, every cruel, slow grind against that wretched light, Pure Vanilla Cookie’s Soul Jam. And Shadow Milk Cookie feels it all.

A sick, helpless groan rips from his throat as his fingers claw at the wall, as though trying to dig himself out of this infernal feeling. His teeth clench, his eyes roll back, his body trembling like a marionette with its strings tangled beyond repair.

“Damn it… haah… you… little… liar…” His voice is nothing but a whisper, a hushed, broken rasp. His usual cocky arrogance is nowhere to be found. He should be furious. He should be livid.

Instead, he’s unraveling.

And there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

---

yalll shadow milk cookie dead at 67!!!!

Anyways, these request are going down steadilyyy I can't wait to open them back up!! btw anon this was amazing you know I had to expand on this idea!!

#shadow milk cookie smut #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie smut #pure vanilla cookie x reader #smut #crk smut #crk #🔮 anon

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the-library-alcove · 1 month ago

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I'm enjoying the latest antitheist to stick their nose in and say that, in their ideal world, Judaism would be gone, and then being upset when the Jews take offense at this, because "Judaism is just a religion". Seriously, you just can't buy quality entertainment like this.

More seriously, though, I find it fascinating how these types are almost always English-speaking Christian-background Westerners. When you actually game out what they're saying, it's actually quite interesting, because they're dealing with a fundamental conflict of their desires and their ideology.

What I mean by that is that they want cultural imperialism (everyone across the world speaking, acting, behaving, and thinking like them specifically) but they're coming from an ideological space that frowns on or demonizes overt cultural imperialism of that sort (at least from their own culture).

So you have this "I want to impose my culture and my beliefs on others, but I can't say that I want that, so I'll just imply that it'll happen as a natural result as time passes" passive-aggressive stance as a result. And whenever that stance gets called out for the "So you want us gone, but you're not willing to own up to that?" bullshit that it is, they get so defensive and intellectually dishonest--because their entire outlook is based on intellectual dishonesty, of wanting one thing but saying another.

The really interesting thing is that you only really find these types in English-speaking Western Leftism or Leftism-adjacent spaces. My theory on why is that most other cultures with imperialist spreading tendencies own up to that fact and aren't ashamed of it, or at least acknowledge it: Russification, the Great Commission, Tabligh, Fracisation, Arabization, Turkization, Americanization... even going back to the ancients, we had Hellenization as a deliberate effort to make other societies more Greek-like.

But in this specific brand of Western Atheists... they want their personal culture to be the template for the secular monotheism that they desire. HOWEVER, as colonialism and imperialism is seen as wrong and shameful by their ideology, they need to square that circle, and the way they do that is to make it a passive-voice cultural genocide. Oh, those other cultures and religions will just vanish of their own accord as time passes. So sad, but good for the human race... and for me, because certainly my culture will endure!

In essence, they want all of the benefits that come with cultural assimilation and imperialism... but not any of the social downsides that come with advocating for it, and you're only going to find that combo in places where:

1) their language is already the international dominant tongue, so they're catered to in cultural hegemony already.

2) their political ideology actively rejects "imperialism" from their own culture, to the point of self-disownment of their supposed principles

3) their culture is a combination of superficial multi-culturalism alongside deeper demands of conformity

Is it any wonder that as soon as someone points out that their antitheist ideology is discount cultural imperialism they get defensive and angry? Because, on some level, they know it, and they can't defend it with their supposed principles, just with emotional appeals. So they deny and lash out with immature petulance, like the "well, I'll stop defending you because you're mean, so there!"

Buddy, if your defense was predicated on you wanting us gone anyway, that defense was worthless.

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #jumblr #judaism

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kesadoll · 2 months ago

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♡ CWS MDNI 1.1k wrds blackfem!reader, exhusband!reiner, HES BLUE COLLARRR with an accent teehee, kinda tipsy y/n, face♡ riding, d♡ ggy, to say he missed you was an understatement, ꒰petnames: pumpkin, baby, good girl┆︎she calls him ♡ rei ♡꒱꒰his voice꒱

♡ sum you accidentally drunk call your ex-husband who's still madly in love with you... rewrote my original idea in like an hour :p

having your ex-husband reiner banging on your front door at 4 in the morning, let alone him now with his face buried in your pussy was not something you expected.

“i missed y’so fuckin’ much..” he groaned from beneath you, the vibrations from his voice sending chills from the base of your spine up to your neck.

see, you and reiner had been divorced for 2 years, going on a single year with no physical contact, and that was a LOT considering how the two of you wouldn’t let up off each other. reiner would ALWAYS find some excuse or way to be at the house (that he gave to you while he lives in an apartment down the street), and you allowed it every single time. “r-reii-ohmygod~” you cried out, trying to keep your thighs from crushing the poor man’s skull. his eyes never left your body, watching the way that your stomach tensed and dropped with every rough lap of his tongue on your clit. oh and how his near white-blonde stubble, which was so much lighter because of you, rubbed against your inner thighs. it drove you mad, and he loved it.

even when you tried to lift your hips back up after your second going on third orgasm, his rough hands met your hips to hold you still, knowing if you didn’t say the safe word you really didn’t want him to stop. all you could do was grip onto his hair that was already starting to curl back up from the combination of your slick and the fact that he made a beeline straight from the site to come see about you.

that little ‘accidental’ phone call you made hours before just to hear his voice is what led you here, and god, was it worth it. your fate was only cemented when he saw you standing there in his old work shirt with nothing underneath. before you knew it, you were lifted off his mouth and laid on your stomach, not able to help the whine that escaped your lips at the lack of warmth on your cunt. you were so gone already that you hadn’t noticed how quick his clothes came off and that condom was rolled on, only coming back to it when you felt his meaty tip rubbing at your cunt, reveling in your essence.

“wish you c’see how you look, baby.” he purred to you, his slick bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watched as your clit jumped at his words. his hands moved to the fat of your hips, watching intently as he pulled you down onto him, your cunt sucking him in. “shit-”

“mmhmmm~” you slurred out helplessly. your gummy walls welcomed your ex-husband with a need you never knew you had in you before. you knew reiner needed you just as badly, especially with the way his hazel eyes peered through those sweet lashes of his.

reiner was FAR from a submissive man, but the way his cheeks would flush pink and the noises that would escape from his lips? you knew how to make that man sick.

you arched your back so deep, reaching an arm behind you to hold onto reiner’s thigh. “pumpkin’- wai-” he sighed, his eyes shooting to the back of his head while you began to bounce back against him. “you jus’ gon’ fuck me like that?”

with your head turned to the side, you bat your eyelashes, your puffy lips curling into a smile, “m-mhm~ m-mished my h-husband.”

reiner didn’t bat an eye. the sounds that were coming from between the both of you and the reclaiming of him being your husband had him in the clouds. any of that southern hospitality he had left in him was slipping away, and you could tell with how he began to move his hips to meet your ass.

“i needed my pumpkin’..s-so bad.” he sighed, his hand sliding up from the base of your spine, finding solace on your shoulder. you braced yourself, watching out the corner of your eye as reiner wound his hips back, pushing them forward just as quick.

the momentum had your eyes rolling, your tears hitting your cheeks mainly because his dick was hitting that sweet spongey spot while also being so deep you thought his tip would touch your ribcage. your legs began to slide from beneath you due to the sheer force of his thrusts alone, but reiner scooped your hips up with his other hand.

“nononono, don’t move f’me stay right there..right there right there,” reiner chanted, more to himself than to you. he’d only fucked his poor hand for the year the two of you hadn’t been intimate, and he was dangerously close already. if it wasn’t for his chanting, you would’ve thought so from the way his hips already began to stagger, and you were right there with him.

the words didn’t even get to leave your mouth before those deep breaths started to hit you, followed by the clenching of your cunt with every moan. it only made reiner lean over on top of you, his face buried into your neck. “give it to me, baby.” his hips ground down into you with such depravity your ears ran hot.

you were reduced to a nod that you were barely able to do, let alone muster up what energy you had left to tell him you were already about to cum. reiner planted kisses along your shoulder leading up to your neck, watching how you writhed beneath him, sending you over the edge when he muttered praises in your ear. “sssuch a good girl.”

the nastiness in his voice didn’t stop after he came. the way you were feeling, you were barely able to ride out the orgasm, reiner having to hold you back onto him as he continued his thrusts. the sound of your whines and the way your pussy sucked him up had him cumming right after you, his hips staggering more than they already were.

after some time, he pulled back, laying next to you on his back with his chest heaving and all. your sweet giggles cut between pants as you finally lifted your head to look at him, the bottom of your fro sticking to the back of your neck. “if i knew this would happen cus’ i drunk-called you, i would’ve done it already.”

reiner gave you a cheesy smile, nodding as he lifted a hand to rub what was left of your tears off of your cheek. “did y’mean whatcha said?”

“when i said i missed my husband?” you tilted your head, and he nodded again, half expecting you to say it was just in the heat of the moment. what he really didn’t expect was for you to crawl over on top of him, pulling off his condom in the process. the sight of you and the way your ass pushed up against him had him hardening already, your sweet words only making it all the better.

“i did n’ i wanna show him just how much more i need him.”

orignal works by me ♡ reblogs welcome, do not steal/recreate.. sidepiece!eren..

#kesadoll #d1 delulu #enjoy ♡#reiner x black reader #reiner braun #aot reiner #reiner x reader #reiner x you #reiner smut #aot x reader #attack on titan #aot smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan x female reader #attack on titan x you #♡♡♡♡

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solxamber · 6 months ago

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Romance Clichés With: Vil Schoenheit

Cliché: The Airport (Dark Mirror?) Confession

Others: Leona ; Azul ; Kalim ; Idia ; Jamil ; Riddle

Vil had told you last week about his upcoming movie shoot in another country. He’d casually mentioned he'd be gone for a little while, which you’d taken in stride. After all, he was a famous actor—it wasn't like he was leaving forever. At least, that’s what you thought. But Rook had other ideas.

“Oh, mon ami,” Rook sighed dramatically the day before Vil’s departure, “how brave you are. Truly a testament to love, to be able to bear such a tragic farewell without shedding a single tear! Many would crumble under the thought of not seeing their beloved for years.”

You blinked, pausing mid-bite of your sandwich. “Years?”

Rook nodded, his eyes misting over, clearly lost in some inner poetic monologue. “Oui, it may well be years before we see Roi du Poison’s radiant visage again. Some might say he is embarking on an odyssey, one that will only return him to our shores once he’s ascended to an even greater pinnacle of fame.”

“Y-Years?” you echoed, a pit forming in your stomach.

“Bien sûr!” Rook leaned in, whispering with all the seriousness of a tragic romance novel. “In showbiz, a project could take ages—rewrites, reshoots, promotional tours... Why, he may even settle abroad to cultivate his craft.”

You dropped your sandwich, horror dawning as the words hit you with full force. Your mind went into overdrive. Vil... leaving? Maybe forever? You pictured months, even years of unanswered texts, long-distance video calls, and eventually, just fading away from each other’s lives.

You couldn’t take it! And if he was leaving, you had to make it clear that he’d be leaving someone who would do anything for him.

Which was why, mere minutes before Vil was set to leave, you were charging across campus, heart pounding and absolutely zero plan in mind.

He was standing in front of the Mirror of Darkness, his poise immaculate as always. His entourage surrounded him, but you were zeroed in on only one thing: making sure he knew you would sacrifice anything to keep him.

He was taking a few moments to pose with his usual elegance, utterly unaware that you were barreling toward him with all the grace of a charging rhinoceros.

“Vil!” you yelled, gaining speed as you neared him. He turned, brows raised just slightly before you flung yourself into his arms, nearly sending him toppling over.

“Please,” you blurted, “don’t go!”

Vil’s face softened, and he looked about to speak, but you were already mid-rant, words tumbling out in a fevered rush.

“Vil, I swear, I’ll change my entire skincare routine if you want! Every day, double cleanse, essence, eye cream—I’ll use every serum, sheet mask, and exfoliant you recommend.” You grabbed his hands, clutching them tightly. “And if it’s my diet, I’ll cut out carbs or sugar or whatever you want! I’ll even drink green juice, Vil!”

His eyes widened in something like amusement, but you didn’t give him a chance to interject.

“Please, just don’t leave forever. I don’t care how famous you get or how much international recognition comes your way, or how you’ll become the new face of high fashion—I’ll do anything. I love you, Vil. I’ll do whatever you need me to. Just. Stay."

Vil blinked, clearly stunned, but before you could spiral into another tirade, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft, breathtaking kiss. It was enough to shut you up instantly, and when he finally pulled back, he looked at you with an exasperated but deeply affectionate smile.

“Darling,” he said, brushing a hand down your cheek with a chuckle, “I’m really only leaving for two weeks.”

“Oh.” You stared up at him, cheeks flushing red as his words sank in.

“Two weeks,” he repeated, laughing softly, and his face lit up in a way you’d never seen before—completely unguarded, genuinely amused, and utterly, hopelessly in love.

Your flustered mumbling was drowned out by his gentle laughter. “So… all that talk about green juice and sheet masks…” His chuckle turned into a full laugh, rich and uninhibited, echoing through the hall as a dozen phones captured the moment.

He gave you a lingering kiss, entirely unconcerned with the crowd, before pressing his forehead to yours. “You really thought I’d leave you forever?” he whispered, a teasing sparkle in his eye. “Oh, my sweet, melodramatic potato.”

You mumbled something unintelligible, hiding your face in his shoulder as your embarrassment finally caught up to you.

By the time he returned two weeks later, it was all anyone on campus could talk about. The candid video of him gazing at you, laugh lines softened, love written all over his face—it had gone viral. Even Vil was taken by surprise at how the internet had swooned over the whole scene, declaring you both the new “It Couple” of NRC.

And if Vil noticed the way his likes had outpaced Neige’s on Magicam, well, he wasn’t above a little bragging.

He’d make a show of it too, asking Mira each morning, “Who’s the most popular couple on Magicam?” And every time, he would grin, smugly satisfied with the answer.

And if anyone dared ask him how he got so much traction on his account lately, he’d just smile, gaze in your direction, and shrug with feigned innocence.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit x you #vil

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hayatoseyepatch · 10 months ago

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⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅☾☼☽⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

∘∙⊱Description: Who would our little less experienced characters go to for help in pleasing their partner?

∘∙⊱Featuring: Haruka Sakura, Jo Togame, Kyotaro Sugishita, Hajime Umemiya, Akihiko Nirei, Hayato Suo x fem!reader

∘∙⊱Words: 2.7k (I might have gotten a wee bit carried away, oops)

∘∙⊱Tags: fem!reader, minor spoiler warning for the manga (nothing too specific mentioned), aged up, smut, threesome, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, teasing, dom/sub dynamics, petnames, praising, degradation, dacryphilia, oral (m&f receiving), etc.

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅☾☼☽⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

a/n: Please be gentle with me I haven’t written anything proper in like 2 years lmao. But I’m currently obsessed with windbreaker and figured I’d take matters into my own hands for creating some content for these boys. Enjoy some spicy headcannons! You know the drill, 18+ content MDNI.

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅☾☼☽⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

-Sakura is a damn mess. I love this boy so much but he is. Because lets be honest, even getting together with Sakura was a project. This poor baby never even had someone show him friendship let alone love.

-(Slight Manga Spoilers) Sakura has gone to Togame for help before when it came to the battle with Noroshi, and Togame has proven himself to be someone Sakura can rely on. Sakura treats everything like a fight, this is no different.

-Togame, in comparison, had much more experience. Being in Shishitoren was a lot on Togame before he met Sakura, so he had his fair share of sexual partners to relieve some stress.

-Sakura was new to relying on others, and even newer to asking for help. His face a bright red and a deep furrow in his brows. Togame took one look at his expression, eyebrows raising in curiosity. “What’s up Sakura, you good?” He had asked lazy crooked smile in place, tough he’d be lying if he wasn’t a bit concerned.

-Sakura’s scowl only deepened in response. “I need your help with something.” When Togame had urged him to go on, between clenched teeth he had asked him to help him pleasing his partner.

-To say Togame was shocked would be an understatement. Sakura’s furrow in his brow deepened. “Listen, I know your much more experienced than I am, I just.. I want to make sure she feels good too. But I fucking swear one smart ass comment and I’ll beat your ass into next week. You got it?” Togame’s eyes softened he knew how Sakura was, how hard it was for him to ask for help. He must really care for you. He agreed without a second thought.

-It wasn’t long before he found himself in your shared bedroom. His eyes wide at your form clad in nothing but a cute matching set the both of your cheeks adorned with the same bright red hue. He had to remind himself why he was here. He was here to help his friend, but gods were you so damn beautiful.

You felt so exposed, tears collecting on your lashes, as Togame has you spread open for Sakura. Your back resting against Togame’s chest, your thighs hooked over his, fully exposing your dripping center to Sakura’s hungry gaze. Togame’s long fingers drawing lazy circles over your needy clit. Your essence was dripping from your opening onto the sheets below, it had felt like Togame had been teasing your for hours, mind already swimming and neither of them had even filled your cunt. Togame’s other hand gently thumbing at your nipple, had you wiggling desperately in his grasp.

“See, Sakura, you need to take your time. You see how much of a mess her pretty pussy is making?” He chuckles, deep and breathy, right into your ear. “All that wetness is gonna make it feel so much better for the both of you. Plus just see for yourself how sexy it sounds”

Sakura felt like he was going to explode, his cheeks radiating warmth with how red they were, his cock straining against his pants, aching for attention. All Sakura could do is nod eyes locked on your dripping cunt. “Go ahead Sakura, slowly slip two fingers inside, that’s it, see how easy it is?” he grins at the look on Sakura’s face at the squelching sound your cunt makes, coupled with the sound that falls from your lips at the feeling of his fingers stretching your once empty cunt. “sh-shut the fuck up I know how to put my fingers inside, asshole” Sakura grumbles, but he couldn’t deny Togame was right, they’ve never slipped in with such ease before.

Togame chuckles once more. “Oh she’s so responsive, how adorable~” Sakura’s eyes are wide, he’s never heard you make that sound before, he quickly gets drunk on your reactions, fingers gliding in and out of your cunt with ease with how wet you were. Togame continues to guide Sakura, telling him just how to position his fingers in such a way that he is repeatedly hitting the spot deep inside you that has your vision going white.

“Oh! H-Haruka, right there, please please I’m gonna~” You cry out, embarrassed at how loud your volume had gotten as you beg for release. Togame finally picks up speed, his fingers no longer drawing lazy patterns but circling your clit faster now. “That’s it doll, don’t hold back, show Sakura how good he’s making you feel.” Sakura watches intently, mesmerized, feeling your walls clamp down on his fingers body trembling as he and Togame’s fingers guide you through your orgasm. Sakura surging forward, lips claiming yours hungrily, swallowing your moans. Coming down from you high, breaths panting as you try and calm your racing heart and trembling thighs.

“Alright Sugar, I think your ready for the main event.” Both you and Sakura’s eyes widen at Togame’s words, you were both in for a long night.

Umemiya & Sugishita

-Let’s be honest here, Sugishita is trusting NO ONE other than Umemiya. He hold so much respect for him and I feel like if he’s going to anyone its him.

-I feel like his partner also spends plenty of time with Umemiya, so it wouldn’t be a stranger who is being invited into their bedroom. A good bit of Sugishita’s time is spent helping Umemiya in the garden or with meetings, so its safe to say that his partner spends a good bit of their time on the rooftop with them.

-Sugishita also knows that Umemiya will be gentle and not push any boundaries that him or his partner are uncomfortable with. He finds some relief knowing Umemiya isn’t going to go all sadistic on his partner.

-That being said Sugishita is still so nervous to ask for help. He’s worried in some way he’d be disappointed in him for not being able to fulfill his partners needs. Umemiya is so caught off-guard when he asks too, Sugishita rarely ever asks for help so as the leader and viewing Furin’s members as his siblings of course he’s happy to help! Though Sugishita’s next words were ones he couldn’t have guessed even if he tried.

-When the time comes, and the three of you are in the comfort of your bed, they dwarf your frame. These boys are BIG, Sugishita is 6’3” and Umemiya is 6’2” so honeybun I’m praying for you for real.

-Umemiya is so patient, his gentle words guiding both of your actions, he is fully in hold of the reins. He has the both of you hanging on to his every word.

“That’s it Sugishita, be gentle, ease into her. She how much easier it slides in after warming her up?” Umemiya’s voice is tender, guiding Sugishita’s actions and easing your mind. His deep baritone spoken directly in your ear has you letting out shudder. Sugishita lets out a deep groan, you were always tight, normally struggling to take his girth. But your velvet walls pulled him in the wetness from the last hour Umemiya spent between your thighs making him slide in with ease.

“So.. fucking.. tight” Sugishita grunts, heeding his mentor’s word, resisting the urge to slam into you desperate to feel more of you. You whimper at the stretch, Umemiya titling your chin upwards, lips meeting your own. His tongue exploring your mouth, large hands roaming your body. One hand circles a sensitive nipple, the other has his fingers tracing mindless shapes on your clit. Effectively distracting you from the stretch of Sugishita entering your tight heat. The both of you moan loudly as Sugishita bottoms out, feeling filled to the brim and he hadnt even gotten started. “That’s it, give her a moment, let her get accustomed. Its okay sweetheart, poor little thing your tight little pussy is so full isn’t it baby?” The gentle tone of Umemiya’s voice contradicts the absolute filth that leaves his mouth. His words having you wiggling your hips desperate for more. “Please, Kyo, more.. please fuck me”

Umemiya grins, the desperate tone in your voice has his own cock straining against the tight fabric of his boxers. “Go on Sugishita, she asked so nicely, are you gonna make her beg?” He teases, having both of your cheeks flushing pink, as Sugishia begins to move. His hips rutting into yours, your head being tossed back, resting on Umemiya’s shoulder. “Please.. please.. touch me Ume” You beg, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears in your desperation.

The older man grins, lips attaching themselves to your neck, his fingers resuming their ministrations on your sensitive spots. Letting out a deep growl, Sugishita picks up the pace hips slamming into your own. “You see that Sugishita, you see how deep you are inside her?” He teases, pointing out the bulge in your tummy where he can practically see just how deep he was thrusting inside you. He gritted his teeth willing himself not to cum, not yet. Not when you felt so good, not when you were making such beautiful sounds.

Your hand reaches behind you, slipping inside Umemiya’s boxers, your small hand wrapping around his cock, giving an experimental tug not wanting to leave him out. He curses into your neck. His hips thrusting into you hand as you begin pumping his length in your hand. Sugishita couldn’t take it anymore, you felt too good, your sounds doing too much to him. You too were on the edge. “Kyo, Kyo, please gonna..” You come undone with a cry, Sugishita matching your actions, spilling himself into your waiting cunt. After catching your breath, you and Sugshita have a silent conversation with your eyes, his response being an approving nod and a grunt, as you turn your half lidded gaze up to Umemiya.

“Ume.. please fuck me.. wanna make you feel good too.” The white haired male’s eyes widening at your forwardness, but as he said to Sugishita earlier, he wasn’t going to make you beg when you asked so nicely.

-See these two here… I think this arrangement is a bit different from the others. Unlike Sakura & Sugishita, it isn't Nirei going to Suo for help for his partner, but rather Suo helping Nirei get some experience under his belt.

-Suo is already training Nirei, taking him under his wing to show him how to defend himself, to him this was just another lesson for him to give the blonde.

-Nirei was confused when Suo had texted him telling him to meet him at his apartment rather than their usual meeting spot for training. Regardless, he followed instruction, curious as to where Suo lived. After all these years of knowing him, he still only knew what Suo let him know about him he was a mystery to him.

-He met Nirei at the door his signature closed eye smile adorning his face, laced with mischief, as he led him inside. “y/n isnt here, Suo?” Nirei had asked curiously, also with a twinge of nervousness.

-Suo was extremely perceptive, he noticed the cherry red that dusted Nirei’s cheeks whenever you greeted him or made idle chatter. How could he not? You were breathtaking after all. So Suo would throw one of his closest friends a bone. Tilting his head with a smile. “Oh no, she’s here, just in the bedroom waiting for our lesson.”

-Nirei didnt know what he was expecting when he followed Suo into their bedroom, but he nearly fainted seeing you sat on the bed waiting patiently in nothing but your bra and panties. Before he could profusely apologize for catching you in such a state of undress and run, his friend had placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Today’s lesson is going to be a bit different, today me and y/n are going to be teaching you about inflicting pleasure rather than pain.”

-The nervous blonde thought his heart might just beat right out of his chest, was this a cruel prank from you both? Had Suo caught him staring at you and decided to give him a humiliating punishment?

-He would be a liar if he said he hadn’t imagined being with you before. If he hadn’t spent late nights fucking his fist, imagining it was you touching him instead. If he didn’t whimper your name in his pillow as he came.

-But when your big doe eyes met his, a delicate hand reached out to welcome him into the bed with a comforting nod of your head offering your consent, who was he to say no?

“He’s awfully eager isn’t he darling? Oops it seems like your mouths a bit full, how silly of me~” Suo chuckled, tone in his voice teasing, as he stuffed your mouth full of his cock. His eye softening as he looked down at you, fingers carding gently before tugging just the way he knew you liked, forcing more of his cock down your throat.

Your moans sent vibrations around Suo’s cock, he was right, Nirei was surely eager. His tongue lapping at your pussy like a man starved. His inexperienced tongue was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Suo needing to remind him to take breaths. Said man, chuckled once more, teasing voice filling the room.

“Nirei, she isn’t going anywhere we’re just getting started, make sure your focusing on her clit, that’s a boy just like, fuck, just like that.” The tail end of his sentence he wasn’t sure which of you it was directed at, the way you bobbed your head taking him expertly in your throat had the normally composed man losing his bearings. Using his grip on your hair he lifted you off his length.

“Come here.” He instructs the blonde, who reluctantly removed his face from its position buried between your thighs. You beckon Nirei to you with your hand in his, pressing your lips together in a heated kiss. Tongue quickly overtaking his own, allowing him to taste Suo on his tongue, a stark reminder of who you belonged to. This seemed to please your boyfriend, enough for him to slot himself between your legs. His cock sliding in with ease due to the wetness from Nirei’s saliva and your own arousal.

You moan, desperately into Nieri’s mouth, head being tossed back at the feeling of Suo’s cock filling you so deeply. His groan making both if you shudder. No time is wasted, you were quick to replace the empty feeling in your mouth with the blonde’s cock. He let out a loud desperate moan as the warmth of your mouth welcomes him in, hollowing your cheeks as you begin to suck. Suo sets a brutal pace from the beginning, determined to have all three of you coming undone at the same time.

You and Nirei’s moans and whimpers bounce off the walls, leaving no question of who was solely in control of you both in this moment. Suo felt the familiar spasm of your walls around him, indicating your impending release. “That’s it my love, come on, let go for me. Show Nirei how beautiful you look coming undone on my cock.”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t close, the stimulation of your earlier ministrations bringing him to the edge faster than he normally would. Nirei is the first of you to come, a loud cry falling from his lips, tears streaming down his cheeks as he unloads into your waiting mouth. Nearly coming a second time just from the sight of you swallowing his cum, just so you would be able to cry out Suo’s name as you came on his cock. Suo was the last to topple over the ledge, your orgasm triggering his own. Hands gripping your plush hips in an iron grip as he paints your walls white. The room is silent save for the sounds of panting, all three of you catching your breaths from such intense releases. Suo’s voice is the first to break the silence.

“Alright Nirei, go on, if you clean her up real nice with your tongue I might just let you fuck her pretty cunt after.~”

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅☾☼☽⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and as always likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. This is my first time writing for these characters so I hope I did them some justice. See you in the next one!

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