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randomshyperson · 2 months ago

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Butchered Tongue - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: The Halloween Disturbances separate Wanda from her wife, who, intrigued, begins to take a closer look at the anomalous activities in Westview. Or the one where you discover Westview isn't what it seems, Agatha loses her temper, and Death makes an appearance.

Warnings: (+18), there’s smut at the beginning (sub!wanda, hints of power dynamics, enchanted strap, creampie, dirty talk), mentions of magical manipulation, Westview canon compliance, agathario being agathario, dark and traditional magic, mentions of attempted magical resurrection, a lot of canon angst ‘cause why not, nothing bad ever happen to kids denial is a river | Words: 7.060k

A/N-> “Why this has an open ending, mary?” Well for start, this is a test. I’m writing a long fic that rewrites and inserts reader into westview drama and I wanted to see how further I could dive into this subject and also bring agathario angst. I liked it very very much but this work here I actually had a lot of fun writing it and i wanted to share it with everyone. I hope people tell me what they thought of it, if you all would rather have a story for the beginning with all the scenes of them together or just a story that moves forward (i haven't thought of a plot after this yet). Honestly, this is just for fun people, I hope you liked this and I hope that I someday write more about this little variation of new characters and dynamics I wrote in this one. The new series will have hybrid!reader ‘cause i’m a TVD fan and i miss that shit daily (and witches and vampires/werewolves are a match). Ps. I suck at summaries and now I just copy-paste the show's official summaries haha

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | *Series Masterlist

*you can read the two first "chapters" for context but it's not really necessary, to understand the story. This is pretty canon-compliant

-&-

Pietro's presence just worsens the tension between you and Wanda.

Not that he's behaving inappropriately or anything like that - his flawed personality is probably his charm.

The problem is that you had no idea Wanda had a bother in the first place. You were certain she didn’t, just two seconds before she opened that door, but by the same second she told you who that was, your mind went blank and a click of new memories was input into your brain. You could relax and pretend they were always there, and trust your wife but she must have been feeling strange about the whole thing as well, somehow sharing her hesitation through the magic that surrounded every corner and mind of that town.

That's why when Wanda came back to bed that night, she found you already asleep - or pretending to. Every instinct in your mind was telling you to run screaming, the image of your work colleague and his despairing eyes, begging for help, piercing all the new family memories you were getting now.

Children growing up years during one single evening, neighbors terrified subconsciousness, mystery brother. Things seemed to be getting out of control for Wanda as well, but she just kept saying everything was fine and you could trust her.

She didn't try to press you into a conversation, but you heard her tense sighing around the room while she changed into her nightgown.

In no time, there's a soft weight on the bed and a pull on the mattress. You feel her warmth behind you but don't move an inch.

Wanda shifts and you stop breathing when her fingers reach out for your back. Tentatively calling for your attention.

Sighting deeply, you slowly turn to face her. You don't know what you were expecting, maybe red irises that would take your doubts away. You weren't expecting to find teary eyes instead. The effect was nearly the same though - seeing Wanda crying knock down all your defenses all at once.

“Hey.” You start softly, one of your hands moving to her cheek. She leans into the touch immediately, a sad smile on her lips. “Why are you crying, darling?”

She shakes her head, and it looks like she won't explain further when suddenly, she sobs. “I can't believe he's really here.”

Wanda looks so vulnerable but you're so confused. You don't stop your caress on her cheek but you stare at her in doubt. “Oh darling, tell me what's wrong? Didn't you two get along?”

Wanda chuckles sadly. Your words are not meant to be anything but curious and reassuring of her feelings but they pierce her heart nonetheless. The fact that this version of you has no idea of how much she lost, and didn't even know who Pietro was until tonight makes her feel so wrong about everything.

“We did. He, hm…” She dries her own tears when evading your touch. To lie to your face, she needs physical distance not just emotional. “We grew apart, that's all. It's really nice to have my brother around again.” She turns away, to gaze at the ceiling but you frown at the sudden change of behavior. Wondering what you might have said to upset her, you swallow as Wanda yaws. “Today was just a lot. Let’s just sleep, okay?”

Wanda turns her back to you without another word but less than a minute later, you hear her trying to shuffle her crying.

You don't ask her any questions as you adjust to hold her, feeling her body tensing before relaxing completely.

There will be time for questions tomorrow. Right now, you just hold your wife while she cries herself to sleep, hoping she knows in her heart you'll be there for her.

-&-

Pietro Maximoff could be a bit inconvenient. But so could be Agnes, the nosy neighbor who seemed to share a special affection for Wanda's twin.

You couldn't really decide which one of them was the most cheeky.

With the daily routine falling into place again, you wanted to believe things were getting better but in fact, they weren't. That whole “foggy mind” sensation never left you, and you had the strong impression that the whole two weeks of Pietro sleeping on the couch and every other routine memory with the boys, Wanda and occasionally Agnes around the round was somehow implemented into your head during your sleep. It just didin’t feel like weeks had passed, but somehow everybody was acting like it did.

Without any proof to that, however, you found yourself staring at a colorful outfit in your shared closet.

Wanda got up early - She has been quite evasive about your agony. And her lack of interest just makes you more anxious.

But by the time you were ready to face another day, she was already dressed up in her red costume, looking way too pretty for someone you were supposed to be mad with.

“Hey darling good morning. Your outfit is right there, I'm gonna check if the boys are ready.” She spoke very quickly, hands busy with the last adjustments of her hair. But her little crown was slightly misplaced and you moved to her way before she could bypass you and leave the room. “What are you…?”

Without a word, your hands move to fix her appearance. Wanda stays put, eyes scanning your face as if searching for a hidden meaning behind your actions, and at the slight feeling of her presence in your mind, you chuckle.

“Is this what you do now?” You question and Wanda's cheeks grow red with shame. “Little peaks whenever you don't feel like talking to your wife?”

She gasps slightly at the accusation. But you're staring at her with anything but teasing behind your eyes and Wanda lifts her chin.

“I don't want us to fight.” She declares but she doesn't move away from your touch so you don't give her space either.

“Fight? You barely pay me a glance.”

“That is not true!” She defends herself immediately but you chuckle dry.

“How come is Halloween already? I could swear it was summer. Didn't we go to the local club just a couple of days ago?”

Wanda holds your wrist, moving your hand away from her red crown.

“Could you just behave? Today, at the boy's first Halloween? Please.”

She was not only diverting the whole situation guilty towards you but also ignoring your questions.

When Wanda decided that behaving so toxic towards you was acceptable you don't know.

What you know is that she needed to be reminded of a few important things.

“I'm afraid that your bother is having a terrible influence on me, darling.” You start, freeing your hand from her grip only to move both to her waist. She swallows hard but keeps an indifferent expression. “I'll be up to mischief all evening.”

She frowns, even if by instinct her hands find your shoulders to correspond to your touch, she looks tense.

“What… You're not sticking around for your son's first Halloween?”

You chuckle at her choice of words. Nowadays, every time you want to question something, Wanda goes for emotional appeal.

“Is it? They are already ten. I'm certain we must have taken them to pick up candy at some point. It would be odd if we haven't.”

Wanda narrows her eyes at you. So this is how you gonna play this game - by taunting her on everything that was weird about Westview, trying to see her crack on her indifference.

She takes a deep breath, fingers adjusting your pajama’s collar.

“You're trying to get a reaction out of me. I'm sorry, but I already said we're not fighting today. If you can't skip work, I'm taking the boys with their uncle.”

“As you wish, darling.” You retry with the same serious tone.

Wanda stares back. And there's a pause and another.

Then, a pull on her waist to bring her hard towards your chest. Wanda barely has time to blush or choke on her breathing when your lips meet her in an intense kiss.

She moans against her will into your tongue, her body melting as your hands squeeze her waist, that doesn't help her regain her posture one bit.

She feels her back hit the shelf when you push forward to press her against it, but that only makes her kiss you harder, the affected sighs during the kiss only making you crazier.

Your hands start to wander, and the bedroom door locks by itself, a spell of noise filling the wood as well. As your kisses go down her jaw, her trembling fingers try to undo the knot of your pajama pants. She ends up failing in the activity when you start biting a sensitive spot behind her ear, your teeth scraping the way down, and Wanda wonders if she should cause more fights to have such a mind-blowing turn-on like this; she feels like if you don't fuck her now she might combust.

She only realizes she's started begging because you give a sadistic giggle, which makes her cheeks burn.

"I might not let you leave the room, Wands." You tease, and she has trouble even understanding what you're saying because you've lowered your fingers to where she's already started leaking beyond her costume. "Making those delicious sounds, and dressed like that. I don't want to let you go."

She forces her mouth to work, even though she's first letting out a little squeal when she feels your palm press against her covered pussy. "I'll be quick." She replies hoarsely, and you raise an eyebrow at the double meaning. She chuckles weakly, sighing. "You won't even have time to miss me."

You hum absently, looking down. One of your hands caresses her ass and then her thigh, smoothing her pantyhose. Your fingers tease her intimacy, bringing the moisture she can't contain, and making her knees buckle. When Wanda shudders, in that sexy way she always does every time her orgasm is building properly, you sigh.

"Sorry, honey, I really need to touch you." It's your only warning, and Wanda wants to pretend she doesn't like it when you rip her costume at the bottom, but she ends up rewarding you with a new wave of wetness running down her thighs.

You kiss her again as your fingers find her entrance, but Wanda has trouble even standing, let alone kissing you back when you’re touching her like this. Your fingers tease her hot entrance before you push two digits inside without ceremony, grunting at the warmth and the way she squeezes you. Wanda sighs contentedly and resists the instinct to close her eyes to meet your gaze. She holds on as you rest one hand behind her on the shelf, and adjust the angle of the other, going deeper inside her. It’s almost a challenge as your thrusts start to get more determined and harder and she has to grip your shoulders to stay upright, biting her lip to muffle the sounds that tear from her throat.

The climax builds so quickly, she might be embarrassed if you weren’t her wife, and you know her body so well. Just adjust the angle, press her clitoris with your thumb, and Wanda arches and comes hard, keeping herself standing only by holding on to your shoulders, while all the lights in the room flicker and the place shakes as much as your body.

You have a satisfied little smile on your face as she tries to stop shaking, and she can't hold back her moan when you remove your fingers from inside her only to suck them clean one by one.

You kiss her again as soon as you finish, and Wanda finds it so dirty and sexy that she starts scratching your belly, ready for another. You break off with a giggle.

"Weren't you the one in a hurry?" You tease, your pants loosening as Wanda starts to feel around you, pulling the item down with some urgency.

"Weren't you the one who wouldn't let me get out of bed?" She responds aroused, managing to make you giggle before pressing your hips together, her firm hands squeezing your ass.

When she kisses you next, sucking on your tongue, you grunt. "Fuck, you drive me crazy, Wands." You break the kiss, manhandling her back to the bed, and standing behind her. "You're gonna get on all fours and watch yourself get fucked like the slutty housewife you love to be. Come on, Wanda." A slap to her ass has her whimpering on shaking limbs until she finally exposes herself to you. The mirror in the corner of the room is ignored, but you force her face up, and she stares at the sight that leaves her dripping.

It doesn't surprise her to feel the hardness against her entrance, but it makes her break into a deep moan. The toy conjured in your pants that are still hanging at your knees slides in easily, and you both grunt at the sensation of the enchanted cock filling her up. Your first thrust is the only gentle one. Your hands grip her hips and then her hair, and Wanda is transformed into a pathetic mess of begging and moaning as you begin to fuck into her hard, the bed rocking with your movements.

You grunt between thrusts how much you love her. How much you love filling her, how much you love the way she sounds and feels. How much you want to fuck another baby into her.

Wanda comes without warning, her hands gripping the sheets in desperation, her body giving in to the climax as she cries loudly into the bed. You don't stop your movements, the creamy slickness making a dirty sound that makes you curse softly and Wanda blush deeply. She grunts at the overstimulation, but her hips move in time with yours.

You tell her that you're going to come, your thrusts becoming more frantic and uncoordinated, and she keeps her gaze on your reflection, watching with adoration the way your body moves against hers, your face contorted with pleasure as she barely manages to stay on her own limbs. When you come inside, the sensation is too delirious to begin with, so Wanda follows your climax, moaning as your body falls on top of hers, holding her to the bed as you pour yourself inside her.

But as your breathing calms and the arousal has subsided to deep intimacy, you sigh and pull out of her, throwing yourself next to her on the bed. Wanda frowns at the change in your energy and looks at you curiously.

"We can't end all fights like this," you murmur, and she raises an eyebrow.

"Can't we?"

But despite your dry chuckle, there's no joy in your eyes. It makes Wanda feel like the worst person in the world, even after what was probably the best sex she's had in a long time.

"I'm gonna go change. I promise I won't ruin anything for you today." You say, and she wants to pull you back and tell you that you never ruin anything, that this is all for, but none of that comes out.

She just stands there in silence, until she remembers everything she had planned for today with the noise downstairs.

She's already fixed her costume and tidied the room when you come back with a towel slung over your shoulders.

“I…” But the boys running and fighting with their uncle downstairs make Wanda sigh. She offers you a lingering glance once she touches the doorknob. “I love you, Y/N. Never forget, alright?”

You give her a lopsided smile. “Don't start or I'm gonna kiss you again.”

She smiles and leaves without saying anything else. You don't know how her heart ached at the fact you didn't say it back.

-&-

The further you went, the less habited Westview became.

The realization gives you chills, and as the city turns into this creepy empty scenario, you start to consider giving up your little investigation and just go back to your lovely wife and children.

It's the neighbor's parked car at Ellis Avenue that makes you sigh determined.

You're surprised to find Agnes having a drink inside. The small bottle has an insight that looks strangely familiar to you but you can't put your heart on that. And you're busy speaking:

“Goodnight, Agnes, is everything alright?” You greet but upon your sudden arrival, she chuckles ironically.

Not even bothering to hide away the bottle that has something so strong that you can smell the alcohol from afar, she leans into the window to get a better look at you.

“And what are you doing here, sugar?”

Her attitude chocks you. Not only that but something about the ascent also makes you frown. But you decide to play along because things are weird enough those days.

“Hm, I was just going for a walk.”

Agnes lifts an eyebrow at you. “Oh, does she know you're out?”

You know immediately she's talking about Wanda but you have no clue what that means. So you swallow drily and stare at the older woman.

“Yeah, I… I tell my wife everything.”

Agnes giggles wickedly. “Is that what you believe? Truly? How lovely.”

“Agnes, I don't understand -”

“Stop this act for once!” She cuts off angrily, opens the door, and almost hits you in the process. You step back so she can get out of the vehicle, and she hits the door a second time. “I'm Agatha! We know each other! Stop this foolish act for once!”

You frown and shake your head confusedly. “Of course we know each other, you're my neighbor-”

She groans impatiently, giving your shoulders a hard push. “Do you know how worried I was when you disappeared? Do you even care?”

“Agnes, I don't-”

“When you said you wanted to do the right thing, I let you. I gave you the space you wanted. When you said you would play superhero with those lunatics, I said okay, do one crazy thing this century, we all have our phases.” She continues to vent, without caring about your confusion. “But then you were gone! They brought everybody back except you. There was a whole fucking memorial you know? And I thought, fuck that stupid asshole finally got what she was looking for. And yeah I took your body from those shitty agents like you made me swear I would do if you were ever treated like a lab rat, but then I came here for a job and here you are! Playing housewife with that witch as if nothing bad happened ever happened!”

You interrupt her: “What bad thing happened?”

“You died, your idiot!” She screams back, stealing the air from your lungs. But she sighs to keep her composure and then chuckles humorlessly. “Or at least that's what the news said, right?” She retorts, her eyes shining lit. You don't know if it's the tears or the challenge behind her iris. “What is this anyways, Y/N? Where even are you right now? Do you know? Does she?”

You step back, your heart racing in your chest. “None of this makes any sense. You're clearly disoriented, and I'm sorry but I can't deal with this right now.” You practically run away from her, but Agnes - or Agatha at this point you're not sure of anything anymore - stops following you. She shakes her head in disbelief and takes the small bottle from her pocket again. With a long gulp, it looks like she drinks all of it before turning back to her car.

You just keep moving.

The Avenue limit is in front of you, and you don't have to make much of an effort to realize there's so short of energy there. Like a wall right in front of you.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand to the border moving forward with your fingers.

The second you're out, Westview disappears.

-&-

Before.

When Agatha Harkness decided her apprentice was ready for a real mission, she expected the witch she chose to spare instead of sacrifice once, to go for something simple, like killing a dragon or exploring a different realm.

She was not expecting an infinity stone.

“It's stupidly dangerous.” She said when you suggested but you didn't lose your posture.

“And when are we doing things that aren't dangerous?” Your argument started there just before you listed how inconvenient it would be if Hydra learned how to manipulate the stones for the actual magical community. Teasing Agatha by saying you might ask the Kamar Taj Mages for the same mission was the main reason she agreed with this.

In no time, you're heading off to a little place called Sokovia. Alone for your first mission, you didn't call for help when you got captured because that would be too humiliating. It was your first mission without Agatha, you could handle Hydra and their weird science.

You could handle their experiments and torture in search of truth. You could handle an infinity stone being carved into your skin as they tried to study the magic from your veins. If there was something that Agatha taught was that you should never fear power, no matter what, you should take it. And so you did.

Agatha was supposed to be proud - You did not only succeed in your mission when you interrupted the experiments by stealing the stone from Hydra to give it to the Avengers (who were not supposed to do the same with it to be clear), but you were also much more powerful than any witches your age and beyond due to the experiments. But instead of being proud, Agatha got jealous. She was worried too, but mostly jealous. It's just who she was after all - the most ambitious person you ever met. And having her apprentice overcome her power in one mission didn't make her feel very good about herself.

After the fight that escalated with this jealousy, you two departed for years. You became an Avenger, and Agatha kept doing what she did best. The stone craved at Vision’s head kept whispering fears into his mind until finally, the mad Titan came to Earth to retract what he believed belonged to him and kill anyone who stayed in his way.

You were given a proper and public funeral organized by Natasha Romanoff, so Agatha knew you were gone. She saw the news, then she visited the grave.

The Avengers didn't know the old ways of witchcraft, so she felt she was in her right to steal your body without giving any explanation. Leaving an empty and destroyed grave behind. It was not the witch community problem that a new tension surfaces with that, whispers of government organizations or criminals wishing to have your body for their own experiments. The talk of men was of little importance for a 300-year-old witch anyway.

Five years came and a flick of fingers brought everybody back from the dead. All but you.

Agatha had your body magically preserved - untouched by the lady of death as one last favor from Rio - she made sure you were buried in her family land as well.

You must rest with your kind she would say.

But everything changed one afternoon. She felt a powerful magic emission from afar and left her property. Unaware that you heard the same calling.

The connection you held with the witch calling whatever was deeper than the dark roots of that cursed magical ground your body was buried in.

The stone that was used to amplify Wanda's and your powers created a magical bond between you two that not even death could break. That, and well, you loved each other very deeply. The second her heart screamed your name during the Creation of Westview, you moved to her.

Your poor stitched body couldn't do the travel - the fight with the Titan weakened your flesh to its limit. You crawled into the Harkness Residence while its owner flayed to answer the magical calling before you could.

The only way you were able to reach for Wanda was with your mind. The preserved connection of the stone to yours and her power brought your conscience all the way to Westview but weakened by the distance and your wife's grief, all memories were gone.

You were there, but not really.

And while Agatha's employees woke up and freaked out about a body in the living room, your Hex version and her were locked inside Westview, following up fantasies for what felt like a lifetime but in reality barely a week had passed.

That until of course, you stepped outside.

The first person you see is Darcy Lewis. But she's nothing like you remember her.

Just like everybody around, she had circus outfits and even some handcuffs and chains around her that made you frown.

Getting up from the ground you didn't even realize you fell into, you take a moment to clean up the amount of dirt from your clothes.

“Darcy, is that really you?”

The brunette let out a nervous laugh. “I'm sorry, am I the only one who saw this woman appearing out of nowhere? Hello, guys? Okay, I'm out of here.” She moves away nervously but you stumble behind her.

“Wait, Darcy, is me-”

“Get away from me, stranger!” Darcy shouts back, almost running but you focus on using your abilities. It's painful, as if your mind and body - and the Westview version of yourself are - getting used to magic again, so when you teleport to her way, your knees give up and Darcy is kind enough not to let you fall to the ground. “What the hell was that?”

You balance yourself with her help. “Darcy is me. How can you not remember me?”

“Sorry, I'm not good with names.”

You chuckle weakly. “Not even Jane Foster? Or Thor?” She blinks, suddenly more uncomfortable than before. When she hesitates, you reach for her head. The magical subjugation is forced away by your magic and Darcy gasps in chock.

“Oh my god, is really you is it, Y/N?” She finally recognized you, her memories coming back to her at high speed. You sigh in relief, moving closer to free her from her chains. You hug her back as her arms lock around you tightly. “I knew they were wrong when they said you were gone.”

You break the embrace to give her a small smile. “Well, about that…”

You had to tell the story very quickly; your goal was to get back to the city, to your wife. Who needs to explain to you how the hell you were here and not buried in New York. If Wanda wouldn't talk, Agatha would have to do it.

Darcy, fortunately, managed to get a car.

"[...] do you really think she resurrected me?"

Darcy shrugs, she's driving and even though she's not a witch, she seems to take the whole story very seriously.

"Look, it's like I told you, SWORD called all kinds of experts to this place. No one really knows what the Hex is made of, much less how you're here. But what we do know is that your body was stolen about three weeks ago, and no one has been able to locate you anymore."

You imagine how Wanda would have done it, and the image of her digging your grave and dragging your body through the city gives you chills. But it also has nothing to do with Wanda, and makes you sigh wearily.

"I don't know, Darcy. It doesn't sound like anything she would do."

The woman with the glasses forces a sad smile at you. "Grief is a strange feeling, my friend. We often do surprising things."

There's a pause, but when Darcy speaks again after a whistle, her tone is much lighter than before.

"Now, talking about your body, are you sure you don't feel... you know, physical?"

You laugh, scratching the back of your head awkwardly. "It's hard to explain. I don't think I would notice if I weren't a witch, and well the spell is strong and capable of fooling everyone here. But I can feel that I'm not complete." You try to explain. "I only noticed when I left the Hex. It was like a tug, behind my head, as if my mind is the only physician thing here somehow. I don't know how Wanda brought me back, but I have a few guesses. A lot of them involve necromancy, but I don't know where she would have learned that. Although, the presence of a friend here in the Hex gave me some pointers."

Darcy frowns. "Friend? Who?"

She has to brake suddenly, because there's a sheep crossing in the way. It's your turn to grimace.

"What the hell...?" The herd lingers and then gives way to children crossing the street and an old lady with walking sticks.

Wanda is keeping you away. But why?

"She's doing this, Darcy." You mutter irritably, looking out the window at the next distraction on the road - roadworks - before unbuckling your seatbelt. "This is ridiculous. I am dead, and my wife would rather arrest me on the road than talk about it. We'll meet downtown, Darcy. And thank you for coming here to help Wanda." You get out of the car before your friend can protest, and fly away without waiting for anything else.

It's time to have a grown-up talk about things.

-&-

Your sudden departure, although short, was enough for your physical body to gain the little vigor it needed.

Just enough to call the only person who could help you in this state.

Agatha had few trusted employees, but they all liked you. Worried and attentive to every movement, to every weak breath of yours, while they stitched and healed your body, they heard you whisper the name that had not been pronounced under this roof for hundreds of years.

“Rio Vidal.”

Harkness Mansion grew cold at once, and the employees shrank in fear but also lowered their gazes in respect for the personification of death that had just appeared at the entrance.

Rio walked unhurriedly to the stone bench where your body rested. She touched your face and hoped you had some strength to open your eyes.

Completely white irises stared back at her. An empty, soulless cocoon.

"Poor child." The woman whispered, tracing your cheek carefully. "Agatha never learns."

She made to move away, but you managed to move your hand to hers. "Help me." The mansion's servants left the two of you alone, but Rio didn't care if she had an audience or not. She sighed sadly, her free hand resting above your ribcage.

"Agatha asked me not to take your body, but this is inhumane. You're suffering, Y/N." You shake your head, tears escaping the corners of your eyes. Rio looks at you in confusion and insists: "Of course you are, child, look at you. You're empty. You're not even here anymore." Your fingers intertwine with hers in desperation. "We..West...view."

You struggle to get the words out, until finally, Rio understands.

"Westview is a town in New Jersey. That's where Agatha anchored the preservation spell, isn't it? Tell me where. I'll set you free."

You shake your head and your words change. "Wanda."

The woman frowns. "Wanda? Your wife? What does she have to do with...-"

One of the servants comes back into the room, a newspaper in hand. He seems too scared to interfere, but he still manages to hand the item to Rio.

When she reads the headline about Westview and a mysterious Hex that has quarantined the town, she laughs in disbelief.

She comes back to you only to pull you up in a sitting position, ignoring your grunts of pain.

"Our wives are insane, honey. Get up, let's clean up their mess."

It's a quick trip with Rio's skills, of course.

And you arrive for a very ugly fight, which your body certainly couldn't handle. That's why Rio keeps you both hidden, watching from a distance.

Agatha - as always - takes impulsive actions and this time, she can't win.

In any other situation, Rio would have intervened on her wife's behalf. This time, having to help your body stand up, prevented from decaying by spells because Agatha refused to let you die, she doesn't do it. She just watches Wanda take her power.

After so many centuries of watching Agatha do the same to other witches, it's definitely an interesting scene.

The limit is drawing in imprisoning her. That Rio can't allow.

"May I interrupt, ladies?"

Rio's sudden appearance makes Wanda go on alert and prepare for a fight. But her entire posture collapses when she locks eyes with you.

With a sob, Wanda calls your name and then runs to meet you.

You have trouble staying upright with the hug but you don't dare complain.

Billy and Tommy look at the scene with confused faces, and it is Billy who whispers his version of Hex:

"Why is mom hugging that zombie?"

You laugh softly, ruffling your two children's hair. Wanda is crying, unable to let go of your body, and you sigh tiredly. You feel the tug coming from there, but you have no idea how to regain a physical form. The connection seems impossible.

Agatha starts to cause a commotion with her ex-wife.

"You're so irresponsible, I told you a million times that breaking the natural order of things is impossible, and it's temporary. You don't listen, and you don't learn!" Rio accuses, trying to reach Agatha who is running away from her until she reaches your Hex version.

"Here’s the proof that it's not impossible!" Agatha retorts in despair, ignoring the looks in her direction. "Look at her! She lives! It's her soul! Wanda brought her back. She could-"

"Agatha." Rio cuts her off, tears in her eyes for the first time. She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. And when she speaks again, her voice is much softer than before. "Not him, okay?"

And the witch who is holding your shoulders tightly, sniffs softly, trying to hide her own emotions. "Why? Why can't you give me the only thing I want?"

Rio swallows hard. "He found peace, Agatha. There is no return for his soul. Y/N is still here because you imprisoned her. And Wanda was able to call her back. And now." She gestures to your two versions and your wife. "It's time for goodbyes."

Wanda didn't want to let go of you, but you gave her a reassuring smile.

Your physical body couldn't speak, and she noticed it immediately. She touched your cheeks and stared into your completely white, lifeless eyes.

"I'm sorry for doing this to you." She whispers, sniffing softly. "I'm going to let you go."

The boys don't listen, having been taken away from the confusion by Monica as soon as Agatha and Rio start arguing. And Wanda needs to leave your body with Lady Death, even if it breaks her heart into a thousand pieces.

"Will you take care of her?" She asks, swallowing the urge to cry again. She looks at Agatha, sulking in a corner as if she would also start crying at any moment, and sighs. "Of the two of them?"

Rio nods and looks at Wanda curiously. "We'll meet again, Wanda Maximoff. I'm at the end of all journeys."

The younger witch can't smile back, she just looks at Rio with such deep sadness that it makes the entity regret having been present in so many moments of Wanda's life.

With one last look at your body, the Scarlet Witch joins her family from the Hex, and leaves towards their house, while the magic fades in the sky and around everyone.

-&-

You turned on the lamp just as Wanda had turned off the opposite one, and she smiled as she looked at you.

The boys were sleeping upstairs, and from the window, you could see the Hex closing.

"Sorry, I remembered..." You start awkwardly, out of breath. "That it's bad luck to say goodnight in the dark."

Wanda smiles, approaching in small steps. "Is that so?"

You nod, your hands in your pockets because you don't know what to do with them. You didn't know what to do with anything.

"It's the name of a song, isn't it? One of the many you used to listen to in the Avengers Tower."

Your wife sighs, giving you a sad, almost guilty smile. She's finally close enough to touch.

"I'm sorry about your memories." She asks softly, her hands moving to your wrists. So that you take your hands out of your pockets, and place them where they belong. Around her. "I would have told you the truth from the beginning, but I didn't know-"

She trails off when instead of wrapping your arms around her waist, one of your hands reaches for her cheek, caressing it with a tenderness that makes her melt and gasp.

Wanda can't do this. She can't. She doesn't want to say goodbye, and she can't say goodbye to you again.

"I'm so sorry for making you cry." That's what you say, which just makes her break down into a sob. You give her a tearful smile, your other hand also reaching for her face, to hold her tenderly. "You, Wanda Maximoff, are by far the best thing that has happened to me in 345 years on this earth. The fact that I get to die knowing that I was loved not just by anyone, by you, is the epitome of a fulfilled life.” You say, caressing her skin with your thumb. You take a deep sigh, as your wife tries to hold your hands in her face. “I love you, Wanda.”

“Please.” She cries, falling into your embrace when you move your hands away. She holds you as tight as she can, but she can feel the fading of the spell. “Please come back to me.”

With all your heart, you wished to fulfill her request. And with the end of Hex, the last sensation you felt was Wanda's embrace, and her tears wetting your shirt.

It made all the sense that you woke up with a jump, calling her name.

The place you were in looked nothing like Westview or any place you had been in years.

But it wasn't completely unfamiliar. It looked a lot like a forested area you hadn't been in since the last century.

And the little boy picking flowers near the river where you emerged from took all the air from your lungs.

Little Nicholas Schatch looked back as if he had guessed you were awake.

"Hi, Aunt Y/N."

You gasped with excitement, sitting up. He came closer and didn't complain when you pulled him into a tight hug. Even though you came from the water, your clothes were not wet.

"Hi, Nicky." You cried, holding him until he laughed at the tightness and tried to escape the grip. "Look at you, boy. You look so handsome, so grown up."

It had been so long since you had seen him since you had helped Agatha bury him. He didn't seem to have aged a day, but he had looked so small when he passed, that you had the impression he had grown. "It's so good to see you again, dear." Nick smiled, sitting down next to you on the dry grass.

"You didn't bring Mama with you." You give him a sad smile, shaking your head.

"I'm sorry, little prince, your mama isn't ready yet." He nods in understanding, upset but not insisting. You look around, recognizing that scene, the cabin in the background, the river. You sigh before looking at Nicholas again. "Where's your other mother?" He shrugs, gathering the flowers in his lap. You realize he bound them together with magic, not with knots. You frown, touching his hands. "Can you do magic now, little prince?" He nods, smiling.

"My mother taught me." You stare at him in surprise and then look around again.

"Where are we, Nicky? Do you know?" He gives a confused laugh.

"Home, Aunt Y/N, of course."

You accept the flower necklace he made for you but don’t get up when he walks away back to the lake.

“Nicky.” You call after a moment of thought. He hums, signaling that he’s listening. “Did anyone else come with me? Two other little boys?”

He doesn’t look up from the new necklace he’s making. “No, Aunt Y/N. My mother said Billy and Tommy ran away.”

Your stomach drops. You choke. “W-what… Ran away? Where?”

He shrugs and finally looks at you again.

"She doesn’t know, Auntie. But my mother keeps me here safe, away from the disease. She said she could keep you and Billy and Tommy too. But she needs to find them first."

You freeze and try to hide your reaction from your step-nephew. He gives you a smile before going back to playing, and you force your body to work and stand up.

You take one last look at him before heading towards the cabin, and as soon as you arrive, you realize that it is exactly as you remembered, how you visited Agatha and Rio for decades before Nicky was born - when their life was calm, happy, and peaceful.

Everything that time has erased, photos, paintings, and furniture are fully preserved here. You lean against the walls until you sit in one of the empty chairs at the table.

You notice the pots of food and frown.

Since when do the dead need to eat?

Raising your hand in the air, your first attempt is a simple conjuration. Anything, even a spark. And you end up having to suppress the grunt of pain as you try. Nothing.

Maybe the passage took away all your magic, or maybe it was the river’s doing. Either way, you're dry.

You look through the half-open door at the child playing in the river and bite the inside of your cheek. Your fingers find the flower necklace in your pocket, and even faintly, you feel the magic in them.

Well, a few dozen more, and you'd have enough to get you home.

Hopefully it would be a trip for two.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #sub!wanda #bottom!wanda #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fics

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queenofwands89 · 9 months ago

Text

Stolen Hearts and Cuddles

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader

Summary: While cuddling, Jake tells Y/N that she made him believe in love at first sight.

Warning: Tooth rotting fluff.

Notes: Hello, this is my first Jake fic. I just watched twisters with my family last week, and it got me back in my Glen Powell feels (Always been down bad for him the movie just reignited that spark lmao), so yeah I hope you enjoy byeeee.

The sun has set, and the soft glow from the table lamp casts a warm, cozy light across the living room. You’re nestled together on the plush leather couch, your head resting on Jake's chest as you listen to the gentle hum of the city outside your window. The faint aroma of popcorn lingers in the air, remnants of your impromptu movie night.

Jake's arm is draped protectively around you, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on your shoulder. You find solace in these moments – the simplicity of being close to him, away from the chaos of the naval base and the pressure of his duties as a aviator.

“Y’know,” Jake's voice breaks the comfortable silence, a confident lilt even in his softer moments, “I used to think love at first sight was just a myth. A fairytale people tell themselves to make life seem a little more magical.”

Tilting your head slightly, you look up at him, your curious eyes meeting his green, mischievous yet earnest gaze. “Oh really?” you tease, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “The great Lieutenant Jake Seresin, charmer extraordinaire, didn’t believe in love?”

A chuckle rumbles from his chest, making you vibrate with the sound. “Hard to believe, huh?” he smirks. “But yeah, I was always about the next mission, the next challenge. Love seemed like a distraction.”

Your fingers play with the hem of his navy blue T-shirt, your touch sending electric shivers down his spine. “So, what changed?” you ask softly, genuinely intrigued.

Jake’s expression softens, the cockiness melting away to reveal the depth of his feelings. He gently cups your face with his hand, his thumb caressing your cheek. “You,” he says simply. “You changed everything.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against your skin. “How?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Jake’s eyes lock with yours, reflecting a sincerity that’s often hidden behind his confident exterior. “The first time I saw you, it felt like someone had flipped a switch inside me. Suddenly, life wasn't just about flying high and chasing adrenaline. It was about finding a way to keep you by my side, to protect you, to love you.”

He takes a deep breath, as if steadying himself to say something deeply personal. “You didn’t just capture my attention, Y/N. You stole my heart. Completely and irrevocably. And for the first time, I realized that love isn’t a distraction. It’s what makes all the risks worth taking.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, your emotions welling up at his heartfelt confession. “Jake…” you begin, but he gently hushes you, his gaze soft yet intense.

“I’m serious, Y/N. You’re my everything. My whole world. The one I’d sacrifice everything for,” he continues, his voice filled with unwavering conviction. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as your lips meet in a tender, passionate kiss. Each touch, each breath seems to reaffirm your bond, a silent promise of the future you will build together.

When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, your heart racing. “I love you, Jake. More than words can say.”

“I love you more baby,” he replies, his voice a soft murmur in the intimate space you share. “More than you could ever know.”

You settle back into his comfortable embrace, the weight of the world outside disappearing as you lose yourself in each other. In that moment, in the safety of your love, you find a tranquility you have never known before.

As you drift off to sleep, the world outside continues to spin, but for you and Jake, your universe is right there on that couch – wrapped in each other's arms, in a cocoon of stolen hearts and unyielding love.

#jake seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x you #tgm #top gun #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin imagine #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #glen powell #glen powell fanfic

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jynxpsiche · 3 months ago

Note

A Dae-ho x reader where the reader is kind of a sweetheart but is in team thanos. With dae-ho and thanos/Nam gyu having beef with one another because of it lolol if you get what i mean;;

MMMH MMH MMH THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!! ready to create some havoc!! Thank you for requesting! Hope you like the fic!! Likes and reblogs are appreciated!! <3 stay safe and hydrated!!

pretty lady

kang dae-ho x fem!reader | slight f!reader x thanos/nam-gyu

🎐. summary: you were a sight for sore eyes. An angel into a corrupted place like that. Of course you were going to be the attention of most the men there. Especially of two particular boys.

🎐. warnings: slight glinda core, blonde female reader because I said so, canon squid game gore, violence, swearings, jealous and protective dae-ho, not proofread. English is not my first language!

Likes and reposts are appreciated!!

Among all these people you were literally an angel. Your blonde gentle curls bounced with every step you took when you first walked down the aisle to submit your vote.

You felt all the eyes on you but you tried to brush them off and only concentrate on your imminent future. Your expression soft but serious.

Determined you pressed down the X button and with a small grin on your face you wore the corresponding patch on your jacket before joining the others on that side of the room.

You fixed the little pink bow that tied half your hair up and you failed to notice a set of blown wide eyes staring at your petite form from the other side.

Scrutinizing and observing you with deep interest. A smirk popped up on his lips. What an intriguing little creature you were.

Such a cute and delicate flower.

And oh how much he craved you.

What was doing a little doe like you in a place like this? Full of hunters and starving men. Not a single positive thought behind those prying eyes.

Especially his.

Unfortunately for you and the others on your side, the majority had decided to vote to continue playing games and so you were stuck in that place, fighting for your life, for another day.

The crowd had now dispersed, but two factions had now formed, creating great tension in the room.

No one could have been trusted there. And you knew that.

And while you were sitting on your bed bunk, thinking about possible moves or other ways to survive, player 388 observed you from his spot on the stairs, not caring about the conversation his teammates were having.

His eyes slowly admired how the light made your golden locks shine, how small your figure was, your delicate hands and fingers playing nervously, and finally your dove-eyed eyes focused in front of you.

You were on alert.

But even if behind your docile appearance you hid a strong spirit, he felt a sudden feeling bubble up in his chest. An incessant need.

Despite not knowing you, Dae-ho wanted to assure your safety and to keep you away from any type of dangers. Especially the ones in that same dorm.

However, his sudden hobby had been interrupted when player 230 approached you with his 'cool' attitude. He knew what men like him wanted from pretty girls like you. And he surely couldn't tolerate that.

"Hey Señorita, what're you doing here all alone?" his cheerful and flirty voice woke you up from your focused planning and slowly you brought your big eyes to him, noticing the dude with the purple sparky hair. "Why? Is there a problem with it?" you questioned lightly, your voice coming out in a soft tone.

You weren't trying to flirt back or something, but you deeply disliked when people didn't like you. You constantly felt the need to be loved and adored by everybody.

The guy shook his head, chuckling amusingly and then leaned closer to you, “just wondering what a pretty doll like you was doing in a place like this” he took one of your curls and started twirling it on his finger.

You stared at his eyes, locked with yours, and immediately picked up his blown pupils boring into yours. And you understood clearly that something was wrong with that man.

But you had no strength to pull him away.

“Doll…” the guy started, now a wicked grin on his lips, his eyes shifting from your eyes to your plump lips, “I’ll be able to protect you, but—“ he stopped his words for a moment and his smile widened “it will come with a price”.

Patiently you flashed him a tight closed smile and with a swift of your hand you managed to free your locks from his grasp, pretending to fix your hair.

Dae-ho still observed from afar, although now standing from his spot and slowly ascending from the stairs with the intention to stroll near your bed bunk and intervene in case things got a little too heated. And not in a good way.

He absentmindedly smirked at your calm attempt to escape from the guy’s grip and silently cheered in his mind at your successful attempt.

Now he was only a few meters away from you, this time able to hear the interaction.

You both didn’t notice him. What a relief.

His heart beating hard and anxiously in his chest, but he kept a focused look on his face. He was ready to jump in if that drugged guy would have tried something funny.

Then he heard your soft voice, “that’s so kind. But you know what would be even kinder?” You batted your long lashes at the guy in front you, who was hanging from every word that left your plump and rosy lips.

You slightly turned your head to the side, eyeing a young small guy, probably your age, who was sitting all alone. He looked kinda pathetic.

If this strange man wanted you to be on his side so bad, then he would have done everything you suggested him. And you were also going to help that poor scared guy. How good of you.

“See that guy over there? The one all alone and scared? It seems so unfair we are all in teams, and not him, geez” you falsely let out a sad sigh, still gazing at the other player.

The purple-haired guy briefly looked where you were pointing at and then turned to you again. Wide and crazy eyes staring at you for a second time.

You sent him another tight smile, this time the corner of your lip twitched a little due to your nervousness.

The ex-marine kept his gaze locked on you, noticing how slowly you were starting to falter. Doubt and fear was gradually creeping under your skin. This time you weren’t sure you were going to get out of this situation all by yourself and thanks to your charm.

And Dae-ho understood that somehow. You were crumbling, but he was ready to help you out.

“I wish someone would be my hero—” just to make your statement look more truthful, you placed your slim fingers on his bicep, gripping at it slightly. From him, you received an enthusiastic look and an amused chuckle. “—if that someone would to go team up with him…”

Now your lips were pushed forward into a pout and that sight alone clicked something in the drugged guy.

A low hum came from him, his face even closer to yours, your foreheads only a few centimeters away from actually touching. He now really was staring into your wide doe orbs.

“If I do that…would you consider joining my team Señorita?” slowly you nodded then recomposed yourself “we’ll see” and with that the guy was out of your sight, already jogging to other side of the room to talk with that lonely player.

You relaxed your posture, which had became stiff from the moment he came near you, but you just didn’t realize till now.

Then a gentle tap on your shoulder.

You shrieked loudly but cutely (in Dae-ho’s opinion) and jumped at the contact, scared that another creep was going to pester you and make you uncomfortable.

However, when you turned around you were met with an affable face.

It was another guy, also young, but he didn’t give the same vibes as the previous one…no, this one made you feel secure and calm. Not troubled at all.

You studied the young guy with a curious stare, your orbs roaming all around his figure because too intrigued by his appearance.

He wasn’t strange, neither looked like one. But in a bizarre place like that you were expecting the most untrustworthy people playing deadly games just to feel the breeze of victory and satisfaction.

The hand he used to tap you on the shoulder was still frozen mid-air, a widen look on his face and a faint and rosy blush on his apples’ cheeks. He surely was speechless.

You cutely tilted your head, looking up at him with large eyes, “can I help you?” His gaze fixated on your lovely and round lips, his brain not comprehending any word coming from you.

Dae-ho gulped down the lump in his throat and simply refocused his attention on your face, now staring at you in the eyes like an imbecile.

Maybe that was exactly what you were thinking: what this idiot wanted from you? how you were going to get rid of him without hurting his feelings?

He was already tasting the flavor of rejection.

Then he felt your baby pink nails graze at his hand still hanging in the air and instinctively he withdrew his hand with a quick jerk, as if the contact had burned him. But in reality he was only caught off guard, not ready for your touch. He would have expected anything but the brush with your soft, pale skin.

A light gasp came from you, surprised by such reaction. It never happened to you before.

How peculiar.

Your voice reached his ears again, “are you okay?” The former marine couldn’t make a fool of himself for the second time in your presence, he had to answer and quickly. “Yes! I just…came here to check up on you! Yeah, yeah…after the conversation with that dude, Thanos” he tried to sound confident, but he himself noticed how his own voice wavered slightly or abruptly became high due to nervousness.

The quizzical expression on your face made him realize that you didn’t know who the player was (probably you didn’t pay attention to the number on his jacket) so he chuckled softly and caught his breath, ready to clear up any doubts.

But before he could do that he immediately caught how your eyes suddenly lit up, a wide smile bloomed on your face and delicately you started bouncing on your bed bunk in excitement.

“Oh i got it!” You bounced a little more and unconsciously landed closer to him, taking both his large hands in your small ones.

Dae-ho immediately took notice of the huge size difference and also tried to drink in your gentle touch.

“You mean the odd guy with the purple hair right?” Your expression was hopeful and impatient, waiting for him to answer your question and ease your doubt. He simply nodded, with no force to speak after a scene like this, his mouth dry like the desert.

When you tilted your head a bit your hair prettily shifted in the same direction, shining more brightly in the light of the room.

Now a thinking expression printed on your features.

“He made me uncomfortable, sure, but I think that I handled the situation pretty well!” You grinned up at him “after all i love helping others and that guy all alone surely needed some!”

“Did you came here also for something else?”

Did he? He wasn’t sure. He just wanted you safe in a degenerate place like that and mostly from degenerate people that took part in it.

He wasn’t one of them. He knew.

And neither were his teammates.

So he for sure knew that you would have been safe in his team if you decided to join him.

“Actually…” but he was unsure. Maybe you would have considered him on the same level as player 230. But it doesn’t hurt to try.

“Actually…I was hoping that you could join my team?”

Your already large eyes seemed to comically widen even more, making you appear cuter than you already were.

His heart leaped.

And when you were ready to give him an answer Thanos approached your petite figure again, but now he wasn’t alone.

Skipping happily behind him was a guy with long hair, a mischievous grin on his thin lips.

The former marine recognized him as player 214, Nam-gyu.

The rapper’s voice boomed through the room, “Doll! I’m back! Did you miss me?” An unsettling feeling was showed through your facial features, but you didn’t give away too much discomfort, immediately wearing the fake thin smile; kind and polite but cold as ice.

Dae-ho only admired how versatile you were. You amazed him every second that went by.

“You again! Didn’t you go recruit that poor guy on your team?” You questioned politely, slowly hoisting from your kneeled position and standing right beside Dae-ho.

Even in a mundane action you displayed such gracefulness that pulled every string of his heart.

But he noticed quickly that he wasn’t the only one.

In a flash Thanos wrapped his arm around your waist and quickly pushed you in another direction, probably where his bed bunk was situated. “We are going to have so much fun together doll! And we’ll be able to win so much money!” He beamed enthusiastically, his arm bringing you closer to his tall and slim figure.

Nam-gyu swiftly appeared on your other side, the mischievous grin still on his face but now his eyes were totally focused on your face.

An unsettling feeling bubbled in your stomach. Goosebumps on your arms due to that sickening gaze. A shaky sigh from your nose.

“Yeah…just stick with us…and you’ll have nothing to worry about” he said, engulfing your shoulders with his arm.

Now you were trapped between the two, unwillingly following them.

Slightly you managed to turn your head behind, locking your eyes with Dae-ho.

You were silently asking for help because in that moment he was the only one you truly trusted and the only one to save you from that situation.

But he hadn’t been quick enough because when he opened his mouth to interfere, you were already gone.

[...]

Panic set through your bones when the pink circle soldiers locked your legs together with the team you had been forced to join.

The second game had been announced: six-legged pentathlon.

Five minigames to play in a short amount of time; if the team ran out of time they would have been eliminated. And you all knew what that meant.

With a shaky breath you scanned the room briefly, before setting your tremulant eyes on player 388, who was already looking at you, a small smile on his lips.

He was trying to put you at ease with a simple glance, his fist raised in the air as a symbol of strenght and courage. He perceived that you could do it and that you were tough enough to succeed.

Still with your gazes interlocked he mimicked a deep breath and reluctantly you echoed him. That should have calmed you down a bit.

Your doe eyes flashed him a determined look and then you turned forward, ready to face the challenge.

Subtly, he side-eyed his teammates, hoping that they didn’t witness the secret and caring exchange you two had.

Dae-ho kept his gaze fixated on you the whole time, never tearing it away from your small figure as you walked ahead with the rest of your team.

Only once his eyes left your figure and that was when he sent a disgusted look at Thanos, who of course appeared too relaxed and out of his mind during the race.

A low growl reverberated in his chest when he saw how the purple-haired guy squished your face and made you look at his face, telling you to not fuck up.

How dare he speak to you like that? You, who didn’t deserve such treatment.

If he wasn’t in a place like this, he would have intervened in the blink of an eye.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, and Jun-hee beside him stared up at form, a quizzical expression on her face.

Slowly and cautiously she followed his line of sight and despite her short height and her condition she immediately caught up what was happening: call it female perception.

Unfortunately she was nobody to him to share a piece of her thoughts, but maybe, in a subtle way, she could do it. Smooth and clean without raising any suspicious.

"Ehm...388?" she didn't know his name and of course they were only acquaintances, so it was only a matter of rispect and politeness. The mentioned guy turned his head towards her, his brows raised slightly in concern, "Are you okay? You don't feel good?" she kindly smiled at his gentleness and interest in her health, but she simply waved his worries away, her hand ghosting on his bicep.

"Perhaps are you okay? I see you're kinda...distressed?" Dae-ho gaped at her with an unexpected suddenness, certainly not expecting it t be so noticeable. Now it was his time to get rid of her worriment, "I'm fine, I'm fine...nothing to worry about!" but his tone didn't reassure her at all and her suspicious had been confirmed when his eyes flashed for a second towards the playing team.

"Is there anybody you care about?" she lowly whispered not wanting to draw any attention to them, even if almost everybody was too engaged on the game ahead. Dae-ho's head snapped in her direction, now his expression displaying half surprise and half concern.

If Jun-hee had managed to catch up so quickly about her behaviour, soon or later the other players too would have understood that and not only him, but you too would have been in danger.

And he wouldn't be able to endure it.

He was trying to save you, not to endanger you.

"W-what?" "In that team-- she said pointing forward-- there is someone you really care about and you are worried about them, am I right?" she muttered hushedly and the former marine only nodded at her statement.

He just wanted this nightmare to end.

He forcely rubbed his temples, a faint migraine starting to bloom in his mind. If this game wouldn't kill him first, then his anxiety would do the trick.

"Everything is going to be fine, don't worry" the girl reassured him and then brought her gaze forward again, focusing on the ending game. With a small but rousing smile she gentlu nudged his arm and pointed ahead.

He lifted his head and saw that the last game has been passed succesfully and now your team was hurrying to the finish line.

When you crossed the finish line, shouts and jubilant yells echoed throughout the room, the other players happy to see the team had passed the test and that there was hope for everyone.

Of course, your team was not the weakest, but it was certainly the least harmonious and uncoordinated of all the others.

Eyes meet.

Hearts leaped.

Even if all the players roared triumphantly they seemed to be suddenly surrounded by a sweet and innocent silence.

You beamed at him, smiling widely and flashing him your white pearls. So lovely and beautiful.

‘Thank you’ were the words your lips mouthed and in exchange you raised your closed fist as a good sign luck. He smiled back, his smile full of adoration for you.

He was really hoping to see you after that game.

However, when your team was being untied by a circle guard and then escorted out of the field, Thanos immediately circled your waist with his arm, pushing you closer to him.

A shiver went down the marine’s spine.

He needed to complete this game, and fast.

Dae-ho needed to save you from that monster’s grasp.

[…]

His team had been the last to play.

No one was present there to cheer on them, only the utter and sinister silence. The guards absent stares on their rigid figures.

But they did it. They passed the game.

All of them being able to succeed in each minigame without too many flaws.

When the doors to the main room opened, Dae-ho noticed how some of the other players let out frustrated groans at their arrive, hoping that more people have died in order to gain more money.

But that wasn’t the case.

The ex-marine’s focus although was set on the crowd ahead, trying to spot your figure anywhere. But he didn’t.

At first he was confused: you had passed, then why weren’t you there? He spotted your former team but you weren’t there either. He tried to calm himself down and distract his distressed mind a bit, following his group to their self-proclaimed spot on the bunks.

Probably you were just in the bathroom. Yeah, you were safe and just needed a moment to use the restroom, nothing drastic.

However, he couldn’t avoid eyeing occasionally at the purple-haired guy, who seemed into his own little word, moving his air in the air and whispering under his breath improvised lyrics.

Then he heard a door open. He settled his eyes on it and suddenly a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. He felt like breathing again.

Firstly he spotted your blonde hair, too unusual to avoid among the sea of dark hair, then your eyes met.

The marine felt a smile creep on his lips when he saw how your eyes lighted up in his presences internally you were practically beaming.

With scurried but silent steps you hurried yourself in his direction, trying to be unspotted by Thanos and Nam-guy. They gave you the heebie-jeebies.

And when you were close enough you literally threw yourself on him. Of course he had been caught off guard but managed to catch you quickly and engulf you in a tight squeeze.

Even if you two didn’t know each other, you felt a deep connection.

You nestled your face in the crook of his neck and at your impulsive action Dae-ho flushed quite heavily but tried to hide it from your view.

Your loving face was hidden but he still heard your muffled words, “I thought I’d never see you again” at those words he smiled warmly and unconsciously tighten his grip around your smaller figure. His touch safe and warm.

Dae-ho tried to calm the incessant beating of his heart, thumping loudly against his chest, and a shaky breath left his mouth, “I’m not going anywhere. I will protect you even if it’ll cost me my life” he murmured back in a gentle reassuring tone “I’m going to get us out of here. I promise”.

He felt your figure shift slightly under his grasp and briefly loosened his arms around you, not letting you go completely.

A hopeful expression was printed on your face, your large eyes staring up at him like he had hung up the stars in the sky, “I know…but please” you pleaded softly “let me help you. We are going to do this together”.

Dae-ho’s heart swelled at your gentle words, bringing solace in his perturbed soul.

“When we’ll get out of here…” he bit his tongue, not sure if continue or not “when we’ll get out of here I would like to shoe you my hometown and…threat you a nice dinner”.

Your rosy lips morphed into an excited grin.

“You need to be treated like a lady…and I would gladly do that, if you’ll allow me”.

Your slim arms encircled around his neck, ushering him closer to you.

“I would love that more than anything”.

354 notes · View notes

enticingmelanin · 1 month ago

Text

Around The Park: A Terry Richmond Fic

Around The Park || Terry Richmond x Black OC

Starring Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond and Jayme Lawson as Essence Daniels.

Rating: E for Erotic.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Explicit Language, and a tiny touch of angst. 18+ Only.

Word Count: 16k+

Summary: Essence had always found solace in Meadows Park, where the scenery, gentle sounds, and lively community events provided the perfect escape. Whenever life became overwhelming, she knew the park was her safe haven. But what she didn’t anticipate was an encounter with a mysterious, handsome stranger, whose presence not only drew her back to the park time and time again, but to him as well. And he to her...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Let's take a long walk Around the park, after dark Find a spot for us to spark Conversation, verbal elation, stimulation Share our situations Temptations, education, relaxations Elevations Maybe we can talk about Surah 31:18..."

The scent of freshly cut grass and the soft hum of Jill Scott’s voice singing "A Long Walk" through her AirPods Max headphones made Meadows Park in Dallas, Texas, feel like a sanctuary. The stress of her Monday workday was now a thing of the past. Essence sat cross-legged atop a thick, mustard-colored woven blanket, her fingers lightly tracing the worn edges of Jade City by Fonda Lee. The world around her faded as she lost herself in the novel’s intricate battles and power struggles, the afternoon sun casting a golden sheen on her deep brown skin. Her radiance was a love letter from the ancestors in her blood.

A sudden rustling in the air made her pause. Before she could react, a blur of black fur darted into her peripheral vision. With a swift, enthusiastic chomp, her half-eaten chicken wrap was gone.

Essence gasped, pulling her headphones off as she stared at the culprit—a sleek black Labrador retriever, his tail wagging in satisfaction.

“Oh my god, Onyx, no!”

A deep, exasperated voice cut through the moment, rich and smooth like honey over gravel. It was the kind of voice that could command a room or lull someone into a dream, the perfect timbre for an audiobook narrator, laced with the warmth of a slight southern accent that she couldn’t quite place.

Essence’s eyes lifted to meet his, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. His gaze, a striking blend of blue-green and stormy gray, held her captive, shifting with the light, unreadable yet mesmerizing.

He was tall, his bronze caramel complexion glowing under the late afternoon sun. His skin tone emphasized the couple of tattoos that adorned his muscular arms. His face was a masterpiece of contrasts—sharp angles softened by the warmth of his skin. His strong jawline framed full lips that held the hint of a smirk. Thick brows sat above his eyes, bordered by long, dark lashes, lending an air of quiet dominance. A neatly trimmed beard traced the contours of his face, adding to his allure—refined yet rugged, controlled yet undeniably captivating. There was something about him, something simmering beneath the surface, like a slow-burning fire—one whose warmth Essence found herself wanting to feel.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he said, dragging a hand down his beard in frustration. His accent curled softly around his words. “I swear he ain’t usually this bold.”

Essence blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sheer presence of him. There was something about the way he looked at her—steady, unshaken, as if he had just stumbled upon something unexpected yet deeply intriguing.

She let out a small laugh, her voice soft, sweet, and sultry, a melody dipped in the smooth drawl of an Atlanta accent. “I guess I can’t blame him. It was a good wrap.”

Terry sighed, shaking his head. “I feel terrible. Lemme buy you another one or at least Cash App you.”

Essence smirked, shaking her head. “It’s fine, really. I was gettin’ full anyway.” She continued to pet Onyx, watching as the dog leaned into her touch, his tail wagging happily. Her giggles came soft and easy, the moment effortlessly light.

Terry watched her, the tension in his shoulders loosening as he took in the way she interacted with Onyx. The way her fingers moved through the dog’s fur, the warm amusement in her eyes—it was…charming.

Still, he wasn’t one to let things go so easily. “Alright, but what if I insist? Maybe dinner on Friday night? You know, to ease my conscience.”

Essence arched a brow, her lips curving into a slow smile. “Dinner?”

“Just a meal,” he said, hands raised in mock surrender. “No hidden motives. Just me, repayin’ a debt to the woman my dog decided to rob.”

She hesitated for only a few seconds before nodding. “Alright, dinner it is.”

He grinned, pulling his phone out. “Let’s exchange numbers then. Just in case you change your mind and want me to DoorDash you a chicken wrap instead.”

She laughed, tapping her contact into his iPhone 16 Max before handing it back. As she did, her fingers brushed his just slightly—enough to send a flicker of awareness through her.

Terry glanced down at her book and smirked. “So, what had you so distracted you ain’t even see a dog plottin’ a heist?”

Essence rolled her eyes playfully. “Only one of the best fantasy books out there. Jade City. You read?”

“I try,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Though I usually spend more time chasin’ after this troublemaker.” He nudged Onyx, who looked entirely unbothered by the chaos he had caused.

Terry exhaled and glanced at the sky. “I should get him home before he ruins someone else’s meal.”

Essence nodded, but as he took a step away, their eyes lingered, something unspoken hanging in the air between them.

Finally, he gave a small wave. “See you Friday, Essence. I'll send you the details.”

She watched as he turned, guiding Onyx away, his presence leaving an unexpected warmth in its wake. She glanced down at her phone, at his name now saved in her contacts as Terry Richmond, and shook her head in disbelief.

This was just a man makin’ up for his dog’s hunger. Nothing more.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Essence exhaled, shutting down her iMac laptop and display screens with a satisfying click. The glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the golden sheer curtains of her boho-chic apartment. Warm light casted over the carefully curated space. Every inch of her home reflected her style—a harmonious blend of gold, cream, and earthy neutrals accented by natural wood textures. Subtle touches of blue were placed throughout, too.

Her home office, an extension of this aesthetic, was a cozy yet efficient sanctuary. A sleek, light-toned, wooden desk sat near the window, adorned with a cream ceramic vase holding dried pampas grass, a Spelman alumna mug, and a vision board pinned with quotes, affirmations, and photos of Black excellence. Soft gold sconces lined the walls, casting a warm glow that complemented the woven beige area rug beneath her chair. A lush monstera stood in the corner, its broad green leaves stretching toward the light.

She stretched her arms above her head, feeling the tension of back-to-back meetings finally ease. Managing digital campaigns for Noire Luxe, the luxury Black fashion brand founded by her Spelman sister and bff, Raina, kept her busy, but there was something rewarding about helping elevate a brand dedicated to celebrating Black beauty and culture.

Still, she needed to step away from the screen.

Grabbing her unfinished mug of caramel cappuccino, she stood, rolling her shoulders as she made her way through her apartment. The blue and neutral-toned throw pillows on her cream-colored sectional were slightly askew, a reminder of her rushed morning. A banana plant stood proudly by the window, its wide leaves adding a tropical elegance to the space. Her gold-accented coffee table held a stack of fashion books, a wooden incense holder, and a small bowl of crystals she had picked up from a local boutique. A bouquet of soft blue and white hydrangeas sat in a glass vase, their delicate petals adding a fresh, airy touch to the space.

The silence of her phone didn’t go unnoticed. No text from Terry.

Not that she expected one.

If he’s a man of his word, he’ll follow up.

Pushing the thought aside, she headed into her bedroom and changed into a lilac-colored legging set from Oner Active, the seamless fabric hugging her curves like a second skin. The cropped top framed her toned waist perfectly, and she smirked as she slipped on her matching lilac AirPods Max—a small, aesthetic pleasure.

Tying the strings of her yoga mat, she grabbed her glass water bottle with a bamboo lid, her gray Telfar tote, and headed out the door.

Meadows Park was alive with the symphony of an early spring evening. The Dallas air was thick with the lingering heat of the day, but the shade from the trees lining the park provided some relief. The rhythmic bounce of a basketball against pavement blended with the chatter of teens playing a pickup game. Nearby, joggers passed in steady strides, their sneakers crunching against the gravel paths. The occasional bark of a playful pup echoed as dog owners kept them active.

Laughter drifted from a group of friends sprawled across a picnic blanket, their voices overlapping in easy conversation. A couple strolled past hand in hand, their soft murmurs lost in the air. Somewhere in the distance, a child squealed in delight as they chased bubbles floating like tiny iridescent orbs through the breeze. The faint melody of an acoustic guitar carried from a park bench where a street musician strummed lazily, humming along to his tune.

Essence took it all in. The steady buzz of life around her was comforting, a reminder that even in solitude, she was never truly alone. Essence unrolled her mat beneath a towering oak tree, popping on her headphones as she instructed Spotify to play her yoga playlist. She allowed the music to guide her, flowing through her stretches with practiced ease. With each inhale and exhale, the tension of the day melted away.

But in the back of her mind… she wondered.

Would he be here?

She wouldn’t reach out first. She refused to.

A slow smirk curled her lips. If he wanted to see her again, he’d find a way.

Little did she know, she was already being watched.

Terry leaned against a tree in the distance, arms crossed, his gaze locked onto her. There was something effortlessly captivating about the way she moved��controlled yet fluid, each motion deliberate, like a dance only she could hear. He hadn't meant to just stand there, but damn, she was a sight to behold.

Onyx, however, had other plans.

With a sudden lurch, the Labrador broke into a sprint, charging toward Essence like an overexcited child.

Before she could transition into her next pose, a wet nose bumped against her arm, startling her so badly that she yelped. Her AirPods went flying, and she nearly toppled over.

“Onyx!”

The deep, familiar chuckle sent a shiver down her spine.

We meet again.

Essence turned, her eyes locking onto Terry’s as her laughter abruptly halted.

Damn.

She had registered his build before, but seeing him now—gray athletic tee clinging to broad shoulders, sweatpants sitting just right on his hips, muscles taut and prominent—had her momentarily stunned.

She quickly snapped out of it, crossing her arms as she arched a brow. “Now, Terry… are you stalking me?”

His smirk was slow, confident, teasing. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t have to stalk you. You’d be a moth to a flame.”

Heat crept up her neck, but she played it off with a scoff, kneeling down to rub Onyx’s belly. “Mmm, well, I try to stay away from men who don’t stand by their word.” She glanced up at him, her brow raised. “And I still haven’t heard from you.”

Terry exhaled, lightly scratching the back of his neck. “That’s on me,” he admitted. “Didn’t wanna come off too eager. Last thing I wanted was to scare you off. I planned on hittin’ you up tonight with all the details.”

His voice, thick with that slight southern drawl, was damn near hypnotic.

Essence studied him for a moment before standing. “I guess I can understand that,” she said, smoothing her leggings. “Well, since you’re here now, might as well tell me the details.”

A grin played at his lips. “That an invitation to walk with you?”

She tilted her head, feigning contemplation before nodding. “It is.”

Terry whistled for Onyx, and together, they fell into a slow, steady rhythm along the park’s winding trail. He spoke as they walked, detailing their plans for tomorrow night—reservations for 8 pm at a Thai and Japanese restaurant, promising it had a menu that wouldn't disappoint.

Essence listened pleased with his choice, occasionally throwing in a teasing remark about his taste in food, to which he’d respond with his signature smirk.

Then, as the conversation lulled, Terry glanced down at Onyx, who was practically glued to Essence’s side, tail wagging with contentment.

“You know,” he mused, “I ain’t never seen him take to someone this quick. ‘Sides me.”

Essence smirked, giving the dog an affectionate scratch behind the ears. “Guess that means I’m special.”

Terry chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah… you just might be.”

They continued their walk in comfortable silence, the quiet hum of the city blending with the soft rustling of leaves overhead. When they reached the entrance of the park, Essence sighed.

“I should get home. Have to get ready for work in the mornin’.”

“Same.”

They lingered for a second before saying their goodbyes and parting ways, walking in opposite directions toward their cars.

Back in her apartment, Essence slipped into her routine—bathroom lights dimmed, gold-trimmed candles flickering as the scent of vanilla and sandalwood filled the air. The steam curled from the shower as she unwound from the day, her fingers working through her coils, massaging in her deep conditioner.

The way Terry looked at her. The way he moved. The way he sounded.

Midway through rinsing out her conditioner, she caught herself smiling.

She was treating this outing like a date.

"It's just dinner," she thought.

With a small laugh, she finished her shower, revamping her wash-n-go before tying her hair up into a pineapple then throwing on her bonnet. Wrapped in her silk robe the color of champagne, she padded across the warm wooden floors to her kitchen with its cream cabinets and gold hardware, fixing a light dinner before settling onto her plush cream couch.

Her fingers skimmed over the wooden remote tray, turning on her new obsession, Paradise on Hulu, to wind down.

Once her food settled and the episode ended she nestled into bed—her wood-framed, cream upholstered bed draped in soft neutral linen—when her phone buzzed.

Terry Richmond: Hope you made it home safe. Sleep well, sweetheart. See you at 8 tomorrow.

A small flutter bloomed in her chest.

She bit her lip before typing back.

Essence: Made it home safe. Hope you and Onyx have a good night. And your restaurant choice better not disappoint. 😏

His reply came almost instantly.

Terry: It won’t.

She turned her phone over, exhaling softly.

Tomorrow night.

She didn’t want to get her hopes up. Get lost in a fantasy of possibilities.

But something about him made that impossible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday arrived with an easy rhythm. The workday breezed by, keeping Essence occupied but never overwhelmed. Finalizing the last details of the campaign she had been working on left her feeling accomplished. It had been a good day—productive, smooth, and free of stress.

And yet, as she powered down her computer setup and stretched in her chair, there was an undeniable hum of anticipation beneath her skin.

Terry had texted her a bit throughout the day —wishing her a good morning and day at work, sending a pic of Onyx lying at his feet as he worked at his desk, sending her some book recommendation videos from TikTok, which made her smile.

It was just dinner.

That’s what she told herself.

But the way her stomach fluttered at the thought of seeing Terry again — of hearing that deep, Southern-laced voice, of watching the way his eyes studied her with that unreadable intensity—told a different story.

Shaking the thought away, she pushed up from her desk and headed toward the bathroom.

A hot shower washed away the day’s work, steam curling through the air as she took her time lathering her skin with her favorite body butters and oils, each stroke leaving behind a warm, luxurious sheen. By the time she stepped out, her skin was radiant, carrying the soft, enticing scent of vanilla, amber, and cocoa butter.

Moving to her vanity, she kept her makeup soft and sultry—just enough to enhance her features without overshadowing them. A soft glam look, nothing too dramatic. She didn’t need much. Her beauty spoke for itself.

Her hair, still in the pineapple she had put it in earlier, was next. She reached for her bottle of The Doux leave-in conditioner, lightly spritzing her thick, coiled strands before fluffing her afro into the perfect shape.

Effortless. Beautiful. Essence.

As she moved to her closet, she pulled out her phone to search for the restaurant Terry had chosen. She needed to get an idea of what would be acceptable to wear. The moment the page loaded, a slow smile spread across her lips.

A Thai and Japanese fusion spot, named Thai Ginger. Romantic ambiance. Dim lighting. A touch of intimacy.

She wasn’t sure if he had chosen it simply for the food or if he was hinting at something more, but either way, he had gotten it right. It looked amazing from what little she could see online.

A few outfit changes later, she settled on an olive-green dress with a draped neckline and thin spaghetti straps. The way it hugged her curves was almost criminal, the silky fabric skimming over her skin like a lover’s touch. The open-back design showcased the toned expanse of her back, adding just the right amount of allure.

Gold accents tied everything together—delicate jewelry, strappy gold heels by La Femme, and her freshly manicured acrylic nails painted a classic pink and white french with toes to match.

Flirty with a dash of sexy. Not too much, but just enough.

As she took one last glance in the mirror, she exhaled slowly.

"Just dinner," she reminded herself.

But why did it feel like something more?

With a final spritz of her Dolce & Gabbana The Only One perfume, she exhaled, savoring the delicate blend of caramel, vanilla, and coffee notes that hovered in the air.

She grabbed her gold Bottega Veneta Andiamo clutch, snapped a cute picture in front of her hall mirror, then slipped her phone and some essentials inside before heading out the door.

The Dallas evening air was crisp but pleasant as she slid into the beige driver’s seat of her Audi A5 Cabriolet, the glacier white metallic paint gleaming under the glow of streetlights.

As she followed her GPS she realized the route was almost identical to how she gets to Meadows.

Once she parked at Thai Ginger she grabbed her iPhone 16 and tapped at the screen, sending a quick text to Terry.

Essence: Just parked. I’m here.

She made it 5 minutes early. She'd take the small win.

As she stepped out of the car, she swiped to her messages with Raina, quickly sharing her location and Terry’s name.

Essence: Made it. Just in case.

Her phone buzzed with an instant reply.

Bestie: Got ya, have fun. 🤎 Text me when u get home. I got 911 on speed dial if u need me.

Shaking her head at Raina’s dramatic flair, she replied with a heart emoji and slid her phone into her clutch making her way toward the entrance.

The restaurant's warm glow spilled onto the sidewalk, the scent of spices and sizzling flavors teasing her senses. The lush green ceiling inside was adorned with hanging plants and woven rattan pendant lights, casting an intimate ambiance. Dark upholstered chairs and wooden tables sat upon the shiny wood floor, their elegance enhanced by marble-topped service stations and panoramic windows showcasing the softly lit cityscape.

As she reached the hostess booth, her fingers lightly drummed against her clutch, anticipation humming beneath her skin.

A familiar presence sent a shiver down her spine.

“Took you long enough,” a deep, teasing drawl murmured near her ear.

Essence turned sharply, her breath hitching.

Terry stood before her, his gaze sweeping over her with an intensity that made her stomach do somersaults. His long camel-colored overcoat draped effortlessly over broad shoulders, framing the crisp white button-up that hinted at the strength beneath. Dark gray slacks complemented the ensemble, a perfect blend of refinement and rugged charm.

And, of course, there was that smirk—subtle but knowing, as if he could sense her every thought.

Her cheeks warmed. “You weren’t supposed to sneak up on me like that.”

His eyes glimmered with amusement. “Couldn’t help myself.”

Before she could respond, his hand found the small of her back, warm and steady as he leaned in slightly. “C’mon,” he said, guiding her forward.

Terry led Essence through the softly lit interior of the restaurant, weaving past tables of lively conversation and the gentle clinking of glasses. The air carried the tantalizing aromas of sizzling Thai spices and the crisp, clean scent of freshly prepared sushi. He guided her toward a secluded booth in the back corner of the building, where floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the shadowed tranquility of Meadows Park. The moon hung full and luminous in the night sky, its silver light spilling through the glass, casting a dreamy glow over their table.

Essence slid into the plush booth, smoothing the fabric of her dress as she got comfortable. She glanced at Terry, noting how effortlessly the tailored button-down and dark slacks molded to his frame. His usual rugged charm had been refined with an undeniable sophistication. The fresh scent of his cologne—deep, warm, with a hint of spice—drifted between them.

She mustered up the nerve to speak. “You clean up well.”

Terry’s lips quirked into a slow, knowing smile. “Appreciate it,” he murmured, his voice dipped in molasses. His captivating eyes flickered as he took her in. “You look lovely yourself.”

Their gazes lingered for a beat longer than necessary, charged with undeniable attraction.

Before the air between them could grow too thick, their waiter approached with an easygoing smile. He was tall and slim, with sharp, angular features that hinted at his Asian descent. His dark hair was neatly tied back, and his uniform was crisp, exuding a quiet confidence. “Good evening, I’ll be taking care of y’all tonight. Name’s Ren.” He placed menus before them and poured chilled water into their glasses. “Can I start you both off with something to drink?”

Terry gestured toward Essence. “Whatever you’d like, sweetheart.”

She glanced at the menu briefly before deciding. “I’ll have an Appletini.”

Terry smirked, nodding approvingly before turning to Ren. “Old Fashioned for me.”

Ren jotted down their selections before asking, “Would you like to start with any appetizers?”

Terry turned his attention back to Essence. “Mind if I pick a few favorites? Promise you’ll like ’em.” His voice was rich with confidence, though his eyes held a quiet question. “Any allergies?”

Essence shook her head, a playful glint in her gaze. “I trust your palate.”

He nodded, then smoothly placed their order. “We’ll start with the seaweed salad, the fantasy sushi roll, and chicken curry puffs. Thanks.”

Essence hummed in approval, leaning into the cushioned booth. “I love Thai and Japanese cuisine, but I haven’t had the chance to try any spots since moving here.”

Terry’s brow lifted slightly. “That right? Well, looks like I got the honor of introducin’ you to one of the best.”

Essence smirked, tilting her head. “Guess so.”

Ren returned moments later with their drinks, condensation slipping down the sides of the glasses. Essence took a slow sip of her Appletini, savoring the crisp apple flavor with a hint of citrus.

Terry, watching her closely, swirled the amber liquid in his glass before taking a measured sip. “So,” he mused, setting it down, “what brought you to Dallas?”

Essence set her glass down, leaning slightly forward. “I’m originally from Atlanta. I used to work at a talent agency there, but my best friend, Raina, asked me to join the marketing team as a lead for her fashion brand.” She smiled, reminiscing. “I’ve always loved fashion. Growing up, I used to admire people’s clothes in my parents’ dry cleaning business. It felt natural to move into something that aligned with that passion.”

Their waiter returned briefly to inform them that their appetizers would be out shortly. They both thanked him before continuing the conversation.

As they browsed the menu for their entrées, Essence glanced at Terry with curiosity. His deep, Southern-tinged voice had been lingering in her mind. “I noticed your accent,” she said, studying him. “Can’t quite place where it’s from.”

Terry’s lips quirked slightly as he leaned back. “Louisiana. Born and raised.”

Essence’s brow lifted in intrigue. “That so? And what do you do?”

He swirled his drink absently before replying, “Ex-Marine. Followed in my father’s footsteps for a while. Now, I own a security and transportation company—Richmond Guard Agency.”

She nodded, impressed. “That sounds intense but rewarding.”

Terry shrugged modestly. “It has its moments.”

She tilted her head slightly in curiosity. “What made you move to Dallas?”

A brief silence passed between them. Terry’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering across his face. He opened his mouth to respond but was saved by Ren’s timely approach, placing their appetizers in the center of the table with their appetizer plates. The conversation paused as they turned their attention to the beautifully plated dishes before them.

Terry watched with a smirk as Essence finally looked away from him, her gaze settling on the appetizers.

Before she could decide, Terry reached for her chopsticks, smoothly unwrapping them. With practiced ease, he picked up a bit of seaweed salad and carefully placed it atop a fantasy roll with pickled ginger. Holding it between the chopsticks, he lifted it toward her lips.

Essence hesitated, blinking at him in mild disbelief. Was he really trying to feed her? She searched his face, noting the boyish anticipation glimmering in his striking eyes. With a soft chuckle and a shake of her head, she leaned forward, parting her lips to take the bite.

Terry felt something tighten in his chest as he watched her tongue slip from between her lips, scooping up the roll before she began to chew. His mouth watered, but he wasn’t sure if the cause was the food or something else entirely.

A soft moan escaped Essence as she closed her eyes, savoring the burst of flavors. “Mmm,” she hummed, then giggled. “Sorry, this is delicious. I haven’t had sushi in so long. What’s in it?”

Terry’s smirk deepened. “No need to apologize. I’m glad you like it. There’s salmon, tuna, yellowtail, spicy mayo, cucumber, and avocado on top. The seaweed salad just takes it to another level.” He handed her chopsticks back to her before popping a roll into his own mouth.

Essence hummed in acknowledgment, letting the flavors linger on her tongue. She reached for a curry puff next, dipping it into the accompanying sauce before taking a bite. The crisp, flaky pastry and the rich, spiced filling had her doing a small, involuntary shimmy in her seat.

Terry let out a soft chuckle. “Damn, it’s that good?”

She swallowed and grinned. “I know they say food is the way to a man’s heart, but that rings true for me too. Don’t let my looks fool you. I’m a foodie at heart. Pilates and yoga just keep things going to the right places.”

Terry’s brows lifted slightly as his gaze slowly traveled over her frame. “Noted,” he murmured, his voice thick with something unspoken.

There those butterflies go again.

Essence took a sip of her Appletini as Ren readjusted the appetizers to make room for their entrees, placing beef red curry in front of her and tamarind duck in front of Terry, leaving jasmine rice for both of them.

They thanked Ren and commented on how good everything looked and smelled.

Terry sucked his teeth. “Damn, I forgot to say grace.” He looked at Essence. “You mind if I bless the food?”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Go right ahead.”

They both bowed their heads and as Terry murmured a quiet prayer, his deep voice carrying a reverence that made Essence pause. When he finished, they dug in, the flavors immediately lighting up their tastebuds.

A comfortable silence fell upon them as they enjoyed their food. Then, Terry cut off a piece of his duck, spearing it with a fresh fork before holding it out to her. “Try this.”

Essence arched a brow, but there was amusement in her expression. She leaned forward slightly, letting him feed her, her lips closing around the fork as she savored the tender meat coated in the sweet, tangy sauce.

She hummed in approval. “That’s good.”

“How’d you find this place?” she asked, setting her fork down. “It’s a gem and right by the park. I can’t believe I never noticed it.”

Terry finished chewing before answering. “My buddy, Kelvin, from the Marines put me on. He actually helped me get my footing out here.”

Essence was pleased to hear he had made a meaningful friendship during his time in the service. “Well, next time you speak to him, tell him my taste buds thank him.”

Terry laughed, nodding. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

Terry leaned back slightly, watching the way Essence’s lips curled in amusement. The dim lighting of the restaurant cast a golden glow over her skin, and for a moment, he simply took her in. Then, with an easy confidence, he met her gaze again.

"So... there's a band playing in the park tonight. A mix of jazz and R&B, and I was thinking we could grab some dessert to go and enjoy it there."

Essence arched a brow, a slow smirk forming as she leaned toward him, the vodka from her Appletini providing just enough warmth to stoke her boldness. "You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you tricked me into a date, Mr. Richmond."

Terry hummed, nodding his head as he leaned in, closing the space between them. His voice dropped, smooth and low. "Well, I would hope you don’t think I just take women to romantic restaurants and feed them for sport."

Her breath hitched slightly at the way his words settled between them. He was confirming what she already suspected, and yet, the way he did it made her pulse skip a beat.

"And what if I wasn’t interested?" she challenged, tilting her head.

Terry’s smirk deepened. "C’mon, beautiful. You’re smart, driven, and know exactly what you want. If you weren’t interested, you wouldn’t be sitting here with me right now."

Essence blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his accuracy. He was reading her too well—too effortlessly. She pursed her lips in an attempt to suppress the smile threatening to break free. She told herself not to get her hopes up, not to overanalyze this moment, but deep down, she knew. The second she looked up Thai Ginger, she knew.

Terry studied her, his head tilting slightly. "So, is that smile you're trying to hide a yes, or do I have to sulk, eat dessert alone, and tell Onyx you’re the one that got away?"

That did it. A laugh slipped past Essence’s lips before she could stop it. "You’re ridiculous," she teased, shaking her head.

"But?" he prompted, his smirk not fading.

She sighed dramatically before giving him a small nod. "Fine. Dessert and live music it is."

Terry grinned, satisfied, and signaled Ren over. He ordered a chocolate Grand Marnier soufflé and a crème brûlée to go before handling the bill. As they waited, they both made a quick stop at their respective restrooms. By the time they returned, their order was neatly packed and waiting for them.

Ren smiled as he handed over the bag. "Hope y’all have a great rest of your night. Come back and see us again."

Terry slid a generous tip into Ren’s hand with a nod. "Appreciate you, man. Take it easy."

With that, he placed a hand at the small of Essence’s back, guiding her out of the restaurant the same way they came—together.

As Essence pulled into the parking lot, she immediately spotted Terry’s black Chevy Tahoe LT parked a few spaces away. The glossy exterior reflected the golden hues of the streetlights, making it stand out even in the evening dimness. She eased her car into the space right beside his, cutting the engine before taking a deep breath.

Before she could reach for her door handle, Terry was already approaching. Through her windshield, she caught sight of him—towering, effortless in his stride, with that signature smirk playing at his lips. In one hand, he carried a neatly folded blanket, and in the other, a small bag that she could only assume held the desserts he’d promised.

Essence stepped out of her car, the warm night air settling over her skin. As she met him at the front of their vehicles, she tilted her head with a teasing smile. “I see you came prepared.”

Terry chuckled, shifting the items in his grip. “Told you I’d come correct.”

Her gaze flickered to his truck, then back to him. “Nice ride.”

He mirrored her glance toward her car, nodding in approval. “You too. Clean, sleek… just like I figured.”

She smirked. “Oh, so you’ve been imagining what I drive?”

Terry met her eyes, something unreadable glinting in his expression. “Maybe.”

The way he said it sent a ripple of warmth through her, but she played it off, slipping her arm through his when he offered it. The gesture felt natural, the solid warmth of his frame beside hers grounding. Their height difference was more apparent this way, but instead of feeling small, she felt… protected. Safe.

As they strolled toward the heart of the park, the soulful hum of jazz music drifted through the air, mixing with the sounds of laughter and easy conversation. The park was alive with a blend of people—couples walking hand in hand, families lounging on picnic blankets, groups of friends sharing bottles of wine beneath the glow of hanging string lights. The atmosphere was vibrant yet intimate, an eclectic mix of cultures coming together in the shared appreciation of music, food, and community.

Terry’s voice broke through her thoughts. “You good?”

Essence glanced up, realizing she’d been caught up in taking in the scene. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Just… taking it all in.”

His lips curved at the corners. “It’s a vibe, ain’t it?”

She nodded, letting herself sink into the moment.

As they approached an open area, Terry spotted a vacant park bench tucked beneath the shade of an old oak tree. He nodded toward it. “Look like the spot?”

Essence nodded, and without hesitation, he draped the blanket over the bench before gesturing for her to sit. He followed suit, setting the dessert bag between them.

Terry leaned back slightly, draping an arm over the back of the bench as he glanced down at her heels. “I hope I didn’t torture you by having you walk out here. These heels look amazing on you, but I can’t imagine they’re that comfortable.”

Essence giggled, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “You’re too sweet to be from this planet. I came out my mama’s womb strutting. Trust, I’m okay.” She shifted, making herself comfortable as she crossed her right leg over her left. The subtle movement brought her foot into light contact with the front of his leg.

She barely had time to react before she instinctively began to pull away. “Sorry,” she murmured, the word barely slipping past her lips.

But before she could fully retract, Terry’s hand found her leg, his touch warm and deliberate. His fingers traced a slow, reassuring caress, a silent message that there was nothing to apologize for.

A sharp inhale hitched in Essence’s throat as a shiver coursed through her leg. Terry noticed the slight tension, the way her muscles instinctively clenched beneath his touch. He gave her calf an affectionate tap, his voice low and smooth. “No need to be sorry. I don’t mind. I want you comfortable. As long as you’re comfortable, I’m a happy man.” A teasing smirk tugged at his lips. “And I assure you, I am from this planet.”

Essence let out a soft laugh, easing back into the moment as their shared chuckle melted away the fleeting tension.

Terry reached for the dessert bag, pulling out the neatly packed containers. He handed one to her and took the other for himself, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he scooped up a spoonful of crème brûlée with fresh berries, the caramelized top cracking just slightly beneath the utensil. He turned to her, lifting the spoon toward her lips. “Go on,” he encouraged, his voice edged with subtle seduction.

Essence parted her lips, allowing the spoon to slide past them. Her full lips wrapped around the utensil, the smooth, decadent sweetness melting over her tongue with a subtle tartness from the berries. A small, satisfied sigh escaped her before she swallowed.

“That’s perfection,” she murmured, savoring the lingering taste.

Terry’s gaze darkened with something unreadable as he watched her, but he played it cool, waiting.

“Here, try it,” she offered, her voice softer now. She dipped her own spoon into the dessert he held and carefully brought it to his lips.

He didn’t break eye contact as he took the bite, lips brushing against the plastic before slowly pulling away. He let the flavors settle, then let out a quiet, appreciative hum.

“Mmm… Perfection doesn’t even cut it,” he mused, voice deep and deliberate.��

The weight of his words, laced with a double meaning, hung between them. Essence felt her breath hitch, the double entendre hanging in the air thick as the warm night. Heat curled in her stomach, but she quickly dropped her gaze, feigning interest in the dessert container in her hands.

If it weren’t for the deep melanin of her skin, she knew her face would be flushed. But Terry, perceptive as ever, caught the telltale shift in her expression. Her high cheekbones gave her away.

Still, he didn’t tease her for it.

Instead, he simply watched her, a slow, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

They continued to feed each other dessert as they enjoyed the music played by the band in the middle of the park. Both their heads swayed to the beat, caught in the easy rhythm of the night.

Essence dipped her spoon into the last bite of her crème brûlée, glancing over at Terry. “So, how long have you had Onyx? I always wanted a dog, but I wanted to wait until I fully settle into the city.”

Terry leaned back slightly, his expression softening. “About 2 years ago, right before I moved here. He was just a lil’ pup then... a stray, actually. His owners used to live in the complex I stay in now. They moved and left him stranded.”

Essence’s brow furrowed, a flicker of disbelief in her eyes. “They just left him?”

Terry nodded, looking off into the distance as if replaying the memory. “One day, he was out in the neighborhood and spotted me as I came back from the gym. He was crying, whining—just this little thing, all skin and bones. That’s when I noticed he didn’t have a collar, and he was a bit dirty. I figured he may not be in the greatest condition, so I took him to the vet that same day. I couldn’t bring myself to put him in a shelter, so I nursed him back to health. We’ve been inseparable ever since.”

Essence smiled, admiring the warmth in his voice, the way his features softened when he spoke about Onyx. “Well, he’s a lucky boy to have a dad like you. I can never wrap my head around people being cruel to animals.”

“Agreed,” Terry murmured, a thoughtful look passing over his face. Then, his lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “Honestly, I’m the lucky one. I may have rescued him, but he rescues me daily.”

Essence tilted her head, curiosity tugging at her. “How so?”

Terry sighed, the weight of his past pressing against the moment. He glanced at Essence, her dark eyes steady on him, open and patient. He hadn’t planned to go this deep tonight, but something about her made it feel… right.

"You know when you asked what brought me to Dallas?" His voice was low, measured. "I really didn’t want to put a damper on the night, but… I feel like I can trust you. And I promise, I ain't trying to trauma bond or whatever other manipulative tactics niggas use to mistreat women."

Essence didn’t flinch at his words. Instead, she reached for the remaining desserts, setting them to the side as if clearing the space for him. For them. “I’m all ears, Terry. We all have an origin story. Yours is safe with me.”

She turned toward him then, her fingers slipping around his right hand, anchoring him. The simple act sent warmth through him, a quiet reassurance that he hadn’t expected but welcomed. He looked down at their joined hands, exhaling as a small, grateful smile crossed his lips.

With a steadying breath, he began.

He told her about Shelby Springs, Louisiana—how it shaped him, how it nearly broke him. He spoke about Mike, his cousin, who was arrested on a minor charge but never made it out of jail alive. How the money that should have secured his release had been confiscated under corrupt civil asset forfeiture laws, lining the pockets of dirty cops instead of saving his cousin’s life.

He told her about the fight for justice, about Summer, the court clerk who risked everything to expose the corruption, about the trials and convictions that followed. About the settlements his family—and others—received after the scandal finally cracked open.

“I thought after we laid Mike to rest, after they were found guilty and sentenced, after my family and the other families got their settlement money… I’d feel whole again.” He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But I wasn’t. Bad enough I still dealt with some PTSD from serving, but then I felt like my cousin’s blood was on my hands and…”

His voice wavered, and Essence squeezed his hand, her thumb running soothing circles over his skin. “Take your time,” she murmured, her voice soft, steady.

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and for the first time in a long time, he felt something shift inside him. Like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry it all alone.

Terry took a breath, forcing back the tears threatening to fall. “I felt survivor’s guilt, and it made my nightmares worse. I struggled to get any kind of restful sleep. My buddy, Kel—the one I told you about—kept offering me a place to stay, said it’d help clear my head. Eventually, I took him up on it. The change of scenery helped, and I used some of my settlement money to invest in my business. Things just started to fall into place.”

He paused, a small smile creeping onto his face as he reflected on how far he’d come. “I landed some contracts with a few businesses and even a couple Cowboys players. Been running steady ever since. It gave me something to pour into, something to take my mind off the bullshit I went through. But the nightmares still came.”

His voice dropped slightly, the weight of it still lingering despite the progress he’d made. “Finally, after taking some time away from work, I mustered up the courage to start therapy. My therapist has been a huge help, but I didn’t start sleeping well ‘til Onyx came into my life. I still get the occasional night terror, but he pulls me out of them. He’s loyal to a fault."

Essence didn’t realize a tear had slipped down her cheek until she felt the gentle graze of Terry’s thumb against her skin. His touch was careful, his thumb swiping away the tear without disturbing her makeup.

“Damn. I didn’t mean to get you crying, Mamas,” he murmured, his voice laced with concern.

She let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking her head as she blinked away the rest of the moisture gathering in her eyes. “It’s not a bad thing,” she assured him. “I just… I feel that. Everything you’ve been through, how you turned your pain into something meaningful—it’s powerful, Terry.”

His gaze held hers for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his deep brown eyes. Then, as if trying to lighten the mood, he smirked. “So you think I’m powerful, huh?”

Essence rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. “I think you’re alright.”

Terry chuckled, his hand lingering for just a second longer before he pulled away, the warmth of his touch leaving her yearning for more.

Essence sniffled, a small smile gracing her lips. “I’m proud of you,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of sincerity. They shared a lingering stare, something warm and unspoken passing between them. “Mike is definitely watching over you, and I’m sure God aligned you and Onyx together. I’m happy you have each other.”

Terry lifted her hand to his lips, placing a soft, lingering kiss to it. “Thank you, beautiful. Me too.”

He cleared his throat, swiping away any remaining moisture in his eyes before flashing her a smirk. “Let’s... lighten the mood. What does Essence Daniels do for fun when she’s not being a marketing genius?”

Essence tilted her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Well, I love getting lost in a good book, spending time at the park, meditating, and doing yoga—you’ve seen all of that firsthand.” She giggled before continuing, “I’ve even learned to enjoy Pilates and the stair master. I wouldn’t call them fun, but they’re worth it.

I love going to the movies—sometimes I’ll spend a whole rainy day watching back-to-back films at the theater. And, of course, a night out with my girls is always a blast. I’ll never say no to a little retail therapy or gaming on my PS5, either. But more than anything, I love to travel. I haven’t had the chance to since moving here, but I’m planning a trip sometime this year.”

Terry nodded, his smirk deepening. "I’m pretty much the same, minus the shopping. I’d swap that out for jiu jitsu and a good anime binge. So, you’re a sexy girl gamer, like the outdoors, love to travel, and a slight shopaholic... I can handle that.”

Essence giggled, shaking her head. “Oh, you can handle that, huh? How do I know you’re not busy handling another woman in the city or anywhere else for that matter?” she asked teasingly, but curiosity flickered beneath her playful tone. A man like him—charming, successful, and undeniably attractive—being single didn’t seem real.

Terry’s smirk remained, but his eyes held a steady sincerity as he looked at her, still vibing to the rhythm of the band’s instruments. “Nah. Right hand to God, the only woman I’m trying to handle is you. I’ve never had the patience to deal with multiple women at once. That sounds and looks like a headache I don’t need on my plate. Plus, I prefer the stability of a relationship, but I didn’t have the capacity to give myself to someone with all the struggles I had to face.”

He tilted his head slightly. “What about you, though? A nigga isn’t gonna stalk me and have me on First 48 for wining and dining his woman, is he?”

Essence threw her head back in laughter, shaking her head as she tried to catch her breath. “No, sir. I promise you will be perfectly safe, though I’m sure you could defend yourself with your combat training, muscles, and loyal dog.” She smirked, playfully nudging his arm. “I’ve been focused on myself. Had a couple dates, but they weren’t worth doubling back to.”

Terry exhaled dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “Their loss. And how am I doing on the ‘double back’ list?”

Essence gave him a slow, knowing smile. “We’ll see once the night is over,” she teased, eyes glinting with mischief.

Before Terry could respond, Essence suddenly gasped, eyes widening as the opening chords of A Long Walk by Jill Scott filled the air. The crowd erupted in cheers, echoing her excitement.

“Oh, now this is my song!” she exclaimed, bouncing slightly in her seat, already swaying to the melody.

“They don’t make music like this anymore,” Essence said, humming along to the beat as she gently swayed in her seat.

Terry nodded in agreement, a slow smile curving his lips. “They sure don’t.” Then, with effortless charm, he stood and extended his hand toward her. “May I have this dance, Ms. Daniels?”

Essence’s eyes trailed up to his, the warmth in his gaze making her breath catch for just a second. She placed her hand in his, rising with grace. “You may, Mr. Richmond.”

Terry pulled her in, pressing her gently to his chest. Her head rested against him, his chin settling atop her crown like it belonged there. Her left hand held onto his bicep, while her right was cradled securely in his larger one.

They moved together, their bodies falling into an unspoken rhythm as Jill Scott’s A Long Walk wrapped around them like silk. The air between them was thick with tension, simmering beneath the surface but didn’t need to be rushed.

Essence breathed in the scent of him—musky, with hints of sweetness, oud wood, cedar, amber, nutmeg, and bergamot. It was rich and warm, lingering like an embrace. Meanwhile, Terry took in the creamy coconut fragrance that nestled in her 4C strands, mixed with the intoxicating blend of vanilla, patchouli, coffee, and bergamot from her perfume. The combination was her—soft yet bold, grounding yet alluring.

Neither spoke. They didn’t need to.

The song ended, but neither of them moved right away. The warmth, the yearning, the comfort of just being—they let it stretch a little longer before finally stepping back.

As if on cue, the MC’s voice rang out over the speakers. “Alright, beautiful people! We’ve got about thirty minutes left before we wrap things up. We hope y’all had an amazing night!”

Essence glanced down at the Pandora watch on her wrist, her eyes widening in surprise. “Where did the time go? It doesn’t even feel like it’s about to be midnight.”

Terry chuckled, running a hand over his beard. “They say time flies when you’re having fun. I guess I should escort you back to your car. I think it’s supposed to rain soon anyway, and I’d hate for you to get wet…”

I wouldn’t mind getting wet…

Essence blinked away the thought before it could fully settle. Instead, she nodded, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah. I’m sure Onyx expects you home soon, too.”

“He’s probably knocked out by now, to be honest,” Terry said, amusement lacing his tone. “I have this whole setup for him where he can pour food for himself when I’m not there, and there’s a little bathroom system. He’s so smart that I wanted to train him past the basics.”

Essence smiled, shaking her head in admiration. “That’s so cute. He’s clearly the king of the castle.”

A sudden gust of wind swept past them, making her shiver as the air grew cooler. The storm was definitely on its way.

Terry caught the way she rubbed her arms, the subtle shift in her posture. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his camel-colored overcoat and gently draped it over her shoulders. “Here,” he said, his voice soft yet firm.

Essence glanced up at him, momentarily caught off guard by the simple yet thoughtful gesture. “Thank you,” she murmured, pulling the coat tighter around herself, relishing its warmth. The scent of his cologne clung to the fabric, surrounding her like an embrace.

Terry gathered the rest of their things, then took her hand in his, leading her toward the parking lot. Their footsteps were slow, unhurried, as if neither of them wanted to rush the moment.

When they reached her car, he handed her the bag with the remaining desserts and their leftovers. “For you,” he said with a smirk. “No letting this go to waste.”

Essence took the bag but then started to slip his coat off to return it. Before she could, Terry held up a hand in protest. “Nah, keep it. Gives you another reason to let me take you out.”

A knowing smile spread across her lips as she folded the coat neatly and placed it on her passenger seat alongside her purse. “Smooth.”

Terry leaned slightly against her car, arms crossed as he looked at her. “So… where am I on the double back list now? Hmm?”

Essence tilted her head, eyes gleaming with intrigue. “Let’s just say you’ll be seeing me again. You passed the character assessment thus far.”

Terry’s eyes twinkled with warmth as his lips curved into a smirk. “I look forward to it. Thank you for coming out with me… and letting me trick you.” He chuckled. “I haven’t asked anyone on a date in a long time. Might be a little rusty.”

Essence shook her head, laughing softly. “Well, you had the perfect wingman… or wingpup, rather.”

They both shared an easy laugh, the night settling around them like a melody.

“I really enjoyed myself,” she added, meeting his gaze. “You’ve been the perfect gentleman.”

Terry placed a hand over his chest in mock relief. “Glad to hear it. I enj—”

Before he could finish his sentence, a fat droplet of rain landed square on his face, followed by another and another.

“Shit,” he muttered, glancing up at the sky as the rain began to fall in earnest. “We better get out of here.” He turned back to her, voice firm but gentle. “Call me when you get home—or text me. I just want to make sure you made it safely.”

Essence smiled, tucking a damp curl behind her ear. “I’ll call you,” she promised. “I really did have a great time.”

“Me too.”

Then, without hesitation, Terry leaned in, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to her cheek. His lips hovered near her ear as he whispered, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

His breath sent a shiver skittering down her spine, and it had nothing to do with the rain soaking through her dress. A slow storm brewed deep in her belly, the kind that had nothing to do with the weather.

"Goodnight," she whispered as he started to retreat.

She turned to open her car door just as Terry’s voice rang through the downpour.

“Essence!”

She whirled around, barely getting the question out. “Did you need your coa—”

Before she could finish, he was there, closing the distance between them in three determined strides. His strong arms pulled her against him, body to body, and then his lips were on hers.

The kiss was gentle at first—soft, questioning—but as soon as he felt her hesitation melt into surrender, he deepened it.

The rest of the world blurred. The sounds of people rushing to their cars, tires splashing through puddles, the distant rumble of thunder—it all faded into nothing.

There was only him. Only them.

Essence’s hands trailed up his arms, past the solid curve of his shoulders, until they reach his head, cradling it tenderly.

A soft moan escaped her lips as the tip of his tongue grazed the seem of her mouth. She parted for him, tasting the lingering whiskey on his tongue, the remnants of their shared dessert. He was intoxicating in more ways than one.

Terry’s thumbs rubbed slow, deliberate circles against her back, committing the feel of her to memory. When she nipped at his bottom lip, he let out a quiet, almost desperate sound before returning the favor—sucking her lip between his own before finally, finally pulling away.

They stood there, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling in the cool night air.

Terry grinned, his voice husky with amusement. “I knew that lil’ vixen was in there somewhere.”

Essence let out a breathy laugh before rising on her toes to place another soft kiss against his lips. Then, with a whisper laced in longing, she said, “Come home with me.”

Terry pulled back slightly, his brows furrowing as he searched her face. “Are you sure? We don’t have to rush, baby.” His voice was low, careful, making sure she wasn’t swept up in the moment.

She sighed, a smile curving her lips at the way baby rolled off his tongue like it already belonged to her.

“I’m sure, Terry.” Her eyes held his, unwavering. “I want you.”

A clap of thunder echoed in the distance.

And Terry made his decision.

Terry nodded, running a hand down his face to wipe away the raindrops clinging to his lashes. His voice was low, firm. “I’ll follow you.”

They both hurried into their cars, and as Essence settled into the driver’s seat, reality hit her—she had just lived out a full-fledged romance movie moment. A breathless giggle escaped her lips as the memory of Terry’s kiss in the rain replayed vividly in her mind.

Cool droplets trickled down her back, her drenched 4C strands stretching past her shoulders, but she didn’t care. All she could think about was the heat of his hands, the way they had anchored her to him, the silent claim he’d placed on her without a single word.

With a steadying breath, she pulled out of the lot, keeping her focus on the road. Every so often, she glanced in her rearview mirror, her stomach tightening each time she caught sight of Terry’s headlights trailing closely behind her. He was right there—steady, unwavering. Just like she imagined he would be.

Luckily, her apartment complex was only ten minutes away. As they approached, she slowed down, signaling a right turn, then another left into the visitor parking area. She grabbed her phone and quickly called him.

“You can park there in the visitor section. I’ll meet you inside,” she instructed, her voice softer than she intended, laced with quiet anticipation.

“Got it.” His voice, even through the phone, sent a delicious shiver through her. “I’m also sending you a link with the password to my latest STD results.”

Her breath hitched at his words—not out of worry, but out of appreciation. The fact that he was proactive, taking matters into his own hands to ensure they were both safe, only made her want him more.

“I’ll send mine, too,” she replied, already pulling up her own test results to match his energy.

Minutes later, both confirmations were exchanged—clean bills of health. No barriers. No excuses. Just them.

Essence parked in her assigned spot, gathering her belongings and his coat before quickly making her way toward the lobby.

Terry leaned against the wall outside, phone in hand, but as soon as he heard the door unlocking, he looked up, his gaze locking onto hers.

His eyes—pools of blue, green, and gray—swirled like an untamed sea, unreadable yet mesmerizing beneath the dim lobby lights.

She struggled briefly with her hands full, and before she could even think to shift things around, Terry was there, stepping in with effortless ease.

“Here, let me.” His voice was a low rumble as he relieved her of everything but her clutch.

Then, as naturally as breathing, he reached for her free hand.

Essence barely had a moment to process before she felt the warmth of his fingers parting slightly, inviting hers to lace through.

She didn’t hesitate.

Their hands intertwined, his grip firm but easy, like they’d been doing this forever. Like he wasn’t just holding her hand, but something deeper. A slow exhale left her lips as she led him toward the elevator, her pulse quickening with every step.

She led him to the elevators and placed her access bracelet to the sensor, triggering the elevator to descend to the lobby.

"Oh, you fancy. I gotta step my game up," Terry joked, a smile spreading across his face as he looked down at her. His expression gave him an adorable boyish look.

"Oh, please, Mr. CEO. You're the one who's really big-time, and I'm sure your place is just as upscale as this," she commented right as the elevator doors opened.

They stepped in, and she pressed her long nail to the illuminated 31.

"I'm sure you have a fire view. That's the only reason I ever wanted a high-rise apartment, but then I stumbled across my townhouse and had to buy it," Terry said, trying to imagine what her apartment looked like as the elevator ascended to her floor.

"And he's a homeowner? You're like every woman's wet dream," she teased with a giggle.

Suddenly, Terry’s hand let go of hers and wrapped around her waist, guiding her in front of him, then pressing her back against his firm chest. At 6'3”, his towering frame enveloped her smaller one with ease. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she felt the growing bulge in Terry's slacks and his warm breath at her ear. "The only wet dreams I'm concerned about are yours," he whispered seductively against her skin before trailing slow, deliberate kisses down the side of her neck.

A moan and the sound of kisses filled the small space as the elevator neared her floor. Essence’s head leaned back slightly, granting him more access, her hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he wound her hips, pressing her deeper against him. The friction sent sparks through her, and a low groan rumbled in Terry’s chest, sending a shiver down her spine. The heat between them built with every slow grind, her own arousal evident as a wet spot formed in the seat of her thong.

Essence's eyes flickered to the mirrored walls of the elevator, catching their reflection. The sight made her stomach tighten—her body melded against Terry’s, his hands possessively gripping her waist, his mouth teasing the curve of her neck. They looked so good together, like a scene from a movie she never wanted to end.

She glanced up at the screen of the elevator.

Just six more floors to go, she thought. Usually, the ride to her floor felt fast, but this was pure torture. Every second stretched, their heavy breaths and quiet moans amplifying the tension between them.

Finally, the screen flashed "31" with a sharp beep.

The doors slid open, and she rushed through as soon as they were wide enough —her heels clicking urgently against the polished floor. Terry smirked as he followed, his long strides closing the distance between them with ease. The quiet, neutral-toned hallway felt like a pathway to something inevitable, the air thick with anticipation as she led him to her door —her pulse thrumming in her ears.

The tapping of Essence's heels slowed as she approached her door and put her bracelet to the scanner, causing the lock to disengage with a soft click. "Welcome to my humble abode," she said as she pushed the door open and turned on the hall light.

Terry stepped in, locking the door behind him before taking in his surroundings. The refreshing scent of lime and coconut pleased his nose. From what he could see from the hallway, Essence's decor fit he rpersonality. Paintings adorned her walls, showcasing her love for the form of Black women and Black art. A cohesive color scheme of neutral colors, hints of blue, and grays tied everything together. The space was well-organized, clean, yet exuded warmth—lived in and loved.

"You've got good taste. I’m sure you never want to leave sometimes. You really did your thing in here," he complimented, slipping off his shoes and leaving them neatly on the mat under her modern mixed-wood console table.

"Thank you, handsome. It really is my sanctuary."

Her voice carried from the kitchen as she stored their leftovers in the fridge. The tap of her heels grew closer as she walked back down the hall. Terry's eyes locked onto the sway of her hips, the corner of his mouth twitching as he resisted the urge to smirk. She stopped in front of him, leaning down to finally release her feet from her favorite gold heels, only for Terry to squat down in front of her, reaching for the straps around her ankle.

"I got you," he murmured, fingers working deftly to unravel the delicate straps.

As the straps loosened from her skin, she placed both hands on Terry's shoulders to keep her balance while stepping out of her shoes. Stormy ocean eyes met rich chocolate orbs as he looked up and then rose to his full height, towering even more over her 5'7" frame.

The soaked fabric of his shirt clung to his broad chest, the heat radiating between them undeniable. Essence leaned into him, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to his lips.

"We need to dry off before we catch a cold. Come on," she muttered against his soft mouth.

They walked into her bedroom, and Essence set her recessed lighting to a dim glow, giving the space an intimate, inviting vibe. The room reflected her aura—warm, serene, and effortlessly sensual.

She padded toward her ensuite bathroom and grabbed two fluffy beige towels from her linen closet. As she walked back, she gently dried her hair, catching Terry in the middle of observing the details of her space. His eyes traced over the textures of her king bed before locking onto her.

Standing before him, she placed the towel she used to dry her hair onto her oak wood dresser. Her fingers lifted to the buttons of his white shirt, undoing them one by one. Their gazes held, exchanging silent messages heavy with want, yearning, and unspoken hunger.

The tension between them was thick enough to be cut with a knife, but Essence wasn’t in a hurry. She savored the moment, taking her time. Each undone button revealed more of him—the light dusting of chest hair, the defined contours of his muscles, the lingering raindrops sliding down his skin.

Terry’s breath hitched slightly as her fingers grazed his skin. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, the warmth of his palms seeping through the damp fabric of her dress. "I know you want to get us dry, but...I plan on getting you wet all over again," he teased, his voice husky, laced with anticipation.

Her pussy clenched with anticipation as her breath hitched slightly. "Mm, I'm counting on it," she purred as the last button of his shirt was undone.

Terry moved his hands away to remove his cufflinks and slipped off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

Essence’s eyes trailed down his torso, biting her lip as they lingered on the definition of his abs and the happy trail peeking above the rim of his slacks. She reached for the towel she had set aside for him and began drying him off, slowly gliding the fabric over his firm chest and shoulders.

Terry wrapped an arm around her waist, his large hand trailing down to cup the curve of her ass. He took her chin gently between his fingers, tilting her head up before capturing her lips in a deep, possessive kiss.

Essence lost her grip on the towel, letting it slip to the side as she surrendered to him. The warmth of his touch sent tingles up her spine, her body pressing eagerly against his.

His lips began traveling downward, tracing a heated path from her mouth to her chin, then to the soft curve of her chest. With a hunger that matched his own, he slid the straps of her dress down her shoulders, allowing the damp fabric to glide down to her hips, exposing her perky breasts and the twin silver barbells piercing her chocolatey nipples.

Terry’s stormy gaze darkened with intrigue and desire. He exhaled sharply, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're just full of surprises, aren’t you, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice thick with approval as he looked up at her.

Before she could respond, his mouth descended on her right nipple, enveloping it in wet heat. His tongue flicked over the sensitive nub, alternating between sucking and teasing, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her.

A light gasp slipped from Essence’s lips, quickly followed by a satisfied moan as her head fell back. One hand gripped the muscles of his back while the other cradled his head, holding him to her breast as he devoured her with unrelenting focus.

Her other breast received the same attention, then she felt Terry's tongue lick down her torso, leaving a kiss to her pierced navel. He reached down for the towel she had dropped and dried her as best he could. Once satisfied with his work, he pulled her dress down past her knees, letting it pool at her feet.

His desirous gaze trailed from the tip of her toes all the way up to her lustrous eyes. "You are so fuckin' beautiful," he complimented her. She smiled bashfully as her stomach clenched.

"Thank you, handsome."

His eyes then landed on the lacey black thong that was hiding what he hungered for. He hooked his fingers around the delicate fabric, his knuckles grazing her hips as he dragged them down her smooth legs. A string of her juices stretched between her lower lips to the seat of her thong before finally breaking.

Essence stepped out of them, her breath unsteady as Terry took his time admiring her. The smooth skin of her mound adorned with a strip of pubic hair caused a low growl to grow in his chest.

He pressed a kiss to her hip, then another lower, his hands caressing her thighs as he knelt before her. His breath was hot against her skin as he muttered, "I've been dying to taste you, baby."

A shudder ran through her body at his words, her fingers gliding over his head. "Then don’t keep me waiting," she whispered, her voice heavy with desire.

Terry groaned at her invitation before gripping the back of her left thigh, guiding it over his shoulder. One hand held her hip steady to keep her balanced, while the other gently spread the sticky lips of her pussy open. His stormy eyes locked onto hers as he dipped his head, taking a slow lick up her wet slit and over her clit.

Instantly, Essence hissed, her back arching as her grip on Terry’s shoulder tightened, struggling to keep her balance. As if reading her mind, Terry swiftly shifted their positions — pressing her back against the dresser while positioning himself firmly between her thighs once more.

Settling in, he wasted no time, his mouth returning to her heat with fervor. His tongue flicked against her clit before gliding down to taste her, groaning at the way she dripped for him. His hands gripped her thighs, keeping her exactly where he wanted her as he feasted on her like a man starved.

Essence’s head fell back, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. “Oh, fuck, Terry,” she moaned, her fingers gripping the back of his head, nails grazing against his buzzed scalp as her thighs threatened to tremble around his head.

Terry hummed in satisfaction, loving that he was pleasing her. His tongue swirled around her clit, then lightly suckled at it. Essence couldn't help but moan louder, tilting her pelvis forward, feeding him her throbbing cunt. He French-kissed her lower lips like an expert, making her even wetter.

Where have you been all my life? she thought.

"Damn, you taste so good. So. Fuckin'. Sweet," he rasped, kissing her clit between each word. The tip of his tongue flicked at her entrance before he sealed his lips around her, drinking in every bit of her juices.

Essence felt her orgasm nearing as her pussy throbbed against his mouth. His index and middle fingers slipped into her, moving in a steady, deliberate rhythm.

"This pretty pussy gonna cum for me, hm? Tell me, pretty girl," he teased, feeling her clench tightly around his fingers.

Lost in pleasure, Essence could only moan a breathless "mhm" and nod, her body trembling. Terry smirked, pressing his tongue to her swollen lips, swirling it around as he sucked with perfect precision.

That was all it took. The dam broke.

"Uuunhh, I'm cumin', baby...," she moaned, gripping the edge of her dresser. Terry groaned against her, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through her body. His fingers slowed, then slipped away as he lapped up her release, savoring every drop. Her whimpers filled the air as her body trembled, but his strong arms held her steady as he lowered her leg.

Standing to his full height, he lifted his slick fingers to her lips.

Essence’s eyes darkened with desire as she parted her lips, taking his fingers in and sucking them slowly, deliberately. Her tongue swirled around them as she sucked, mimicking the way she’d give him head. Her lashes fluttered before she opened her eyes again, catching him biting his bottom lip, watching her with raw hunger. His beard, still glistening with her essence, only made him look even more sinful.

"God, you're so fuckin' sexy," he murmured, sliding his fingers from her mouth.

Without another word, he lifted her into his arms, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. He carried her to the bed, laying her down gently against her plush tan comforter.

She lay there, nibbling at the tip of her index fingernail as she watched him step back from the bed. He pulled a gold foil packet from his wallet before slipping it back into his slacks. His eyes never left hers as he unfastened his belt, the slow drag of leather through the loops making her breath hitch.

His thumbs hooked beneath the waistband, dragging his slacks and boxer briefs down in one fluid motion. He stepped out of them, standing before her in all his glory—thick, long, and glistening at the tip with precum.

Damn... Essence's lips parted slightly as she took in the sight, her tongue darting out to wet them as her mouth watered.

Terry tilted his head slightly, catching her reaction with a smirk while his eyes drank in the sight of her sprawled across the bed. "Any don'ts, sweetheart?" he asked, his deep voice laced with heat.

She smirked and glanced to the side in thought. "Hmmm… no butt stuff, not my thing. And I like hair pulling, but don’t get crazy. This is a pristine crown, and I’d like to keep it as untangled as possible," she replied, turning her gaze back to him.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. "I wouldn't dream of it. And I second the butt stuff—not my thing either," he replied, stepping forward and grabbing her ankles, pulling her to the edge of the bed. A surprised yelp left her lips at the sudden movement, but the way he handled her sent a thrill up her spine.

The skin of Essence's toes tingled as Terry's soft lips trailed kisses from the tips down to her sole, then along her ankle. A light sigh slipped from her lips. He rested her leg in the crook of his left arm as he tore open the Magnum wrapper, ready to roll it on.

But then, her sultry voice stopped him.

"Can I do it, baby?" she murmured, her tone dripping with honey.

His smirk deepened as he handed the condom to her, releasing her leg so she could sit up. She spread her thighs, letting him step between them, and wrapped her fingers around his thick length. Pressing a soft kiss to the tip, she watched his abs flex, his breath hitching.

Brown eyes met stormy pools of blue, green, and gray as she swirled her tongue around the flushed head before slowly sucking him into the wet heat of her mouth.

Terry groaned low and deep as she slowly sucked his dick, her spit glistening along his length as the head pressed against the back of her throat. Long fingers brushed her coils away from her face—he wanted the perfect view. She stuck her tongue out, letting it glide up and down the thick vein pulsing along his shaft.

"Uunh, you suck this dick so good. Such a good girl for me," he praised, his grip tightening slightly in her hair.

Essence’s pussy clenched at the words, the praise sending a thrill through her. It only made her hungrier, made her quicken her pace, taking him deeper until her lips nearly kissed the base. A throaty moan rumbled from Terry as his head fell back, drowning in pleasure. The vibrations of her moans sent shocks up his spine as she lost herself in pleasing him. Her hand slipped from his shaft, moving instead to cup and massage his heavy balls.

"Fuck..." Terry breathed, his abs clenching as heat coiled in his gut. He was close—so damn close. "Can I cum in that pretty lil' mouth, sweetheart?"

Juices leaked from Essence at the thought of tasting him. "Mhm," she hummed, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Her hand kept massaging his balls as she slurped his dick, her tongue swirling around the tip.

Terry’s grip on her hair tightened slightly, tilting her head back. "Open," he commanded, his voice thick with need. Instantly, her mouth unlatched, and warm strings of his cum coated her waiting tongue.

"Ooooh... That's my good girl," he groaned in satisfaction.

Essence moaned softly as she savored the salty, tangy, and faintly sweet taste of him. The praise sent a fresh wave of heat rolling through her, making her ache for more. Wrapping her lips around him once more, she gently sucked at the sensitive head, swallowing every drop. Terry’s deep groans and hushed praises filled the air as she took it all, not wasting a single bit.

Once she gave him one last suck, releasing him with a soft pop, she wiped any remnants from her lips. Terry bent down, capturing her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. His lips and tongue claimed hers, sensual and unyielding, making her head spin. In the midst of it, she managed to access her thoughts just enough to roll the condom on him properly. A few more licks, a few more teasing pecks, and then Terry was guiding her back, laying her against the bed as he kneeled between her legs.

"Pick a pillow," he murmured, rubbing slow circles on her thigh.

Essence blinked, a brief flicker of confusion crossing her features before realization dawned. Her lips curved into a smirk as she reached behind her, grabbing a pillow she didn’t frequently use. He took it from her, adjusting it beneath her hips to his liking, tilting her up perfectly to match his height.

"Perfect," he whispered, eyes darkening as he honed in on the glistening wetness at her entrance. Gripping his thick length, he ran the head up and down her slit, teasing her clit when he reached the top. A shudder rolled through her, her hips instinctively rolling into his other hand as she squirmed from the delicious torment.

This was it… She was on the precipice of what she had been craving since their kiss in the rain. The storm outside now served as the soundtrack to their intimate moment.

One final drag across her clit, and then the tip of him began to slip inside her aching, needy heat.

A gasp, a light whine—her body reacting instantly as Terry eased in halfway, then out, then back in—slowly working her open, letting her adjust to his size. A sharp hiss left him as her walls gripped him like a vice.

"Sssshh—so tight, baby," he moaned, his grip on her hips firm as he kept up his slow, measured strokes. His lust-darkened gaze met hers. "Tell me if it's too much," he muttered, his voice laced with care despite his overwhelming need.

Her nails dragged up his wrists to his forearms, gripping onto him as she braced herself for more.

"Mmm, you feel so good... keep going, please," she pleaded, her voice breathless, wanton.

And he obliged.

His hips pushed forward, stretching her further, sinking into her inch by inch until he filled her to the hilt. Their moans tangled in the air—his deep and guttural, hers soft and whiny—as she clenched around him, her sensitive walls molding to his shape like they were made for each other.

Wanting to be completely surrounded by her, Terry lifted her hips higher, spreading her knees wider against the mattress. The new angle let him sink deeper, his body folding over hers as he captured her lips, swallowing her moans while his strokes grew more fervent. Her hands gripped his arms, nails pressing into his skin as she reveled in the raw strength working beneath her fingers. She had experienced men before—always in serious relationships—but none of them had matched the level of sexual compatibility she was experiencing now.

"Ooooh, baby..." Essence whimpered as Terry's lips trailed from her neck to her chest. His mouth latched onto her nipple, sucking hungrily while his thrusts deepened, her ass and thighs clapping against him. Her back arched, hands gripping at his back, pulling him even closer. Their moans tangled, voices rising in harmony as Terry wound his hips in slow, deliberate circles—like he was stirring a pot of her juices.

Essence gasped, body jolting as the head of his dick began brushing, then knocking against her most sensitive spot. Terry groaned as he felt her tighten and shudder beneath him, releasing her breast to watch the pleasure etched across her face.

"Mmm, I'm hittin' that spot, baby? Hm?" he murmured against her cheek, maintaining his rhythm, his lips pressing soft kisses to her skin.

Essence whined, her eyes fluttering shut, the intensity of her orgasm brewing fast.

"Yes, baby. Please don't stop. Ooooh… please keep fuckin’ me like that—Unh!" she cried out, sinking deeper into ecstasy.

On a mission to ruin her in the best way, Terry pinned her hands above her head, locking her in place as he continued hitting her spot with devastating precision. Her pretty pools of chocolate widened in shock and delight, locking onto his burning stare. He smirked, cocky and knowing—he had her right where he wanted her.

"I feel you, Essence," he whispered, watching her writhe beneath him. "Let it go. Cum on this dick, mamas," he commanded, and her body surrendered to him completely.

"Uuunh! Fuuuuuck, Oh my God!" she moaned, voice breaking as her pussy clenched and her body shuddered around him. Terry caught her lips in a passionate kiss, slowing his strokes, guiding her through the tremors of her orgasm. Whimpers and moans slipped between their lips before he finally came to a stop, letting her walls relax. He released her mouth with a teasing nip to her bottom lip.

"Still with me?" he asked, breathless.

Essence nodded, her chest rising and falling as she fought to steady herself, her dazed eyes fluttering open to meet his. "That was... incredible," she whispered.

Terry's lips curled in satisfaction, a hum of agreement rumbling in his chest. She was incredible.

"I aim to please," he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. Sitting up on his knees between her thighs, his hands traced a slow path over her breasts, down her stomach, and to her trembling thighs. A deep groan rumbled in his throat as he pulled out, his eyes darkening at the sight of her release coating his length, glistening in the dim light.

He tapped the head of his dick against her sensitive clit, smirking at the way her body jerked.

"Look at this pretty mess you made," he murmured in awe, gaze flicking back up to hers, full of hunger. "Think you can give me another one?"

Essence bit her bottom lip and rolled onto her stomach, arching her back as her chest pressed into the bed, her ass high in the air. She wagged her hips side to side, teasing him, her pussy wet and waiting for more.

A sudden yelp mixed with a moan escaped her lips as the heavy smack of Terry’s hand landed on her right cheek, sending a hot jolt of pleasure through her body.

"Mm. I'll take that as a yes," he murmured, rubbing the spot to soothe the sting.

He adjusted the pillow beneath her, making sure it was just right, then gripped her hip with one hand while the other lined his dick up to her entrance. The thick head teased her, easing in and out but never fully giving her what she craved.

Essence whined in frustration, her body trembling with need. "Mm mm… Terry, pleeeaassse," she whimpered, trying to push back onto him.

His lips quirked into a knowing smile. "Please, what?" he asked, tightening his grip on her hip to keep her from taking what she wanted too soon.

"Please fuck me," she begged, her voice dripping with desperation.

He hummed in satisfaction. "I love when you beg," he drawled, that sexy southern lilt sending a shiver down her spine.

Then, without warning, he pushed forward, filling her in one long, deep stroke.

Both moaned in unison, lost in the moment. His left hand held her firmly in place while the other traced a slow path down her spine. Finding his rhythm, he set a steady pace, each deep thrust making her melt into the mattress.

Essence’s breath hitched in her throat. This angle was devastating—he was stroking the depths of her soul. Instinct took over as she began throwing her ass back to meet his thrusts, earning a deep growl from him.

A sharp smack landed on her ass before his strong fingers dug into the flesh, gripping her possessively as he encouraged her movements.

"That's it, baby. Mmm… take this dick," he growled, his thrusts becoming faster, rougher. The lewd, rhythmic slap of their bodies filled the room, blending seamlessly with the thunder and rain outside—a score produced, mixed, and mastered perfectly to their moment.

Essence’s fingers clawed at the comforter as his speed increased, her mouth falling open, too lost in pleasure to think. "Oooh," she moaned, biting down on the fabric in a futile attempt to muffle her cries.

"Uh uh, look at me, baby," Terry commanded, his voice thick with lust. "Let me see that pretty face while I fuck this pussy."

His hands moved with precision, gathering her coils into a makeshift ponytail and pulling her up onto all fours. Her pleasure-drunk eyes locked onto his, and he groaned at the sight.

"There’s my pretty girl," he praised, his voice like silk over gravel, right before driving into her deeper, harder.

Her fingers reached back, gripping his arm as if to ground herself, while her other hand remained fisted in the sheets. His muscles flexed beneath her touch, the power in his body making her arch deeper, pressing against his abs as he wrecked her.

Her moans climbed in volume, uncontrolled and raw. He was playing her body like an instrument, strumming every chord with precision. She was drowning in the storm of his ocean eyes, feeling like he was reading her, memorizing every shudder, every clench.

Her toes curled, her pussy tightening around him as the storm in her core threatened to break.

Terry could see it, feel it—her body was speaking to him in ways beyond words. His grip shifted, one hand sliding from her hip to the front of her stomach, pulling her up onto her knees until her back was flush against his chest. His lips ghosted over her shoulder, a teasing distraction before the pad of his middle finger found her puffy clit.

"Ooooh, fuuuck..." she purred, her head tilting back as her lips sought his, capturing them in a slow, sensual kiss. Their moans tangled together, vibrating through the space between them as he worked her clit in slow, deliberate circles. His other hand traveled up, fingers teasing the peak of her breast, rolling her nipple between them.

Essence sucked on his bottom lip, releasing it just as a sharp squeal slipped from her lips. Terry had angled his hips just right, scooping underneath her with deep, precise strokes. The combination of his thrusts and the relentless stimulation against her clit sent her spiraling toward the edge.

A bomb was ticking inside him, his control slipping. He could feel the way she clenched, the way her body trembled. He wasn't far behind.

"Cum on this dick, baby," he murmured against her ear before kissing it. "Give it to me right now," he growled, his voice thick with need as he drove into her, hitting her spot with ruthless precision.

Essence was drowning in sensation, overwhelmed in the best way. This wasn’t just an orgasm building inside her—it was euphoria. And before she could brace herself, it hit, crashing through her in waves.

Her body seized, her head thrown back onto his shoulder as she squirted around him, soaking him in her release. She gripped his wrists as pleasure overtook her, his name tumbling from her lips in breathless, broken cries.

"Oh fuuuuck, baby girl," Terry groaned, his voice thick with pleasure as her orgasm sent him spiraling over the edge. His body tensed, a guttural moan tearing from his lips as he finally let go, spilling into the condom. His strokes slowed, guiding them both through the lingering waves of bliss.

His hand slid from between her legs up to her chin, gently tilting her face toward his for a kiss. She moaned softly against his lips, her breath shaky, her body still pulsing around his throbbing length.

Terry lingered for a moment, pressing one last kiss to her lips before exhaling a deep, satisfied sigh. He could feel the exhaustion setting into her body, the way she grew limp against him. Carefully, he slid out of her, easing her down onto the mattress, letting her settle on her stomach.

She melted into the comforter, utterly spent, not even caring about the dampness beneath her—a testament to the dam Terry had shattered within her. The sound of his footsteps drifted through the quiet room, followed by the flush of the toilet, the rush of running water. Moments later, he was back.

Strong hands coaxed her onto her back, spreading her legs just enough for the cool air to kiss her sensitive flesh. Then came the warmth of a damp cloth, gentle and soothing as he cleaned the mess they had made. Soft whimpers left her lips, her body still too tender.

Terry shushed her softly, pressing a calming kiss to her thigh. "Shhh, baby. Almost done. Then we can go to sleep," he murmured, his voice a soothing lull as his hand traced slow, reassuring circles over her thigh.

A few more gentle wipes, and he was done. Tossing the cloth into her hamper, Terry returned to the bed, lifting her effortlessly and laying her head against the pillow with care. She felt the comforter slide from beneath her as he pulled it off the bed, folding it into a pile next to the hamper before slipping in beside her. Without hesitation, he pulled her into his chest, his arms securing her against him as he draped the sheets over their bodies.

Her thigh sprawled across his waist as she snuggled into his warmth, her body melting into his. His hand traced slow, soothing circles along her back, grounding her in the aftermath of their shared bliss.

Soft lips pressed against his chest, and in response, he tilted his head down, placing a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Did I squirt?" she whispered, disbelief lacing her voice as her fingers lazily traced patterns against his chest. Her eyes remained closed, exhaustion weighing her down. She had never even come close before—this was something new, a level of pleasure unlocked.

Terry's chest rumbled with a soft chuckle. "Yeah, you did," he murmured.

A satisfied hum left her lips, the corners of her mouth quirking into the faintest smile. The steady thump of his heartbeat against her ear, the rhythmic strokes along her spine—it was enough to lull her toward the edge of slumber. Just before she drifted off completely, she heard a whispered, "Goodnight, beautiful."

Terry felt the steady rise and fall of her breathing as she surrendered to sleep, and soon, he followed. For the first time in a long time, he slept soundly through the night—peace settling deep within his heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning sunrays kissed Essence’s skin, gently stirring her from slumber. Her lashes fluttered as her eyes adjusted to the light. Expecting to feel the comforting warmth of Terry beneath her, she reached out—only to find herself wrapped in the covers… alone.

Maybe he went to the bathroom, she reasoned, stretching her limbs and feeling the pleasurable ache from the night before.

Slipping from beneath the sheets, she let the light illuminate the subtle glow of her skin. Padding toward the bathroom, she knocked on the door, anticipating a response—yet only silence greeted her. The quiet felt deafening, disappointment creeping into her chest, but she pushed open the door and took care of her morning routine.

Mouthwash. Brush teeth. Shower. Facial cleanser. Toner. Serum. Moisturizer. By the time she slipped into a long, gray slip dress for lounging, the weight in her chest had settled into something heavier.

Stepping back into her bedroom, she noticed it—his clothes were gone. A small frown tugged at her lips as she poked her head out the door.

“Terry?” she called softly, but again, silence was all that answered.

She exhaled slowly, the sting of disappointment undeniable now. Maybe last night had been too much. Maybe the intimacy had scared him off.

She had to admit—their chemistry was undeniable. Instant. And that could be terrifying. Hell, even she was a little startled by it, but there was no denying the pull between them.

Turning to grab her phone, her eyes landed on a neatly folded white sheet of paper resting on her nightstand, her name scrawled across the front. Curiosity sparked, and she reached for it, unfolding it with careful fingers.

Hey, beautiful. You looked so peaceful sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you. I’m heading home to take Onyx for a walk and freshen up, but I’ll be back with breakfast—so I hope you’re hungry. Last night was… incredible. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything even close to this, and I want to keep exploring it if you do. Waking up to you in my arms felt like a gift, and I don’t plan on taking it for granted. No matter what you decide, I’m still bringing you breakfast… plus, I left my coat in your kitchen, so you have no choice but to see me again. See you soon, sweetheart.

—Terry

Warmth spread through Essence as she finished the letter, her heart swelling. He felt it too—the same way she did. And that reassurance wrapped around her like a hug.

With a newfound lightness, she began tidying up, gathering the remnants of last night—her discarded garments, the comforter—and carrying them to the laundry room for a much-needed wash. After loading the machine, she padded into the kitchen, her gaze landing on the camel overcoat draped over her gold and white upholstered counter stool. She giggled softly.

Thinking they could use something to drink when he returned, she set her kettle to boil for tea and switched on her Ninja Barista Machine for coffee or espresso. Just as she hit the switch, her phone buzzed against the cool marble of the island.

Terry: On my way, mamas. You up?

A smile curled on Essence’s lips as she tapped out a reply.

Essence: Yup, just making some tea and coffee for us. Thank you for the letter. 😘

Terry: Sounds good, and you're welcome. Be there in 5. ❤️

Setting her phone down, she made her way to the living room and turned on the TV. Scrolling through Hulu, she settled on another episode of Paradise just as her intercom buzzed. She swiftly walked over to answer.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Ms. Daniels. There's a Terry Richmond here to see you. Would you like me to send him up?" Cindy, one of the concierge, asked in her usual sweet tone.

"Good morning, Cindy. Yes, you can send him up. Thanks."

"No problem," Cindy replied before disconnecting.

A flutter of anticipation stirred in her stomach, a mix of nerves and excitement, as if she hadn’t just seen—and felt—this man mere hours ago. But she allowed herself grace. She had built a life she loved, one where she was whole with or without a relationship. Yet, Terry was different. He was the first man in three years she felt she could take seriously. His actions were aligning with his words, making her feel safe enough to explore whatever this was.

She didn’t need him. But she wanted him.

And, most importantly, he wanted the same.

A couple of minutes later, her doorbell rang. Essence made her way to the door, peeking through the peephole to find Terry standing there, a large brown paper bag in his arms. Dressed in a white tank top and black shorts, his toned arms and legs were on full display. She smirked, definitely liking what she saw, before opening the door to let him in.

His face lit up with a smile as he stepped inside, leaning in to capture her lips in a slow, lingering kiss, which she happily returned.

"Mm. Good mornin'," his deep voice rumbled against her lips.

"Mornin’, handsome," she whispered, pecking him once more before he slipped off his black and white Nike dunks and headed to the kitchen. She followed behind, grabbing plates and utensils as Terry unpacked the food onto the counter.

"I hope you're hungry. Somebody gave me a hell of a workout last night, and let’s just say my eyes may’ve been bigger than my stomach," Terry joked, punctuating his words with a playful smack to her ass.

Essence gasped before breaking into laughter, shaking her head at his antics.

"I don't know what you’re talking about," she teased, feigning innocence with a shrug. "I just helped you burn off our dinner and dessert."

Terry smirked, sending her a knowing side-eye. "Mhm. Well, maybe later, you can help me burn off our breakfast, too."

Essence’s breath hitched slightly, but she recovered, matching his energy. "You’re insatiable… but I wouldn’t mind another workout either," she murmured, biting her lip.

"Uh uh, don’t look at me like that. We have food to eat," Terry teased, though the heat in his gaze betrayed him.

Essence smirked, feigning innocence as she turned away and focused on making her plate, pouring their drinks with ease. Terry exhaled, reigning in his desire before following suit, selecting from the spread he had brought. The counter was a beautiful mess of containers filled with turkey sausage, beef bacon, hashbrowns with onions and peppers, fluffy pancakes, and scrambled eggs. The rich aroma filled the air, making both their mouths water.

"This looks so good," Essence murmured, taking in the feast before glancing toward the living room. "Did you want to watch anything specific?"

Terry’s eyes flickered to the TV before a grin spread across his face. "Nah, this show is fire. I finished it, but I don’t mind watching again."

Essence hummed in approval before settling into her seat at the island. Terry joined her, and after a brief prayer over their food, she hit play.

Between bites, they chatted about the show, exchanging reactions and playful commentary. The warmth of the meal, the easy flow of conversation, and the quiet comfort of just being together wrapped around them like a soft embrace. This felt natural, effortless—like exactly where they were meant to be.

And to think, it all started with a cute dog lured in by a chicken wrap on a random Monday. Onyx wasn’t just a blessing to Terry, but to Essence, too—for whatever was to come.

The end… maybe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I did it and ahead of schedule! I do have another idea for Big Daddy...we shall see. Thank you all so much for reading. I truly had an amazing time writing this. It was a rollercoaster ride to create, but I enjoyed every dip and incline. I hope you enjoyed it and this may not be the last you see of these two. There's no telling what could happen when I feel inspired. If you'd like to be added to my taglist just let me know. Once I have more than one fanfic I will create a masterlist. For now this will be pinned to the top of my blog. Let me know what you think so I can yap in the comments. 🥰

Taglist: @slvt4her @wanderingreigns @avoidthings @xjjawsomex @that-one-anxious-mango @wabi-sabi1090 @nubiawrites @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @kianaleani @slutsareteacherstoo @slyy-foxx @dxddykenn @moujg @naughtynolly @wildcardmelaninfreak @pocketsizedpanther

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre smut #terry richmond #terry richmond smut #jayme lawson #fanfic #fanfiction #aaron pierre fic #rebel ridge #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond fic #terry richmond fanfiction #black fanfic writer #black fanfic reader

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kiyawritesforf1 · 1 month ago

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THE FAN-FICTION SAGA

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

It started innocently enough. Max had never been the type to pry too much into Y/N’s hobbies. She was always so effortless and easygoing, a balance of sweet and sassy, with a warmth that made him feel at ease. But as their relationship deepened, Max started noticing something peculiar: Y/N spent an unusual amount of time reading on her phone—almost obsessively, as if there was some hidden world he wasn’t a part of.

At first, Max didn’t think much of it. She was a reader, and he’d always admired how much she loved books. But it wasn’t long before he realized that the content of her reading material wasn’t exactly what he expected. It wasn’t literature in the traditional sense—there were no classic novels or even contemporary thrillers. No, what caught his eye was the number of tabs open on her phone, filled with websites he'd never heard of, and a very specific genre: **fanfiction.**

Now, Max was no stranger to fandoms—he'd heard stories from his friends about the deep, sometimes obsessive nature of fan communities. But he had never actually met someone who was so deeply immersed in it. His curiosity got the best of him, and one lazy Sunday afternoon, he finally decided to ask.

They were lounging on the couch, sipping on coffee, the soft hum of their playlist playing in the background. Y/N had her phone in her hand, her eyes glued to the screen, a wide grin spreading across her face as she scrolled through yet another chapter of something that seemed to hold her attention more than anything else in the room.

“Y/N…” Max began, leaning over the armrest and trying to get a peek at her phone. “What exactly are you reading?”

She glanced up, her face lighting up with a mischievous spark. “Oh, just a little something.”

Max raised an eyebrow, feeling a little more intrigued than he probably should. “A little something, huh? This has been going on for weeks now. What is it? Some kind of secret novel?”

Y/N giggled, her eyes flickering back to the screen. “No, not a novel. It’s… fanfiction.”

“Fanfiction?” Max repeated, unable to suppress the confusion in his voice. “As in, like, those stories people write about their favorite TV shows or movies?”

Y/N nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! It’s amazing! You’d be surprised at how much better some of these stories are than actual TV shows.”

Max blinked, trying to process this new information. “Wait, you’re telling me you’ve been reading stories written by fans? Like… not even official writers? That’s what you’ve been so hooked on?”

Y/N shrugged, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “What can I say? They’re creative. They’re fun. Plus, there’s a certain magic to them, you know?”

Max let out a small chuckle, his mind whirring. This was definitely not what he had expected when he asked Y/N about her hobbies. “Okay, but… what’s the appeal? I mean, I get the whole escapism thing, but isn’t it kind of… well, weird?”

Y/N shot him a teasing glance, her eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re just not *getting* it. It’s not about weirdness, Max. It’s about creativity, passion, and sometimes—just sometimes—a little bit of *delusion.*”

Max blinked at the word. “Delusion?”

She nodded, her grin widening. “Yeah, like the delusional shipping, the alternate universes where the characters do things they *never* would, and the wild romantic scenarios that leave you questioning your entire life. It’s fun! It’s… it’s just the world I get to immerse myself in, you know?”

Max couldn’t help but laugh. This was not the woman he thought he knew. “So, basically, you’re living in your own fanfiction world?”

“Exactly,” she said, looking back down at her phone. “And you’re part of it.”

“Wait, *I’m* part of it?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “How?”

Y/N didn’t answer immediately. She just kept scrolling, her fingers tapping quickly across the screen. Then, she looked up at him, her eyes twinkling. “I’m reading a fic about this hot, mysterious guy who’s really into racing. I’m just saying, you might fit the role quite well.”

Max blinked, a deep blush creeping up his neck. “Wait, hold on. You’re reading fanfiction about me?” he asked incredulously.

Y/N shrugged again, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Maybe. Maybe not. You’ll never know.”

Max let out an exaggerated sigh, though part of him was secretly flattered. “This is… so weird. I had no idea this was such a big part of your life. I’m dating a *delusional* girl, huh?”

Y/N laughed, her voice sweet and light. “Normal girl, Max. Just a normal girl living her best delusional life. You should try it sometime.”

As Max tried to process this new layer to Y/N, he couldn’t help but feel more drawn to her. The way she embraced her passions, her quirks, without any shame or hesitation. It was charming in its own way, and honestly, kind of adorable.

But then, of course, Daniel—Max’s teammate and longtime friend—decided to pop into the conversation, his timing impeccable as always.

“Hey, I’m back from the track. What’s going on here?” Daniel asked, dropping his bag by the door and heading toward the kitchen.

Y/N grinned, clearly sensing an opportunity to tease Max. “Oh, just explaining to Max how *normal* I am. You know, reading fanfiction, living in my own little world, shipping people who don’t even exist.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow as he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. “Fanfiction, huh? You really have him hooked on that, don’t you?”

Max, looking thoroughly exasperated, turned to Daniel. “Apparently, I’m part of some *delusional* shipping universe now. I had no idea what I was getting into.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “See, Daniel gets it! You’re just not ready for the wonderful world of *delulu* yet.”

Max groaned dramatically. “I feel like I need a crash course or something. This is all way too much for me.”

Daniel chuckled, sitting down next to Max. “So, wait, you’re telling me you’ve been reading *fanfiction* about Max?”

Y/N’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe I’ve written a few stories here and there.”

Max turned to her, raising both eyebrows. “You’ve written fanfiction about me?”

“Maybe,” she said, her voice dropping to a mock whisper. “You’ll never know. My writing skills are top secret.”

Max shook his head in disbelief, though part of him was secretly intrigued. “I never knew dating a girl could be this complicated.”

Y/N leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “But that’s the fun of it, Max. Every day is an adventure. Who knows what you'll find next?”

As if on cue, Daniel raised his bottle in mock salute. “Here’s to being part of the delusional world. I think I’ll stay out of it, though. But, you know, if you ever want to introduce me to any of your *fanfic* buddies, I’d be happy to take a look.”

Max laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I’m ready to dive that deep into the madness.”

Y/N shot him a knowing look. “You’d be surprised, Max. Sometimes the madness is exactly what makes everything fun.”

As the night wore on, the three of them continued to laugh and chat, Max becoming more and more fascinated by Y/N’s love for fanfiction and her playful, quirky nature. Despite the absurdity of it all, there was something endearing about her willingness to embrace the weird, the wonderful, and the *delulu*.

Max realized that maybe, just maybe, he had been underestimating the complexity of his feelings for her. She wasn’t just the girl he thought he knew—she was layers upon layers of passion, quirks, and humor. And he couldn’t help but fall for her even more.

As they all settled down for the night, Max looked at Y/N with a soft smile. “You know, I might just start reading some fanfiction myself. But only if I can be the ‘mysterious racer guy’ in your stories.”

Y/N grinned, her eyes lighting up. “Deal. But no promises about how romantic it gets.”

Max leaned in close, his voice low and teasing. “I’m counting on it.”

END

#f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #f1 fandom #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #lando norris x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfiction #lando norris imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #mv33 #mv1 x reader #mv1

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mothwingwritings · 10 months ago

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Miscommunication

F!Reader X Pickle

Hello everyone! Sorry for the lack of communication. I’ve been doing this or that, working on stuff, surviving summer, you know how it is.

I have been picking away at quite a few fics recently, but I am all over the place so they are all getting worked on/done/edited at different paces. I wrote this lil Pickle fic in the midst of it all. It was born purely from the thought of a yandere licking up your tears that they themself were the cause of, so I picked a guy and ran with that. I chose Picky because my feral mans does NOTrealize how much of a menace he is to you but by God he’s gonna keep on forcing his love on you until one of you dies. :)

18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

Thank you and enjoy!

WARNINGS: Noncon, forced interaction/cuddling, dacryphilia, miscommunication (if you couldn’t tell by the title), light editing, 18+ only!!!

There were plenty of things Pickle loved about you.

He loved the way you looked. So different from the people of his time, you were distinct in a way all your own. The moment he first laid his eyes upon you he was beseeched by curiosity, your unique appearance adding to the intrigue of your already undeniable beauty and charm. You were smaller, softer, and far more polished than the women he was used to. With glossy well-kept hair and not a mark of dirt or grime upon your body, you appeared to him to be almost glowing. This pure presentation made him feel as if he was beholding some glorious creature from another planet, not a mere human woman. You were definitely something that should be far out of his reach, breathtakingly lovely, but unattainable. Yet somehow here you were, right within his grasp, ripe for his consumption. Having such a gorgeous and otherworldly creature in his vicinity was far too enticing, how could he not be expected to stake his claim?

He loved the way you smelled, though those strange sprays you coated your body with were a bit much for his liking. He preferred your natural scent, the one you always tried to mask for whatever reason, the one that differentiated you from the rest of the herd. He could pick it out from anywhere at any time no matter how far from him you strayed, but it would become especially pungent when you were worked up or excited. He relished those moments, pleased to get a whiff of it through the artificial cover of stinking flowers and fruits. Heady and ambrosial, he would bask in your natural essence, inhaling it deeply as if he were receiving a treat.

He also loved the way you sounded, though your words made no sense to him. All the people that surrounded him seemed to make the same kinds of noises, their lips forming sounds that he was sure held all manner of meaning, but none of it he was privy to. Not that it mattered to him really. Different forms of communication suited him much better than spoken word ever could anyway, and despite the lack of common speech he shared with his new peers, he got by just fine. When Pickle bared his teeth or showed open pleasure, those that were nearby seemed to understand him all the same, so there had never been much need to put thought into their dialogue.

… That was, until he met you. It frustrated him sometimes, when you would speak to him with words he could not comprehend. When you talked with a smile he could assume he did something pleasing, or at the very least you weren’t upset, but when you would frown and raise your voice… What exactly was upsetting you? If it was something he did he wanted to correct it right away, your pretty smile suited you much better than a grumpy frown did. He’d do just about anything to keep it on your face forever, if only he knew the words to say or understood the specific requests you spoke to make that happen. The sounds that spilled from your throat… What praises and admonishments was he missing? What words could he say back to keep you smiling, laughing, happy? He wanted to know, struggled to know, but the language barrier was just too great, leaving him distraught and guessing.

When you spoke to other people (other men particularly) and they understood you perfectly, chuckling and nodding, responding to you in kind… It upset him. Who were they to communicate with you so freely? Who were they to speak with you so openly, when all he could seem to get across was rudimentary ideas and feelings? Even if he loved to hear the cadence of your voice, the lack of understanding and the annoyance these mysterious conversations caused was something he couldn’t quite shake.

But even with all the adoration he felt for you, there was one, and only one, thing he didn’t love about you- your tears.

In his era, cries from your mate meant one of a small handful of things. They were hurt and/or scared, there was a threat nearby and they needed protection, or they simply needed their mates help with something. Regardless of which of these options may have brought on the tears, it was always very easy to figure out what the situation was and for the other party to act accordingly.

But each time you cried was a conundrum. You never seemed to shed just a few tears, throwing your heart into full on wailing at the top of your lungs each time your eyes began to remotely water. Whenever this would occur he would momentarily panic, scooping your perturbed body up to force you against his chest, desperate in his attempt to ascertain a cause of concern that would bring you to this state, one that he could never seem to find. He’d turn your body around this way and that, scouring every inch of you with his eyes and hands to check and see if he could pinpoint any wounds or blood. But while you thrashed and fought as he carried out his inspection, his hands always came back clean, and you never seemed to show particular distress when he pressed down on any given area of your body (save for your more private areas, but you always put up a fuss with those). He’d investigate your surrounding area, prowling for anyone or anything that may have scared you or caused alarm, but found nary a soul or item out of place that could have caused you such distress.

That only left the third option- that you were looking to him for help. But help with what? He had already secured you in the safest place he could find, nestling you far away from any potential threats or creatures that could cause you harm. Though he knew you were not a fan of the dank, malodorous, stone underbelly of the village, it was something you would have to get used to. Keeping you elsewhere was simply too risky. Besides, this area was familiar to him, being not unlike some of the cave dwellings of his old home. And with the pathways being so straightforward and long, he could easily monitor surrounding activity and hide you away should someone show up to cause problems (not that anyone would, most seemed to ignore this place entirely, which was another one of its many appeals).

The paths also snaked deep underground, with exits leading rather far out from the more bustling areas of civilization. It made it easy to hunt and gather, so he had no problems providing you with food, clothing, bedding-anything at all you may need he brought to you, and he was happy to do so. He took honor in being your provider, your lover, your mate.

You were safe, you were cared for, and you were loved by him. He showed it in every way he could, serving and providing in ways that went above and beyond what any other potential partner could do for you. Down here in the depths, he shielded you from all that may have hurt you in your old life. Maybe he didn’t understand your speech, but he could clearly see the toll living with the others above ground was taking on you. Each slump of your shoulder and sigh from your lips was recorded in his memory, the weary look you often wore as you pushed yourself harder than necessary haunted his thoughts until he was pushed into action. Every man whose misplaced comments made you scowl had met a grisly end by his hands, assuring they would never bother you again. Every stress of your old life had been removed, all of the agonies of your previous day to day a thing of the past.

Now the only thing you had to focus on was being a good mate to him- a skill you already excelled at by simply existing. You had no need to be sad, you were perfect, and he was doing all he could to show you this.

So why? Why did you always cry?

Even now as he was buried deep inside of you, the pleasure of feeling you stretch to accommodate his massive size so intense he could barely maintain his sanity, tears continued to spill freely from your eyes. There was absolutely no reason for them- you were always such a good girl for him, bringing him pleasure and joy he scarcely believed was achievable. If anything you should be proud about how well you take him, about how incredibly good you were making him feel, about how flawless you were as his mate. He loved you, he adored you, he would do any and everything for you, and he planned on doing so until his dying day.

Yet still, you cried.

He couldn’t keep them from happening, and he couldn’t think of any other way to stop them, so the least he could do is try and staunch them for a bit. Holding your face still between his hands, he laved his rough tongue slowly over the apples of your cheeks, passing over your tightly clenched eyes in an attempt to cleanse you of your malaise. Time and time again he lapped at your face like a mother lion cleaning it’s cub, moving from the left cheek to the right cheek in quick succession to drink up as many of your salty tears as he could.

Eventually it seemed to work, or at least it caused your upset sobbing to turn into little more than gentle mewling. Maybe you were just doing this to appease him, or perhaps you were finally sharing in the immense pleasure he had been experiencing, overshadowing whatever negative feelings caused you to cry to begin with. Regardless, the tears were trickling to a standstill, and while they weren’t completely quelled, seeing them diminish caused him to smile brightly. He could consider this a victory.

But as he stared down at your tear stained face, moist and red from a mixture of his saliva and your own upset, he couldn’t deny that there wasn’t a charm to witnessing you in such a state. As he picked up his pace, reaching a particularly sweet spot inside of you, you began to scream out, overcome with the intensity of it all. Once more water seeped into your eyes, and he watched mesmerized as fat tears slid down your face, accompanied by whimpers each time his brutal pacing brushed your core. The way your tears accented your ecstasy, adding to the breath taking view only he would ever have the delight of seeing, he couldn’t find himself hating your cries any longer.

Maybe he had been misguided this whole time, realizing now that this may just be another special attribute of yours. He was starting to understand you better, and felt a fool for being so mistaken for so long. Your cries were unique, acting as a sign of immense happiness, not distress. He laughed slightly at his own blunder, it wouldn’t be the first time he had misunderstood you, but this certainly was the most ridiculous miscommunication.

His smile grew as he thrust into you victoriously, elated at his triumph in unlocking a great mystery about you. This whole time he should have never tried to stop them. From now on, he should try and make you cry more.

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thebenjiblackwoodexpress · 10 months ago

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The Blackwood Knight

Disclaimer: this is not mine. My sister wrote this for me and it's her first fic but wanted it posted for other Benji fans to enjoy :) hoping this might end up being a joint fic account if we continue writing.

Description: Benjicot falls for a Bracken lady and volunteers to be her knight.

Warnings: female reader. Swearing. Kieran Burton fancast (I'm in love with him your honour. My sister is a legend for writing this for me).

Playlist:

Royalty~ Egzod, Maestro Chives, Neoni

Once Upon a Dream~Lana Del Rey

Dynasty~MIIA

The massing clouds rolled over the Riverlands, casting a lattice of shadows over the grass except where shards of light broke through. Standing on the crest of the hill that marked the border between Blackwood and Bracken lands, Benjicot Blackwood found his gaze directed, as it was often wont to do as of late, towards the small figure of a lady ensconced under the canopy of an ancient oak. As she read from a small leather-bound book, a light breeze sent small rippels through her golden hair, which resembled the burnished leaves above her; the leaves of a Bracken tree.

Gazing out across the expanse of green, which marked a feudal boundary between one House's land and another, he was discomfitted by the realisation that this space represented a chasm between himself and the lovely lady who had made the boundary her haunt. Bracken and Blackwood enmity ran deep through this land, as it did through the generations, something registered in the sparsness of a landscape ravaged by incessant skirmishes from each side. The roughness of ravine and rock bore the memory of years of conflict.

This unprepossessing view was interrupted by the softness and beauty of the figure under the tree, whose frequent appearance with a new book had become as much a part of the young Blackwood's routine as his sentry over the border. Though his animosity towards the Brackens was deeply entrenched within him, he found it invariably failing to reach out to encompass that figure in the distance. Instead he watched the lady, intrigued by how she lost herself in her written worlds and by the thought of why she sought solace in a place at once so remote and yet so close to danger. He did not have to wait too long for his answer to this final question.

Upon the lady's fifth visit to her tree, Benjicot watched as her reading was rudely disrupted by a hand snatching her book from behind, followed by the sound of raucous laughter...Brackens. Three Bracken knights emerged from the trees, laughing at the confused expression of the lady at finding her peace disturbed.

"Reading again? What is it this time? Something about knights and princesses?"

The leader of the group, and Benjicot's scourge, Edmund Bracken laughed as the lady's face fell.

"Trying to get yourself killed by sitting this close to the border of those savage lands?'

He further taunted, as she stood to wrest the book back from him and he laughed again, holding the book above her head.

A hand snatched the book from above the Bracken's head, as he snapped around to face the thief.

"Well Bracken, looks like you've outdone yourself today in your chosen vocation."

His face twisting in rage, Edmund Bracken turned fully to face the offender: "and what is that?"

Benjicot pushed his tongue to the front of his mouth as he smirked wrly back at Bracken: "being a cowardly bastard who not only flaunts himself around like a Peacock asking for a feather plucking, but who I now find also harassing ladies."

Shoving his shoulder into the dumbstruck Bracken knight, Benjicot sauntered past him towards the lady who stood, cautiously watching the exchange.

Bowing before her with a flourish of his scarlet Cape, he held the book out toward her.

"Are you in need of a knight's assistance, Princess?" He said softly, with a smile that conveyed a mirth that was hers alone to share, at the same time as it suggested a gentleness and genuine concern.

Snapping around, Edmune Bracken stormed towards him.

"You're in Bracken land! What gives you the right? I'll have your tongue for speaking to my cousin like that!"

Lazily turning to face him once again, Benjicot returned: "Big talk from a Peacock like yourself. You wouldn't dare."

Walking with slow, measured steps towards Edmund Bracken, Benjicott looked into his face, as his eyes darkened: "If I find you assailing any young ladies with your squawking again, Bracken, I won't be so lenient next time. Wouldn't want to receive a plucking now, would we?"

Calling over his shoulder without turning, Benjicott directed his next words towards y/n.

"Let me know if you are ever in need of assistance, sweet lady and you'll have a knight at your service."

Only then did he turn to face the sweet lady who, whilst not meeting his gaze, smiled, holding back laughter. Offering her a devilish smile and another bow, he gently raised her dainty hand to his lips before he winked at her confused expression.

Shouldering his way past a stricken Bracken, he walked purposefully back towards the border of Blackwood land before the sound of a blade leaving its scabbard and a shout had him turning as quickly as he had left.

"BLACKWOOD! I'll kill you for this. Come back here!"

With a look of contempt, Benjicot strode towards Edmund to meet the challenge, the middle of his chest meeting the tip of the sword, as he retorted: "fuck about Bracken, and find out"

Without another word, he turned without further challenge and strode back towards his post on Blackwood's outpost, unaware of the blue eyes that watched his back as he walked off and secretly smiled at the thought of her knight...and the chastened expression of her Peacock of a cousin.

3 days later...

Several days had passed since y/n had encountered the young man, bearing the Blackwood insignia on his cloak, who had intervened in her cousin's usual volley of taunts. No one ever had before. Angered by the exchange that had occurred between his son and the Blackwood boy, her uncle had ordered her to remain within the purview of the Brackenwood, not venturing towards the golden Bracken Oak that marked the border of the riverlands' feudal strife.

Her first encounter with the Blackwood boy was not the first time she had seen him. Frequently seeking the solace of her tales of chivalry and dragons under the golden tree, away from the taunting of her cousin and his friends, y/n had often found herself staring into the expanse of rock and fern, spotted by blooms of maroon flowers that gave the appearance of the uneven earth bleeding. The Blackwood lands bore the appearance of the land itself remembering the blood that had been spent in defence of it by brave kights. Brave knights such as the one who had stood between her and her cousin on the border.

Y/N had seen his tall figure patrolling the border the first time she had found shelter under her tree and had continued to look out for him each time she had returned, sometimes believing that he caught her gaze. She should have been afraid of him. She'd seen him throw a Bracken bannerman to the floor with as much ease as if he'd been just another bracken weed in the earth. And yet...there was something about the way he would sometimes pause when his patrol brought him closer to her retreat, and in the way he would angle himself when his bannermen joined him so that they could not see her, which made her think he possessed a gentleness that he didn't show to all. It was this curiosity to see if she was right and to escape the dark halls of Stone Hedge that had found her once again curled under her tree with a large volume on the history of Targaryens open on her lap.

Living away from Bracken lands for many years, and residing as a lady in waiting to the Princess Raenyra in King's Landing, had caused her to question the staunch loyalty the Bracken House held towards King Aegon II. Her love for her family, in spite of her dislike of them, vied with her belief that Raenyra was the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Reading her histories of the House of the Dragon, she allowed her thoughts to wander into dreams of a world in which a woman would ascend the throne without question. As she fixed her gaze on the illustration of Visenya on the page, she did not hear the soft tread of footsteps towards her hideout, nor the sound of somebody leaning against the trunk of her tree until they spoke softly by her ear.

"What are you reading about?"

Starting in surprise, Y/N saw the same Blackwood boy who'd defended her from her cousin leaning smugly against the tree above her with his arms crossed over his chest.

His self-satisfied expression fell, however, when she rose quickly to her feet, allowing the book to fall to the ground, as she turned to flee.

Taking a cautious step forward he gently held her elbow, preventing her from going any further.

"I didn't mean to scare you, I was only going to ask if there were any knights in your book I should be worried about displacing me as your protector?"

Seeing that she still looked from left to right, seemingly looking for an escape, he took a step back and bowed before her.

"Benjicot Blackwood at your disposal, my Lady"

"Y/N Bracken, Ser."

Smiling softly, an expression she had only seen him use with her, he slowly reached for her hand, giving her time to retract it if she so wished, before he raised it to his lips, as he had done once before.

"A very pretty name. It suits you, although I would prefer to alter the last part," He smirked. "I can think of another one that would suit you better", he added, smiling further at her confused expression.

Seeing that she no longer looked as if she were about about to flee from him, he asked her again, "what are you reading?", as he picked up the volume from the ground, wiping away the dirt on his tunic before handing it to her.

Cautiously taking it from his outstretched hand, Y/N rejoined, "I was reading a history of the reign of the Targaryens".

"About Visenya and Rhaenys", She added, hesitantly, used to her cousin and uncle's reprimands at her interest in ancient queens.

To her surprise, the handsome dark haired boy only smiled further at this and nodded at her, encouraging her to continue.

Bolstered by his encouragement, she continued, "Reading about the Queens of old makes me hope...makes me think that maybe one day it would be possible for another queen to command the support and loyalty of the realm. For all the great Houses of Westeros to bend the knee to the rightful ruler, even if she were a Queen and not a King."

Fearing she'd allowed herself to go too far in her speech, she hesitantly looked up towards the Blackwood boy who had sauntered closer to her as she was speaking. Surprising her once again, she noticed a glint behind his chocolate brown eyes, which held something like admiration behind them.

"Of course my cousin and uncle think I'm a fool for supporting Raenyra, believing as they do that a woman can possess no claim to the throne."

Benjicot's brow furrowed in consternation, his gaze darkening. Believing herself to be the cause of this sudden change in her expression, Y/N once again took a step back from him, directing her gaze downwards as she turned to leave.

"Forgive me, my Lord, it is only a book and I should return to Stone Hedge. The day grows darker."

She only took a few paces before she heard Benjicot's voice behind her.

"Any knight who refuses to bend the knee before the one true Queen Raenyra is a traitor to the realm. Any true knight would proudly sacrifice his life's blood in defence of his Queen. Of his ancestral lands. Of his....lady. Loyalty is loyalty, it should run deep and enduring, and be bestowed regardless of whether the object of it is a man or woman."

Returning his steadfast gaze, Y/N thought she had heard Benjicot hover over that last word, last, but dismissed it, believing him to be referring once again to the Queen.

"I don't think my family would agree with you."

Smiling once again, Benjicot returned, "No doubt they would not, but your good opinion is the one I am seeking, not theirs."

Jauntily stepping towards her he lowered his head conspiratorially towards her ear and asked with a grin, "has your Peacock of a cousin offered you any further insults since I gave him his last plucking?"

Smiling up at him, unaware of how this expression caused butterflies to spread in Benjicot's torso, she shook her head.

"He's been very quiet since that day, I must confess...except for today." She returned, a small frown turning her pink lips downwards.

"Want me to kill him for you?"

Y/N looked up sharply to meet Benjicot's questioning gaze, which displayed a seriousness at odds to his slight smirk.

"Absolutely not!"

Dramatically kneeling before her, casting his head downwards in obeisance and withdrawing his sword so that he held it out before her in both hands he continued in a solemn voice.

"I pledge my sword in defence to you, dear Lady, the rightful Queen of the Bracken lands." Turning then to smile up up her with a look of genuine adoration, he watched in fascination as she smiled down at him, trying to contain her laughter.

"May this knight once again assure himself that his Lady does not require her knight to strike down any assailants offering her insult?"

Surprising Benjicot, Y/N gently placed her hand on his shoulder, pushing him slightly as she shook her head sternly.

His smile broadening, he withdrew his sword back into it's scabbard and stood.

"We'll, if you insist. Let me know if he bothers you again and I'll give him a deplucking. You can decide whether I cook him or not", he added with a smile, causing her to laugh for the first time since he'd started speaking.

Brightening at the sound, he stood taller, winking at Y/N. His gaze softening, he asked quietly, "will I see you again?"

Hesitating for a few agonising seconds, at least for Benjicot, Y/N nodded quickly before turning from him in embarrassment and hurrying away.

Chuckling at the retreating figure of the beautiful lady who was already burying herself in the young Blackwood's heart, he turned to make his way back to his post at the border of the Riverlands, often turning back to catch another glimpse of his lady.

#davos blackwood #benjicot blackwood #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #benjicot x reader #benjicot blackwood x reader

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tinydefector · 11 months ago

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I was just interested if you were a suckered for the clothing and fabric and perfume trope as I am. In the sense where fabrics and a abundance of organic flora was considered more common for higher class cybertronains but that even then it was pretty scarce. Imagine a bot or con after getting over their fears or mild disgust of the squishness of humans so to speak the next few things they notice is how many types of hair there are. How many styles and how many different ways to dye said hair. It drives them nuts the feel such softer fibers all together to make a more denser form. Curled,staight,wavy it all catches their optics. Painted nails almost similar to paint for their frames. Tattoos so intriguing. A human willingly damaging their surface that is more fragile than their metallic frames. It's a living scar. And they can't help but slowly come to love it to when they see how much their human complain does. But fabric? God they almost get drunk off of it. When they get a hug they shiver at the smooth article that brushes on their frame. The variety. So many styles and colors. So many meaning behind patterns and techniques. They can't help but almost grow jealous hearing how far back a simple stich can come from in human history. Humanity dressing itself in plush silks and flimsy polyester but it's all gold compared to what the cybertronains have come to crave. Imagine them having made themselves smaller so they could be inside your living space and they can't help but notice all the fabrics. All the plush surfaces. Their in heaven fully convinced they're going to meet the great primes. And if you had a scented burning candle? Sweet or citrus they can't help but want to inhale deeply to capture the scent. Perfumes? God their drunk whenever a human walks into a enclosed space because all mechs and femmes are fighting themselves to not snatch you up and keep you. If you use scented body wash or scented lotion then can practically taste it on your skin if you are near or hug them. They crave it when it's late at night and they've got you sobbing and thighs shaking as they kiss and lap at your scented thighs. And if theirs multiple humans in a space? That almost has a bot slurring their words as iff they just had the best energon. Just some thoughts haha I'm very sorry it's so long. I'm just a suckered for all these headcanons and just how while they may be disgusted and have hatred for humanity some fo them can't help but swoon for so many qualitys of their human companions that are nothing like their skin. So soft and complaint and so very warm at heart.

So I do have some fics on this stuff one is

Ratchet x reader. Involving perfumes effecting cybertronians like a sex potion or sex pollen.

Then I have

Starscream x reader. Involving the infamous dress and him testing out different outfits on his partner.

This small collection of bots reacting to nipple piercings (was like my first fic I ever wrote here)

_________________

I am quite a sucker for the clothing and fabric and perfume trope. I really enjoy writing cybertronians who adore seeing their partner drapped in shimmering fabrics. Becuase to the human its could just be a satin sheet, but to the cybertronian it is luxury, it showcases so much about you and every chance they get they love getting to just feel or touch the fabrics.

Imagine: your cybertronian is sat on theirs berth which is a mix of almost foam matting(yoga mat/ expanding foam) They don't lay on just metal but it's not particularly comfortable for their human. So one day, they introduced them to memory foam, and its like the bots world has opened up. It becomes a soft, comfortable recharge. But as you start bringing sheets, blankets, and your pillows, it makes the bots feel as if they are falling in love. They love it when you drape the soft fabric over them and make yourself almost a next on their chassis with the soft bedding. To they it feels like a luxury that you are pampering them even if it's just to make yourself more comfortable. It's the fact you leave them in their suite on their berth take makes their spark clench in delight knowing you'll be coming back.

I also tend to write cybertronains have alot more nasal sensors and detectors to the point they can break down the partials to annalise them. The smell of fresh lining is something that effects them almost like catnip with a cat. They will roll around in the fabric optics wide. Engines roaring in delight. As their joints squeak and clank against the walls.

I also love writing that Fabric was something that only the Highest of society had on cybertron, but mainly due to have small the fibers are it is extremely hard for cybertronains to replicate the material, so it fetched for high prices when Imported from organic planets. If you were of the lower classes, you would be lucky if you had a tarp or some sort of soft plastic as it was also still very sort after. So you can imagine how the cybertronains reacted once on earth, even while undercover. Fabric is such a huge part of human culture that cybertronians, when they find even just a pretty scrap of Fabric, keep it as a token. As if to say "frag you" to the universe.

But I can also see a human finding the stash of Fabric cut off's and offering to sew them all together in an almost patchwork like blanket for their bot and you can bet your ass you will have that cybertronian on thier knees worshipping you for it.

______

"Hey, we have hail forecasted," their voice calls out to the vehicle parked in the driveway. The cybertronian is rather quiet as they register what was said to them. "It isn't acid rain, so it won't be anything too bad." they try to argue only to have a large old blanket thrown over them. "Hey, what are you doing?" It sends shock throught their system having something so soft drapped over their frame.

"I'm covering you up so you don't get hail damage, I sadly can't get you into the garage at the moment so the next best thing I can do is cover you up with some blankets and a tarp so you don't get damaged by ice falling out of the sky" they explain as they throw another over the vehicle. Making sure to fully cover the bot before throwing a waterproof tarp over them, too. "Sorry, I don't have anything better than this, but it will keep you dry and our of harm's way." Those words hit their spark in a way they never would have thought it would. They are left almost speechless, cosy, and somewhat warm as the hailstorm rolls in.

________________

When it comes to hair colour, skin colour, and tattoos. It fascinates them so much to see such diversity and colour on a species they originally believed to be quite dull. It gets to the point when making their holoform avatars they love exploring and expressing themselves as if making a sims character. Even going as far as some get custom paint jobs of the tattoos, they get on their avatars because, for them, it's the closest thing they can have to tattoos. But think about you getting a tattoo in a shop right across from where your cybertronian partner is getting their paint job because it was a cute couples day out.

And don't get me started on how much cybertronians love human's hair. The fibers are so different to them and they love the feeling of it, they just have to be very careful when running a digit theought thier lovers hair as to not get it jammed in the joints causing you pain.

Another thing that cybertronians are fascinated by is humans' willingness to injure themselves in the name of beauty. From tattoos, piercings, injections, and surgery. In honesty, it's not that different from frame ulteration, but they don't know how a human can do it. The bots can turn their pain sensors off while humans are just soldier on through it.

I love the idea that the bots also horde car freshners that their humans get them. It becomes a full-on pokemon card situation of them trading double ups, begging their partner to get them others so they can rub it in their friends' faces. But air freshners weren't a thing until Earth, and the bots love how it makes their frame smell different from the oil, grease, and car smell.

But perfumes gods I love the idea that perfumes have a certain chemical reaction to Cybertronian systems to the point to turns them into a raging horny bot who can't get enough of how your skin taste and how desperately they try to literally lick the perfume off your skin as if it were the riches and most expensive high grade energex on the market. It also leads to a lot of personal working with the bots not being allowed to wear perfume/cologne. Deodorants don't affect them the same way, but they also enjoy how they smell quite a bit.

But yes I love the idea of perfumes pretty much working like a pheromone spray and don't get me started on actual pheromones spray, your not leaving that bots berth for atleast 3 days, they will bring you food, water and anything you want but it literally overrides their system protocol and makes them desperate to breed you.

In conclusion, DO NOT wear perfume or Pheromone spray near the bots unless you don't intend to be leaving the berth for at least 3 days if not more becyase they can and will keep you their.

________________

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joelscruff · 1 year ago

Text

forget my charms (dave york x f!reader) 18+

a/n finally watched equalizer 2 and he's been living in my mind rent free! i don't really know what this is tbh, it was kind of a challenge to myself to try and write a drabble because i'm notoriously bad at keeping fics short & sweet. so i'm not sure how i feel about the lack of real story here but we go anyway! enjoy & please be sure to read the warnings! summary: your new boss gives you a memorable first day. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: fingering, lap sitting, power imbalance, infidelity, unprotected p in v (doggy), creampie, finger sucking, dirty talk, praise kink, tie used as a gag word count: 1.5k

You only met him this morning. It had been brief, his office just one stop of many on your guided tour the first day of your new job. Your co-worker had tapped lightly on his door, opened it a crack and told him he should come meet the new hire. Your stomach had turned when you'd heard him sigh deeply on the other side - you were already feeling out of place, more than a little like a fish out of water, and the concept of disrupting the boss on the first day wasn't appealing in the slightest.

But he'd been gracious. He'd come to the door and opened it wider, stood beneath the arch with an appraising little smile on his lips as he looked at you. It had been memorable, the way he'd taken your hand in his large palm and squeezed, peering at you with something attentive in his eyes, almost... intrigued. Welcome, he'd told you, it's lovely to meet you.

And now, only hours later, his fingers are in your pussy.

Pumping slow and deep, rhythmic and filthy as you lounge in his lap with your legs wide and your head resting languidly against the heat of his neck. He's got your skirt pulled up, one big hand spread firm over your trembling belly while he fucks you with his middle and index. The flickering blue of his computer monitor is your only source of light, showering his office in a dim glow.

You whimper and his fingers still, lodged deep inside your heat. He hushes you softly, strokes your tummy with his thumb and leans back slightly in his chair.

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice low and husky, "Don't want the night crew to know what we're doing in here, now do we?"

No, you certainly don't. Can't even imagine what the reaction would be were anyone from the office to know you're being fingered by the boss on your first day. You bite down on your lip and lean back into his lap, look down with hooded eyes as he slowly resumes the slow plunge of his fingers. They're so thick, coated in a clear gloss of your release that glows blue in the light. He places his thumb on your clit, applies pressure, and you let out another pathetic whimper.

"Ohh, poor thing," he admonishes gently, "You want something in your mouth to help you stay quiet?" his hand comes up to brush against your face, "Hm? You need something to suck on?"

Your brain feels empty but you nod anyway, eyelashes fluttering as he wastes no time in slipping the middle and index of his left hand past the wetness of your lips. You suck immediately, closing your eyes and feeling them roll behind your lids as he fucks two of your holes at once, just taking, using.

Is this why I'm here, you can't help but think to yourself, did I only get this job so he could play with me like some kind of doll?

You can't quite believe you're even in this situation. You'd stayed late in order to make a good impression, still had some things you needed to figure out at your desk anyway. Everyone else had slowly trickled out of the office, until you'd realized all that remained was you and Mr. York. He'd smiled at you through the open blinds of his office, leaning back in his chair with his legs wide and his arms stretched behind his head. He'd brought one down when your eyes had met, crooked his finger as if to say, Come here for a minute.

You'd gotten up from your desk and entered his office, anxiety building in the pit of your stomach. You'd hoped you weren't about to be reprimanded for something you thought would impress him.

But he didn't reprimand you. He didn't mention the fact that you were staying late, didn't ask about how the job was treating you, if there was anything you needed, no. Instead, he'd looked you up and down again with that assessing, calculative stare and murmured, "Can you come sit in my lap for a little while, sweetheart?"

You suppose you could've said no. Probably should have, actually. That would have been the most logical thing to do - slam the door and quit your job, maybe even sue for harassment. Anyone else probably would have. But you'd taken one look at his crotch, seen the noticeably thick shape that bulged against his thigh, and realized he'd been sitting there watching you for who knows how long. He'd gotten that hard just from looking, assessing.

Fuck it.

"There you go," he breathes softly now, peering at you with dark and imploring eyes as he fucks your mouth and pussy, "That's a good girl, honey, I know," his brow furrows when you whine around his fingers, "I know, baby. You're doing so good."

He rocks you in his lap like you belong there, and it's impossible not to feel the way his clothed cock throbs against your ass. You want to see it so badly, want to touch it, taste it - but he doesn't give you the opportunity. Instead, he circles his thumb against your clit until you're shaking in his arms, hands gripping anything you can reach - the chair, your knee, his wrist. Your orgasm rolls through you and his fingers muffle the sound of your whines, your gasps, until your bones feel like jelly and your heart has slowed. He stills his movements again and lazily pulls all four fingers out of you, watches you breathe deeply and fall back against him with goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Get up now, baby. Bend over the desk for me," he tells you in that low voice, "Show me your pussy."

You pull yourself out of his lap on extremely shaky legs but obey his orders, inching forward a little to position yourself against his desk. You can feel his eyes on you as you reach back and pull yourself apart for him, show him where his fingers have invaded and explored, opened you up and made you drool.

"Juicy little thing," you hear him murmur, and then his belt buckle is jangling and you know what comes next. Legs still trembling, you keep holding yourself open and push yourself further down onto the desk, skirt pulled high and panties still hanging off one of your ankles.

He's filling you up in no time at all, cock plunged deep to the hilt and so much bigger than you'd anticipated. His tip kisses a spot inside of you that you're not sure anyone's ever been able to reach, and against your own volition you moan, low and long, full of pleasure and desperation.

You hear him tsk somewhere above you, "You really can't stay quiet can you?" He says it softly but it's full of condescension, like it's starting to genuinely bother him. Before you can apologize he's reaching down for something, still bottomed out completely inside of you as his arms and hands seem to do something out of sight. A few seconds later his blue polka dotted tie appears in front of your face, and then he's carefully settling the soft material between your lips, pulling back and tying it meticulously behind your head. A makeshift gag.

"Gotta learn to be quiet when I fuck you, okay?" he breathes, raspy and dark as he slowly pulls his cock from your pussy, only to feed it back to you again just as slow, "You don't want us to get in trouble, do you?"

No, sir, you want to whisper, but you can't. All you can do is nod slightly and grip the desk when he starts to fuck you in earnest, thrusting deep and hard before pulling out and doing it all over again. Your thighs quiver and shake against the cool wood, and as you lay there and let him take, you spot something out of the corner of your eye.

A framed picture of a family - his family.

You avert your eyes, turning your head slightly to see where his left hand is gripping your shoulder as he fucks you - you spot the wedding ring immediately. Christ.

But you don't stop it. You don't push him away, you don't leave. Even though you probably should. Even though the logical part of your brain is screaming at you that what's happening really shouldn't be, especially now that you know he's a married man.

You just let him use you. You let him fuck and fill you until he's gripping your hair in his fist and his cock is spasming and pulsing inside of you. You let him release his entire load inside your pussy, bare and messy. And then you let him pull you into his chair, tug the tie from your mouth and situate you back in his lap, still impaled on his cock.

Neither of you speak for a solid minute. He catches his breath while you try not to look at the photograph, to forget its existence entirely.

"The last one quit the first day," you hear him mumble, voice edged with tiredness, "But you won't, will you?" He thrusts shallowly inside of you, holds you against his chest as his cum starts to leak out and dribble down the hefty shape of his balls. "You'll let me do this, huh?"

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

#dave york x reader #dave york smut #*

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reallyromealone · 1 year ago

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How about part 4 to bakugos brother. The plot has thicken. 🙃🫰🏼

Title: bakugos brother

Fandom: bnha

Characters: bnha ensemble

Fic type: series

Chapter: 4

Pairings: kirishima x male reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, angst, reader is awkward, broken sibling relationship, reader is siblings to Katsuki, hurt to comfort, neglectful parents

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

(Name) And Kirishima went upstairs as Aizawa sat in the livingroom with the Bakugo parents, (name) looking surprisingly nervous as he went to his room.

"Whatever he did we will pay for" Mrs. Bakugo started and Aizawa raised his hand to stop her "I'm actually here on behalf of U.A to extend an invitation for your son to attend the general studies program as we have recently opened a spot in that class post sports festival" Aizawa began and watched their reactions carefully, Mr. Bakugo seemed curious and a bit excited at the concept of his son having the experience but Mrs Bakugo seemed... Less thrilled "would that affect Katsuki?" She asked simply and Aizawa raised an eyebrow at her statement.

"The two would be in completely different programs, how on earth would that affect Katsuki?" Mr Bakugo said simply and the blond woman glared without any bite at her husband "Principal Nedzu is particularly interested in his intelligence quirk and would like to talk about it when we do the transfer if you are willing to agree"

And the color drained from their faces.

(Name) And Kirishima cuddled on (name)s beanbag chair, a massive thing that was (name)s first purchase as (name) watched kirishima play a phone game "so you're just building and adventuring?" (Name) Seemed intrigued but also deeply confused at the game "yeah, it's a sandbox game-- you can do basically anything"

"Are there animals?"

"Oh a bunch, they actually just updated the dogs so they have more variety"

"Show me"

"And how would he be able to afford it?" Mrs Bakugo said coldly and Aizawa resisted the urge to roll his eyes "U.A has offered (name) a full scholarship" Mr Bakugo seemed excited at this "really?!" The man seemed over the moon at this but his wife less thrilled "I told you to let him apply!" He said almost angrily and Aizawa looked between them "but the chances of katsu--"" you need one parents approval right?" He cut her off to look at Aizawa who nodded "then you have my approval"

"Masaru!" Mrs Bakugo said angrily and the man looked at her seriously "if we don't do this for our son, we will fail more than we already have"

"Kirishima, time to go" Aizawa said simply and looked at (name) "I expect to see you at U.A Monday with your things packed" the pro said and it took the teens a second to process it all before kirishima grinned at his boyfriend "Yo! We get to hang out all the time now!"

"I get to go?"

"Yup, now better pack, you got a week before you start, Nedzu wants a meeting first thing tomorrow"

"YOU GUYS ARENT GONNA BELEIVE THIS!" Kirishima shouted as he walked into the livingroom area and the others looked confused "my boyfriend got into U.A!" He boasted and Bakugo turned to look at his best friend confused "what." Bakugo said flatly and Kirishima grinned "yeah man! Your brother's gonna be in gen Ed!" Everyone looked at bakugos reaction curiously as many emotions passed his face before just grunting and turning back to his phone.

(Name)s week at home was tense with his mom but his dad always had his back, always making sure he was cared for and the parent who made an effort, he was (name)s rock.

"Just don't get in your brother's way"

Words he heard constantly up until his dad drove him to U.A, giving him an envelope with money "I'll be sending you weekly allowances... I know you have money of your own but that's your money, this is for any emergency things you need" he said softly and (name) took the envelope quietly "I'm sorry that I haven't been enough for you, I know I could do more"

"Mom's a hard person, I know you feel guilt but I know that she doesn't make it easy and you have been there when it counts and stuck up for me so I could be here... I love you dad"

"I love you too kid, now go be stronger than I am"

The two embraced before the man helped (name) get everything into his dorm, kirishima showing up to help "so you're the boy my son's seeing! A pleasure to meet you" (name) smiled as the two greeted and got along very well "yeah! I'm also bakubros best friend!" He said excitedly and Mr. Bakugo had a small sliver of hope that this young man could bridge the two siblings... It was wishful thinking but he always had hope.

Hope that somehow the relationship his wife ruined would be fixed.

(Name) Didn't sleep well the first night, awkward in the new environment and the sudden shift from what he was used to.

Tomorrow he would get an introduction course under Nedzu, the rat wanted to do some tests to truly know what level he was at to gauge where they should move towards education wise.

Things were awkward during lunch as (name) sat alone, everyone hearing about Nedzu's private student and avoided him as such but (name) just played chess on his little travel chess set in the corner, periodically eating his food.

He had an hour to kill, might as well look for any weaknesses in his plays.

"There you are!" (Name) Looked up to see his boyfriend and other 1A students who looked curiously "Aizawa said we got to have lunch at the same time!" The Bakugo siblings locked eyes and (name) offered a seat to his boyfriend who plopped beside him with a grin "so you play chess, what's that like?" The pink girl named Mina asked excitedly and (name) was shy as he responded "a lot of travelling, I been throughout Japan for openings" he said softly "how many have you won?" A blond boy named denki asked and (name) looked a little more confident "I haven't lost, so maybe 50, I have been playing professionally since I was 9"

"Whoa... What do you get if you win?" He asked and (name) thought "the U.A open won me about 100k... But that was the open to let me qualify to international opens but my dad worries I might be too young for that" he said simply and the others looked shocked at the price and did the math "damn you're rich"

Katsuki didn't know this, how many games his brother went to between school and such or how good he was at it, he didn't think about it much but now...

... He kind of felt envious that his best friend knew more about his brother than he did.

The bakusquad asked all sorts of questions throughout lunch and eventually a few more 1A students joined and Momo even planned a chess match between her and (name) for fun.

And for the first time, Katsuki saw his brother look genuinely happy talking to people, typically he didn't talk to people.

It was nice to see.

#bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #mha x male reader #mha x reader #kirishima x male reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #male reader #x male reader #angst #anime x male reader #anime x reader

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 8 days ago

Note

I am very intrigued to hear your expanded thots on sub!joe and pegging! I think it adds an extra layer of vulnerability to their relationship that is super interesting. Plus as long as you don’t include it in one of the main fics, people can choose to read it as a part of that universe or not 😊

sub!joe brain dump (NSFW edition)

I'm glad others want to hear about this because!!! It's been bouncing around in my brain for weeks now!

Note: There's more discussion about how the dom/sub dynamics are started, feelings, and relationship in this too.

CW: BDSM dynamics (heavily described, D/S dynamics, swinging), 18+ content (pegging described)

want to read other sub!joe? you're in luck (please note: main fics do not have all these dynamics; this an expansion of the entire universe)

sub!joe masterlist | joe burrow masterlist | main masterlist

________________________________

It always starts with consent. And anything new is always discussed outside of sex. Always, always, always, always. It's non negotiable. I know I haven't talked about it a lot in the fics. But there's a ton more that's happening behind the scenes. Between their escapades, there's a lot of conversations about boundaries, wants, if anything's changed. Safe, sane, and consensual. Pillars that the two of them live so deeply by.

When these dynamics first started cropping up, Domme sat Joe down. She has experience prior to Joe about it, mentioned to Joe in broad strokes she was previously apart of 'the scene'. Joe took it in stride that it was her history. It intrigued him a little, and he asked all his questions but doesn't delve into specifics. Domme never forced it into their relationship either, didn’t cram it in at every turn. Just mentioned it once, let Joe ask his questions and then let it go.

But the signs feel so obvious to her. They keep cropping up, how he reaches for her in a crowded room. Sighs into her when they’re alone. Jokes about wishing he could just his brain off. So, Domme makes it a conversation. She only intends to bring it up one more time, and again, let Joe decide if he wants to press it further. She brings the conversation to his attention with a soft and sweet, “Hey, I'm noticing similar things in you and our relationship that I’ve seen in prior dynamics and I want to make sure that a) you like it and b) to discuss if you want to make it a more solid and integrated part of our relationship?”

Of course Joe asks what she means, so she lays it--all facts, all, “I’ve noticed..” or “It appears..” so there’s room for her to be corrected. Which Joe doesn't. Because everything she lays out is true, is what it seems like.

Or so Joe thinks until he asks, “What does it remind you of?”

“Dominant and submissive roles and dynamics--that’s what it reminds me of.”

“And I’m the--” He can’t say it.

“Well, you’re Joe. But if we map your behaviors onto that framework, the behaviors look like those of a submissive.”

It’s careful. Joe notices that much. She doesn’t call him a sub. Just talk about the behaviors. But he’s taking the leaps. He’s seeing where the conclusions, and summations will all lead. Joe hesitates, hadn't really considered himself a sub or anything. He wasn't oozing a super domineering personality but he took care of shit. He handled shit as it came up, when it needed to be handled. Like he was supposed to do. How could he be a sub when he's literally a leader? It's not like he lets Domme do everything.

But she's, again, so fucking smooth and soft with it, "Think about it like this. When it's the two of us together, you seem to relax a bit more. You let me do more things for you than you let others do for you. Do you like it when I step up for you in specific situations?"

“Yes.” Because it makes him feel cared for. Which is easy to answer, to admit too.

“Do you like it when I praise you? When I take a bit more of the control? Not all, but when you get to pass some of the weight over to me, what do you feel?”

“Relieved.” It’s like Joe can breathe easier. “But you feel the same right? When I help you out?”

“Yes,” she nods. “But I like shouldering that weight. I take orders all day at work. I like giving them sometimes.”

Joe is exhausted by them. He makes decisions all the time that by the end of the day he’s sick of it. “So you’re not annoyed when I call you asking for help on what to ask my chef for the week?”

“Never,” she grins. “It makes me feel needed. Like, if intimacy could go into a gas tank and is added into and taken out of. You relying on me in those ways fills my intimacy tank--to make tiny decisions when you don’t want to or are too exhausted too. Or when you say you just need to hear my voice or want me to give you the least amount of choices possible makes my whole body flutter.”

He nods, chewing at the inside of his cheek. He knows the feeling when she just steps up, when she’s just there for him--solid, unwavering, unflinching at even his silliest and tiniest of needs. “And me passing some of the smaller things onto you fills mine using that logic.”

The more Joe chews on it, the more he realizes, yeah no, he really likes it when she takes care of things for him. When she's with him at events, and she just gets it when his battery dies or when she helps navigate a conversation Joe feels himself slipping in, or when they're out shopping together and she rolls her shoulders back and strides with every step, confident and sure of herself in ways that Joe is confident, but that's full of practice and a quiet kind of internal pep talk. Joe's fought to be confident and she just is. So it starts slowly, the two of them easing into this dynamic.

The dom/sub came up near the year mark and they've been together a while now, since late, late 2021/early 2022.

Domme sits Joe down to do a 'Will Do, Won't Do, Want to Try' list after their initial conversation. She hands him a sheet of paper, walks him through folding it into thirds and then has him label each column as one of the following: Will Do, Won't Do, Want to Try. Explains that the idea is that Joe writes down what he's willing to do (inside the bedroom and inside their dynamic), what he won't do at all (hard limits), and stuff he's willing to try or maybe he's a little unsure about.

"Think of it like a stop light. Will Do is green, you're all for it. Yellow is the stuff you want to try that we'll talk through and about, make sure there's rules in place. Won't do are red lights. Hard limits, no goes, no matter what."

It seems simple enough. They work in separate rooms for a little bit but then Joe misses her and creeps out his office and kisses all over her face so it gets tabled for the day. But for the better half a week, it's swirling in the back of Joe's mind. It’s intriguing to take the plunge into all his fantasies.

They finish their lists and then comes the hard part where they have to talk it through. He sets the page down, a few lines crossed out and then nearly bolts.

But Domme coaxes him in, her voice soft and smooth, and silky, makes him feel safe when she says, "So, we can start easy. You tell me when you're most excited about from your lists." She doesn't read it, just trusts him enough to know he'll share it truthfully. Joe melts into the couch cushions right there, thinking to himself, I'll do whatever she'd fucking ask just as long as she keeps talking to me like that.

Joe's hard limits are like no visible bruises, no excessive pain (because he is a professional athlete so he needs to be able to discern a sting from something more worrisome), no tight bondage, and nothing that could cause severe harm--it's all reasonable. And Domme helps him sort of categorize and clarify as needed. But she distinctly notes there's nothing on his list about anything penetrative on his end. Like he couldn't fathom it all.

They establish safe words. His is turquoise. Hers is dragonfly. Joe's practiced in his head, Too much--use turquoise. It's the phrase Domme used with him. That if it ever became too much he could use 'turquoise'. Just over and over and over, so he makes the association.

When they first get used to the dynamic, Joe slips and uses, "Stop." And what he was trying to say was something like, "I need to catch my breath."

But the second the 'p' pops off his lips, Domme's pulling away from him, settles off to his side, her hands hover. "What was too much? Need space?"

It's the first time that Joe realizes just how much words matter and even though it wasn't his word, she's listening, she's paying attention to every little thing. Just like he does. So, any time Joe needs a breather, he's careful to use something like, "Need a second," Or "Can we take a time out?"

It may sound silly sometimes, but it works. It lets them both know what's needed. Wording is so incredibly important during their sexual adventures and even outside of the bedroom too. If Joe's overwhelmed in public or about something, he's a lot more mindful on how to communicate that. "Hey, can I take five?" or "I think I need just a second before we go out."

It's Domme that brings up pegging the first time.

They check in on the Three W list (Will Do, Won't Do, Want to Try) like once a quarter, so 3/4 times a year. Joe's pretty consistent. Literally changes maybe one thing (marks are okay during the off season or asks if something they sort of rotated out to come back around [looking at you wax play]). So when Domme parts her lips and says, "I want to try pegging,’

Joe swears his eyes are going to fall out of his head. "On me? Peg me?"

She nods. He doesn't hate the idea, but it makes his stomach uneasy, "I need more time on that one. Can we loop back around to it?" Joe stews on it for two weeks. Does he want that? Would it be strange? Would it hurt? What would he do while being pegged? Would he feel different afterwards?

On a Friday afternoon, when Domme's off from work and finished her errands, and Joe's back from his meetings, Joe resurfaces the conversation with a simple, "Can we talk?"

They talk through every minute detail. Everything. Dildo size, lubrication type, prep work, safe words, scenario (Joe has to be the one to ask for it. Even if it terrifies him, the ball has to be in his court for this)--everything, they talk about everything.

It's so strange at first, even though Joe asked for it, and Domme's being so gentle, he can't help but tense when the first wet finger traces his rim. Like is he actually about to do this? She pauses, free hand smoothing over his back, kisses up his spine. "Want me to stop or do you need a second?"

He's usually so composed, can follow through on a decision once it's made. But this feels like it could shatter him. Could totally ruin him everything he understands about himself. "Just a second."

Domme kisses at his back, a hum shaking at his spine. "Take all the time you need."

Eventually with a lot of encouragement, he lets her proceed and the push through the mental is the hardest part, because once she's in, the pad of her singular finger working at his prostate so gingerly, Joe's a goner.

He pushes back into her hand and she laughs, not maliciously, a puffy satisfied sound. "Do you like that?" It echoes the question he offers all the time, usually in jest. But Domme knows the truth, that Joe loves the praise. That Joe's keening each time she tells him just how well he's doing, how good he's making her feel. To hear it back, with the delicious twist of his stomach at the careful work--Joe's literally on cloud fucking 9.

She works slow and deliberate, eases him open with the second finger. Whispers into his skin, "Look at you. Doing so well for me. Fucking perfect. Want it that bad?"

Joe doesn't think he can get enough, pushes and pushes and pushes back on her fingers and palm. He comes apart on her fingers, a soft and easy pull over his cock, the press of her fingers in his ass. It's messy, how hard and how violently he comes, but Joe is absolutely liquid for the rest of the night. His brain is just gone. Totally gone. Utter silence. He can barely respond to Domme. Barely hold the glass of water.

He settles squarely onto her chest when she slips onto the bed later, tucks him up to his chest with the comforter. "Did so well for me. Took it so well. Made my misty eyed when you came, trusting me with that." Joe hears it, a smile ghosting over his face as he presses his nose into her breasts.

Joe does feel a little different. But not like he thought he would. He feels...so content. He wakes first and her fingers are still in his hair, he's proud of himself for actually going through with it. It's an instant classic. Joe still feels like Joe, like a man. He washes his face, pokes around in the kitchen, answers some emails, tries to ease her awake but she still jolt. He laughs at her huff of annoyance. "I know, I know,” he coos. “Mornings are rough. I'll sweeten the deal with a breakfast pastry."

"Should've started with that,” she huffs.

It just feels right as the two of them orbit in the bedroom, getting ready. But she pauses him in the closet. "How do you feel?"

"Good. Really good." Because that’s all there is to. She made him feel so fucking good. And that’s all that matters.

And if Joe thinks her fingers are magical. The strap is literally god tier.

It takes Joe a few tries to work up to the dildo. And it's just the tip, oh it's just the fucking tip and Joe's already damn near crying at how good it feels. He gets all puffy, chest heaving, begging her to keep going. "Need more, god, please."

He loves it when she pulls at his hair, bring his head up and whisper against his shoulder, "Watch yourself."

The mirror reflects back his own fucked out bliss--messy hair, puffy pink lips, red chest, the echoes of her kisses and bites scattered over his body. He wants to watch, wants to see her take him, claim him like this but it just feels so fucking good. Makes his brain go totally silent. He doesn't even know what's saying, if he's saying anything. Just becomes an absolute mess of himself. And she always makes sure the drop doesn't hit so hard, though it always sort of does.

She likes to take him hard after he gets used to it. The growl of her voice into his body as her hips snap into his, bringing him under, so far under he does not remember his name. Doesn't know it by sound, only knows her voice--can't pick out words or their meaning, just knows they're taking up space, that something is happening.

Joe is brought so utterly to feeling, that he swears he can feel the ridges in the strap, the faux veins, the divot of the tip, and he adores this space. It strips him bare. He's not the quarterback, not the head of the franchise. Joe's not a man, not a son, not a partner, not anything. He is just. He is. He's his muscles, tendons, ligaments. He is sinew. He is sweat. He is the puff. He is the labored breath. He is the begging. He is the pleading. He is the curl of his toes. He just fucking is. He exists as nothing more than the feeling of closeness between the two of them and it holds him. Fills his cup, leaves his thirst quenched.

Then she coddles him, bring him the protein shake or water, praise him with soft whispers against his ears, play in his hair, make sure his phone is on the charger, his alarm set if he needs it, pick out his practice clothes (when needed) and Joe doesn't need to ask for her to do it because he's not going to be online enough to do it.

Joe doesn't ask to be pegged often, but when he does he asks it with a shy look on his face, like he's scared she'll say no.

But Domme never does. Always grins up at him and nods. "I'd be happy to." And they still talk about the scene, because it keeps Joe at ease, but it leaves him with the thrill of anticipation buzzing at his skin. Makes him hot with glee for the time to come. He just feels so safe with Domme about it. She makes him feel so, so safe.

When he brought up how he worried about what it would mean afterwards, she nodded, didn't make him feel crazy for being worried if he'd still 'feel like a man'. "Let's walk through. You do anal and then what? What do you think happens?" She didn't discount him, didn't tell him it was stupid. She just wanted to know and walked through it with him.

"Well, I've never taken anything up the ass before, but what if it does change something? What if I realize something that wasn't there before?"

"Then you know better, baby."

"What if I like too much?” he asks.

"Well, then we either get hemorrhoid cream and use the strap more, or I get to introduce you to the world of threesomes."

"Baby, I know about threesomes," Joe laughs.

"Nah, I mean the real deal."

He grimaces at the thought. "No, I like the idea because it's you. I don't think I want an actual dick. That just-no, hard no."

Her grin is bright, arm sliding over his shoulder. "Then I don't think you have much to worry about, love. Sounds like you already know plenty about yourself."

Because they check in so often about the 3W list, they also use that time to check in about the relationship. They'll discuss goals they have for themselves in the relationship.

Joe wants to be better at staying grounded and connected during the season and he has grown in that regard ,but when they're losing he tends to retreat and sometimes it leaves Domme feeling iced out.

Domme wants to get better about not always taking over in social situations. Which is why we see in the NFL Honors blurb, she doesn't overstep, just encourages Joe. She's a social butterfly and protective over Joe. Which he appreciates when he needs it, but it's not an every time thing which can be hard for her to dial back on at times.

They can talk about everything, "Hey, a couple weeks ago you said something and it wasn't what you said, it's how you said it. It's still bothering me. Can I talk to you about it?"

To anyone on the outside it sounds like a work meeting, talking about KPI's or goals for the year, but for them it's just how it works. Because they're in the scene, it's super important that they do have this space to talk about their relationship, even if it can feel clinical.

What’s not clinical though is what happens behind those closed doors. That is all guttural, hot and biting. Just want they need, what they know the other loves.

Domme, because she was in the scene first, eases Joe into it. She has a few friends still connected to the scene and knows about a rather large party happening right towards the end of the season. Asks if Joe wants to go when she finds out about it about two weeks in advance. Joe, now more comfortable with their dynamic about a year into the relationship, agrees to go.

He’s not barred her from going previously, just asks that she abides by some ground rules: no sexual penetration, she can’t dominate anyone, but she can flirt if she wants, kissing is fine, she can sub if she wants to someone else too. So most often, Domme goes and spends her time being tied up, or goes to aide as a hostess. Helps newer couples find their footing. She still has her fun without Joe.

However, when they finally go together, it’s a private affair. They rent a car so no one can trace their actual plates. Domme guides him around. It’s really just so Joe can see more, build his repertoire more. But he’s so fascinated with the scenes, and the rooms. No one bats an eyelash at him. No one gives a fuck about who he is. They don’t go often, a handful of times a year. But Joe brings back new things to try every time. Part of him feels like a kid in a candy store again, the unbridled kind of delight at seeing the scene in action, unfolding out in front of him in real time. Knows what people are feeling as it’s happening, a visceral kind of reaction that makes leaves goosebumps across his skin.

Domme will settle into the main room and let Joe scamper about. She watches with pride when he comes back, a lipstick stain on his cheek and a mischievous grin on his face. “What did you see?”

“Follow me,” he returns with a hand held out.

It’s usually always something that shocks Domme. The first few parties she brought him she stuck close by, reiterating the rules and keeping him up to date on the lingo. But later on, towards the start of their third year Joe scurried off only to drag her back to a shibari scene. “That--I want to look like that.”

He said it with so much awe, so much tenderness that it made Domme’s chest melt. He looked at it like art. Like one would look at a sculpture from years ago, taking into the details--so much awe and wonder. Domme spent weeks practicing on herself, doing research, testing the waters with Joe in non sexual scenes. Joe tries his hand at it too. Likes it when she lets him take the reigns a little bit.

They don’t participate in the parties a ton.

Joe’s not much of a sharer. He likes to watch, and likes to go. But again, Joe’s not great at sharing Domme. There’s a couple that Domme used to play with before Joe, the couple before she met Joe. He understands that of course others played with her before. But no one plays with her now except him. He’s Domme’s. Domme is his and he doesn’t want to share that with anyone. It is possession, but not ownership. And it’s not jealousy. She’s talked freely about how she used to play before Joe. He likes hearing about it. A couple times he’ll ask her to “turn on the charm” and that gives her permission to flirt, dazzle, lure, kiss, bite, light play.

But there’s no sex. For either one of them. Joe likes to watch her work a room, select her target and reel them in. Like watching a skilled lioness on the hunt. Lethal and charming, disarming and deadly. But there’s some pieces of her that Joe can’t let anyone else have but him.

Domme’s willing to let Joe go a little further than he lets her take it. But Joe doesn’t do anything that she can’t do. If someone asks to give him a kiss, or something, he lets it slide. Knows how much Domme will light up at the mark. But the same rules she follows, he does too. Because that’s the most fair. Because in all honesty, that’s all he’s willing to give up, a kiss (rare-ish), a teasing wink (more common).

Joe has a little admirer--Scarlett, a woman in her forties, he’d guess--who fawns over him. He’s happy to accept the attention because she’s nice about it. If Joe’s sticking close by Domme, she’ll ask, “Can I cut in?”

Usually, he laughs, eyes cutting to Domme, who nods at him after he nods that he wants to go. “Go,” she laughs, patting at his chest. “Have fun out there, tiger.”

Scarlett’s never offended if Joe shakes his head no. He’ll squeeze a Domme’s palm and she’ll slide in front of him just a fraction, even if she’s talking to someone else. Scarlett grins. “That’s alright. Find me when you’re ready, sweetheart.”

Sometimes Joe does loop back to find Scarlett. He’ll spot her watching him. It reminds him just a hair of Domme, the kind of magnetism they both have in their presence. Domme’s is teasing confidence. Knows how to bait. Scarlettl’s a quiet confidence, more assured. Scarlett will kiss his cheek, pull him into the couch or next to her. “She’s treating you right?”

Joe nods. “The best.”

“Good.” Scarlett plays a little with his hair, resting against him for a minute or two. “If she doesn’t treat you, you tell me. I taught her better than that.”

“I will. Need anything?”

Scarlett always laughs. “Trying to get me into trouble. I like it.” Sometimes it’s just a kiss, and it’s nice, fun, different. But there’s always a little voice in the back of Joe’s mind that’s comparing when he knows he shouldn’t. It’s not the same. Not Domme and though he likes the dabble, he never lasts away from Domme.

Joe would seek Domme out even in the dark, pulled to her, called like sirens do to the crashed sailors. Joe doesn’t care to break the spell. Even with Scarlett in his lap, with her kissing over his neck and chest, Joe will look for Domme across the room--the prideful smile on her face makes his chest flutter. His whole body lit with fire.

Sometimes Joe doesn’t find Scarlett again, just keeps an arm around Domme, pulls her into his lap or find a little corner of the room to bury his face into her neck, kissing at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. A silent plea for her and Domme always answers it, pulling his face out.

“Want to get out of here?”

Joe will nod. “But I know we just got here.”

“Have all I need right here. Take me home. So I can have fun with you there.”

#about sub!joe #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #sub!joe #h writes #if you catch the easter egg question domme asks drop a egg or egg emoji in my ask!

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