#sierra x lip

[sierrasmorton]

RUBY MODINE as SIERRA MORTON SHAMELESS.

[mossy-fae]

Fav Shameless Trope; Lip being attracted to girls who give him shit.

[yelyahrodrigo]

due to unforeseen circumstances, I have decided to stop shipping indefinitely as many of my ships are seemingly allergic to endgame

[michvelah]

im a tamilip truther sorry losers

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

V ║Raw Edge

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part IV: Notch | Behind the Seams: Part V | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E, a proper E!

Summary: One lazy afternoon, Joel tests your patience.

Warnings: Sexual tension, some language, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, flirting, fingering, explicit grinding, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!domestic!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 2k

Notes: It's been a long and winding road y'all, but I'm finally back with an update on the main series. It is a short one, more of an interlude, but it will get us where we need to go for the next chapter. Thank you for your patience, I don't take you guys' understanding and love for granted for even a second. Releasing this during the Seams sleepover, more drabbles coming your way for the remaining month of March!

Raw edge - the raw, raveling, and unfinished, cut edge of the fabric.

It’s fitting that Joel is a patient man. He’s built for it, after all.

Those broad shoulders, the sturdy thighs, his sure hands - he’s steadfast as the mountains that loom over Jackson.

As the sun shifts over the ridges and valleys of the sierra through the seasons, bringing shadows into light, so does Jackson on Joel, and you learn that he’s many kinds of patient.

On lookout duty, even in the depths of winter, he becomes one with the stillness of the night, patiently watching over the safety of the town in the loneliest hours.

When townsfolk stop him on the high street for neighbourly chit chat, he obliges with polite patience, never rushing, but careful not to encourage conversation that is longer than necessary.

With Ellie, when she prattles on with a long-winded story from school, he listens with amused patience, letting her run her half-full mouth over dinner with half-hearted admonishment.

And with you - he is agonisingly patient with you, and yet, never in a way that leaves any doubt of his want for you.

You cannot be more grateful.

And in turn, you’re patient with him. As the green of summer softens with the tail end of the season, you pick up bits and pieces. You hear whispers of names. Tess. Bill. You glimpse ghosts of his past. Sarah. Frank.

You don’t expect him to, but you have the audacity to hope, that one day, if he finds it in him to let you in, you have shoulders to spare.

When the heat fades and the brisk autumnal chill starts to linger in the morning mist, you start to find that you like it when he’s not patient.

Not necessarily for the lack of patience thereof, but the fact that it’s worn thin by something else.

The way heat bleeds into his eyes when Lucy holds you up after your shift ends, fingers twitching, as if the caveman in him wants to grab you and drag you home, where you have planned on dinner - and more.

When you’re two bodies tangled in your sheets, breath short as he kisses his way down your neck and nips the underside of your breasts, bra cups pushed up only halfway because you’re still too shy to take it off completely. You feel him shudder, nails digging into your skin, nostrils flaring like he’s holding back from ripping the scant fabric off of you.

And late one evening, when you ask him for it, in heated whispers and your lower lip caught in your teeth, he oh so patiently works his fingers inside your wet heat - 

One, then two; 

Slow, then fast; 

Tender, then frantic - 

Until he feels you clench tight around the crook of his fingers for the first time, watch you arch clean off the bed, he bares his teeth and lets out a primal growl at the cry of his name on your swollen lips.

You find the thrill in getting under Joel Miller’s skin.

As the fall deepens, and trees start to shed in golden surrender, you’re caught off guard when he turns the table on you.

You don’t see it coming, your desperation, that lazy afternoon. It’s just another Saturday when Ellie is on her shift at the Outfitter with Lucy, and Joel is spending those free hours with you.

You’re not sure what got him into the mood, but the man is relentlessly teasing that afternoon, almost bratty in the way he toys with you. His hands go everywhere while you’re cooking, squeezing the swell of your ass then going north to cup your breasts, and stopping off everywhere in between.

Tips of your ears burning, you smack the back of his hands - so big and mapped with veins - just so you can get drain the pasta. Joel chuckles and kisses the corner of your mouth. ‘I like it when you’re bossy, sweetheart.’

He insists on eating on the sofa, with you between his legs, and you can feel him already hard and straining through his jeans. Neither of you really make a real go at the rapidly cooling marinara, and the plates are quickly pushed to the side as them meal degenerates into a full-blown make out session.

Not yet ready to let him strip you bare or for him to disrobe him completely, clothes hang half unbuttoned and unzipped on you both. The part of your brain that still has enough blood to reason likes it though - the demure flashes of skin under creased fabric, blindly touching and feeling where you can’t see.

Your jeans are pushed halfway down your thighs, bra pushed down under your breasts, the elastic straps digging into your shoulders. His shirt is open down to the second last button, bare chest rubbing against your nipples, the contact making you whine. His belt hangs open and his jeans are unzipped, but before you can reach down, his fingers slide inside your panties, twisted and sticky, teasing your wet folds. 

‘Joel,’ you whimper as he pushes two thick fingers inside you to the knuckle, your pussy slickly opening around him. 

‘Does that feel good, sweetheart?’ he asks, mouthing at your collarbone.

‘More,’ you gasp.

‘I got two in you already -’

Your voice cracks in a sob, your nails digging into his back. ‘Joel, I want more. Please.’

He glances at the clock ticking away on the wall and hesitates. The rational part of him knows that he has to leave in less than twenty minutes to pick up Ellie. But feeling you leak onto his fingers, pushing your hips against him to get his fingers even deeper, his cock twitches painfully hard in his pants.

He breathes through his nose to steady himself. ‘Sweetheart, we don’t have time -‘

‘Joel!’ you whine, almost petulantly.

He stares down at you, eyes wide at your desperation. He’s never seen you like this before, and fuck, he wants to give it to you. Wants to give you what you want, what he wants. What he’s wanted for long fucking months, woken up hard and throbbing dreaming about. But he steels himself - no, not when he’s on the clock, he won’t rush it. He will give you what you deserve, and not an ounce less. 

So he kisses you, long and deep, and bargains with you. ‘Listen, sweetheart, we can’t right now - but if you want to, we can try something new.’

‘Ok,’ you reply without hesitation.

A sharp breath catches in your throat when he eases his fingers out of you, and he brings them up to his mouth to lick them clean, his brow furrowing at your taste, thick on his tongue. Then you watch, transfixed, as he pushes his unzipped jeans down with his boxers, kicking them off his ankles - and his hard cock springs free of its confines. 

It’s taken you many months to drum up the bravery to map his body with your touch, and you’ve mostly done so in the safety of darkness, your shyness holding you back. To see all of him, jutting hard and thick in the stark afternoon light, you don’t even hear yourself whimper at the sight.

Joel holds your gaze as he slowly wraps his fingers around the swollen length and strokes himself, lips parted, watching you watch him. ‘You trust me, sweetheart?’

‘Yes.’

‘Gonna make you feel good, ok?’

His words make you squirm beneath him. ‘Ok.’

Grabbing the base of his cock, Joel shifts, looming over you and pushing your thighs apart so they’re bent at the knees to accommodate him. Then with a delicate finger, he traces under the seat of your panties and pulls them to one side, baring your spread pussy to his eyes. 

Your jaw goes slack the same time Joel bites out a filthy fuck. You know this is the first time he’s laying eyes on you there - you’ve been demure about that, preferring to be nose-to-nose with him while he buries his fingers inside you. But now, watching his eyes go black, nostrils flaring, an inexplicable high goes to your head, and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

His eyes fly to yours, and your lips part. Did he see that?

Before you can find out, Joel moves, and you hold your breath when he bows his head right where your legs are splayed open. Distracted by the beautiful chisel of his nose from this angle, you would’ve jumped right off the couch if not for his hands holding you in place when he dribbles spit onto your clit.

You cry out wordlessly, not understanding the visceral reaction of your body to the unexpectedly lewd act.

‘You’re plenty wet for me sweetheart, but this will feel even better,’ he says, spitting again, lower this time, and you tremble at the unfamiliar sensation of the wetness trailing down your folds. 

Tracing a thumb over you, Joel makes a low noise of satisfaction in his chest when it glides over your lips, frictionless. Taking a hold of the base of his cock, he positions the underside of his length in the seam of your folds - and thrusts. 

‘Joel!’ you whimper as the full length of him glides over the lips of your spit-wet pussy, from entrance to clit. He braces himself over you, and you hang onto his impossibly broad shoulders as he carefully rolls his hips, again and again. Rubbing along you just so, making sure you feel all of him despite not being inside you - that will have to wait.

You can feel your panties getting wetter, sticking to your skin, and Joel jolts a gasp from you when he roughly tugs the fabric hard to the side, baring more of you to his drunken gaze, witnessing the mess he’s making of you.

‘Listen t’ you,’ he slurs through gritted teeth, the lewd, wet slide of skin filling his ears. ‘Gonna sound even sweeter when I make you mine, sweetheart.’

With a whine, you arch off the couch, as if chasing the possessiveness in his words. Joel finds a rhythm that has the swollen head of his cock grinding against your clit with every thrust, and above you, he smears open-mouthed kisses over the secret spots he’s patiently unearthed by trial and error, until you’re shaking all over. It’s just what you needed, what you wanted - the elusive more that you didn’t know how to articulate. More than his fingers, but not yet ready to take everything that he can give you.

‘You’re close,’ Joel says, a quiet confidence to his verdict that coaxes a whine out of you. Holding a thumb over his cock, it presses even harder against your clit. His hips quicken in pace, and you know he’s chasing his own release as much as yours. 

‘It’s ok sweetheart, you can let go, let me feel you cum for me, let me feel that pretty pussy -’

And then you’re gone. Any illusion of control over your body is just that, an illusion, when the bubble bursts. White hot pleasure burns through your bloodstream, tendrils of heat blooming and swelling from deep inside you, spilling out your fingertips twisted tightly into his graying curls. 

Over the rush of blood in your ears, you hear Joel stutter fuck, fuck, fuck! before warm cum gushes over you, pooling in your belly button, spilling down your pussy and streaking your thighs. 

Limbs heavy and eyelids drooping, it’s hard to care when the cum stains your panties or the couch below. Not when Joel wraps his arms around you, lips brushing the nape of your neck softly as he brackets you from behind. 

Clinging onto the last vestiges of consciousness, you murmur, ‘You have to pick up Ellie soon.’

He grunts. ‘The little punk can wait.’

You smile, struggling to feel apologetic that the teenager might be waiting a while as Joel’s breathing slows, whistling softly by your ear. 

In the quiet aftermath, his words echo in your head. 

When I make you mine. 

Little does he know, he doesn’t have to - you’re already his.

Notes: Time has really flown by since the last main series update. I've gone through so many ups and downs since, and I really need to thank you guys for giving me the time to figure things out in terms of my writing and how this story will go!

As I mentioned in Behind the Seams: Part V, I have 2 more full length chapters planned for the main series. I don't know if there will be any more after that, but at the very least, I hope that I will be adding to the Seams universe through drabbles and oneshots. I wouldn't write off the possibility of more chapters to add to the main series if I find the inspiration.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter ❤️

[vaokses]

How long this love can hold its breath

Series Masterlist / General Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: It has been years since your mother took you from King's Landing to join her in Dragonstone. Years since you and Aegon have seen one another. Years in which he has refused, time and time again, to marry, even as you tour Westeros meeting suitors in search of a husband of your choosing. That refusal can easily be undone with a few words: it was you she chose, Aegon.

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: Alicent's abuse of Aegon. Alcohol/drunkenness. Mentions of sex/prostitution. Usual Targaryen incest stuff. Arranged marriage stuff. Angst. Hurt and kind of no comfort for now.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Reader is a bastard of Daemyra (claimed by Laenor of course), firstborn child of Rhaenyra and heir to her mother's claim. She rides Vermithor. As you'll figure out thorugh this one shot, she and Aegon had a thing when she was still in King's Landing. How relevant or impactful that 'thing' was depends on who of the two you ask. I've stretched the timeline a bit. Rhaenyra spent a few years more in King's Landing (making Aegon around 16/7 when she leaves, and the Reader, the eldest of the Velaryons, around 14/5). Instead of six years in Dragonstone, the Blacks have spent around three there in this story. Viserys still lives (and is rotting slightly slower), Aegon and Helaena did not marry.

A/N: My first work in this fandom, so i'm a bit nervous. This is a bit of a prologue/alternate PoV for a series I have in the works, but I wanted to share it as a one shot since I think it also works as one. I hope you like this!

Title is from the quote "I've hoarded your name in my mouth for months. My throat is a beehive pitched in the river. Look! Look how long this love can hold its breath." - Sierra DeMulder

It feels as if he has just rested his head on his pillow when he hears the heavy doors being pushed open, and the familiar hurried steps of his mother as she enters his apartments. 

He isn’t sure why he bothers by now in telling the guards not to let her in, since she insists on overruling his orders whenever she wishes. 

Still half-asleep, Aegon reaches for the bedsheet covering his body, wary of any attempt she might make in her anger to pull it off him. Surprisingly, his mother stops a few steps away from the foot of the bed. 

Aegon feels her piercing gaze on him, and aware the choice is between caving and chasing after her, asking her what it is she wants; or waiting for the anger at his unwillingness to follow the unspoken command -and the thrown object, or the stinging hit, that comes after said anger-; he drags his hands over his face in an effort to wake himself further and asks,  

“What is it, mother?” 

“Where in the Father’s name were you? Three days, Aegon,” He winces at the reprimand. In his defense, he truly didn’t think they’d notice. Helaena would, perhaps, but she wouldn’t seek him out either way. “You were gone for three days.” 

“I wasn’t…far. I didn’t even leave King’s Landing.” 

She starts letting out a sigh, laced with disappointment and annoyance, but stops herself short, instead turning her back to him and pacing a few steps away. 

“I know where it is you go to…to satiate your vices, caring not for the shame it brings to your name and mine, behaving most unlike your station.” 

“Then why did you ask?” 

His mother won’t turn to look at him, her back turned to him and her hands joined in front of her. 

“Your sister was here.” 

His brow furrows in confusion. 

“My sister is always here.” 

“Rhaenyra was here, Aegon.” 

“Oh. What for?” 

Alicent turns on her side, considers him with eyes widened in afront and mouth curled in disgust. The question leaves her lips slowly, a threat and a dare all at once. 

“Are you still drunk?” 

He mulls over the question for a few moments, and realizes his thoughts are entirely too calm for him to be already sober. The numb haziness of the night before remains, a comfort. 

“I think I might be,” He admits, eyes darting to the side and lingering on the pitcher of wine on a nearby table. He wonders if it is empty. “Slightly.” 

When it seems his mother is intent on merely staring at him in disappointment, he motions for her to turn away and gets dressed. 

He can’t help but feel unseemly, standing before his mother in rumpled clothes and disheveled hair, while she stands tall with not a strand of hair out of order, not a speck of dust on her dress. Then again, even at his best he hasn’t managed not to feel small, unsuited, by comparison. 

Instead of letting those thoughts linger, aided by the comfortable haze the wine from the previous night -or nights, rather- provides him with, Aegon moves to sit on a table in one of the darker parts of the room. 

Alicent follows quietly, but she doesn’t sit. 

“I come here with news. You are to be married, n-…” 

He shakes his head with a mocking laugh, the defiance as easy as breathing, after four years of holding the same stance. He might not have a say in much, but he does in this. 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Your father has approved of this union. As have I.” 

He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Then you are welcome to marry her yourselves. I shall hope for a long and happy marriage for you three.” 

Sometimes, perhaps in foolish hope, in some hollow fantasy, he thinks his impertinence amuses his mother. He might imagine it, he’s quite certain he does, but sometimes he swears she furrows her lips to hide the faintest of smiles. 

But of course, she shows no give, betrays not a flicker of amusement, of softness, of anything. Try as he might to earn any of them. 

“I did not come here to entertain insolence.” 

“Why did you come here, mother?” He asks, not able to reign in the restless movements of his hands, fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on the table. “My stance hasn’t changed. And it won’t.” 

The restlessness building within her is betrayed in the small movements of her hands that increase in intensity the longer she looks at him. With a sudden movement, she slams a hand on the table between them and leans closer. 

“You cannot go on like this, Aegon, shrinking your duty because of the denial of a caprice of your youth.” 

“It was the one thing I asked for. I haven’t asked for anything since, nor did I ask for anything before.” 

His mother scoffs in response, looking away. 

“And that is reason enough for your wish to be granted?” She asks, derisive, almost jeering. Alicent leans back, straightens her stance again. Not too unlike Aemond adjusting his posture to strike with his sword during training, he supposes. “You have gone through your entire life doing as you please, not considering the cost to your family, to your House, to me, and you expected to be rewarded?” 

But he has considered the cost, has had no choice but to consider it, when every choice, every action, it seems almost every thought, is heavy with the impact it might have on his name, on his family. He has considered the cost, but try as he might no choice, no action, has been enough. 

“It would have…It would have changed things. If you had said yes,” He argues, an argument repeated, in his head if not aloud, a thousand times over in these passing years. And yet restlessness builds within him regardless, and he finds himself grasping at the table to keep his hands from fidgeting. “It was the smart choice. You know father would have been for it. You could have kept Vermithor on our side, and given them no choice but to play by our rules with their daughter here. We might have won this war you want so b-…” 

“All I have wanted is to make sure your lives are not forfeit when your father dies. It is not war I want.” 

“Then why did you say no?” 

She shakes her head as she looks away again. 

“The matter is settled. Long settled.” 

“Yet you never told me why.” 

He wants to hear it. More than an apology for denying him a chance at happiness, more than an admission that beyond the feelings of any involved it was the smartest choice, more than anything, he wants to hear her tell him why. 

She didn’t even hear his reasons, she didn’t even consider proposing the union to your mother, or Viserys. She dismissed him, and denied him, without even a second thought. 

He wants to know the reason why. If it was because she knew of you something he didn’t, and was certain you would have rejected him even at the cost of your home and life as you knew it, he wants to know. If it was because she believes him so monstrous that she wished to protect even the daughter of her lifelong adversary from him, he wants to know. 

If it was because in his weakness and his failings he has made himself into something even his own mother wishes to see punished, or because there was something he did -because it had to be something he did, there cannot be so many that were supposed to love him and refuse to for it not to be something he is doing wrong, something about him that is wrong- that not only managed to make his mother’s love for him vanish, but also earned him her scorn, he wants to know. He thinks knowing that to be the truth would splinter him in a way he isn’t sure he’d be able to recover from, but he is tired, and alone, and he wants to know why. 

He searches his mother’s gaze, desperate for an answer, any answer. She looks back, and yet all that is reflected back at him is contempt, disappointment, and what he fears is disgust. 

“It has been years, Aegon. You are being senselessly stubborn, holding onto this…this grudge against me.” 

He makes a face at her words, and grabs the pitcher in the table before him only to find it empty, the only wine remaining being that still in the half-filled cup. 

“It is not a grudge, I-..”  

“Weakness, then,” She sentences, and he doesn’t bother hiding the flinch at her words. His gaze lowers to the table before him. “You’re being a fool, if you think after all this t-…” 

His eyes are set on the half-full cup of wine before him, and he doesn’t dare move his gaze as he interrupts, “I am not marrying, mother.” 

She considers him in silence, and though for a moment he thinks a hit is to come -he doesn’t usually get away with interrupting her-, followed by her footsteps leaving the room, his mother takes a deep breath and insists, 

“It is not me or your father who request this of you. It is your King who commands it.” 

“The King, or his Hand?” He retorts. He grabs at the cup and downs the remaining liquid, making a face at the taste of stale wine, and presses on, “I’m guessing a Baratheon, to earn Borros’ support? Or a Tully, to secure the Riverlands?” 

For the briefest of moments, when his mother’s lips press into a thin line, hands fidgeting where they rest joined before her, he thinks he finally got the upper hand. That he proved he isn’t as blind to their plots and their increasing panic at Rhaenyra’s influence as he may appear. That he proved her wrong, that he showed he isn’t as incompetent as they’d like to think, that he… 

“A Velaryon,” Alicent admits, and any pride, any satisfaction, die out like flames in a room without air. His lips part, he knows not for what since all that leaves them is a choked breath, the beginning of a question, of a name. Aegon searches his mother’s gaze, attempts to find any truth, any certainty, but Alicent looks away. Her next words sound as if heard from underwater. “To keep you from certain execution when your sister ascends the Iron Throne.” 

“Do not toy with me, mother,” He means for it to sound like an accusation, like a demand, like anything but a plea, and yet that is what leaves his lips. Betrayed by the waver in his voice, by the iron grip on the glass, he goes on, “She’s touring the whole of fucking Westeros in search of a husband as we speak.”  

“She has made her choice, Aegon. It was you she chose,” She promises, and her voice is low and warm and almost comforting, so why does it feel wrong? Why does it make him want to crawl out of his own skin? “As for the tour, it will continue as scheduled. Rhaenyra deserted her own tour before time was due, she knows better than to repeat her mother’s mistake.” 

Breathable air is lacking by this chair, in this room, and he stands up, wincing at the too-loud sound of the chair scraping against the ground. 

He eyes a pitcher of wine in another table, and crosses the distance with quick strides, refilling his cup and draining half of it before turning to his mother again. 

“Why tell me now? I-If the tour is to continue,” If she can still change her mind, “Why tell me now?” 

“Your grandsire and I believed you might take this opportunity to amend your behaviors,” Alicent tells him, “So you might save your future wife the embarrassment, so you might protect her honor, seeing as you do not care for ours or your own.” 

She hasn’t said your name yet, he notices.  

Neither has he, but he has forgotten when it was the last time that he said it aloud. Intentionally, that is, he doesn’t count any time he let it slip past his lips when deep in his cups or buried inside some whore with the wrong shade of silver in her hair -and the wrong eyes, and the wrong voice, and the wrong smile, and the wrong touch-. 

Aegon can’t even remember when it was that he decided he wouldn’t utter your name again, all he knows is that through the years what started out of spite, as a way to deny the wound and the absence; has become something else. It has become to him something like a secret, something to be hoarded, to be kept his alone. 

Because there’s pride, and satisfaction, and something rotten but his, in having known you in ways no other did. In remembering you how he is certain -he has to be, it is of the few things he has left- no one has known you. 

And so he doesn’t speak your name. Lest in sharing any of the warmth of a bond long gone he loses it, dying embers to a strong wind; lest in admitting old truths he is left behind also by the part of you that he keeps safe, a secret only his. 

But now in his head resonate so loudly that they drown anything else -like thunder, like the beat of Vermithor’s wings taking you far up into the sky- his mother’s words.  

It was you she chose. 

Thinking of you has always meant the resurgence of the memory of the goodbye you refused to grant him, of waking to the reverberating cry of Vermithor as he took to the skies with you on his back and flew you away to Dragonstone; or the memory of your disappointment and your sorrow as he avoided your gaze and your words when you met again in Driftmark.  

Yet now the memory that comes forth in his mind is another. 

You smiled at him, daring and entirely too proud. But how could you not be, when you both knew he would oblige? How could you not be, when he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze from your lips since you had asked him for something as simple as a kiss? And your voice was softer than he’d expected -or perhaps he remembers it softer than it was, perhaps he sees something else when desire was all there was-, warmer than it had ever been, when you whispered, I want it to be you. 

And what harm can your name do that his own mind hasn’t inflicted upon him already? What ruin can the uttering of such a familiar word bring that the memories haven’t wrought already? 

So he says your name. Willingly, rationally, for the first time in years.  

He thought the foolish refusal to utter your name aloud kept you distant, kept the memory of you, the idea of you, as something far from him, gone from him. But he realizes now, with the shape of your name parting his lips and the taste of memories staining his tongue like ash; that you have been a distant memory, a distant dream, for a very long time. 

And the knowledge that you chose him, the helpless hope that blooms somewhere in his chest, they cannot do a thing against the horrifying certainty that the future he wanted, the future he mourned, is lost to him regardless of your choices now. 

What can he give you now, that that Tyrell knight the rumors say you were so enamored with cannot? How can he not fail whatever expectations you have of him, as he has failed all others? How could you want him now, as what he has made out of himself in these years you’ve spent apart? 

It was a comfort, he realizes now, thinking you lost. The comfort of knowing he couldn’t fail you, couldn’t earn your scorn when he had merely your indifference. 

A bitter, wretched little laugh leaves his lips then, and he turns his head -to hide, perhaps, the tears brimming in his eyes, the weakness his mother so loathes to see from him- and looks out the window towards the distant skies. 

Alicent doesn’t move, merely stands taller, prouder, and presses, 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

Of course, this is what he fucking wanted, but nearly four years have gone by since he asked to be allowed to marry you and was refused. Even if some part of him wants it, wants you, still, it matters not. 

It is what he wanted, before. Before everything got worse, before everything got louder, harder. Before he got worse. Before you forgot about him. 

His mother approaches him then, and though he jumps when he sees her reach for him out of the corner of his eye, she grabs onto his forearm and speaks again, forceful, determined, 

“Listen to me, Aegon. Your sister has secured her hold on the Seven Kingdoms, both through the strength of her dragons and through her eldest children’s diplomacy with the noble Houses,” His mother tells him, but he cannot hear her, not over the warring thoughts of finally, finally, finally, and too late, too late, too late. “Rhaenyra has allowed for this to happen because she wishes to extend an offer of peace, and you cannot squander this opportunity.” 

He turns to her and asks, quietly, forlorning, “Why now?” 

“What?” 

“Why now?”

Why now, that everything is worse? Why now, that he has become this? 

For a moment, a flickering moment gone in the blink of an eye, he thinks he sees sadness, sympathy, in his mother’s warm gaze. For a moment, he believes she will offer words or touch in the way she hasn’t before, in comfort or in reassurance. 

But her gaze falls from his, and her grip on his arm -too tight, almost bruising, yet wanted, needed, if it is all he can get- loosens as she lets go of him. 

“The betrothal will be announced when the tour is over. The wedding in a week’s time from then.” She tells him, detached, not unlike a messenger delivering a missive. 

And with that she leaves his apartments. The door closing echoes in his mind, and he is left behind with a loneliness he doesn’t know where to put, and a hope he doesn’t know how not to fear. 

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it, and I would love to hear your thoughts!

I am endlessly fascinated by the greens and their deeply weird dynamics, and I hope I did them a modicum of justice, even when changed in this AU and despite the influence of fanon in my interpretations of them.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Alpine Meeting Yours and Bucky’s Newborn Baby

Pairings: Husband/Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mom!Reader with daughter Sierra and Alpine

Summary: Alpine meets yours and Bucky’s newborn daughter.

Warnings: nothing but Fluff and cuteness

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

“There’s mommy’s and daddy’s favorite fluffy princess.” Bucky coos at Alpine as she rubbed against Bucky’s legs. “Did you miss us?” He asks.

Alpine looks up at the two of you and meowed. She followed close behind you guys as you two went to the living room. You carefully sat down on the couch with yours and Bucky’s newborn baby girl Sierra in your arms. Bucky sat down next to you and Alpine jumped up on the arm of the couch, curious looking at Sierra.

“This is Sierra, Alpine. She’s going to be your new best friend.” You say softly.

You and Bucky watched closely as Alpine got on your lap to get a closer look at Sierra. Sierra made a cooing noise when Alpine’s whiskers tickled her tiny hand. Alpine softly nudged her head against Sierra’s hand before giving her little kisses on her little hand. Yours and Bucky’s hearts melted with cuteness as you two watched Alpine giving Sierra kisses. Alpine then moved herself to Bucky’s lap and made herself comfortable.

“It’s safe to say that Alpine is in love with Sierra.” Bucky says, gently petting Alpine.

Alpine jumped when Sierra started crying. She approached her to see what was wrong.

“I’ll make her a bottle.” Bucky says.

Bucky got up and went to the kitchen to make a bottle for Sierra while Alpine stayed in the living room, watching as you tried to get Sierra to stop crying.

“I’ll feed her.” He says, sitting down next to you.

You carefully placed Sierra in Bucky’s arms and watched as he fed her. Alpine curious tapped the bottle with her paw, wanting the milk that’s inside of it.

“No, no, Alpine.” Bucky coos at her. “This isn’t milk for kitties.” He tells her.

“I’ll get you some milk that you can drink.” You say, petting her.

You got up and went to the kitchen. You grabbed a small bowl from the cabinet and poured a decent amount in it. You went back to the living room and placed the small bowl on the floor next to the coffee table. Alpine jumped off the couch and went to the bowl of milk. You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched Alpine’s little tongue dip into the milk as she drank it. The next morning, Sierra woke up crying, wanting something to eat. You went to get up to feed her, but Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you back in bed.

“I’ll feed her, doll.” Bucky says, his voice raspy from waking up.

“I can feed my baby, Bucky.” You say.

“I know you can, but you, my sweet doll, had a C-Section a few days ago and I can tell you’re still in pain. Besides you need your beauty sleep.” He says.

You looked at your husband and pouted, not wanting to argue with him. Bucky kissed your lips before getting up to check on Sierra. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when her cries slowly came to a stop. Bucky walked in the nursery to see Alpine in the crib with Sierra. He smiled widely.

“I see you’re doing your part, princess.” Bucky says, giving Alpine scratches behind her ears.

Alpine purred in response.

“You keep Sierra company while I make her a bottle, ok?” He says to Alpine.

Alpine looked at Bucky as if she understood what he was saying. Bucky went downstairs to the kitchen and made a bottle and went back to the nursery. He picked up Sierra and sat down in the rocking chair in her nursery to feed her. Alpine jumped out of the crib and jumped up onto the changing table to watch Bucky feed Sierra. A moment later, you walked in the nursery, smiling at the cuteness in front of you. Alpine meowed and jumped down from the changing table to greet you.

“Good morning, princess.” You smiled, reaching down to pet her. “Are you helping daddy with Sierra?” You asked her.

Alpine head butted your hand in response. You walked over to your husband and daughter, giving them a kiss on their foreheads. Alpine jumped back to her spot on the changing table.

“Our little family.” You say with a smile.

“Hmm.” Bucky hums, smiling.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[builtbybrokenbells]

Poolsides & Pizza Boxes | JTK (2 of 2)

A friendly hangout and an innocent drinking game turns into a troublesome affair.

Read part one here

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word count: 20.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving), face-sitting, rough sex, risky sex ig, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, dry humping, dom/sub dynamic, sir kink, degradation, praise, impact play, spit play, brief mentions of free use kink, biting, name calling, hair pulling, slight touch of cum play, multiple orgasm, touch of forced orgasm, simultaneous orgasm, angst (in the beginning), mentions of unrequited love, crying, arguing, feelings of rejection/self-doubt/anger/sadness, fluff, drinking, swearing, sorry if i miss any!

here you go ☺️ I can’t wait to hear what you guys think of part two. thank you for all the sweet comments on pt. 1 🤍 as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

The whole group was silent, all of you trying your best to come to terms with the major play Jake made. Eventually, when the silence became too much, Jake let out a nervous laugh. “What, don’t tell me I have to skinny dip?” He asked, only slightly nervous at the thought. “What is it? I can’t see the board.”

“Son of a bitch.” You muttered to yourself, keeping the words under your breath. “You can’t see the board?” You asked, unable to believed he’d been playing the game that way. “Like, the whole time?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” He laughed, unsure why it was such a big deal to you. “What did I get?” You turned to face him, your expression grave and the look in your eyes lethal as you caught his gaze.

“Singles kiss, Jake.” You said, slowly. At first, he laughed at your intensity, then as the words began to sink in, his smile faded.

“O-oh,” he replied, swallowing hard at the realization.

“You heard her, Jake.” Josh grinned, thrilled at the twisted turn of events. He sat back, leaning into his partner with a smug smirk on his face. “Singles kiss.”

“Is there another option? Like kiss or drink?” You asked, desperate to get yourself out of the awkward situation.

“That’s not what the board says, darling.” Josh said, crossing his arms over his chest as he awaited your response.

“What about Danny and Sierra! They’re single, too!” You cried, sitting up and throwing your arm in the direction of the two sat side by side. Josh’s expression became quizzical, urging you to look in their direction with his eyes. You turned your head towards them, finding them already in a handsy embrace, lips locked together. Your shoulders slumped under the weight of your grief and your eyes fell to the ground.

“They know how to play by the rules.” Roman piped up, smiling sweetly at you.

“So what? It’s a game, what does it matter?” You argued.

“Honour, my dearest friend!” Josh boomed. “If I can’t trust you now, how could I ever trust you again?” He fought back, just as intense. “I think a kiss is in order, trouble.” Roman nodded in agreement, placing a hand on Josh’s shoulder. You let out a sigh of defeat, knowing there was no way out of the situation. Instead, you turned your head to look at Jake, who still seemed stunned at the prospect.

“Why not, right?” You asked, giving a nervous chuckle.

“Uh, y-yeah.” He nodded, clearing his throat slightly. His eyes were glassy, telling you all you needed to know about his level of intoxication. Before you had a chance to further your conversation, a chorus of chants filled the air.

“Oh, god.” You groaned, covering your face with your hands. The repetition of the word ‘kiss’ was growing louder by the second, and everyone seemed to join in.

“We don’t have to, Jake.” You whispered, trying your hardest to drone out the peer pressure. “I swear, it’s fine.”

“No, s’okay.” He took a deep breath, bargaining with himself. “Part of the game, right? Doesn’t mean anything.” You couldn’t help but feel a stab in your chest when he equated it to nothing. You couldn’t tell him, but you wanted it to at least mean something. That’s all you ever wanted, was to just be something more than you already were, but he never seemed to catch on.

“Yeah, exactly. Doesn’t mean a thing.” You forced a smile out, nodding in agreement. You tried to convince yourself to enjoy it, to kiss him despite knowing it was nothing to him and be happy with it. After all, something was better than nothing, and even if it meant nothing, the action was still better than never doing it at all.

“Right.” Jake nodded, taking a deep breath. “‘Cause we’re friends, you know. Nothing more than that. It’s just a game, and friends kiss all the time, right?” You felt sick as he continued to ration with himself, unable to tell him how badly he was hurting you with his drunken rambling.

“Y-yeah, f’course they do.” You agreed, your words strained and your chest aching. What happened to the pool, when he was so eager to be so close and he was disappointed when you broke the contact? What happened to the wandering hands and the excitement that was impossible to hide? Did he really only feel that way about you because he wanted sex, and now that he had time to think, he knew better than that? “We don’t have to do this, Jacob.” You reiterated your point, ensuring he knew you weren’t forcing him to go along with the idea.

“No, it’s okay.” He said again, his words firm. Finally, a flash of the man that held you in the pool began to resurface, and you felt your fears ease for a moment. “Who knows? It might be nice.” He offered, his eyes scanning your face for any discomfort. The chanting in the background still hadn’t ceased, but it became easier to drone it out when you were focused on his face. He was breathtakingly beautiful, and you weren’t sure if it was helping or doing nothing other than making you more nervous.

“Yeah, it might be nice.” Your lips twitched into a small smile, happy at the thought. His hand on your hip tightened, a small reassurance that he was okay and comfortable with the situation.

“Come here, then.” He said, placing the beer bottle in his cup holder and raising his hand to your cheek. His palm cupped your face, the warmth radiating through you and making your heart beat just a little bit faster. You shifted slightly, giving yourself better access to him. “You look very pretty today, trouble.” He smiled, trying to make the whole thing a little more natural for you.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Jacob.” You returned the sentiment, biting down on the inside of your lip as your cheeks dusted red. You thanked the night sky for making your blushing all the less obvious. He leaned forward slightly, taking in a shaky breath as you copied his action.

It felt like the world was in slow motion, and the two of you were frozen together in time. As his nose brushed yours, similar to how it did earlier that day, your entire body flooded with an unfamiliar feeling. You had never felt so strongly about anyone, and now that you had the opportunity to express yourself even in the slightest of ways, you could barely contain your excitement. He brushed the hair from your face, resting his forehead on yours as he continued to move closer. You were almost there, your lips so close to his that you could practically feel them on your own. Your stomach was twisted in a knot and your eyes fluttered closed as you prepared for the final moment.

You leaned forward to bridge the gap, but a sudden and unexpected move on his part threw you off course completely. Just as your lips were about to connect with his own, he turned his head. His forehead slipped off of yours, and your lips landed on his cheek. Your eyes snapped open, your entire body flooded with embarrassment as you realized he had rejected you in the most blunt and painful way possible, in front of all of your friends.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” he muttered, his eyes squeezed shut from his own embarrassment. “I can’t.” You recoiled as if he shot you, your entire body ablaze with his rejection and your eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“You can’t.” You repeated, allowing the words to sink in. You took in a shaky breath, looking over his apologetic stare one last time. “Right.” You nodded, making quick work at sliding off his lap and standing on your feet. Your whole body was numb from the plethora of pain in your heart, and you stumbled as you took a step backwards trying to get away from him.

“Trouble, wait.” Jake said, making a move to stand and follow you. You shook your head, carefully weaving through the chairs and making your way towards the door. As tears spilled on to your cheeks, you slid inside and closed the door behind you, feeling like your head was going to explode. You made it through the kitchen and halfway up the stairs before you heard yelling from outside through the open windows, and you made it to your bedroom door before the sliding door in your kitchen opened once again.

You closed your bedroom door and locked it before you let the tears really begin to roll. The moment of seclusion allowed for you to feel the rejection a million times more. You couldn’t believe you were naïve enough to think he would ever feel the same way about you, and stupid enough to believe that you even had a chance. Now, you knew better, and so did everyone else in your life. You were disappointed that he did not feel the same, but you were more upset that he showed you in such a blunt manner in front of so many people. You wished he could have just said no, rather than lead you to believe he would and then change his mind at the drop of a dime, moments later.

A knock on your door shook you from the thought momentarily, but not enough to stop the flow of tears. “Come on, trouble. Talk to me, please.” The voice did nothing but strike another wave of sadness within you.

“Go away, Jake.” You argued, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I can hear you crying, beautiful.” He bargained with you. “Let me explain.”

“No need, Jacob. I heard you, loud and clear.” You dismissed him, knowing that there was no explanation that could atone for the hurt he caused. You couldn’t let him see you in such a state, especially when he knew it was over him.

“Okay.” He sighed. “Everyone is pretty drunk, so they’re going to head to bed. Come and find me when you want to talk.” He waited, hoping you would open the door, but he was met with nothing. He stood for a few moments longer, wondering if you would at least say something, even if he didn’t deserve it. When you solidified your stance on the matter, you could hear him begin to retreat downstairs.

You let out a long breath, doing all you could to calm yourself down. You discarded the still damp bikini from your body, walking through the door to your ensuite bathroom. You flipped the faucet on in the bathtub and pulled the stop for the shower head. You let the water heat up before you climbed inside, beginning a slow process of cleaning the chlorine and misery from yourself. You washed your hair before dousing it in conditioner, slowly combing through the knots with your fingers. When it was fully coated, you used a clip to hold it to your head while you washed your body. By the time you rinsed the suds from your skin, the sobs had slowed to an occasional tear, leaving nothing but puffy eyes and a red nose. You rinsed your hair and stepped out, wrapping yourself in the biggest towel you could find.

You washed any remaining makeup from your skin and put on some lotion to sooth the irritation from crying. You towel dried your hair and stepped back into your bedroom to change. At your closet, you brushed past all of the shirts belonging to Jake, finding the clothes too painful to look at. Eventually, you settled on a large t-shirt that you had stolen from your older brother nearly a decade ago. You slipped it on, finding it fall to your mid-thigh. You grabbed a pair of underwear from one of the drawers in your dresser and stepped into them.

By the time you were dressed, most of the sadness had passed, settling into a dull ache as you approached the window of your bedroom. You gazed out into the yard, noticing the patio was empty, and clean. All of the beer bottles had been thrown out, along with the dreaded pizza box. The pool floaties had been pulled out of the water and sat to dry on the cement. A sad smile crossed your lips, knowing it was likely Jake who had done so in an attempt to apologize. You let out a sigh, crawling into bed and under the covers after plugging your phone in to charge. You let your head rest on the pillows, figuring that sleeping away the misery was the best way to go about it. In the morning, you would have a clear head and a better chance at resolving things peacefully.

You were angry and hurt, embarrassed and resentful over the entire situation, but Jake was your best friend. No matter what, you never wanted that to change. In the years of friendship with him, the two of you had never fought over anything substantial, and never over anything like this. It was killing you to be mad at him at all, but you couldn’t help it. You stared up at the ceiling, listening to the clock tick away the minutes as you remained wide awake. For some reason, sleep did not seem to want to come, and it was growing more irritating by the second.

Eventually, you let out a huff of discontent as the material of your comforter became scratchy against your bare legs. You turned over to face your nightstand, reaching for the glass of water that always seemed to be there. When you were met with nothing but your alarm and a half-empty bottle of perfume, you collapsed against the mattress and let out a groan of anger.

You figured that everyone would be asleep by now; the long day of swimming and drinking in the sun would be taking its toll. One couple would take post in your office, sharing the unusually comfortable futon. Someone else would be in the guest room, and one couple on an air mattress in the downstairs living room. Usually, when life was normal and you and Jake weren’t fighting, he would be upstairs with you, already fast asleep without a worry in the world. Knowing him so well, you figured he either drank himself to sleep on the couch or angrily stumbled home, waiting to text you as soon as the sun rose in the sky.

You and Jake worked so well as friends because you knew how each other worked. You knew what he was thinking without him saying it, and he knew how you were feeling just by the look on your face. The two of you knew when to take a step back to avoid a fight, because space was important to both of you and communicating only worked when you weren’t angry. It was a huge comfort knowing someone so well, because it allowed for the two of you to lean on each other when times were tough.

This time, you had no idea where to start.

In the pool, he was keen on the idea of touching you and holding you, and definitely okay with the position you were in. He was sad when you pulled away, disappointed that things got cut short. When he had the opportunity to kiss you, he completely disregarded it and embarrassed you in front of everyone. He chalked it up to two friends locking lips as a joke as if he wasn’t feeling you up an hour before when everyone was gone. You didn’t know what he was thinking, certainly not what he was feeling, and it was killing you.

Then, the worst thought of all struck you.

Did he only want to be with you when nobody else was looking? Was he embarrassed about being attracted to you, or did he really not feel that way about you at all and dreaded the idea of anyone thinking he did?

‘Stop it, Y/N.’ You forced the thoughts out of your head, knowing overthinking wouldn’t do anything but worsen the problem. You would talk to him in the morning when you both cooled down, and you would settle the score. You would go back to being friends, because it’s what you were good at. You weren’t good with romance, and the only time your relationship was complicated was when you started to think of him as something more.

Water.

Water would fix it. You would sneak downstairs past sleeping drunkards and grab a nice glass of water from the fridge. It would clear your head and curb the oncoming hangover, and it would put you to sleep, which you desperately needed.

You climbed from the bed, knowing there was no sense in searching for a pair of pyjama pants when everyone was asleep, anyway. Quietly, you snuck out of your room and down the stairs, hearing snores from your office and the guest bedroom. You walked past the living room, sneaking a peek and Josh and Roman fast asleep on the air mattress on the floor. A small smile crossed your lips, even if you were annoyed with the two for being a catalyst in your current fight with Jake. You turned the corner to the kitchen, carefully maneuvering around the chairs pulled from the table. Before you could reach the refrigerator door, you froze in your tracks.

“What are you doing, Jake?” You sighed, looking to him sitting at the head of the table, leaned back in the chair with his ankles crossed. He was shirtless, clad only in a pair of sweatpants and his hair was slightly damp. As angry and as hurt as you were, you could not refute how attracted you were to him.

“Waiting for you.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He rolled his eyes at your quizzical look, giving a sigh of his own before he continued. “I lived with you for almost a year, Y/N. I know you need a glass of water by your bed, or you can’t sleep. I knew you would come down to get it, so I waited for you… and here you are.” He motioned to you, standing only in a t-shirt with a dumbfounded look on your face.

“Go home, Jake.” You rolled your eyes, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and opening the fridge. You filled it from the pitcher, placing it back in its spot and kicking the door shut.

“I’m not going home until we talk about it.” He said, his lips turned down into a frown.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I heard you, loud and clear.” You reiterated your point from earlier, trying to hide the distaste in your tone. You turned to walk back into the hallway, almost escaping before he started again.

“There is.” He argued, trying to keep his voice quiet as he begged you to stay. He didn’t want anyone to wake up, to interrupt the moment he’d been waiting all night for. You paused in your tracks, picking up on the urgency in his tone and realizing that maybe you should stay, just to listen at least. Then, as you stood in place, the anger began to return to you.

“What? So we can talk about how bad you don’t want to kiss me? The thought was so terrible that you couldn’t even muster up the strength to do it once? For a game?”

“Y/N, that’s not—“

“No, it is, Jake. I asked you if you wanted to stop, twice! I said we didn’t have to do it, but you said you would, and you made me look like the fucking idiot for thinking that you might actually want to.” You said, pointing a finger at him as tears began to brim your eyes again. “And even if you did, it would mean nothing, right? ‘Cause it was just for the game, and friends kiss all the time. No big deal.” You scoffed, ready to turn on your heel again and leave.

“Christ, Y/N, what is your problem?” He asked, the intensity of the moment growing by the second. He stood from the table, desperate to get to the bottom of your anger. “I get it, that was a terrible thing to say, but I was nervous, and I was put on the spot. I’m sorry I panicked!”

“There’s no ‘but’, Jacob! I mean, what the fuck?” You exclaimed, raising your hand in frustration and letting it fall back to your side. “In the pool, when everyone was gone, you had no problem with it. Clearly, you enjoyed it! So, what is it? You’re only interested in me when nobody’s around to judge you for it?” He physically recoiled at the sound of your words, a look of horror crossing his face as he realized that’s what you thought. He took three long strides towards you, grabbing your arms in his hand as he prepared to confess the truth about the matter.

“You know better than that, trouble.” He said, his words firm but his tone returning to normal. “It’s not like that; you have to believe me.”

“Then what is it, Jake? Because that’s what it feels like, and it’s killing me, and—“

“If you let me talk for a second, I will tell you!” He cut you off, tightening his grip on your arms as he shook you out of the moment of rambling. It was gentle, playful, and exactly what you needed to snap out of it. A laugh fell from your lips, quiet but definitely noticeable. He smiled back, happy to know that despite the confusion and pain, you and him were still the same people.

“Sorry.” You said, sheepishly looking towards the floor. “I get too intense sometimes.”

“Yeah, you think?” He laughed, lifting your chin with his finger so he could take a good look over your face. “It’s okay, trouble. I know you, and it’s okay.” He assured you. “Can I talk now, please? I’ve been sitting here for two hours, looking like an idiot.”

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded, giving a sad smile. You felt bad for accusing him of such things, but your own head was your worst enemy. That in addition to the fact you had never really fought with Jake before made for a deadly combination.

“I wanted to, Y/N, just not like that.” He said, making sure you were actually listening to what he was saying.

“Not like that?” You cocked your head to the side, curious about what he truly meant.

“No, not like that.” He sighed. “Not as a part of a game, when everyone was watching. I didn’t want that for us, trouble.”

“What do you want for us, Jake?” You asked, your voice quiet and your heart aching.

“I…” he trailed off, his expression dropping slightly. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” You asked, hurt but trying to remain calm.

“I don’t! What do you want, trouble?” You thought about his words, shifting uncomfortably on your feet as he put you on the spot.

“I don’t know, either.”

“So stop making me sound like the bad guy! This is weird and confusing, and we’ve never been in this situation before.” He pleaded. You nodded again, sad that you couldn’t seem to stop saying the wrong thing.

“The pool, Jake. What was that?”

“The heat of the moment, I guess?” He said, giving a slight shrug. “You looked so pretty, and you held on to me like that, and it felt good. It felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

“But not now?” You asked, trying to get to the bottom of it. You were so confused, still sad and angry, but relieved that the two of you were at least trying to work it out.

“Stop putting words in my mouth, Y/N. I didn’t say that.” He snapped, his fuse running short.

“You know what, Jake? It’s fine. This is all fine, water under the bridge, forgotten about. We make great friends, we’ve always been good at it, so let’s not fuck it up, now.” You forced the words out, wanting to say anything but that, but it seemed like the only way to make things better. He didn’t know how he was feeling, and if he didn’t know, you certainly couldn’t confess how you felt. “You don’t have to kiss me, and you don’t have to feel bad about not wanting to. It’s okay, and we can wake up tomorrow like it never happened.” You breathed, taking a step away from him.

“That’s it? That’s what you want to do?”

“No, but it seems like you do!” You shot back. “Goodnight, Jake. I’ll see you in the morning.” You turned towards the stairs, trying to hold back your tears until you were alone again, but before you could make it to the hallway, he reached out and grabbed your hand.

When he spun you around, you expected the argument to continue. You expected tears to fall and him to agree with your sentiments in the end, making the fight worth little at all. Instead, once you were facing him, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. Before you could process what he was doing, one hand came up to hold the back of your head as he brought his lips to yours. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. His lips were soft, slick with saliva as they moved against your own, and he tasted sweet. His hands on you made your head spin, the strength in which he was holding you could only be equated to his own desperation, and your heart was threatening to beat straight out of your chest.

As the kiss continued, you feared you would drop the glass of water straight on the floor, but you didn’t care enough to stop him. You were on top of the world, the moment even better than any of the fallacies and daydreams you’d created in your mind. Finally, after so long of pining for him, you had him, and you never wanted to let him go.

Eventually, he pulled away, but did not move very far. His forehead rested on your own, and his shoulders shook with the heavy breaths he was taking. Both of you were at a loss for words, but you felt the need to say something.

“Did you shower? You smell like me.” You asked, nervous and unsure if your question would ruin the whole thing. Thankfully, he let out a laugh, nodding gently against you.

“Yeah, I did. I miss when you lived at my house and I stole your shampoo when mine ran out. It’s always so much better.”

“Right.” You swallowed hard, smiling at him as you tried to feel out the emotion in the room. You didn’t know what he was thinking, and it was bothering you more than you cared to admit. Rarely was there a time when you couldn’t read him, but the entire day had been strange and unusual.

“I wanted to kiss you, trouble. I have for a long time, but I wanted to do it right. I’m sorry I hurt you. I really didn’t want to, but it would have hurt more if you thought it didn’t mean anything to me.” He explained. “And in the pool, I wanted to do that, too. I’ve been thinking about it since I came up with the idea of getting a pool. I know you choose not to see it, and that’s okay, but I’m crazy about you, Y/N, and I have been for a really long time. If they hadn’t come back, I would’ve had my way with you right there in the pool if you would have let me.”

“Jake…” you breathed, unable to process everything all at once. You wanted to jump for joy, to tell him you felt the same way and you were ecstatic to hear him say it, but you were frozen in place. You waited so long to hear it that you had a hard time believing it was real.

“It means something to me, trouble. It means so much to me and I was scared that it wouldn’t mean anything to you. Friends don’t kiss all of the time, and I’m kissing you because as much as I love being your friend, I want more than that. Waking up next to you every day was the best feeling in the whole world, even if it wasn’t the way I wanted to. I want you, Y/N, and I’m not embarrassed about it, or anything like that. I’m scared, and I didn’t want you to see it.”

“It means something to me too, Jake. It means everything to me, and I was so scared you didn’t feel the same way. I want that, too. I want it so bad that it makes my chest hurt and my head spin, and I deny it so much when Josh says it because I was terrified of losing you.” You explained, setting your glass down on the table. “I was heartbroken when I thought you didn’t want to kiss me, because that’s all I want you to do.”

“Then let me do it.” He said, serious but playful. A smile was on his lips, showing how happy he was that everything was out in the air. “Stop trying to run away, or say goodnight, because I don’t want to go to sleep, and I want to kiss you, trouble. Let me make up for it, please.”

“Okay.” You giggled, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Kiss me, then.” With that, he leaned forward, both of his hands dropping to your hips as he brought his lips to yours once again.

This time, it was more comfortable and less urgent. His fingers tightened on you, the fabric of your shirt bunching up in his hands as he pulled you closer. You tangled your fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, the feeling strange but something you were excited to get used to. Everything about the kiss was perfect, exactly what you hoped it would be, but somehow even better than that. It had little to do with the action itself, and everything to do with how right it felt to be in his arms in such a way. After so many years, the both of you knew that it would eventually lead to this, but self-doubt and fear got in the way. It seemed as though everyone else knew long before you did.

When his tongue pushed past your lips, the moment seemed more real than it did before. The taste of him on your tongue sent you spiralling, your body quickly remembering how good it felt to be so close to him. The sexual tension from the pool had left both of you confused and curious, wondering how the situation evolved so quickly. Now that you understood how good it felt to kiss him, you knew the situation did not evolve quickly at all. In fact, it took you years to get there, and one awkward fight over a drinking game.

This was where you were meant to be all along, but both of you were too stubborn to admit it. All of the failed talking stages and flings that amounted to nothing more finally made sense; you were looking for the perfect person in all the wrong places, because he was standing in front of you the whole time, buying kiddie pools and getting ice cream on summer days. He was there, buying plane tickets to see you when your friends hurt your feelings and getting front row seats to every graduation. He was there, calling you every night to see if you were okay, doing everything in his power to keep you happy, and helping you move into his house when you needed him.

Jake was the person you were looking for all along, and you were the same to him; you never needed any romantic fulfillment, because a romantic relationship with someone else paled in comparison to spending every day with Jake, even if it was platonic. He understood you, he cared about you, and he loved you unconditionally, no matter the situation. Talking stages always failed with someone else because you had always been in love with and waiting for him.

The intensity of the kiss did not take long to grow, leaving both of you feeling a little more desperate and a lot more confident. His hands slipped under your shirt, his fingers tracing the seam on your underwear on your hip. You couldn’t help but feel like he was wearing too many clothes, and you were thrown right back into the endless pit of emotion you were stuck in as you were wrapped around him in the pool.

His hands flattened against the back of your thighs as he crouched down slightly. He pulled back only for a second as he lifted you off your feet. A gasp left your lips at the sudden movement, and as an instinctual reaction, you locked your legs around his waist. His hands settled on your ass, his grip firm to reassure you that he would never let you fall. The new position was comfortable and exciting, your hips now meeting his in a long overdue reuinion.

“Remember what I said about starting things you couldn’t finish?” He asked, his voice thick with emotion as he looked over your face. His lips were swollen, pink from the constant attention you were giving him, and they were permanently upturned into an irritatatingly beautiful smile.

“Something like that, yeah.” You said, purposefully acting forgetful to get on his nerves. “I think it was you that started it, though.”

“No sweetheart, that was you, walking around in that slutty little bikini all day.” He corrected, taking a step towards the kitchen table. “Sitting on my lap and expecting me not to fuck you?” Your face flushed at his words and you felt the familiar ache between your legs. “Now I have to finish this, and that means we do it my way.” He said, his voice quiet but his tone gruff. He sat you down in the edge of the kitchen table, looking over your face to see any sign of discomfort. “That sound good to you, beautiful?”

“Yes, s-si—“ you cut yourself off, your face burning red as you realized how you were about to address him. He noticed your sudden change of heart, furrowing his brows as he gave you quizzical stare. How were you supposed to address him? Sir seemed like too much for the first time, and you didn’t want to cross any boundaries with him.

‘Daddy?’ You thought to yourself, wondering if maybe he would prefer that. You looked over his face for a moment, feeling stupid for even thinking that. ‘Absolutely not.’ You felt ridiculous for even questioning something like that, and all you wanted to do was shy away from him. It had been so long since you had done anything sexual that all of your game seemed to disappear. That, and the fact that he made you unbelievably nervous. ‘Stop overthinking this. It’s Jake, you know him, and he knows you. It’s fine.’

“What’s wrong, trouble?” He asked, concerned about your sudden withdrawal. You snapped out of your thoughts, your stomach churning with unease and unfortunately, the most intense sexual desire you’d ever felt in your entire life. The entire situation was new, and it was scary. You had known Jake for so long, but never like this, and you were terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing.

“I just… I don’t know how to do this.” You confessed, the words rushing out in a mess of awkward laughter.

“You… you don’t know how to do this?” He raised an eyebrow, an amused expression on his face.

“No, not like that!” You laughed, defending yourself. “I know how to have sex, but I don’t know how to have sex with you.” You clarified. Now, he was laughing with you, and although the awkward moment had passed, you were still embarrassed about slowing the momentum between you.

“I would like to think that it would be the same as having sex with anyone else… except, you know, better, maybe?” You felt like you were going to shrivel up and die at the sound of his words. You had to talk to him, to communicate the things you were feeling, but you couldn’t. It had never been so hard to talk to him before about anything, and you knew it was due to the plethora of feelings coursing through you all at once. You never actually believed the two of you would end up in a situation like this one, and you were terrified of everything.

“I would imagine that it would be the same, Jake.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest in attempt to hide yourself from him. “As for better, I don’t know yet, so I can’t really comment any further.” At that, another laugh fell from his lips, making you realize he was more than okay with the pause. He wasn’t judging you, and he didn’t think you were stupid; in fact, the whole thing was probably just as strange for him as it was for you. “I just… this is weird, right? We’ve been friends for so long, and I don’t know how we’re supposed to have sex.”

“Okay, then. Let’s talk it out.” He said, giving you a genuine smile to let you know he was more than okay with it. “Usually, I start with taking some clothes off, but if that’s not your thing, we can work around it. Then—“ you cut him off with a smack on the arm, laughing but slightly annoyed with his inability to take you seriously.

“Jake, I mean it.” You laughed, smiling up at him in disbelief.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m just trying to make you feel better.” He chuckled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “I know you, and I know you can’t do anything without talking about it first, so let’s talk. It’s me, trouble, you don’t have to be scared of anything.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but isn’t this just a little weird for you? It’s hot, like really hot, and I really want to do it, but like… what do I call you? Is there things that you don’t like that I shouldn’t do? Or are you into really weird stuff that I’ll have to learn to like?” You asked, your face burning as you squeezed in one last joke. Another laugh shook his shoulders, and you relaxed again. You were overthinking something that was so simple; the dynamic between you two was always so easygoing, and this should be too.

“No weird stuff, I promise.” He laughed, cupping your cheek in his palm. “Well, unless you consider relatively normal things weird, I guess.”

“What does that mean?” You felt yourself start to panic again, but the sound of his laugh soothed your mind.

“Baby, stop freaking yourself out.” He hummed, tilting your head upwards towards him. You felt your heart skip a beat at such a domestic sounding pet name. It felt so good to be called such a thing by him, and even better that it felt like you were his. “It’s just me.” He reiterated the same point.

“You’re right, I’m sorry, Jake.” You sighed, reaching up and placing a hand over his. He leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything.” He promised. “Let’s talk about it, I know it’ll make you feel better.”

“Yeah, it will.” You agreed, letting out a small sigh.

“Ask away.” He said, running his thumb over your cheek. The sensation felt so good, so normal for the two of you. You were being crazy, and you knew it.

“What do you prefer to be… called?” You asked, looking up at him.

“I’ll answer to whatever you call me… Jake, baby, or any variation of that really… Uhm, lover, but only if you’re really into it.” At that, the both of you shared a childish giggle. His lighthearted response eased all of the work in your mind. “And… sir, too.” He cleared his throat slightly after he said it, averting his gaze as if he was nervous to say it.

“Really? I think I prefer lover.” You grinned, joining in on the joke. He rolled his eyes, playful and relaxed as he did so. “Sir is good.” You said, finally deciding to take him seriously. “I haven’t done this in a really long time, Jake, and I’m scared it’s not going to be… good for you, you know?”

“You could slap me in the face and leave me here all night, and I’m sure I’d still enjoy it, because you’re the one who did it.” He replied, clearly more comfortable when the two of you were joking. “You don’t need to worry about that, angel. I want you, and we’ll figure the rest out, okay?”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Good.” He crooned, leaning down and placing a small kiss to your lips. “I’m not going to be too rough with you, but if you need to stop, just tell me. I want you to feel good. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Okay.” You breathed. “You can be a little rough, you know, if you feel like it.” As the words reached his ears, his eyebrows raised and his mouth parted slightly in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting you to say such a thing.

“Okay,” he said, a gleam of excitement in his eye. “Now that that’s settled, I’ll tell you how this is going to work.” He continued, his voice still gentle, but a little more domineering. “I’m in charge, beautiful. Don’t get that twisted.” He leaned forward, pressing a tentative kiss to your jaw. A shiver of excitement ran down your spine as you felt his lips touch you again.

Slowly, he brought his attention down your neck, exploring the soft skin so he could know you a little better. As his lips landed atop the sensitive spot just below your ear, a breathy moan left your lips, barely noticeable even in the static silence. He let out a hum of satisfaction, happy to have found a sweet spot already. His tongue ran over the area, gentle as he tested his limits. When your hand raised to his bicep, grasping it and pulling him closer, he suctioned his lips to your neck and sucked a mark into the skin.

“If you’ll let me, I’m going to finish what you started, but you have to be good for me, okay?” He said, his lips still ghosting over the love bite he left on your neck.

“Yes, sir.” You whispered, much more comfortable with the word now that you talked to him about it.

“That’s it, baby.” You could feel him smile against you. The praise washed over you, settling deep in the pit of your stomach and prompting a rush of emotion straight to your core. A new found confidence washed over you, and you brought your free hand between your bodies and reached down. You wanted to feel him, to know he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him. Your hand settled over the bulge in his sweatpants, his cock hard and aching for relief just the same as it was in the pool. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth at the feeling of you touching him, clearly enjoying anything you were willing to give him.

Without thinking too much about it, you began to palm him through his boxers, the pressure just enough for him to feel it through the fabric, and enough to show your enthusiasm now that the awkwardness had melted away.

“Do you get it now? Do you feel how fucking bad I want you?” He hissed, his mouth still hovering over your neck. His warm breath on your skin was exhilarating, and the words he was saying was music to your ears. “Do you know what I would have done to you if they waited to come back, just a little while longer?” You wanted to squeeze your thighs together, just for a touch of relief from the incessant throbbing between your legs, but you didn’t fully thing it through before you did so. As your legs came together, all it did was pull him closer to you, making the sensation so much worse.

“What did you want to do to me, baby?” You asked, playing innocent in hopes that he would continue talking to you. The sound of his voice was overwhelming in the best possible way, the only constant, familiar comfort amidst all of the new sensations.

“I would have bent you over the side of that fucking pool and showed you how much you mean to me.” He said, his gruff tone doing nothing to satiate your need for him. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? Waking up to you every morning, sleeping beside me and having to force myself out of that bed.” He muttered the last part more to himself, still angry that he never found the courage to make a move sooner. “And you thought you were smart, but I knew what you were doing, sweetheart. Every morning, you moved just a little bit closer, and I woke up to that perfect little ass pressed up against me. Did you want me to fuck you, or did you just want to see how far you could take it before you got yourself in trouble?”

With that, he used his hand on your hip to pull you closer to the edge of the table. You retracted your hand from between you, and as he guided you forward, your legs wrapped around him, pulling him further into you. Through clothing, his cock brushed against your core, finally giving you a breath of relief from the growing discomfort.

Then, in a moment of clarity, it all made perfect sense.

Trouble.

He’d been calling you that for so long, you never thought twice about it. The silly nickname carried you through years of your life, calming and comforting as he spoke it through laughs and sometimes tears. Never once did you think that it meant anything more, but now that he spoke the word in a new context, you understood that it meant everything. You had been torturing him for years, just the same as he was doing to you.

“You don’t call me that for no reason, sir.” You breathed, wondering if maybe you thought too much into it, but when he forcefully pulled you forward onto him again and you could feel him smiling against your skin, you knew you hit the nail on the head.

“Took you long enough.” He muttered, his head raising from the crook of your neck to look over your face. “Pretty girl like you causes nothing but trouble.” Your cheeks reddened under his stare once again, but the smile on your face made you forget about it completely.

“You proud of yourself for that one?” You asked, teasing him slightly.

“Got away with it, didn’t I?” Your cheeks hurt from the smile that had stayed constant on them. You were happy, more than you had ever been in your entire life, and you never wanted to let go of the feeling.

“Come here.” You mumbled, hooking your arm around his neck and pulling his face down to meet yours. He wrapped his arms around you, his entire upper body pressed against yours as he kissed you back. His hands found the bottom of your shirt, bunching the fabric in his hands as he began to pull it away from your body. You parted from him just for long enough for him to slide it over your head, and then he was kissing you again.

With the friction he was providing between your legs and your bare chest pressed against his, you couldn’t help but let a moan escape into his mouth. He drank in the sound as if it were necessary for his survival, thriving off it and using it as motivation to continue. Eventually, he moved further down, trailing kisses from your hat to the base of your neck, and then over your collarbone.

“I did want you to fuck me, Jake.” You confessed, finally answering the question he’d asked moments before. “I wanted it so bad. I dreamt about it every night.” You panted, breathless from the overwhelming sensation of his tongue on your skin and your racing heart.

“You should have asked, trouble.” He crooned, slightly disappointed that you never said a word about it. “You know I would have taken care of you. I always do.”

“You do,” you agreed, feeling his head drift even lower. “But that’s not what I was dreaming about, Jake.” You continued, watching him freeze just as he was about to let his tongue trail over your hardened nipple. His eyes flickered upwards, looking over your face as he processed what you were saying. “I know you always take care of me, baby. I wanted to take care of you, to thank you for everything you do for me.” You watched as his pupils engulfed his irises, enticed by your words and crazed with desire for you. You were no different, so far gone that you did not care that you were going to let him fuck you in the kitchen while your friends slept soundly in the other room. You wanted him so bad, and you weren’t sure you could last another minute without him. “Let me do it now, please?” You whispered, sticking your bottom lip out into a slight pout.

“Always so concerned about everyone else, trouble.” He whispered, straightening himself up. He wasn’t stupid enough to deny you of that, so he figured he’d let you have your way first, then he could use the rest of the night to showcase his own desire to please. “You know I’ve always told you to take what’s yours.” He slurred, drunk off lust and already imagining how good your mouth would feel on him. You couldn’t quite grasp the emotion that took over at the sound of his words. Take what’s yours, as if he belonged to you, and you were his.

You slid off of the table, making sure your landing was quiet and secure. You held on to the edge of the table until you were sure you were steady on your feet, and then you took a step towards him. You tried to swallow your nerves, framing yourself as confident as your hands reached out for him. This was something you had unashamedly thought about hundreds of times, but now that the opportunity arose, you were far more anxious than you once thought you would be.

“Hi, beautiful.” He smiled down at you, his eyes soft and his smile warm. In an instant, your fear disappeared, replaced with a blossoming love for him deep in your chest.

“Hi, baby.” You breathed, the word still foreign on your tongue, but feeling better every time you spoke it.

You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the top of his shoulder. Your fingers drifted over his bare arms, starting there as you worked up the courage to continue. You kept the touch featherlight as it drifted across his stomach and down to the waistband of his sweatpants. You tried not to notice the shiver that ran through him as your fingers dipped below the elastic, doing nothing but teasing him as he awaited your next move. Carefully, you began to crouch down, keeping your movement slow as you pressed kisses to his chest when your mouth passed by.

By the time you were on your knees in front of him, you had little care about embarrassing yourself anymore. The state he was in was your driving force, and you found yourself unable to think of anything other than pleasing him. With one final breath of courage, you pushed past the last boundary that remained between the two of you. You pulled his pants down off of his hips, ensuring that his boxers came down with them. With a hard swallow, you took a moment to digest the situation and its entirety. You were on your knees, eye level with his cock as he watched you, studying every move you were making.

Your gaze flickered up to meet his, innocent and doe-eyed as you gave him a smile. Before your mouth was even on him, his eyes were rolling back in his head. The thought alone was enough to drive him mad, and anything that came after was just one push closer to the edge of insanity. You leaned forward, parting your lips slightly, and you let your tongue rest against your bottom lip. Your mouth landed on the tip of his cock, your tongue gliding over it as the taste of pre-cum filled your senses.

You let out a hum of pleasure, the saltiness causing your mouth to water as your eyes fluttered closed. You moved your head down a little further, taking him into your mouth without ever moving your tongue away from its original position. It felt good. It felt right. You let the saliva build up on your tongue as you flattened it against the underside of his dick, ensuring that it was well lubricated before moving any further.

He was big, definitely much more than you were used to, but you tried not to let it intimidate you as you began to bob your head down on him. At first, you kept it slow, carefully calculating every move you made. Then, a strangled cry left his mouth as his tip hit the back of your throat, and all inhibitions seemed to flee your body. In response, you moaned against him as you moved your head back, the vibration furthering the pleasure he was already getting from your mouth.

“Fuck, angel.” He panted, reaching down and brushing the hair from your face. As a courtesy, he gathered it behind your head and knotted it around his fist, making it a little more comfortable for you. You opened your eyes, needing to catch a glimpse of his face to keep you going. Sometimes, it seemed like it was the only thing that could.

He was looking down at you, his hair falling in front of his face to frame his perfect features. His eyebrows were furrowed together, the wrinkles on his forehead that usually showed his concentration began to pop. His jaw was clenched, the muscles taut as he tried to hold back every sound he was desperate to make. He looked more beautiful than he ever had, and it only made you want to work harder.

The man before you was many things; your best friend, of course, but it always ran a little bit deeper than that. He was one who held great kindness in his heart and love in his eyes no matter where he was or who he was with. He was sweet, soft spoken at times but louder than anyone the next. He was funny, always having a quip lined up or a punchline to spew. More than that, he was yours. Even before your tearful confessions that ensued not even an hour before, he was just that. He would leave anything behind at the drop of a dime if you needed something, and his usual kindness grew tenfold if you were the one in question. He loved to love, but most of all, he loved to love you, in every way he knew how.

Halfway across the world, playing on stages in front of thousands, you were always at the front of his mind. He ran off stage every night to text you, just to tell you how it went and say he wished you were there to share the moment. He opened his home to you without a promise of anything at all, and most importantly, he built you a fucking pool.

Three hours ago, you were near shameful of how strongly you felt for him, but you had no reason to be. He was your best friend, but everyone else knew just as well as you that he was always more than that. There was no shame in falling in love with Jake, because it would be impossible not to. Now that he was truly yours, in every way, you would bend over backwards to make him happy. What you were doing in that moment only felt like a glimpse in time of a lifetime you would spend thanking him for everything he’d already done and would continue to do for you.

As your head sunk down on him again, his hand tightened in your hair. His grip was growing stronger with every bob of your head, and you knew he was doing all he could to hold himself back. As nice as the gesture was, you would have been perfectly fine had he decided to take control.

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he hissed through his teeth, his stare intense as he spoke the words. Your cheeks dusted red in the dim light filtering through the window, framing the two of you in the obscene display for the rest of time. You pushed your head down on him again, this time taking him as far as you could. You felt his tip slide down your throat, and you took a long breath of air through your nose to stave off the urge to gag. You held him there for a moment, trying your best to keep yourself calm as you forced yourself to swallow back the salvia pooling in your mouth. Your throat constricted around him as you did so, and in response, he let out the most heavenly sound that had ever graced your ears.

You had never seen Jake in such a state, and although you felt like you should appreciate it, you couldn’t help but feel sad that it had taken you so long to get here. He was desperate, trying and failing to keep his composure, and he was needy. His hips jutted forward every time you bobbed your head down on him, even if he tried to hold himself back. He was lost in the pleasure, and he had never looked so fucking ethereal. Pathetic whines fell from his lips as he tried his hardest to keep quiet, and to be used by him was the most pleasant feeling you’d ever experienced.

You could feel him throbbing in your mouth, desperate for a release as you continued your torment. You were just as worked up, your underwear soaked through with the wetness pooling between your legs, and your were aching for him to touch you. If you weren’t so greedy, you would have let him finish there, just to show him how committed you were to his pleasure.

Just when you thought you were getting him close to the point of no return, his grip tightened in your hair and his body went rigid. Unsure of what was wrong, you tried to continue on as you were seconds before, but his hand holding your head in place made it hard to do so. Before your disappointment really began to sink in, he spoke quietly. So quietly that you almost did not hear him at all.

“Baby, stop.” He pleaded, looking down with wide eyes. Your eyes flickered up to his, questioning his sudden withdrawal as his cock rested on your tongue. “Someone’s coming.” He said, looking over his shoulder at the entrance of the kitchen. At that, a wave of panic filled your chest, hyper aware of the situation you had found yourselves in. He looked at your shirt on the floor, knowing that there wasn’t enough time for you to dress yourself before the two of you were caught. “Get under the table.” You pulled back, taking a long breath as his tip fell from your lips.

Although you felt a little ridiculous hiding in your own home, you figured it would be for the best. Avoiding the awkward situation would be in everyone’s best interest, especially considering the explicit nature of your current state. As you shuffled backwards, hiding yourself under the table, Jake stepped towards your shirt on the ground and kicked it towards you. Then, he rushed to push the chair in, concealing you a little better. He pulled his pants back up over his hips just as the footsteps neared the end of the hallway. Realizing the obvious predicament in his pants, he thought it best to sit back down in the chair at the head of the table, knowing there was no way he could hide it from anyone who walked in, even if the light was turned off.

He pushed the chair in as far as he could, his stomach resting against the edge of the table as he leaned back ever so slightly, ensuring that his lower half was carefully concealed underneath the table. You held your breath, listening carefully as the footsteps rounded the corner and slowed to a stop.

“Oh, hey, Jake.” Roman. The sleep laced in the familiar tone was blatant, and the surprise of seeing Jake sitting, wide awake in the earliest hours of the morning was also quite clear. “What are you still doing up?”

“Oh, you know.” He let out a nervous chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as he spoke. “Just waiting for Y/N to come down so I can talk to her.”

“Right,” he mumbled, taking a few steps towards the refrigerator. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.” Roman asked, opening the fridge to retrieve the water pitcher from inside. The yellow light illuminated the room ever so slightly, making it just a little more obvious that you were stuck under the table, nearly naked and trying your best to stay calm.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Guess I drank a little too much, and I’m trying to figure out how to make up for being an idiot, earlier.” Jake said, clearing his throat slightly as he attempted to sound as normal as possible.

“Yeah, that was a shitshow for sure.” Roman chuckled, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. He filled it up with water from the pitcher, thinking carefully about what to say next. “Why don’t you go up there and talk to her? Might be better if you do it sooner rather than later.”

“Already tried that.” Jake chuckled. “She’s as stubborn as I am.” You rolled your eyes at the snide comment, but continued to listen to the conversation between the two. It wasn’t really eavesdropping, considering Jake knew it would be impossible for you not to listen.

“Yeah, that’s for sure.” He hummed an agreement, still fighting sleep as he found himself amidst conversation. “You have to tell her, man. It’s just hurting you more the longer you keep it to yourself.”

“Y-yeah, I know.” Jake said, clearly nervous about what Roman would let slip under the impression the two were alone. “Just not as easy as it seems, I guess.”

“Christ, Jake, it’s not like nobody knows. We can see it. You haven’t been on a date in over a year. You spend every day here, man.” He said, pausing for a moment to sip at the water before he continued. You found yourself growing impatient, wondering why Jake wasn’t doing all he could to speed up the interaction. Then, you wondered if he was doing it on purpose to get on your nerves. At that thought, a devious little idea popped up in your mind. You were certain that you would never do something so risky had you not been drinking all day, nor would you have done it if you weren’t so crazed with desire for the man you never thought you would have. “Who knows? She might even feel the same way.” Roman offered, a smile clear in his tone.

Roman was an idiot for suggesting that your love for Jake was something to be questioned. In your entire time on earth, loving Jake was the only thing you’d ever known how to do, which is exactly why you were stuck under the table, hiding from Josh’s boyfriend as you waited for Jake to fuck you. Your love for him was the exact reason you had such convoluted thoughts about your next move, and the exact reason that you couldn’t find any shame as you slowly reached for the waistband of his sweatpants. Well, love, and the overwhelming desire to have him inside you again, in any way you could have him.

As your fingers hooked around the elastic holding the fabric to his hips, he jumped slightly in reaction to the unexpected touch. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, knowing that he knew exactly what you were thinking. Carefully, you pulled his pants away from him, freeing him from them once again. You felt him slouch a little lower in the chair, making it a bit easier for you, and also showing you that he was more than content with your actions.

“Yeah, maybe she does.” Jake breathed, swallowing hard as you flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock, running it slowly up his length. “Wouldn’t that be the dream.”

“I think you might be surprised.” Roman replied, leaning against the counter. “Why didn’t you kiss her, man? I mean, I know, but wouldn’t it have been the easiest way to tell her how you felt?”

“Uhm,” Jake started speaking again, but found it hard to focus on his words as your tongue swirled around his tip. The warm wetness of your mouth was fantastic the first time, but even more so the second. “I just didn’t want to do it like that, you know? She deserves better, and I didn’t want her to think that it was because I had to, rather than because I wanted to.” He answered, his voice higher than usual and his words breathy as they pushed past his lips.

“What are you going to say to her?”

‘God, he talks a lot.’ You thought to yourself, letting a trail of spit fall from your mouth onto his cock. ‘Just like his boyfriend.’ You raised your hand to his dick, using your palm to spread the wetness over him. You heard him take in a sharp breath, trying to keep it concealed as his hips raised in reaction to the touch. You continued to move your hand, stroking him slowly as you lowered your mouth to his tip once again. You could feel him throb in your mouth, pulsating against your tongue as you focused all of your attention on him. He was far more worked up that he was before, and It almost seemed as if the risky act was the cause of his current state.

“I—fuck,” he muttered the curse word under his breath as you bobbed your head down on him. “I don’t know, man. That I’m sorry, and that I love her and everything about her. Maybe that living with her was the happiest I’ve ever been, and that damn house feels like hell without her there to brighten it up. How I wanted to kiss her so bad, and everything she does amazes me, and I’ve only ever wanted her.” He rambled out the list of compliments, the praise indirect but clearly targeted towards you, rather than his conversation with Roman. You felt your heart skip a beat at the sound of his words, more specifically, at the proclamation of love.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good start.” Roman commended Jake for his choice of words. “You sure you’re okay? You’re acting weird.” He commented on the strangeness of Jake’s stature and tone.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jake assured him, nodding his head as he sucked in a sharp breath. “Guess I’m just more upset about the whole thing than I thought.”

“S’okay, man. The two of you will work it out. You always do. I mean, she quit her job and moved to Nashville just to be with you again.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I fucked up, but I’ll fix it.” He said, his hands clenched into such tight fists that his knuckles were white and his fingernails drew blood on his palm. You took him in as far as you could, feeling him hit the back of your throat. Your eyes watered but you held back a gag, knowing it would do nothing to help your desire to stay hidden. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Roman hummed. “We’re always here for you. You know that.”

“I do, and I appreciate it.” Jake breathed, swallowing hard as he fought a groan.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake. Hopefully you get to talk to her.”

“Yeah, I hope so too. See you guys in the morning.” He said, the words coming out strangled as you suctioned your cheeks around him just a little more. With that, you heard footsteps echoing through the room, fading out the further he walked. After a few seconds, you couldn’t hear anything aside from Jake’s heavy breathing.

He waited a moment, just to ensure that Roman wouldn’t double back into the kitchen and discover the real reason behind his strangeness during their interaction. You continued on as if nothing changed at all, overly excited to please him and uncaring about his thoughts on the matter. When the coast was clear, Jake reached under the table, balling your hair in his fist as he pulled your head away from him. He fell from your lips with a popping sound, and you sucked in a sharp breath, barely realizing how badly you needed the air. He carefully slid the chair backwards, urging you to follow his lead and get out from under the table. When you did, your expression was smug and your eyes were blazing with a fire unfamiliar to him.

“What do you think you’re doing, trouble?” He snapped, his voice hushed so he didn’t catch any more unwanted attention. “You need me so bad you couldn’t even wait for it?” He asked, his tone dangerous and his face painted with a scowl, but you knew him better than to think he was actually angry with you. There was a glimmer of joy in his eyes, playful and light even as his expression directly contradicted his gaze. You gave him a sickly sweet smile, bringing your hand to your chin to wipe away any excess spit still lingering on your skin. “We’re you trying to get yourself caught?”

You weren’t, but you would be lying if you said the idea hadn’t crossed your mind. In the whirlwind of events, you felt like you left your former self upstairs in your bedroom, sleeping soundly under the covers. You were still riding the high of your confession, thrilled that not only did you finally find the courage to admit it, but it was reciprocated. His hands on you felt like heaven on earth, and you finally had the opportunity to live within the dirty fantasy you had created in your mind so long ago. Something about Jake made you want to live on the wild side of things for once, take risks and live without fear of making a mistake or having consequence. You had never felt more alive, and it was all because of him.

“You were?” He came to the conclusion himself, your silence being enough of an answer for him.

“No, sir.” You shook your head, trying to figure out the best way to explain yourself. You weren’t trying to get caught, but the thrill of knowing you could made it all the better.

“Tell me what it is then, sweetheart.” He said, beckoning you towards him. You crawled out from under the table, careful as you rose to your feet and stepped towards him.

“I didn’t want to get caught.” You clarified, smiling down at him as you stood before him.

“Don’t lie to me.” He grinned, holding his arm out for you, hoping you would take the hint and join him. You did as he wanted, carefully placing your legs on either side of him as you straddled him on the chair. His hands landed on your ass, positioning you as you lowered your weight onto him.

“Not lying, sir.” You squeaked the words out, feeling his length press against your clothed core as he used his strength to pull you down on him. As he pressed into you, the slight friction gave you a sense of relief when he brushed against your clit.

“S’okay, trouble. I always knew you were a little whore.” He muttered. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself moving your hips against him, desperate for a bit more than he was giving you at the moment. “Look at you, so desperate to be fucked you don’t care who’s watching.” He growled, his lips close to your ear as you anchored your hand on his shoulder to keep yourself steady. “I can feel how fucking wet you are. Can’t believe all of this was waiting for me the whole time.”

“Are you going to do something about it, or just tell me how bad you want to?” You asked, the burning in the pit of your stomach becoming nearly unbearable.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” He snapped, but his hand began to move from your hip, tickling the skin of your back as his fingers trailed upwards. His touch was full of love, assuring you that every word that left his lips was part of an act. Then, the hand that still remained on your hip shifted, and his fingers hooked through the side of your panties. With one sharp tug, the fabric unravelled at the seam.

If you were any less turned on, you might have been angry with him for destroying them, but you wanted him so bad that you did not have a care in the world about it. His other hand did the same to the other side, clearly seeing your enjoyment just from the look on your face. Without any further instructions, you lifted your hips, allowing him to discard the material on the floor with ease. You took it upon yourself to reach between the two of you, grabbing him in your hand and guiding the tip of his cock through the pooling arousal.

“What is it, sweetheart? Do you like the thrill, or are you just desperate to get fucked?” He asked, his voice low. With his mouth by your ear, you heard him loud and clear, and the gravelly sound of his words only made the desire grow stronger. “Be honest with me, baby. I want to know what’s got you so worked up.” He moved your hand away, taking control of the situation as you hovered over him. He guided himself through your folds, slowing his movement as his tip brushed over your clit.

“Both.” You whimpered, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his.

“See, Angel? That wasn’t so hard. You have to tell me what you want to get what you want.” He whispered, his lips upturned into a smile. “You like the thrill so much, so I’ll give it to you, but you have to be good for me, okay? Don’t want to actually get caught, because I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” You felt yourself clench around nothing, the sound of his words prompting a full physical reaction from you. It was a special feeling knowing that he felt some kind of possessive nature when it came to you, that you were his and only he could see you in such a state. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded against him, feeling him line himself up with your entrance.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled. He reached up, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear in a moment of sweetness. Then, as quickly as it came, the moment passed. He clamped his hand around your mouth, the action rough and unexpected. You didn’t have any time to register it, because at the same time, he used a hand on your hip to pull you down on him.

The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming almost immediately, and you found yourself grateful for his palm tightly wrapped around your lips, ensuring that not a single sound could escape you. His size was something you were not used to, but it didn’t take long to adjust to the feeling. He was easy on you for a moment, realizing that maybe he was a little to rough for your liking, but when your desperate eyes met his, telling him all he needed to know, his head fell back on his shoulders and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to keep himself quiet.

You took the initiative, beginning a slow roll of your hips against him. You watched as his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed back every sound you were desperate to hear. He felt even better than you imagined he would, filling you up better than anyone else ever could. The position allowed for him to fill you completely, his tip brushing against the sweet spot inside of you with every move you made. It was addicting, and you felt greedy even as you had him so completely, because it still wasn’t enough.

As you rocked your hips against him, he placed his hand on your ass, pushing you further down on him as you moved forward. His hand on your mouth did well at silencing you, but you still found yourself letting muffled moans fill the air.

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart.” He growled, taking a long breath to calm himself down. “So fuckin’ tight.” He muttered under his breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he focused on the feeling of being inside of you. You sped your movements, using his words as motivation to work harder. He let out a low groan, trying to keep it quiet so he did not disturb anyone in the other room. He surpressed it relatively well, until it trailed off into a whine. The sound was beautiful, making your walls clench around him, pulling him even further.

The two of you were a mess, completely infatuated and only able to think of the undying need you had for each other. The thought of stopping what you had started seemed equal to torture, and he wasn’t sure he could stop himself even if someone were to catch the two of you in the act.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” He asked, the sound of his voice settling deep in your spine and engulfing your stomach into flames. “Wanted it so bad you couldn’t even let me take you upstairs?” He continued, doing the best he could to move his hips in time with yours, making the sensation all the more powerful. You nodded against his hold, almost sad that you couldn’t tell him how good he was making you feel, sad that he couldn’t hear how desperate you were for him to keep fucking you.

His grip was tight on you, his fingers painfully sharp against your skin as he held your ass in his hand. You knew there would be bruises on you by the time the morning came, and the thought only seemed to push you closer to the edge. You wanted to remember, to be reminded of every dirty detail the night held every single time you looked in the mirror. To you, there was nothing better in the world to think about. After fantasizing about finding yourself in the position with him for so long, there was nothing more euphoric than finally having him in such a way.

“Tell me how fucking good it feels.” He hissed, slackening his grip on your mouth. “Want to hear all about it, trouble.” You let out a long breath, trying to keep yourself as quiet as possible as you leaned forward towards him. You settled your mouth over his ear, keeping your voice low as you told him the things he so desperately wanted to hear.

“God, you feel so good, sir.” You whined, your lips grazing against his earlobe as you spoke. “Nobody else could ever make me feel this way.”

“That’s right, baby.” He crooned, happy that you’d drawn that conclusion all on your own. “You were always mine, weren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, yes.” You gasped, feeling his hand guide your hips down on him particularly hard.

“All those other boys didn’t mean anything, hmm? ‘Cause you were always going to end up in my arms, right?” He continued his tyrant as you felt one of his hands creep up to the back of your neck. His fingers clamped down on your neck, closer to the base of your skull, almost as if he was holding on in fear you would pull away. He needed to hear the words, he needed to know that he hadn’t created a fallacy in his head and gotten the situation misconstrued. He needed to know that he was to you what you were to him.

“I only ever wanted you, Jake.” You confessed, knowing that no matter how hard you denied it, it was the truth. Heartbreaks did not hurt you the way they were described in movies. Dating never interested you as a teen preparing to leave for college, nor as a young adult who had spent the majority of her life single. You didn’t fawn over cute boys or go out to the bar in search of company, because you didn’t care about anyone the way you cared about Jake.

“Say it, trouble. Want to hear the words.” He muttered, holding your head close to his ear so he didn’t miss a single syllable of the phrase.

“I’m yours, Jake. All yours,” You whispered, feeling the pressure in your belly reach a new high. “I always have been, and I always will be.” You finished off the statement by letting your teeth graze over his earlobe. Gently, you pulled it between your teeth, holding him in the position as you allowed him to grasp the full intent of the sentiments.

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned, easing up on the pressure he was holding your head with as you placed a kiss just below his ear. You pulled away from him slightly, just enough so you could turn your head upwards towards his. When the position allowed for it, you pressed your lips to his, showing him that you meant every word of what you said.

The kiss itself was bordering pornographic, not even close to the sweetness of the ones that came before. It was a mess of tongues and teeth, neither of you caring about the impracticality of the action and only concerned about having each other in every way you could. He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, applying slight pressure as he held your hips down on his. You let out a moan into his mouth, your hand on his shoulder slipping to the base of his neck as your fingers tangled in his hair. You stayed like that for a moment, neither of you keen on breaking the position until he pulled away first. Without moving his lips too far from your own, he began to speak, abundantly clear and concise about what he wanted of you.

“Listen to me, trouble.” He urged, his breath on your skin sending goosebumps rising across your entire body. “I want you to stand up, and grab your clothes off the floor, okay?” He asked, waiting for you to respond before explaining any further. You nodded, showing him you understood all that he was saying. “When you bend over, make sure you do it real slow, because I’ve been waiting to see you like that all fucking night.”

“Okay.” You smiled, waiting patiently for him to finish his instructions.

“Then, you’re going to go upstairs, and I’ll be right behind you, angel, waiting to keep fucking you. I’m done keeping you quiet. Don’t care if the whole fucking house hears you once we get up there.” He spoke with a slight gruffness to his voice that you had never quite heard from him before. Now that you had heard it, you never wanted him to speak to you any other way. “Understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” You breathed, taking one last look over his face as you bargained with the thought of parting from him. As you pulled away from him, he wrapped his arm around you, stopping you from moving any further.

“Wait.” He said, pulling you back into him. He crashed his lips back on to your own, savoring the sweetness for just a minute longer before he let you carry out the task he’d given you. “There. Go, before I change my mind again.” He ordered. You gave him a smile as you stood to your feet, finding the loss of him inside of you nearly devastating. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.” He said, reaching forward and lightly smacking your ass as you turned around.

Your face turned red as you leaned down, making sure to give him a show as you collected your shirt from the ground. You heard him let out a shaky breath as he watched you; you could feel his eyes on you, never trailing off course as you straightened back up. You looked back over your shoulder, soaking in the feeling of seeing his expression, lustful and dazed as his eyes traveled from your ass to your face. To top it off, you gave him a wink before you threw your shirt over your head, covering yourself in case you ran into anyone on your way upstairs.

Before you even stepped towards the stairs, he was standing up and grabbing the torn remnants of your underwear off the floor. With two long strides, he was behind you again, adjusting himself in his pants as he pulled them back over his hips. Together, you went upstairs, sneaking past the sleeping boys in the living room and rushing down the hallway. When the door closed behind the two of you, you wasted no time throwing your shirt to the floor. You flopped onto the bed, on your back as you grinned up at him. You watched as he kicked his pants and boxers to the side before his attention landed on you again.

“You remember what I said, sweetheart?” He asked, approaching the end of the bed as he gazed down upon you. You settled yourself amongst the pillows, smiling up at him as you gave a nod of your head. “I want to hear all of it. Don’t care about anything other than that, actually.” You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you at his words, finding it funnier than he meant to be.

“Whatever you want, sir:” You made sure to enunciate the word carefully, ensuring the impact would be made.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” He seemed to break from the facade slightly, amazed that you were actually in front of him, saying all the things he dreamed to hear from you. “How did I get so lucky?” He asked, falling to his knees on the bed before you. The question was rhetorical, not meant to be answered, but he felt the need to express his gratitude for the moment.

He moved towards you, letting his hands dust over your thighs as he settled himself between them. He took his time, letting his hands graze every available inch of you. Then, when he satisfied his need to touch you, he hooked his arms underneath your thighs, using a small amount of force to pull you towards him. You let out a gasp, not expecting the sudden movement. The scratch of the sheets against your legs sent a shiver down your spine as you slid down the mattress towards him, amplifying the sensation in the pit of your stomach that had only been growing more intense as time went on.

He pressed his lips to the inside of your thighs, soft and gentle as he worked his way upwards. As his mouth neared your core, your breathing became more shallow, finding yourself nearly driven to insanity just from the thought of his tongue on you.

“It’s a sin that I got to feel you before I got to taste you.” He spoke quietly, as if he was talking to himself more than he was talking to you. “Didn’t even properly appreciate all that I have.” He continued, his lips moving away from your leg and closer to your cunt. “Please don’t think I’m going to make it a habit, trouble.” Before you could respond, he closed the gap between the two of you. He flattened his tongue against you, savoring the taste of his hard work as he moved from your entrance to your clit.

“Oh, fuck.” You let out a shaky sigh, closing your eyes at the sensation. It had been so long since you had anyone touch you so intimately, and never had you found someone who could do it so well. He circled his tongue around your clit, agonizingly slow as he tried to cement the memory in his brain for eternity.

He let his tongue dip back down to your entrance, pushing it inside of you with little hesitation. The feeling was new, but it was fantastic. He curled it as he pumped it into you, keeping the movements steady and similar every time he did it. Your hands snaked down towards his hair, tangling the soft locks around your fingers as you silently urged him to continue.

His motions began to grow more comfortable as he became more familiar with you. He wanted to know the things you liked, what could make you take your clothes off without a second thought, and what could make you come undone within minutes. He wanted to know everything about you, all of the things you had kept secret before. Now, there were no more barriers or boundaries holding him back, and he wanted to make himself an expert on anything concerning you.

As his tongue pumped inside of you again, he let out a hum of pleasure. The vibration ran through you, seemingly rattling your bones and throwing you completely off course. It knocked the air straight from your lungs and caused your fingers to tighten in his hair. On your own accord, you threw your leg over his shoulder, twisting it around him slightly to pull him closer. He took the action as a plea for more, and when it came to you, he would give you anything you wanted. He picked up his pace, pulling you down a little closer to him. You couldn’t help but grind your hips against his mouth as he worked at you, swallowing down every last drop of arousal you had to offer him.

When the first moan slipped past your lips, he was almost dejected by the thought of not being there to drink it in as you let it go. That thought quickly passed as he realized how badly he wanted to hear it again. He withdrew his tongue, turning his attention to your clit again in hopes that it would help you loosen up, and more importantly, get loud. The whole reason he urged you to come upstairs in the first place was because of the beautiful sounds he knew you would make, and he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t determined to hear every last one of them.

You let out a whine, long and drawn out as he suctioned his lips around your clit. You could feel the sly smile form on his lips as he heard it, breaking the momentum only for a moment until he could focus again. This time, he let a moan out, unable to contain his own enjoyment of the moment. The knowledge that he was getting off over pleasing you was almost too much to take, and you felt yourself begin to grow delirious from the thought alone.

“Taste so sweet, angel, just like I thought you would.” He pulled his mouth away from you for just long enough to spew the praise. You let out a breathy moan, thrown into a whole new wave of pleasure at the sound of his words. You knew that you were close to the edge, with everything he’d done to you so far and what he was doing now, you were long past the point of holding yourself back.

“Jake, m’so close.” You gasped, feeling it become harder and harder to keep yourself quiet. A particularly vulgar moan filled the quiet air, and you noticed as it reached his ears, his hips grinded downward into the mattress. He was aching for relief again, worked up to the point of desperation like he was before you ever touched him at all.

Had the situation been anything close to normal, you might have been embarrassed over your shameless need for him, but you didn’t care in the slightest. Years of sexual tension had finally resulted into one, climactic end. You needed him like you needed water to survive. Now that you had a taste of what he had to offer, you would never be able to live without it. Every daydream you created in your mind didn’t even come close to the reality of the situation.

“Jake, baby, please don’t stop.” You pleaded, finding yourself gripping his hair so tightly that your knuckles began to ache. You were grinding your hips against his tongue, needing more than he could possibly give you as he did his best to bring you to an orgasm. “Oh, god.” You cried, your head falling back against the pillows as a wave of euphoria washed over you.

The orgasm was different than any you had before, and you knew it was because he was the one who gave it to you. Your body felt light, almost as if it would float away if he wasn’t there to hold you to earth. His tongue coaxed you through the process, his movements gentle and full of love. Your entire body was ablaze with pleasure, like every nerve ending was searing with their very own red hot flame. It felt so good that you grieved the end before it ever came, and it was so intense you prayed you would survive it.

When you relaxed against the mattress, he pulled away from you, quick and ready to move on. You barely caught your breath before he began to speak, sending your already busy mind swirling with even more nonsense.

“Get up, trouble.” He ordered, repeating himself for a second time before you processed what he was saying. You stared at him, finding a strange comfort in the sight of his face as you tried to bargain with the unfamiliar feelings coursing through your veins. “Get the fuck up,” he snapped, quickly losing any bit of sweetness he had left in him. “Don’t make me say it again.” He warned.

That time, his words actually struck the right spot in your brain, allowing you to comprehend the situation. You sat up, watching him for a moment as you awaited further instructions. He laid down on the mattress, his cock painfully hard as he reached down and stroked himself. The relief was not the same as what you could provide him, but it would suffice for the moment.

“Come here.” He ordered, holding his arm out to you. You did as he asked, scrambling to your knees and making a move to straddle him again. When your knees landed on either side of him, hovering over his cock, he grabbed your hips before you could move any further. You furrowed your eyebrows, still strung out on your climax as you tried to understand what he wanted from you. “My face, sweetheart.” He explained, his expression serious as he spoke the words. “Sit on my face.” He continued once he realized you still weren’t quite grasping his intent.

“Oh,” you mustered the strength to speak, only slightly embarrassed over your misunderstanding. You did as he asked, slowly shimmying your way up his body until your thighs were grazing his cheeks.

“That’s better, angel.” He softened his tone ever so slightly, worried he might have been too harsh with you. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of this?” He asked you as he admired the view from below. He didn’t give you time to answer before he did it for you. “Every fucking morning I’d wake up disappointed that I didn’t have you like this.” He settled comfortably between your legs as if it were natural, like it was home and he’d been suffering from a nasty bout of homesickness. “Don’t make me wait any longer for it, sweetheart. I don’t think I can take it.”

With that, you lowered your hips down so his mouth connected with your cunt once more. The new position made it so the same action felt entirely different. You were hovering just above his mouth, allowing him to lift his head to connect with your core. You were fearful of hurting him, but he was having none of it. His hands clamped down on your hips, pulling you down towards him so your body weight rested on his face. It made the position less awkward for you, and much more enjoyable.

His tongue started at your entrance, repeating the same motions as earlier. He curled his tongue inside of you, fucking you with it in the same way he would do with his hands or his cock. As he did so, you felt the tip of his nose brushing over your clit, adding the extra bit of stimulation needed to make the entire process otherworldly. Your legs were quivering from the pleasure coursing through you, and your brain felt like it was short-circuiting. The only thoughts in your mind were filthy, all pertaining to the man below you as he guided you to rock your hips against his tongue with his hands.

You bit down on your lip, still having some fear of disrupting your friends sleeping in the other room, but it didn’t take long for that worry to dissipate along with every other one you ever had. Your moans were desperate, pornographic, and exactly what he wanted to hear. They drove him to work harder, drawing inspiration from every sound you made so he knew where to improve on his next move. He was a man gone mad; completely and utterly lost in his own need for you. When he needed a breath of air, he moved his head up just enough so his nose wasn’t covered, and he settled his tongue over your clit.

He was working at you with intent. The first orgasm was a slow build, and he ensured that it was memorable. Now, he was desperate to drive you to that state again. He felt like he needed it to survive, to feel your thighs squeeze against his skull as profanities fell from your lips, that every time your hips grinded against him for that extra bit of friction, you were forcing a little more life into his lungs. In the moment, he felt like he only existed to please you, that the only reason for his existence was to make you happy and ensure that you were taken care of.

He was more in love with you than he ever thought possible, and he was determined to prove it to you. All of your self-doubt and second guessing had hurt him in the worst way possible. To know that he loved you so deeply and you thought he didn’t was painstakingly hard for him to digest, and the words you spoke in your moment of high emotion stuck with him. He knew he did wrong, that he hurt you even though he thought he was doing the opposite, and he never wanted to make you feel that way again. The only thing he knew how to do was love you, and he would be damned if you ever thought otherwise.

You were bordering your second orgasm, his unwavering attention on your already sensitive body was overwhelming in the best possible way. You’d grown much more relaxed as the minutes passed, and you were having a hard time keeping yourself upright as he continued his relentless pursuit for your pleasure. Your stomach was engulfed in flames, the knot tightening with every flick of his tongue, and he could tell that he was pushing you closer to the edge. Your thighs tightened around his head, drawing him in and locking him there so you did not lose your momentum.

Your breathing was ragged, heavy as it shook your shoulders and made your chest heave. Curses and utterances of praise fell from your lips, commending him from his hard work, and the moans that followed were the best compliment he could ever receive. He wanted it almost more than you did, and he made it clear that he wouldn’t stop until he had it.

“Jake,” you whimpered, your eyes squeezed shut and your eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. Sweat glistened on your forehead as you felt the familiar sensation begin to pulse under your skin. Your entire body was thrown back into pleasure and you were like an addict searching for a fix. You moved your hips against him in time with his tongue, both of you working together to achieve the common goal. Your abdomen was tense, sore from the tightness of your muscles, and your hips ached from the strength in which he was holding you to him.

“Fuck!” You groaned, the sensation becoming too intense to withstand. With one last flick of his tongue, you were sent spiraling all over again. Your legs tightened around his head, your hips locked in place as your hands began to tremble from the intensity of the feeling. Your lungs burned for a breath of air as your entire body froze in place, but his tongue didn’t slow, and he wasn’t going to back down until he was certain that he utilized every bit of his power to make sure you were satisfied.

Finally, the moment seemed to pass and your body went lax against him. You took in a sharp breath, filling your lungs with the breath they had been begging you to take. Your head was spinning and your eyes were heavy, tired from all of the night’s activities thus far. He used his hands on your hips to lift you from his face, catching his own breath as you took the time to come back to earth.

“Being so good for me, baby. Don’t give up on me now.” He pleaded, noticing your drooping eyelids and the exhaustion written all over your face. “We’re just getting to the good part.” He said, carefully shimmying his way upwards. You lifted yourself up, using your last bit of energy to help him as he settled his hips underneath yours.

Without another word, he guided you down so the tip of his cock met your cunt again, sliding through the wetness and landing on your clit. Your body’s natural reaction was to meet his movement, your hips going in search of something you weren’t sure you could handle. He was watching you, his pupils engulfing his irises as lust began to craze him all over again. He used one hand to line himself up with your entrance, and slowly, he lowered you onto him. The feeling of him filling you again was so good, but almost too much for you to handle in your fucked-out state. You lowered yourself down until he was filling you completely, the tip of his cock resting against your cervix as the two of you sat still for a moment, enjoying the closeness amongst all of the chaos.

“Just for a second, baby. Just wanted to feel you again, and then I promise I’ll do the rest of the work.” He said, inadvertently begging you to look at him, to catch his gaze and say something. Your silence was concerning him, although not completely. He knew he’d just put you through a whirlwind of emotion and excitement all at once, and he was well aware you just needed a moment to process it.

“God, you feel so good.” You muttered, raising one hand to his chest. You placed your palm flat against it, holding yourself upright in fear you might fall as you began to rock your hips against him again. You weren’t sure where the energy was coming from; you were exhausted, beyond any kind of tired you had ever felt before. You were ready to get under the blankets and fall asleep next to him, but your body was telling you otherwise. Your need for him was primal, extending far beyond any rational thought or need for rest. You couldn’t resist it, and you couldn’t stop it.

“You take it so fucking good, trouble.” He groaned, raising his hips off the bed as he held your body to his own. “Do you like being a whore for me? Letting me do whatever I want to you?”

“I do,” you whined, nodding as your eyes stayed closed. “I love it, baby.”

“Fucking right you do.” He muttered, letting his eyes rake over the pretty picture sat atop of him.

He stared at your face, drinking in the detail of your messy hair and your flushed cheeks. He noticed the swell of your lips, pink and perfect as they enticed him to lean in for another taste. His gaze traveled down to your chest, watching as your breasts bounced with every move of your hips. Then, they moved to your stomach, which was tense as the muscles supported your movements. Eventually, his eyes landed on the exact spot where your body met his. He watched closely as you raised yourself off of him, driven mad by the sight of him fucking into you as you lowered yourself back down.

Perfection wasn’t even a close enough word to describe how he thought of you, and he truly believed he was the luckiest man to ever live.

He let you set your own pace for a moment, hoping that the break would allow for you to recover enough for him to take over again. You kept a slow, steady pace, fuelling the fire in your belly even further every time you came down on him. Your whole body was sensitive, still tingling with the ghost of pleasure from your last orgasm. Every sensation was amplified by a million, every touch all the more beautiful and every emotion was felt so much stronger.

“Look so pretty on top of me, trouble.” He rasped, drunk off the feeling of loving you and cursing himself for not saying anything sooner. “Makes me want to keep you like this forever.”

“That doesn’t sound half bad,” you breathed, smiling down at him. You took a moment to admire him, his hair laying on the mattress below him, framing his perfect face. His cheeks were tinged red, his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you continued to roll your hips against him. His lips were parted, shallow breaths escaping him as he let you do as you pleased with him. His biceps were flexed, the muscles visible as he held your hips, aiding your movements. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his breathing ragged as he tried to keep himself from reaching his own climax.

He was the prettiest boy you had ever laid eyes on, and the most precious thing you ever had the pleasure of touching.

You were working yourself up to another orgasm, the pace slow but impactful. He noticed the expression on your face change, your breathing speed as your movements became more frantic. You wanted to chalk it up to the sensitivity of your body, tired and pushed to its limit, but you knew it wasn’t true. The simple thought of being his forever was enough to send you over the edge; you wanted to love him, and for him to love you, openly and unapologetically instead of quietly and secretly. You wanted to be with him, to wake up next to him again and this time, start your day by telling him how much he meant to you, to show him how much he meant to you.

To know he felt the same was enough to drive you crazy, and that’s exactly what it was doing.

“You going to give me another one, baby?” He asked, removing one hand from your hip. As he awaited a response, he brought his middle finger to his mouth, maintaining eye contact with you as he pushed it past his lips. He collected some spit on the tip of his finger, retracting the digit from his mouth and reaching between your legs. He settled his attention in your clit, tracing circles around it as you continued to use him to get yourself off. “Come on, Angel. Let go.” He whispered, his tone sweet as he urged you to give in to the feeling.

“Oh, god.” You whimpered, your shoulder locking as you tried your best to hold yourself upright. Your eyes were shut, your entire body trembling as you prepared for the storm to wash over you.

“Look at me.” Jake growled, increasing the pressure of his finger on your clit. The harsh words sent a rush of pleasure through you, your walls tightening around him as you peeked at his face through your eyelashes. “That’s it. There’s my beautiful girl.” He breathed, watching as your head tilted back over your shoulders.

“Fuck,” you hissed, feeling the warmth begin to spread throughout your entire body. You could feel it from your toes to the very tips of your fingers, behind your eyes and deep in your chest. Your legs vibrated as you used all of your strength to keep moving your hips, and your arm threatened to give way under the pressure.

“What did I ever do to deserve you, trouble?” He asked, his words trailing off as his chest rattled with another deep groan. His breathing was ragged, his fingers barely able to keep up with the simple circle he was tracing into the sensitive bundle of nerves.

As your climax hit its peak, your arm slackened and your upper half fell forward towards him. He used the moment to his advantage, removing his hand from your hip and bringing it to the back of your neck. He pulled you all the way down, your chest pressed against his as he leaned towards you for a kiss. With his lips on yours and your hips still moving against his, you were certain there would never be a greater pleasure in your entire life. His lips silenced the moans falling from your own, and he held you close to him until he felt you begin to relax against him.

Once he knew the most powerful part of the moment had been spent, he removed his finger from your clit and wrapped his arm around you. In one swift motion, he broke from the kiss and used his strength to flip the two of you over. You landed with your back against the mattress and he settled between your legs, still inside of you and wasting no time as he began the final stretch of the night.

As he began to drill his hips into yours, relentless and unforgiving despite your already tired body, he took it upon himself to grab a pillow from beside him. When you noticed what he was intending to do, you lifted your head, shaky and delirious from the strength of his thrusts as he slipped it under your neck.

Once you were settled comfortably, he trailed one of his hands down your thigh, landing on your knee as he wrapped his fingers around your leg. With a little help from you, he guided your leg around him, using the anchorage point to pull your hips down further towards him. As he did so, he thrusted his own hips forward, the impact of his movements sending a yelp escaping from your lips. A sadistic smirk formed on his lips at the sound, realizing that this was the exact position he wanted to get the most out of the situation. He moved himself forward, leaning back on his knees as he guided your other leg around him.

The position change meant that his pace would slow, but it would significantly increase the strength in which he could fuck into you. You crossed your ankles behind his back, holding your legs in place as his hands went in search of your hips. With every thrust of his hips, he pulled you down on him. His cock brushed against your cervix, sending a rush of painful pleasure straight to the pit of your stomach. Now, there was no holding back; you were whining, moaning and crying his name as he utilized his new found freedom to torture you in the best way possible.

“Please, Jake, don’t stop.” You panted, barely squeezing the words out amidst the moans he was coaxing out of you.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you really do take it well.” He commended you as you reached out for his arm, your throat raw as you begged for him to continue. “You want more?” He inquired, ensuring he was hearing you right as he studied the dazed look in your eye.

“Please, baby.” You nodded, looking up at him with desperation in your eyes. He let out a low chuckle, leaning his body back slightly and his head forward. Without a second thought, he centered his mouth with your cunt, not even thinking of pulling out of you as he let a trail of spit fall from his lips, rather forcefully at that.

You swallowed hard, your eyes widening as you processed the degrading act. If it were anyone but him, you might have recoiled from the crude behavior, but on him, it looked fucking good. As he continued to fuck you, he reached his fingers between your legs again, using his generously provided lubrication to continue his torment on your clit.

“What?” He snapped, looking down at your surprised eyes. “You said you liked being a whore for me. Don’t be so fucking surprised when I use you like one.” You felt the blood drain from your face at the sound of his vile words, but it didn’t deter the growing pressure in the pit of your stomach. It fueled it further, increasing it ten-fold with the one simple statement. You could not find the strength to verbally respond to his statement, instead feeling your lungs burn as another pitchy whine filled the air. His lips twitched upwards into a smirk, happy that his words had the effect he hoped they would.

He did not have to work very hard to get you to the brink of insanity, another orgasm an imminent threat as he continued his relentless pursuit for your pleasure. He watched you carefully, focused on the way your body moved when his hips connected with yours. He was carefully attentive to the expression on your face, hyper-aware of every shift in your features in case you experienced a single moment of discomfort.

He was filthy, his words vulgar and his movements obscene. The picture the two of you found yourselves in had long past pornographic, something that only existed in the very depths of your minds when you were trying to sleep at night, but not once did he make you feel unloved, or used in any way negative. Despite the act he put on, you could see the care behind his eyes, and you could feel it in every touch and every action.

“You think you can give me one more?” He asked, but his words were barely phrased as a question.

“I don’t know, baby.” You whimpered, already feeling yourself reach the limit. It was not a question of if you could, but rather if you could survive it. Your entire body felt like it would give out, like you would collapse from exhaustion if you continued on the way you were going. You felt the intensity of the climax before it even began, but you feared you might not be able to handle it when it came.

“Yeah, I wasn’t really asking, trouble.” He clarified, adding a little more pressure to his touch on your clit. “You can do it, sweetheart. Been so good for me all night, just a little longer.”

“Fuck,” you muttered, trying to pull yourself together for long enough to give him what he was asking for. You squeezed your eyes shut, taking long breaths as you bargained with the devil. The godless acts you engaged in that night made all of your prayers go unanswered, and you knew there was only one person who was listening, now, and you needed his strength to get through it.

You focused on the feeling of him inside you, how well he filled you, how perfect the two of you fit together. You thought of the pleasure with every withdrawal of his hips and the painful sensation every time he slammed himself into you. The two together made an otherworldly combination, but you feared that even that wasn’t enough to force you over the edge.

Getting irritated with your lack of understanding of his need to give you another orgasm, he slowed himself just enough to adjust his position. The hand still lingering on your hip loosened, and he leaned his upper body forward, just a little closer to you. As his fingers continued to trace your clit, he let his forearm rest over your lower abdomen, underneath your belly button. Then, he applied the slightest bit of pressure there, allowing you to get used to the sensation before taking it any further.

A desperate cry left your lips, the small sensation making the world of difference in the moment. As he leaned forward a little further, careful not to take it too far, the pleasure began to grow into something incomprehensible. He was doing so skillfully, applying pressure atop your bladder, which in turn, applied a whole new pressure to your g-spot as he fucked into you.

“That’s it, angel.” He growled, not caring that he was doing the brunt of the work in the moment, because he knew it would be worth it for him. “That’s my girl.” He continued, coaxing you to give in to the feeling one last time. Your walls fluttered around him, drawing him in further as the pleasure reached its peak.

“Jake,” you tried to warn him, but his name barely left your lips before you felt yourself slipping into the state of euphoria only he could give you. Your mind went blank, your eyes squeezed shut as your limbs locked and your legs trembled. You couldn’t breathe, the sensation so intense that it almost forced you to forget how to do so.

Seeing you in such a state again sent him over the edge, and he knew he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. As you descended into your orgasm, so did he. You grasped at his arm, holding him close to you as you cried his name. His hips stuttered, losing the momentum as he withdrew a sharp breath. He muttered a long slur of curses, mixed with small praise as he spilled his release into you, dragging out the feeling for as long as possible. By the time you came down, his orgasm was beginning to fade away, too.

Both of you were breathless, trying to settle the mess of racing thoughts in your minds. He eased up on the pressure he was applying above your hipbone, slowly so the loss did not affect you too badly. He removed his hand from your clit, moving it over your thigh as he placed his hand against the warm skin. Gently, sweetly, he rubbed his hand over your limb, the soft touching helping you come back to reality a little faster. He looked down at where your bodies met, enjoying the view of him buried inside of you as he withdrew his hips slightly. He took in a shaky breath as he gently pushed his hips forward again, fucking his release back into you.

A small sigh left your lips, the feeling of his slight movements amplified by a million after your final orgasm of the night. Eventually, he pulled himself out of you completely, keeping his hand on your leg as he did so. You tried to fight the sinking disappointment in your chest as you noticed the emptiness you felt without him inside you.

Neither of you spoke for a short time, wanting to let the energy of the moment exist in the air for a while before you moved on to anything else. He collapsed on the bed beside you, looking over at you before pulling you into his arms. You melted into the touch, exhausted and comforted by the familiar feeling of his arms around you. You laid your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your face as you fought sleep. It would be so easy, so peaceful to spend the night in the same position, not having to worry about anything else, but you knew a conversation was long overdue.

“I, uh…” he trailed off, taking in a deep breath as he thought about what he wanted to say. “We’re good at being friends, trouble, and we always have been, but I’d like to learn how to be good at being in love with you, too. So far, I’ve sucked at it.” He confessed, his voice quiet and his demeanour anxious.

“I haven’t been very good at it either, but I think I’d also like to learn.” You confessed, your stomach filled with warmth and swarming butterflies.

“Be my girlfriend, Y/N. It’s not much different than what we do now, but with a whole lot more fun.” You laughed, finding his way of asking objectively strange but perfectly fitting for him and your relationship with each other. “Don’t laugh at me. That doesn’t make me feel great.” He chuckled, clearly joking but still a bit nervous of rejection.

“Of course I will, Jacob.” You assured him, unable to believe he really thought you might say no.

“Okay, great.” He let out a breath of relief at the sound of your words. “And obviously not right away, or anything like that, but I think I’d like you to move back in with me. Whenever you’re ready, of course. I miss you when you’re not there. Doesn’t feel right without you.”

“What?” You asked, sitting up with an incredulous look on your face. He recoiled slightly, worried that he said something wrong, but you quickly continued your statement to ease his fears. “And get rid of the pool you worked so hard to build for me?”

“Fuck that pool, trouble.” He laughed, catching on to your joke as quickly as you spewed it. “Sell this place and come back to me, and I’ll build you a thousand fucking pools. I’ll give you whatever you want, s’long as I get to call you mine and wake up next to you again.”

“No need for a thousand pools, Jacob.” You grinned, finding his sentiment sweet but completely unnecessary. “No need for anything at all, because being yours is all I want to do.” With that, you leaned down and placed a kiss to his lips, feeling more at home than you had ever felt before.

Tags: @brookekiszkaa

[kumkaniudaku]

At Last: Part One

Summary: Patrice returns home to celebrate a birthday and a new beginning.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: None

In a little corner of Wilmington, NC, tucked behind towering Spanish moss trees and sprawling acres of lush green grass, the Habersham family were monarchs on ancestral turf. 

Enslaved Sierra Leonean men and women had tilled this land long before Patrice was a twinkle in her mother and father’s eyes. They hoped, prayed, and danced for a future where babies far down their lineage could have a place to visit for a connection to their love and guidance beyond the physical realm. According to some, their spirits still roamed the fields once holding them captive in great triumph.

Long-held West African customs preserved and passed down over time had transformed into the uniquely rich Gullah culture that still governed the eldest generation of Habershams and their children. While much of the language patterns had been lost, Sybil Habersham-Lewis and her baby sister, Rosalyn, worked tirelessly to keep the family home tidy and traditions alive. 

They never hesitated to tell stories of how their great-grandfather rebuilt the big house with his bare hands to rid his offspring of a torrid legacy from a man he reluctantly called father. They sometimes laughed about how he, a fair-skinned man with green eyes and a mean streak, met and married a slender songstress with blue-black skin within six months of laying eyes on her. Paul and Efua produced eight children in that home. Those eight children created a line of movers and shakers that stretched far and wide. 

One of those movers and shakers stared out of the passenger side window with eyes wide as saucers and a smile that rivaled the sun, watching trees donning brown, red, and orange leaves whiz past on the way to her favorite place in the world. Patrice was itching to get out of the car and kick her shoes off to feel the soft tickle of damp Bermuda grass between her toes. She longed to see her uncle’s horses, eat fresh seafood until her stomach ached, and recap moments in her girlhood with her cousins. She couldn’t wait to kiss Nana's face 95 times for her 95th birthday. She needed to smell the blue hydrangeas in her auntie’s garden. She needed to be home.

Terry stole glances at Patrice, finding joy in her enthusiasm. She hadn’t slept a wink the night before or in the nearly two-hour ride from Fayetteville. He knew she’d tucker out eventually, but seeing her brimming with unbridled happiness made his heart swell. 

“God, I hope my auntie made okra. Oooh and crab cakes. I haven’t had any in so long!”

Terry listened to the way her accent slurred and shortened words in rapid succession with a smile. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to understand you by the end of the weekend.” 

“You’ll be lucky to keep up past tonight.” she laughed. "My granny ‘dem Geechee tuh de bone."

“Y’all make everything sound like music. I like it.” 

“If you tell Moon Pie that, she might try to take you from me.” 

“You gon’ let her?” 

“Hell nah. I’ll whoop her ass. She ain’t crazy.” 

The thought of having to put hands on her cousin behind her man made Patrice scowl while Terry let off a loud, shoulder-shaking cackle. Though she was serious as a heart attack, she laughed along with him to release the tension building in her muscles. 

Terry reached across the center console to gently rub her arm before playfully caressing her chin to pull a smile from her lips. 

“No way I’d let you fight as pretty as you are. Plus, we’re celebrating all weekend. If you aren’t smiling from tonight ‘til Sunday, I didn’t do my job.” 

Patrice’s mouth twisted into a suspicious smirk. “And what’s your job? You know, if someone were to ask for a friend.”

“Keeping you happy.” His cheeky quip made her eyes roll as she kissed her teeth. 

For over a week Terry had been tight lipped about something Patrice couldn’t put her finger on. She’d tried to catch him in a fib or make him slip up and share whatever details existed behind hushed calls and unmarked deliveries. But, Terry was notorious for keeping secrets under lock and key. Whatever he was planning would sneak up on her like a thief in the night. 

“You nervous to meet everyone?” Patrice questioned to change the subject.

“Nah, I’m good.” He cut his eyes in Patrice’s direction and smiled when he found her already eying him skeptically. “Think I’m lying?” 

“Yeah, I think you’re full of shit. Either that or you’re truly unaware of how crazy my folks are. No way you aren’t a little concerned.” 

He shrugged. “I’m not too worried. I love you, so I know I’ll love them. We’ll figure out the parts in the middle.” 

Everything Terry knew about Patrice, in his mind, was a beautiful amalgamation of those who had a hand in raising her into the woman she’d grown into. He knew her mother and how the two shared the same heart for community service. From her father, she’d inherited an uncanny ability to stop a whole room from speaking with only a raised eyebrow. Though he’d only heard stories of her grandmother, he could tell that her independent nature was a founding feature. And, if those things could make his heart turn flips with one look across a crowded room, he’d have no trouble making space for his bonus family. 

Patrice tried to formulate a counterpunch to Terry’s levelheaded assessment of the situation but had a change of heart as smooth asphalt transitioned into the familiar crunch of gravel beneath her car’s tires. 

Black iron gates adorned with an ornate H were pulled open, giving anyone casually walking by a peak into an almost mythical land. Terry’s eyes darted from place to place, lingering on the hanging moss trees lining their path, then on the children gleefully chasing each other through fallen leaves around a small white gazebo, before landing on a magnificent wrap-around porch serving as a gathering spot for elder men taking inventory of fishing equipment for an early morning trip to catch the evening’s meal. The Big House, as Patrice affectionately called it, was a modern marvel, an oasis for every hue of black man, woman, and child with Habersham blood in their veins to feel like they were somebody in an otherwise cruel world. 

“Beautiful, ain’t it? Auntie did her thing with the last renovation.” Patrice asked, beaming as she started to unbuckle her seatbelt.

“Incredible. Is this al-” 

Whatever was left of Terry’s awe-inspired sentence was swept into the wind as Patrice hopped from the passenger seat and onto the concrete driveway before the car could come to a full stop. 

Like a child finally released from the confines of their classroom onto the playground for 30 minutes of recess freedom, she hit the ground in a slight jog to greet a woman about her age skipping down the porch steps to meet her halfway. 

“Imani,” Patrice hollered, her arms already outstretched in anticipation of a hug. 

Imani called her name back with equal excitement until the two women were joined in a tight embrace. Terry watched from afar, a warm smile tugging his lips to one side as he shut off the engine and exited the vehicle. 

The two women rocked side to side until they’d had their fill of one another. Imani pulled away first to get a look at her favorite baby cousin. 

“My girlfrieeend,” she sang, imitating the theme song from the only show they watched for a full summer in their teens. “You look so good. The skin, the hair, the body! It’s all working right now.” 

“Me? Look at you! I know for a fact this caftan is from like Paris or Bali or somewhere crazy.” 

“Oh you know, just a little somethin’ custom from London. Not too much, not too much.” 

“How you stand it there with that nasty looking food is beyond me, girl.” 

Imani laughed. “That’s for them other folks. People that look like us know where to get a good meal. You oughta come see me sometime. Book a flight and let me worry about the rest.” 

“Next summer?” 

“I’ll throw it on my calendar. Bring Mister Man, too.” 

Patrice didn’t need to turn around to know that Terry had made his presence known. She could feel the warmth of his hand on her lower back as he joined her side. 

If he hadn’t known her for nearly two decades, Terry would have easily gotten Patrice and Imani confused. Both women wore glowing deep dark skin like a badge of honor, soaking up rays of sun and reflecting them in the way that only ethereal beings could. Wide noses and plump, pink and brown lips complimented impossibly high cheekbones. Beauty marks at the corners of opposite eyes might possibly be a tell-tale sign if one could fight being lulled into a trance by the sheer grace they both possessed. The only difference was Imani’s slight height advantage and low, ash blonde haircut.

“Wow,” he whispered, the words catching him by surprise. He shook his head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I just - y’all are damn near twins.” 

“Don’t I know it,” they spoke in unison. 

Patrice took over after a chuckle. “They used to call us Frick and Frack. Mostly because they couldn’t always tell who was who.”

“Which Petey over here never wanted to use to our advantage.” 

“Petey?” Terry questioned. 

“Wait, she never told you her nic-” 

“And, that’s enough,” Patrice hollered, purposely eclipsing Imani’s voice to keep her cousin from going further. “Terrence, this Imani. Imani this is Terrence, my man.” 

Terry could feel a bolt of lightning surge through his body as he reached out to shake Imani’s hand. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what Patrice might call him in a simple introduction. He’d always given her a treasure trove of titles - his lady, the love of his life, maybe his wife one day if the Lord willed it so. He’d introduced her so much that they never explored how the inverse would work. But hearing himself be proudly referred to as her’s was a shock to the system that he hadn’t prepared for but welcomed all the same. 

Imani waved his outstretched hand away and pulled him in for a hug. “Boy, we family. Come here and get this squeeze.”

Like an old friend, Imani pulled Terry into a welcoming hug. Patrice looked on with a silent thanks to God. If what she knew of her cousin still held weight, they’d be fast friends and thick as thieves by the end of the weekend. 

Pulling away, she lightly tapped his chest and looked at Patrice. “I can’t believe I finally get to meet Terry Richmond in person. You’re basically her Nelly!” she laughed, recalling Patrice’s near obsession with St. Louis and their hometown hero after Hot in Herre debuted. Patrice rolled her eyes while Terry and Imani held on to each other through loud laughter.

“Got damn, Moanie, hold ‘em hostage why don’t you! You ain’t the only person they know ‘round here.” 

“Hey, Daddy!” 

“Hey, Baby Girl!”

The perfectly timed distraction took Patrice’s attention away long enough for the newest tandem to exchange hushed conversation.

“Yeah, but I’m the best!” Imani hollered back before winking at Terry and Patrice. “Go on. I’ll have the boys get y’all’s stuff. Make sure you get to the kitchen. Think Mama’s got some pound cake cut for you.”

The mention of other family members awaiting their arrival was a quick reminder that Terry had barely scratched the surface of new faces and connections. Every direction he turned presented another opportunity to be pulled into a spirited handshake or warm hug. 

With the men in her life, he was immediately received with masculine equivalents of praise for his physical form.

“Son, you look like ya 'bout tuh buss out dat shirt 'round ya arms. Petey, you don’t have to worry ‘bout no protection, huh?” was Uncle PJ’s way of saying he was confident in Terry’s ability to keep Patrice safe. 

“You comin’ out fishin’? Country boy like you probably catch catfish with your bare hands!” 

“Where you from?”

“Where your people from?” 

“They white? How you get them green eyes?”

“You got kids? You sure?” 

“You know you got some ears on you, don’t ya!”

Patrice’s father, Leon, interjected to save Terry from an increasingly invasive dive into his personal history. “Don’t answer none of that. But I would like you to come out on the water with us. Have a beer or two so we can finish that conversation from the other week.” 

“Y’all talking about me behind my back?” 

“Hell, I do,” Junior laughed. “She aggravating, bruh. You can say it. Go ‘head.”

“You better not.” 

Patrice playfully poked a perfectly manicured finger into Terry’s chest to force his silence, earning a chaste kiss on the forehead. Junior scoffed and sipped from his half-empty bottle of water.

“T, you grown now. Your big ass don’t have to let her boss you no more.” 

“That’s my favorite part,” Terry answered, finally speaking up for himself. “She sweet when she wanna be.”

“I ain’t seen it.”

“Because I don’t like you, Junior. How many times do we have to go over this?”

Terry tried to contain his wide grin from watching the siblings bicker like old times. He’d been in the middle of many a verbal tussle between them, always stepping in as the voice of reason. He still held the role of peacemaker all these years later. 

“She loves you, man. Still keeps your room up and everything.” 

Leon shook his head at his children’s antics. “Good thing you here. I couldn’t take that shit this weekend.” He pointed at the passenger seat of his truck and the open lunch box resting in it. “So, you comin’. Got food for you if you wanna ride.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Terry started before looking toward the house at the small audience of women crowding at the kitchen window. They scattered when he caught their gaze, making him laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. “Give us a few minutes. I think there’s some people inside I gotta meet first.” 

“Good luck, man. I would say you got five minutes but we both know that ain’t happening. We’ll wait a bit.”

With one trial by fire ending, another began. In their short walk to the front porch, Patrice had given Terry opportunities to gracefully bow out of the incoming circus and take her father’s invitation as a get out of hell free card. He’d refused every effort with a kind smile and unfounded reassurance that everything would be okay. In his mind, he’d hug a few necks, kiss a few cheeks, and be out of dodge before anyone could hold him long. 

Stepping into the home’s foyer felt like being in a museum. Photos of Habersham descendants living and passed on to Glory lined the hallway as a reminder of their history on this land. Eyes that carried an array of stories looked back at him, leaving goosebumps across his arms. Especially once he landed on a young woman with a familiar half-smile encased behind an antique picture frame. 

Patrice noticed him stop short to give the photo his full attention. 

“My great-great-great grandma,” she informed, adding extra emphasis on the final ‘great’. “Efua. Nana says she was barely bigger than the kids but ran this place with an iron fist. I believe it. She look like she don’t play.” 

“She looks kinda like you and Imani.” 

Patrice tilted her head to get a better look. “Hm. I guess you’re right.”

Clamoring in the kitchen pulled them away from Efua’s watchful eye and around the corner for their grand entrance. 

Women of every age, size, and shape filled the room from wall to wall, each one participating in the cooking process. On one side, a small group of teenagers huddled to inspect bushels of greens for bugs and cut them in preparation for a proper wash. On the other, small girls shelled black-eyed peas and giggled amongst themselves over TikTok videos. But in the center of the room, where spices and fresh ingredients intermingled for an almost intoxicating aroma and conversation was the loudest, all of the cornerstones of the family gathered to share gossip and wisdom alike. 

Terry’s appearance, tall and muscled with a winning smile to match, sent a hush over even the loudest woman present. 

“Oh God,” Patrice mumbled to herself, preemptively embarrassed by the storm she knew was sure to follow. 

Someone whistled. Then came a low “mm-mm-mm” from an auntie fighting hard to contain herself. Terry let every sound and look fuel his ego for just a few seconds before speaking. 

“Hey, ladies.” 

“Hey, Terry.” 

Every voice greeted him in unison like the Angels speaking to Charlie over that old speakerphone. Patrice screwed her face and pinched his shoulder. He’d been given strict instructions the night before, but being in the moment called for an audible that immediately made him a shiny new toy to be paraded.

Before he could have any say so, Patrice’s mother was ushering him around for every aunt and cousin to say a personal hello. He charmed each woman who met his acquaintance like a seasoned politician. If nothing else, they could all hang on to the memory of meeting the long-fabled Terrence Richmond. 

But, for all the pomp and circumstance, every breath hitched once Rosalyn led Terry to matriarch. 

She wore 95 years on Earth well. Chestnut skin covered in beauty marks crinkled around her eyes as she smiled back at him. Even as she sat in her wheelchair more slight and fragile than Patrice remembered, Terry could see her inner strength shining through.

Patrice watched her mother lean down and speak something into her grandmother’s ear before directing Terry to crouch down to eye level. He did as he was told, gingerly capturing her much smaller hands in his. 

“Hi, Ms. Ida. I’m so happy to finally meet you. My name is Terrence.” 

The softness in his voice ignited a chorus of heartwarming sentiments from every corner. Patrice had become so enraptured in the meeting she never thought would happen that she nearly missed her mother directing her to join Terry’s side. 

Ida didn’t say much back to him. Instead, she slid her hand from his grasp and traced her fingertips along the perimeter of his face. She examined him from all angles with a nostalgic look in her gaze. Terry tried not to let confusion come through in his expression, but Rosalyn caught the sliver of uncertainty. 

“You remind her of somebody close, that’s all. Same eyes.” 

He’d inadvertently sent her back to her childhood, bringing back memories so deep in her mind she thought she might never get them back. Even with slightly darker skin and broader features than Paul could boast back then, Ida still saw him clear as day. And that, all those years later, made her feel more alive than ever on her 95th birthday.

Ida tapped his jaw lightly and laughed. “Mhm. Petey, this him?” 

Finally joining Terry’s side, Patrice mimicked him and knelt by her grandmother’s feet. 

“Yes ma’am. He wanted to be here for your birthday.” 

“Nice looking boy, ain’t he?” 

Patrice giggled. “He cute, I guess. I heard he got you a gift for tonight, but he won’t tell me what it is. Can you believe it?”

“Well, hell, this all the gift I need. Give me anything else and I might not make it to 96!” 

“Mama!” 

Sybil hated when her mother made jokes about death, but Terry couldn’t help but laugh. He wanted to joke with her, see what else she might say knowing that no one in the house could tell her what to do, but the loud blast of a car horn in the front yard reminded him that he’d made a prior commitment. 

Gently, he squeezed her knee and spoke loud enough for her to hear. “Now, I go gotta go catch you somethin’ for tonight. You gon’ be here when I’m back?” 

“Oh yeah,” she answered, reinvigorated and saucy like her younger self. “I’ll be dressed up real nice too. Might leave here with two gals on your arm.” 

“You know I never been the sharing type, Nana.” 

Ida smiled at Patrice, nodding in approval. “That’s my girl. Keep that up.”

A second and longer beep let Terry know that time was running out. He quickly bid the group farewell, ending on Patrice with a simple kiss on the cheek and a promise to be back soon. 

While she became swept up in a whirlwind of who, what, when, and where, Rosalyn and Sybil slipped away to speak with Terry on his way out of the door. He’d become the center of attention, even long after his scent had faded. 

“Is he the one from high school?” 

“What’s he like?” 

“Is he always this nice?” 

“Y’all shackin’ up?” 

“When y’all getting married? What about kids?”

More questions, more prying, more assumptions than she could handle. Short, vague answers weren’t enough for them. They wanted the full scoop from the young lady they once knew as a shy girl who only focused on her studies. 

Patrice answered every question with enough detail to satiate their curiosity and maintain some level of privacy in her relationship. For a moment, that was enough. They’d unveiled the mystery of Petey’s other life and could move on to more pressing matters.

They quickly shifted to discussions of other people’s business. Who’d had a baby? Who was divorcing? Who’s kids were raising hell in the community? They took a winding road filled with chats about celebrity news and politics, nonsense about music, and, Patrice’s personal favorite, the old days. 

Those chats, full of lore and laughter, always took place in Nana’s parlor. A room covered in powder pink wallpaper and situated in the corner of the home where natural sunlight welcomed any guests that had the privilege of visiting. 

The older women sat side by side, crammed on expensive armchairs and soft couches, to convene at their leisure. Patrice stood by her favorite spot beside the window with Imani sitting on her right and her grandmother positioned in front of her. On her left stood a small table holding hair grease, a fine-toothed comb, and duck bill clips to help her pincurl Ida’s shoulder length silver hair. Her favorite pastime. 

“Everyone of y’all was bad,” Sybil laughed, referring to the crop of children that came up with Patrice. “Y’all came here every summer acting a damn fool.” 

“Not me and Petey!”

“Especially you and Petey. The worst of the bunch. Just sneaky and sassy!” 

“I don’t know what you talkin’ about. All I did was read and sit up under Nana.” 

Patrice’s highly inaccurate recollection of her time in the country every year made Ida laugh in her wheelchair. “Don’t let ‘em lie on you. I never saw my baby gettin’ in no trouble.” 

“Oh yeah right!” Sybil exclaimed. “Ros, wasn’t you there when these two let all the chickens out and had us chasin’ them ‘round out back.” 

“Sure was. They had all the grown folk out there huffin’, puffin’, and ‘bout to blow the house down!” 

The room fell into laughter watching Sybil imitate the group of adults fighting to capture livestock. Patrice remembered that afternoon and tried to defend their actions. 

“Okay, that is true, but I remember that being your daughter’s idea. I was only helping my sis.” 

Imani shrugged and sat back in her seat. “You raised an activist. Those animals were in captivity.” 

“Moanie, you eat meat,” Moon Pie commented. 

“I never said they didn’t taste good. I said we were holding them captive. The circle of life is different. Now let’s talk about how Moon had us sittin’ at the eating table all night because she wouldn’t finish her Frogmore stew thinkin’ there were real frogs in it.”

“Heaven forbid a girl need proof!” 

More laughter. The kind of laughter that healed deep emotional wounds. The kind that seeped into the walls, keeping the home full of love and light. The kind that made Patrice happy to not only be home but to share a piece of her heart with the man she loved. 

While she wished he could hear the silly stories and witness the exaggerated retellings, Terry was fidgeting with his fingers as he waited for Patrice’s father to meet him at the back of his truck. 

Across the way, the other men sat in small clusters, chatting their way through a midafternoon lunch break. As much as he wanted to talk shop with them about the fate of the Carolina Panthers, there was a more meaningful matter on the table. 

Leon grunted as he closed the driver’s side door and rounded the truck’s cab. “Let that down, will you?”

Terry sprung into action quicker than he meant to, nervousness making him move at hyperspeed. Leon laughed and lifted himself onto the truck bed before handing over a small cooler. 

“Grab whatever you like. We got plenty.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“Just Leon. Kinda weird to call your father-in-law sir, ain’t it? Plus that’s that fool’s name over there and he ain’t worth a damn. Lazy sumbitch.” 

“I got you. Won’t happen again,” Terry chuckled as he pulled a piece off of his turkey sandwich and popped it into his mouth. They sat in silence for a few moments to enjoy the sound of nature around them until he reignited the conversation. “I appreciate y’all agreeing to all this. Especially so quickly. I hope things don’t feel rushed.”

“You ain’t doin’ nothin’ I wouldn’t want for my girl. She need somebody willing to go above and beyond for her. I know you always have and I don’t see you slowin’ down no time soon.” 

Terry nodded, smiling. “Couldn’t if I tried.”

“I know. Moanie got the ring, right?” 

“Yeah. We worked it all out a couple weeks ago. She’s hiding it for me and keeping Treece distracted. You know she’s nosey.”

“Her mama said to call it inquisitive.” 

“Hm. Inquisitive, huh?”

They looked at each other and spoke at the same time. “Nosey.”

“That’s her,” Leon remarked. “Time’s flyin’, ain’t it? I remember when it looked like you was drowning in your clothes. Now look at you. Big as a damn tank. What they feed y’all in the Corps?” 

“Shit, nothing but slop and a hard time seasoned with a dash of casual racism from some crazy white boy outta one of the Dakotas every once in a while.”

Their shared laughter disturbed a cluster of nearby birds, making the rest of the men look in their direction. Sir threw his hands up in the air. 

“Well, damn, Leon. Gone ‘head and fuck up the catch!” 

“Or I can fuck you up instead.” He looked over at Terry struggling to keep his face neutral and shook his head. “I can’t stand his ass. Or his daughter. Or his wife. All of ‘em get on my nerves. C’mon, so we can finish up.”

As high noon gave way to early evening and the sleepiness of fall pushed the sun into the west earlier than usual, Imani and Patrice sat alone in one of the guest rooms engrossed in conversation. 

Imani was the only sister Patrice had ever known. It didn’t matter what portion of the world they occupied or how long it’d been since they last talked, they always picked up right where they left off when they were reunited. 

Patrice focused on the vanity mirror to examine Imani’s careful twists and twirls to place her thick natural hair into bantu knots.

“You think I can grow my hair out like this by January? I’m going to Ghana and I wanna switch it up a little bit.” 

“Of course. Manifest it, my sister!” 

Imani laughed as she parted out another section. “If I ever need somebody to follow up my foolishness, I know I can count on you.” 

“What Whitney said on the Waiting to Exhale soundtrack?” 

Together, they broke into song, harmonizing to breathe life into the final track from one of their favorite movie soundtracks. Imani hugged her cousin from behind and kissed her cheek. 

“I love you, girl. I miss you so much. It gets so lonely being away from home all the time.” 

“I love you, too. Life be life-ing, don’t it?” 

“All the time. I gotta make my way out to Fayetteville and spend more time with y’all. Maybe learn some more about Mister Man.” Patrice tried to hide her bashful smile, making Imani squeal behind her. “So…tell me about Terry. I know you said something downstairs but I wanna know the real scoop.” 

Patrice sighed at the mere thought of their romance. “The way I love that man, girl, I can’t even explain it. I feel like I’m going crazy.” 

“Oooooh! Swept you clean off your feet, huh?” 

“Threw me over his shoulder and hasn’t put me down since. Never in a million years did I expect to end up here with him. I mean I hoped for it, but to be here is mind-blowing. He’s so sweet, Moanie. So, gentle. Kind. More affectionate than I think I was ready for. I don’t know. I’m just in love. I’m happy.” 

“It’s all over you. I see the glow.” 

“Well, that’s from other things,” she added, a cheeky grin spreading across her face.

“Not the choir boy!” 

“Please, don’t let him fool you. Can’t keep him off me or keep his mouth closed when he gets to talking.”

Their shared laughter spilling out into the hallway became a beacon of their location for Terry as he dragged his tired legs up the stairs in search of Patrice.

His knuckles rapping against the closed bedroom door halted the private conversation until they gave him permission to enter. He slowly pushed the door open before poking his head into the room. 

“Everybody decent?” 

“Mhmm. Come on in.” Imani invited over her shoulder. She looked back at Patrice through the mirror as her cousin adjusted her clothing and sat up a little straighter in anticipation of Terry’s avalanche of affection. 

His eyes seemed to close beyond seeing clearly from the sheer force of his smile. 

“Hey, pretty.” 

“Hey, love. You have fun?” 

Terry released a dry chuckle. “Yeah. A real hoot.” 

Imani watched the young couple flirt back and forth, her hand outstretched to pass a small black velvet box from a drawer in her vanity to Terry while he kept Patrice occupied with short kisses. He secured it in one of his cargo pockets before pulling away. 

“You stink,” Patriced joked, half lying.

“I know. I still have some set-up work to do, so I’ll bring your stuff. Don’t want you to get behind on account of me.” 

“Thank you, baby. You’re so sweet.” 

Patrice captured his chin with her fingers and pulled him closer for another kiss. 

Terry lifted an eyebrow in concern. “You sick?” 

“No. I just love you.”

“I love you, too.” He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. The way she softened her gaze to scan his face. The way the gloss on her lips caught the sun. The way every one of her perfect features was on display with her hair pulled up and away from her face. He’d never been more confident in a decision in his life and, if not for the promise he’d made to half of her immediate family, he would’ve done what he drove all the way out to Wilmington for right then and there.

Knowing time was of the essence, Imani cleared her throat and gave Terry a look to urge him along behind Patrice’s back. 

“Well, Terry, think you oughta get down there and set up a table or something, right!”

Snapping out of his trance, Terry stood to his full height to look down at Patrice. “Yeah, you're right. See you a little later?” 

“It’s a date.”

He wanted to give her one more kiss to take with him, but a final reminder for him to scram was the catalyst to push Terry out of the room and leave the ladies to readying for the evening. 

She was all he could think about as he toiled away setting up tents and placing tables exactly how Rosalyn wanted them, sometimes several times over. Even as he casually sipped strong moonshine with Junior and the younger men under lantern light, all dressed in his most pristine white to fit strict instructions, he thought about Patrice and what might look like in the dress she’d chosen. He needed to see her.

His hands were sweating inside of his pockets. He casually caressed the velvet of that small black box, occasionally flipping it open to touch the cold metal inside. Time moved painfully slow. Hunger gnawed at his empty stomach. His mother’s constant phone calls for updates and reassurance didn’t help. Nervousness made his chest hot with anxiety. 

“You gon’ be alright,” Rosalyn assured while adjusting his collar on one of her many trips around the backyard to adjust the tablescape. “Breathe. Won’t be too much longer.”

He thanked her for her kindness and prayed she was right. Or he prayed for the dream he’d written down on a random Tuesday in his creative writing journal to come true. He wasn’t sure anymore. But, when he opened his eyes and lifted his head to check that sliding glass door for the umpteenth time, there she stood amongst the Habersham women as they escorted the guest of honor arm in arm. 

Angelic was the only way he could describe her. Cosmically beautifully and capable of bringing the strongest man to his knees just by batting those long lashes. A toothy grin helped him bare each one of his teeth as he watched her saunter down the decorated pathway to the event tent with Imani in tow. 

“Happy Birthday to you,” the group sang once Ida and all her ladies had made it to the long communal table packed to the brim with food and decorations. 

They serenaded the woman responsible for much of their existence until their faces ached from the singing. She bobbed her head along to the song with a smile on her face then quieted their loud applause with a simple wave of her hand. 

“Ninety-five of those and you’d think I’d be used to it by now,” she laughed. “Thank you. Each of y’all are beautiful. Young and strong. Blood of my blood and I’m glad to have you here with me. Even the ones who just came along to spend some time with an old lady. I love you. Eat, drink, and dance ‘til you bust out your clothes. That’s alright with me! We got a lot to celebrate.”

Teary-eyed and full of gratitude, Patrice reunited with Terry at the dinner table as soon as she ensured her grandmother was comfortable. He worldlessly dabbed at her waterline with his thumb and kissed the top of her head. 

“You okay? Need to step inside for a second?” 

“No,” she answered, laughing at herself for her dramatics. “I’m just really happy. C’mon. Let’s eat.”

Eat, drink, and be merry had a whole new meaning under the soft, warm light wrapping variations of black skin in its embrace. Loud pockets of conversation and laughter made for a melodious cacophony of sounds while music played in the background. 

Patrice clung to Terry the entire time, always staying connected by a hand on his thigh or their fingers laced together beneath the table. Every once in a while, they’d break from separate conversations and catch each other’s eye and smile like schoolyard crushes sitting at the lunch table together. 

The romance in the air between them was palpable enough for Imani to pull out her phone and covertly shoot Terry a quick text. 

Dessert’s out. Do it now or they’re gonna start dancing. 

Now?

NOW!

Terry eyed Imani across the table. She urged him to do something with a sideways nod. He chewed his lip and fiddled with the box in his pocket. The music was starting to pick up as a few small children hit the dancefloor. Imani gave Rosalyn the signal to make a video call.

Now or never. 

He nervously clinked his knife against his wineglass and cleared his throat. 

“Nigga, you gone break it! That’s Big Mama good crystal.”

“Shut the hell up, Sir! You ain’t pay for none of this.” Rosalyn’s reprimand came with visual daggers sent to her baby brother at the far end of the table that only softened when she looked back at Terry. “Go ahead, sweetheart.” 

Terry stood to look at every confused face in the vicinity while he waited for one of the teenagers to turn the music down. 

“Sorry, y’all. I just had a few words to say. I won’t be before you long. In the real way, not the pastor way.” His attempt at a joke fell flat. Patrice tried to keep him motivated with a smile, but her eyes begged him for answers that he couldn’t provide. “Um, I know I’m the odd man out around here. Y’all have been incredibly kind and welcoming. I really appreciate it because you didn’t have to. Especially you, Ms. Ida. Happy Birthday, again. You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you, baby.” 

He nodded his appreciation and continued. “I also wanna thank Ms. Ida and everybody else who gave me permission to ask a question of somebody really important to me. Because I know being here with all of y’all is really important to her. Can you stand up for me, Treece?”

Patrice allowed Terry to help her to her feet before whispering through her teeth. “What are you doing?” 

“Something I’ve been wanting to do since I met you.” 

There wasn’t time for Patrice to process his statement. Terry slowly dropped to one knee, not caring about the dust below him. He kept his focus on her the entire time, even as quiet whispers turned into fervent murmurs. 

“When we were kids you told tell me that, if you ever got proposed to, you didn’t want a big speech or any of the stuff they did in movies. So, I promise not to do that. What I will do is tell you how much I love you. And I’ll do that today, tomorrow, and every day after that if you allow me the privilege of being your husband.” 

“Terrence,” Patrice huffed out as she tried to contain her mess of emotions. He reached up to grip her hand. "Don't make me cry in front of my people."

“Too late. Patrice, I’m askin’ you scared as hell in front of all these people, will you marry me?”

Everyone watched as Terry presented Patrice with an open ring box and a sparkling diamond illuminated by the small light tucked into the inside.

“I knew it,” Patrice whispered, losing the battle against the happy tears pouring from her waterline. 

“No, you didn’t, girl! We got you. Answer that man,” Imani hollered.

Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears. The cheering from her family began to muffle. Her body temperature skyrocketed. She felt faint. The people were waiting. What would she say? 

Just as reality began to slip away, Terry’s eyes looking back at her quieted the external and internal noise. 

Driven by pure love, Patrice met Terry in a squat and grabbed his face with both of her hands. 

“What you doing tomorrow?” 

“Hopefully saying a couple vows to this pretty girl I know from way back. I brought a tux with me just in case she wasn’t too busy.” 

“From way back, huh? I think I talked to her and she has a little time on her books.” She took another look at the ring before plucking it from its box and placing it on her left ring finger. She examined it for a bit then leaned forward to kiss her betrothed with enough passion to send the crowd into a frenzy. Pulling away, she smiled and wiped gloss from Terry’s lips. 

“Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

----

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl

[sierrasmorton]

No. I just gotta get through it.

[mossy-fae]

Lip and Sierra S7

[the-marshals-wife]

Refuge (Sierra Six x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: It's official: I'm obsessed with The Gray Man. I've watched it 3 times so far in under 2 months, and I really wanted to write something sweet for my current favorite Goose character.

Description: Sierra Six/Courtland Gentry x Fem!Reader, established (secret) relationship; flirty, steamy fluff + angst if you squint | Warnings: suggestive themes, kissing, alcohol | Setting: post-movie | Word count: 1,746

Gif credit: user magnusedom

Imagine Six returning to you, his best kept secret, and asking you to come away with him

There was only one thing in the world that could make you open the front door of your apartment after midnight. The instant you recognize the familiar, distinct sequence of knocking, you shoot upright from your slumber and scramble off of the sofa, the book on your chest flying across the floor from where you had dozed off. Having almost tripped on the rug, you release the dead bolt and frantically fumble with the chain lock. Heart pounding, you slide it loose and jerk open the door.

Waiting on the other side like an apparition was a smiling face you weren't sure you'd ever lay eyes on again.

"Sorry for the late hour, ma'am. Could I trouble you for a cup of sugar?"

"Court!"

You couldn't help it. His name, the name only you could use, escapes your lips like a cry.

"May I come in?" he gestures.

You grab his arm and usher him inside.

"Where have you been?" you asked in a hushed voice, looking over him.

"Here, there, everywhere," he answers, leaning back against the closed door. "Spent a little time in nowhere too."

"I've been so worried about you! I haven't heard from you in months. I know that's the job, but it's been so long without a sign or anything. I was afraid something happened to you. I didn't know what to think," you say all at once.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll explain everything, I promise. Just, let me look at you first," he says, gazing on you softly, "Wow. How is that possible?"

"What?"

"How are you more beautiful than the last time I saw you?"

You feel your cheeks turn red, but it doesn't keep you from pointing a finger to his chest.

"If you think being a smoothie is going to get you out an explanation, think again, buster."

He wraps his arms around your waist.

"Fair enough," he nods, "It's still true though. You're even prettier when you're angry."

"I must be stunning then," you smirk.

He brings his hand up to lift your chin, leaning in close, "Incredibly."

The waning space between you vanishes as he captures your lips. You lean into his touch, savoring every sensation you'd missed so much. From the warm, smokiness of his scent to the gentle scratch of his beard on your skin. When he finally pulls away, you're nearly breathless.

"Why don't you make yourself at home, stranger?" you propose, composing yourself, "You want a drink?"

"I wouldn't say no to a beer," he replies.

"Coming right up," you say, turning towards the kitchen, "They feed you in 'nowhere'? I got half of a leftover sub here, and some really leftover pizza I can nuke in the microwave."

"Tempting, but I'm good for now, thanks. Just the beer," you hear him say as you grab two bottles from the fridge.

"Good call, honestly. We can just order take out or something."

He doesn't respond, and it immediately catches your attention. You grab the bottle opener from the drawer and make quick work of the caps. With a faraway look in his eye, he stands on the other side of the modest island that separates the kitchen area from the living area. You extend the bottle towards him, and even when he takes it from your grasp, he's barely shaken from his silent reverie.

Too worried to imbibe, you set your own drink down on the counter. "Court, what's wrong? I can tell something is bothering you."

He takes a drink, which is followed by a long pause.

"Do you remember Fitzroy's niece, Claire?"

You nod. "Of course. Is she alright?"

"She is now," he sighs, setting his jaw, "Fitzroy is gone."

"What?" you say, rounding the island to be at his side.

"It's a long story, but some bad people got ahold of Claire to get to him, because of something that I did. We took care of it in the end, but...he didn't make it."

He takes another hefty drink and puts down the bottle.

"Court, I'm so sorry," you say, touching his arm, "I know how much he meant to you."

He turns to face you. "He did. Now Claire has no one, except me. And that's what I came here to talk to you about."

Your pulse quickens at the seriousness in his voice.

"Her and I have been on the run the past couple weeks. Staying ahead of Carmichael and his goon squad."

"Wait, you escaped the agency?" you ask, shocked.

"Didn't have a choice after they tried to use her as leverage to get me to keep doing their dirty work. I got her out, which means I'm out too, for good," he confirms solemnly, "I've found a place for us where we might actually have a shot at a normal-ish life."

You stare at him wide-eyed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying...I'm all she has left. She needs me. And I need you," he says, gently rubbing your upper arms, "Before, I couldn't give you the life you deserved. But this could be my second chance. I think I might have finally gotten to the top of the hill, and I want you there with me."

"Oh Court, I don't know..." you hesitate, mind reeling, "I don't know anything about raising a kid."

He grins. "Neither do I. We can figure it out together. I mean there's gotta be a manual or something, right?"

You can't help but snort at the idea. Just as more protests are forming on your tongue, he gives you a look so disarming that you forget the words entirely.

"Come away with me, Y/N."

He takes your hand in his.

"It won't be easy, and it definitely won't be perfect. I know I've got no right to ask you to leave everything behind. But I've loved you from the very beginning, and I will protect you with everything I have."

His vow brings tears to your eyes. He laid his heart bare, and in doing so, he'd banished the last of your meager doubts.

"Well, when you put it that way," you say.

You grab the collar of his jacket in your fists and pull him into a kiss. He hums in pleasant surprise and laces his fingers through your hair. After another heated moment of rediscovery, you at last loosen your grip and surface from the embrace.

"Is that a yes?" he chuckles.

"It is," you answer, your smile becoming nervous as your thoughts turn to the future, "Do you think Claire will like me?"

"Oh, don't worry, she's going to love you," he smirks, letting you go and walking over to the window. "Honestly, I'm not sure I'm going to survive you two. This was probably a bad idea."

"Now I really I can't wait to meet her," you tease.

Your amusement fades, however, as you watch him part the curtain and cautiously peer up at the surrounding rooftops.

Dread stirs in the pit of your stomach.

"How much time do we have?" you ask.

"We should probably get you packed up," he says over his shoulder.

"Really? I thought we'd at least have tonight. Are you being followed right now?"

"Not yet. No one knows about this place. But the longer I'm here, the greater the possibility that changes," he frowns, "I need to get back to Claire. I took a risk coming here. She can't be alone for long."

You mind begins to race as your gaze darts around your apartment and belongings. The framed pictures scattered across the walls of old friends and family you hardly see suddenly meant more than anything tucked away in the safe beneath your bed. But could you even take them? Would having any ties to your old life be too dangerous?

Old life. The thought makes your head spin.

"This is happening so fast," you say as you rub your temples, "I never thought I'd just leave everything. I don't even know what to take with me."

"Hey," he says, stepping back over to you, "It's alright. Listen, I know I got caught up in pouring out my dumb old heart a minute ago, but you don't have to do this, Y/N. If you want to stay, I understand."

"No, I'm coming with you," you deny, "I want to be with you, no matter where we have to go. I've never wanted anything more. You have made it to the top, Court, and I wouldn't miss the view for anything."

All this time, you had been the only refuge in the world for "Sierra Six". Now, more than ever, he was becoming yours.

He kisses your forehead softly and smiles down on you.

"How about we just start small, and go from there. Baby steps. Like, maybe a suitcase?" he suggests.

"Sounds good," you agree, "Guess I don't need to pack the kitchen sink for wherever we're going?"

He snickers, "No, we have one of those. Got one in the bathroom too. We even have a toilet."

"I wasn't expecting such luxury," you smirk.

"I mean you have to hold the handle down a little to get it to flush, but other than that," he quips.

"Well, I suppose I'll survive," you say in mock exasperation.

"We do have a TV, so that kinda makes up for it. Plus, I got queen bed all to myself. I might could be persuaded into sharing, though."

You cross your arms, eyeing his suggestive look.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, but you'll have to sleep on top of the covers. I don't wanna get your girl germs on my sheets."

"Courtland Gentry," you grunt, smacking his arm.

You take off down the hall to your room, and he follows after you laughing.

"What? What'd I say?" he asks, knowing full well.

"Why don't I just sleep on the floor?" you pose.

You bolt over to your dresser and start rummaging through your clothes, keeping your back to him.

"Okay, you're right. That was unfair of me," he concedes.

Biting your lip, you spin around with your eyebrows raised.

He stands in the doorway, pulling a stick of gum from his pocket and unwrapping it, "You can get under the comforter."

You throw a shirt at him, shaking your head.

"Shut up and help me pack."

He pops the gum in his mouth and smiles.

"Yes ma'am."

[entertainmentgirl80]

You My Storm Forever (Tyler Owens X Female Reader) 🤠⛈️🩵

Warnings: Weather phobia, little PSTD, some Angst, Some FLUFF at the End.

"Hey honey, I'ma be back, going with the crew again." Tyler has his keys & his hat on.

"Okay babe, please be careful, I love you." You say to him while you clean up the kitchen.

"Love you back." He kisses you on the cheek and heads straight to the door.

So, while your husband is out chasing tornadoes with his crew as usual, you always can't help that anxiety you felt in your stomach that your husband can gets hurt in a tornado especially this time of the year in Oklahoma, however, lucky for y'all, you two live in Atlanta since three years now after you & Tyler gotten married. But it's still didn't change the fact that he still got that wild card personality in him, regardless of who he is because of what he loves to do.

*rings, rings, rings* Your phone is ringing, and you answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hey Sierra, this is Lily, I'm calling you to form you that Tyler is injured from chasing today, and he is in the hospital right now, if you okay to see him."

"Okay, thanks, Lily. I'm otw now." You hung up and grab your keys, and head out to the hospital with no hesitation.

Afterward, you got out of the car after you arrived there. Feelings are overwhelmed that you don't know that he makes it out: alive or dead.

"Hi, I'm looking for Tyler Owens, I'm his wife." You said to the lady in the front desk with lace of concern.

"Hi, Mrs. Owens, your husband has been waiting for you, and he is in room 101." She said to you with a smile.

"Okay, thank you so much."

"You're welcome." She nodded toward you.

*Knock, knock, knock*

"Come on in." Tyler watching TV while on his hospital bed.

As soon you come in, Tyler turns around, and his face changes to a frown to a big, wicked smile because you know he is happy to see his love, especially if you made his day around.

"T!!" You walk towards him

"Baby" He cooed

"What the hell you were thinking about? I'm was so worried that you gonna hurt, especially doing storm chasing an-." Tyler, stop her from talking.

"Hey, hey, hey, shhh, it's alright, look, I'm sorry, we saw a EF2, it's was coming towards me & the crew and all a sudden we got hit by something from the tornado and the truck filp over, and we got out of there quick." He explained.

You are sitting down and processing that your husband is explaining what happened. However, all you know is that you are grateful that your husband is still here and blessed to be alive.

"Don't do me like that again, T, or I will divorce your ass, please." Your voice was stern but soft.

"Aye, aye Mrs. Owens, I love you." He tips off his imaginary hat while having a cheshire cat grin on his features that you can't help but smile at him.

"I love you too, Mr. Tornado Wrangler." You rolled your eyes, but you can't help that you love him, and he gives you a kiss on the lips.

A/N: This is my second fanfiction writing of the Tornado Wrangler, so I'm hope y'all like it. And p.s. also, forgot that I wanna to give credit to the person who made the dividers is @a-reader-and-a-writer 🤠🌪💋😌

[ken-dom]

Just Another Wednesday

Sierra Six x afab!reader

∘₊✧ 1k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Six surprises you after a long day

∘₊✧ Authors notes: I wrote this simple little smut piece as a gift for my bestie and sister @heresthestorymorningglory who had a long Wednesday and frankly deserved nothing less than Six waiting naked on her bed. Sorry about the Skittles stains xoxo

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: nsfw, fingering, piv, Six is horny but the Skittles help, you miss out in a grilled cheese, and the most important warning — Six jumpscare

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Tumbling through your door, you dump your bags in the kitchen and head straight for the shower. The world could be burning right now and you wouldn’t notice. More than anything, you just need to wash the day away.

You don’t bother to fold your clothes, dropping them to the floor instead as you shed them, letting them pool in an unceremonious pile you can worry about tomorrow.

The room fills with soothing steam, enveloping your body in a comforting warmth you’ve craved since midday. The slowest day ever.

As soon as the stream of hot water hits your back, you can feel your muscles begin to relax. You wonder how you’ll ever get out, instead imagining a world where you could stay cocooned in this cosy, warm enclosure forever.

But you know you’ll need to get yourself some dinner soon, even if it’s just a simple grilled cheese. You should probably tidy up your apartment a little, but that can most certainly wait.

You definitely need to get some proper rest before yet another day, though. Be responsible.

Reluctantly, you shut off the water and grab a towel, emerging from the bathroom to find some comfies to throw on and get cosy with that grilled cheese.

‘Just another Wednesday?’

As you freeze in the doorway to your bedroom, your head snaps up. For the first time since you got home, you actually paid attention to your surroundings.

Right there, sprawled out all sexy, and completely naked, on your bed, casually tossing skittles into his mouth one at a time, lies Six.

‘Come here,’ he coos, equal parts soothing and commanding as he carelessly drops the remaining skittles in his palm out onto the duvet.

You forgot to breathe. You haven’t moved yet, but if the raging erection between his legs isn’t already incentive enough, the tone of his voice sure is.

‘Drop that,’ he smirks as you make your way over to him, and you do precisely as he asks, slowly unwrapping yourself and letting the towel fall from your damp body.

He shifts to prop himself up, reaching to help you climb onto the bed (and more importantly onto him).

You carefully straddle his thighs, but his hands appear at your waist and roughly pull you down, bringing your core flush to his cock.

He groans, quiet and low, and guides your hips to drag his throbbing length through your folds, biting his lip as you gasp at the sensation and begin to roll your hips within his grasp until his hands fall away and you’re left in control.

Six’s eyes slip shut as a thick pearl of precum pumps from his tip, and somewhere within the haze of bliss he’s reminded he’s supposed to be surprising you.

‘Ah-a-alright- that’s- ohh- enough-’ he manages, strong hands back at your waist, holding you still.

When you comply, albeit reluctantly, he trails one hand down onto your thigh, fingers tracing upward to stroke through your slick folds and massage your clit, watching delightedly as your head drops forward and your breath turns shaky.

‘Horny, huh?’ he teases.

‘C-coming from… oh fuck- coming from you?’ you retort, your smirk falling away. He slides a thick finger inside and pumps slowly, and your jaw drops.

You reach for his cock, stroking clumsily as your pleasure renders you weak and uncoordinated. But it’s enough, and Six jolts up, a moan tearing from his throat.

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he says, snapping your hand away and holding it still with his free one.

‘Six… Six, please…’

‘What do you need, baby?’ he asks, velvety as he regains some composure. But he can’t deny the aching any longer.

‘T-tell me how long you’ve- ohhh- been here?’

You look smug despite your pleasure-addled state, and Six isn’t sure he likes where this is going.

‘Why?’

‘Because I wanna know how long you’ve been laid here with a huge hardon for me.’

Six doesn’t answer. He flips you over onto your back, pushes your thighs apart with a growl and thrusts himself inside, whimpering at the relief of finally being buried in your heat.

You yell out at the sudden stretch, the way his cock drags over that sweet spot inside you over and over while his hips snap desperately.

‘You- still- need- to answer- me-’ you say between thrusts, breathless, and Six buries his face in the crook of your neck, hips unrelenting.

‘A while,’ he moans, biting down on that spot below your ear that he knows sends a shiver through you, smiling against your skin when he hears the moan it elicits.

You rake your nails down his back, feeling him shiver at the delicious but subtle pleasure-pain. ‘How. Long.’

‘I- I’m gonna-’

‘Six,’ you warn, knowing all too well what it’ll do to him.

‘I’ll- I’ll tell you- I swear- but I’m- just give me a minute? I’m- ohhhughhhmnn-’

He spills inside you as your fingers make their way into his hair, your own orgasm crashing over you as his thrusts become erratic and somehow more desperate.

Your nails against his scalp fade from scratching to gently stroking and he collapses on top of you, heavy and panting.

It doesn’t take him long to catch his breath, and when he does he lifts himself up only to crush his lips against yours, cock softening, still inside your clenching walls.

‘Needed that, hmm?’ you quip when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours, and he just nods, slowly.

‘I was here a couple of hours before you got home,’ he admits, ‘if you must know.’

‘You were hard for a couple of hours?!’

‘I’m known for my incredible restraint.’

He slips himself from between your legs, leaving you empty, to settle beside you, usually unreadable eyes sparkling with a mischief and adoration that’s only for you.

You turn to face him and he drapes a heavy arm over your waist. 

You yawn. ‘Well I’m glad you waited for me.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Who knew Skittles were such a good distraction technique?’ 

He shifts around and fishes a red one out from somewhere underneath himself, popping it right into his mouth.

‘Tastes almost as good as you,’ he says casually, delighting in the flavour.

‘Care to test that theory?’ you ask, dragging your fingertips over his torso and up until one is pressed to his lips.

His tongue slips out from between them, lapping at your finger while his own fingers tease at your thigh. ‘Sure do.’

[hxt1b]

"i knew the day i met you you'd be the one"

choso x reader 

These tiktoks and the amazing art had some hand in the inspo of this one. Choso / Sukuna. oh and maybe a little bit of this one too. i’m just gonna go ahead and add this link too. because it fits.

-> WC: 2.7k

-> CW: Motocross AU, older brother Sukuna, Sukuna and Choso do not get along, Sukuna is overprotective of you and Choso is possessive kinda, Yuji and Sukuna are separate-bodied individuals for this, and Sukuna is not in true form I mean this is a motocross au so… pwp, well some plot. smut warning [teasing, fingering, name calling {you: slut}, hair pulling, spanking, finger sucking, minor ass play, manhandling, penetration, choking. Idk if missed anything] 

-> A/N: oh my, I fucking hope this isn't shit, its kinda deprived and cracked but I hope you guys like it. Idk I feel like the ending could have been better, but still I don't think its completely terrible. Lastly please excuse any messed up grammar I tried my best. 

Masterlist 

prompt list for requests.

 -> request: "hi bestie

Could I have a piece on Choso and Sukuna with Prompts: #2 “Take it off” and #4”Move away from the door and let me have at him”?? Suggestive, fluff or even smut!! 

Thank you for taking the time to get to my request hehe I’m looking forward to it" @bts-sierra <here you go babe>. 

Choso's hands were in your hair, under your shirt, sliding up your skirt. Rough fingers digging into soft skin, heated kisses pressed into oversensitive flesh that he'd just sucked on. Marks were already littering your upper chest, he had you half undressed with all your clothes still on. His thigh was in between your legs, your hips moving against him uninhibited. His body was pushing you into the wall, your hands pulling at his hair. 

Chose was everywhere, and you loved it. 

He moaned your name at the base of your throat, his hot breath lighting your skin on fire. You breathed a whimper in response as his left hand trailed down your stomach to your core. 

He didn't touch you, at least not where you wanted him to. He dragged deft fingers along your panties and over the apex of your thighs. You groaned bucking your hips at him. In response Choso sank his teeth into your collarbone, gently gathering the skin with his teeth and sucking, before licking at it with his tongue. You shivered your body arching into him. 

"You want my fingers?" He asked. 

You nodded. 

"Say it." He demanded. 

"I want your fingers, Choso." 

He hummed. Finally pushed your panties to the side and dragging this middle finger up your slit. "What do you want these fingers to do?"

His tone was light, mocking. His face drawn back taking in your features. Your head was tilted back leaning into the wall and you breathed heavily, your entire being worked up from the heated kisses and almost there touches. 

"Choso." You whined. 

"I need direction, darling." He breathed, his right hand settling on the wall beside your head. His head cocking to the side, his lips curled up into a smirk that had your cunt flexing about nothing. 

"Uh, please," you mumbled, "Fuck me with them."  

He hummed again, moving his middle finger in a slow circle around your clit. Before slowly sinking it into your heat. 

"Like this?" 

"More." 

"So greedy." But he added another finger. You moaned at his slow ministrations. 

"Fuck," you cursed as you curled your hands into the front of his shirt. He added a third finger, but his rhythm was still the same. Slow and agonizing. "Harder." You begged. 

Choso leaned his head closer to yours his lips brushing over yours. 

"What would your brother say if knew how much of a slut you are for me?" 

You narrowed your eyes at him, hoping your glare was registering. 

"Why would you-" 

Your words were cut off by a loud moan as he picked up his pace, his fingers curling into your sweet spot. It was mind-numbing, his thumb worked at your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you. The wet sound filled the air around you mixing with your panting and his soft breathing. 

You moved your hand to the back of his head and tilted your face up to kiss him. He let you, his tongue instantly thrusting into your mouth. His hand left the wall and moved to the back of your head pulling you further into his kiss. His lips moved against your lips at a bruising rate. 

"You're fucking mine." He muttered. His fingers pulled your head back by pulling on your hair. 

You were close, Choso knew your body like the back of his hand, the two of you had been sneaking around behind Sukuna's back for almost half a year now. 

"Am I?" You taunted. 

Your body was coiled tight, Choso's fingers pumped in and out of you brutally now. He growled your name as you finally came apart on his fingers. He stayed with you for a couple more seconds working your over for your high before taking a step back from you, letting your body slump against the wall. His eyes narrowed at you as he licked his fingers clean. Your walls clenched at the action, and you let out an involuntary whimper. 

"Take it off." Chose commended lowly. "Take it all off." You quickly ripped your clothes off and moved to the bed. Chose pushed you down onto your stomach. You looked over your shoulder at him, your body shuddering as you took in his gaze, amused and full of lust. 

"So obedient for someone questioning if they're actually mine." 

You moved onto your hands and knees leaning your hips back so that you pressed into his hips. Moving against his still-clothed erection. You were fixed under his stare, coming apart for him slowly one day at a time while he pulled at your strings. 

You were his. You just never said it. 

He gripped your hips roughing, pushing you off his body. A rough smack landed against your ass causing you to cry out in shock. 

"You gonna question it again darling?" He asked his hand rubbing against the sting. 

You looked over your shoulder again, your lip caught between your teeth. 

"Last I checked I was nobodies." You taunted again. Choso narrowed his eyes again his nose flaring at your words as he breathed in deeply. You loved taunting him, it always, always, worked out in your favour. 

"Oh baby," He murmured, his fingers digging into your hips harder. "Start counting." With that he smacked you again, your body jolting forward as he did. 

You moaned and whimpered. "One."  

He soothed the sting again by rubbing your quickly heating skin before smacking your ass again, and again and again harder as he went switching hands until you were shaking and barely able to get your words out. 

"What was that he asked," After what you hoped was the last one. 

"T-ten" You tried again.

"Good girl." He finally praised, and you keened under the praise. 

He let go of you, "head on the pillow." He said and you dropped down, letting your ass hang in the air as you curled your arms around the pillow, your breath barely caught before Choso was on you again, his cock gliding through your folds and his hands gripping your ass cheeks pulling at them so he could watch his cock glide through your slick nudging your clit with each pass. 

"So wet for me." He groaned, and you moaned in response. Your brain was fogged, words probably wouldn't come for a while, not any that could make much sense anyway. 

Your whines were needy as he lined his cock up with your entrance, the pressure causing you to writhe against him. 

"Stay still." His fingers dug into you to keep you still as he slowly pushed in, pumping his cock slowly to get deeper into you. When his hips were seated against your ass, he let out a deep groan, letting his head fall back as he let himself take in the feel of your cunt clutching at his cock. 

"So perfect," he mumbled. "So fucking mine." He pulled back slowly before pumping back into you. Your hands clenched at the pillow case pulling at it. 

You were starting to feel like you couldn't handle it, you felt like you were gonna burst and he'd only just started. Moans and whimpers spilled from your lips, only stuttered by nonsense words and his name. 

Choso snickered at you as he set a rhythm, his hips gradually gaining momentum, his hand gripped at your hair and pulled your body up to his. Your back flush against his chest, one hand wrapped around your throat, as the other kept a grip on your hair. 

His hips met yours halfway as you thrust back into him. Your hands gripped his arm as your entire body was enveloped in a searing heat that pushed at your lungs as he tightened his grip on your throat. 

"You're doing fucking amazing, darling." Choso praised his lips brushing your ear. "My fucking slut. Taking my cock like you were made for me. Only me."  

He took your ear lobe into his mouth, sucking. Finally, he let up on your throat, letting you breathe easier. His hand left your hair, rounding your body and bringing two fingers to your mouth. 

"Suck." You instantly opened for him, taking his fingers into your mouth and sucking, swirling your tongue around the two digits. He pulled his fingers from your mouth without warning before pushing you back into the bed roughly. His thrusts faltered for a second as he gripped at your ass again. His fingers circled your other hole dragging louder moans out of you as he did so.

He laughed at your reaction. "Yeah, baby I know you love this." He said and slowly sank a spit-soaked finger into you. The stretch stung but you couldn't come up with anything but whined moans. Your hips still pushing back against him. You were becoming desperate for release your body was prickling with desire and overwhelmed by Choso. 

He pumped his finger once, twice before leaving it still and picking pace with his hips. Your hips stilled at his actions his free hand holding you in place as he rutted against you. The tight knot in your stomach finally snapped spreading pins prickling all over you. Your ears rang, your eyes shut tight, your hands ripping at the sheets as you convulsed around his cock. 

He was moaning loudly, his hips still snapped into you as he chased his high. You could tell he was close from how frantic he was becoming, your orgasm was still seething through you when he came inside you. His cum coating your walls. 

He removed his hands from you, falling over you on the bed, his arms bracketing your head. 

"Fuck me." He muttered, his lips pressing soft kisses on your shoulder and then the side of your face, urging you to turn into him so he could kiss you on the lips. You obliged and he softly kissed your mouth drawing your tongue against his. 

"Say it." He muttered, his voice low. Your brain wasn't working, his cock was still inside you and you were still squirming against him despite how spent you felt. 

Choso groaned lowly and pushed his hips into you to keep you still. 

"Fuck, darling. Say it." He was almost whining. "Say you're mine." 

He bit at your jaw, nipping at your skin over and over again. Your head was still spinning, and maybe that's why you said it because, in a regular state of mine, you wouldn't have or at this point maybe you would have you couldn't say. 

"I'm yours." And you were. He kissed you again, his mouth hot against yours as he kissed you deeply, almost like he was sucking your being into him. Molding you both into one. 

Slowly he pulled out of you and went into his bathroom bringing back a wet town to clean you up. When he was done he slipped back into the bed next to you pulling you into him. 

"Aren't you racing in an hour?" You asked. Fucking you was a part of his pre-race ritual. Choso nodded, raking a hand through his hair 

"Yeah, but I have time for this." He said pulling you impossibly tight against his body. You sighed and snuggled in, because why not? It was a soft moment and those were rare, although not as rare as a couple of months ago but still you wouldn't call them frequent. 

Your name being hollered loudly startled you. Choso tightened his grip on you. Loud banging followed the yelling and you let out a deep breath. 

Sukuna. 

"This was a long time coming," Choso muttered reluctantly letting go of you. You panicked internally moving out of the bed quickly. Sukuna was unstable at best and psychotic at worst, you grabbed a shirt and pulled it over your head. Choso pulled on sweats and you rushed through his apartment to the door before he could get there. 

They did not need to get into a fistfight before a race. 

You hesitated at the door and glanced behind you to see Choso leaning against the wall across his front door. He nodded at you to open the door. Your brother was still banging on it like a mad man screaming your name probably scaring everyone in the building. 

"Sukuna-" 

He growled your name taking a step into the apartment, but you pushed him back into the hall. He glared down at you taking in your attire. His eyes flared, his anger on full display. 

"What the fuck are you wearing? Look at you, What the fuck. I have been looking for you for two hours." 

"Sukuna -" You tried again.

"No, Move away from the door and let me have at him.” He demanded shoving you out of the way. You gripped at his shirt and pushed him back again, he growled over your head at Choso who was at your back. They were both a head taller than you, Choso just an inch taller than your brother. 

"What the fuck are you doing with my baby sister you fucking freak?" Your brother growled. You opened your mouth to reply but Choso cut you off. His hand resting on your hip as he leaned over you towards your brother. 

"What do you think?"

Your head snapped up at Choso, the smug look on his face sending a shock of anger through you. 

Sukuna's breathing deepened before he turned an angry look at you, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist pulling you towards him, but Choso was still holding you, his arm now wrapped around your entire waist.

"You motherfucker. This is your revenge, right? For the fight with Yuji." Sukuna's grip on your wrist tightened as you struggled against them both. 

"Maybe," Choso replied. You fumed. Why was he acting like this, like you were just an object of play for the both of them? Your brother and Yuji got into a fight a week ago, your brother had broken the boy's nose. But you'd been with Choso far longer than that so his act was grating on you. 

"I'm going to rip you to shreds," Sukuna growled. Choso just laughed. 

"I'd like to see you try." 

"Step out from behind my sister you bitch." 

"Gladly," Choso said and moved you to the side. 

"Stop." You cried out as Sukuna swung at Choso. Choso ducked and grabbed the front of Sukuna's shirt ramming his fist into his nose all in the same breath. 

Your brother swore loudly as the bone cracked under Choso's knuckles. You cursed before stepping into the mess and pulling your brother away from Choso. 

"That was for Yuji you dumb bitch. Your sister and I have nothing to do with you." Choso grumbled and turned away from the both of you. His words warmed inside you, and you wanted to laugh at how fickle your emotions could be. A couple of words from this man and you went from seething to swooning. 

Sukuna lunged for Choso's back but you stepped in the way. 

"Okay okay," You said in a calm voice. "Lets get you a towel." 

"No fuck you." He grumbled and shoved you away from him. His hand cradled his broken nose. "You know I fucking hate him so what the fuck are you doing?" 

He was glaring down at you, his amber eyes shifting from your face to Choso's back. 

"Wel-" 

Choso cut you off, his body slanting back towards you and your brother. "Like I said Sukuna, she and I have nothing to do with you. Get that through your big-ass fucking ego. I hate you. But her-" 

He cut himself off, and you were thankful. Whatever he was gonna say was going to be the first time it was going to be said and hearing it in front of your brother was not the way you wanted to hear it. 

Sukuna grumbled and looked down at you still pissed. 

"Get fucking dressed. We're leaving." 

"No, I'm not going with you." You replied sternly. 

"Yes, you are. I'm not fucking asking." 

"You don't own me Sukuna." 

"Fuck,-" 

"Just go," Choso said, his eyes gliding over you, "I'll see you after the race." You blinked at him, his eyes shining at you, his lips curved into a smile. As if to say, you were his anyway, going with your brother right now didn't change that. It just pacified Sukuna's tantrum. 

~ hxt1b feb 9, 2024

[aestheticaltcow]

Double Trouble

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader

MDNI 18+

Double the trouble but twice the joy. Thank you, God, for giving me a twin.

Do you ever have one of those stupid ideas that sticks in your brain even though it feels kinda stupid? Yea... that's what this was.

Next Part

The Bear Masterlist

Richie walked into The Bear that morning sweating through his suit. He’d been able to avoid Carmy the last few days, claiming he needed some personal time to ‘get some shit done,’ but the reality was he was waiting for the dark purple mark bruise on his neck to dissipate.

Richie had never been the ‘hook up’ type, but being divorced for a year and a half with practically no action makes a guy think. He didn’t plan on hooking up with a random girl he matched with on Tinder or some other dating site. He had his eyes set on asking the cute new checker at the grocery store out on a date that hopefully would end at her place, but that plan went to shit at Marcus’s birthday party last weekend. 

~

Carmy had been dating this woman, Sierra, for a few months. She was a very kind, empathetic pediatric nurse who ironically worked at the same hospital Claire worked at. One could say Carmy has a type. She was stunning. Large brown eyes with hints of a golden undertone, a button nose complemented by a dainty silver ring, plush lips, and high cheekbones. She had a half sleeve made up of different flowers and some kind of shark that Richie could never remember the name of; he didn’t know how Carmy had convinced her to date him.

It was Marcus’s first birthday after his Mom had passed. Syd took it upon herself—with some help from Chester—to throw him a true college-style buck wild rager. Natalie and Pete volunteered to host it at their house since everyone else at The Bear couldn’t accommodate a party quite that large in their apartments. Richie laughed when Syd described what she’d planned: multiple kegs, beer pong…, and the list went on.

He found it endearing how much preparation she’d put into planning this party and expected it would be a fun night. He didn’t expect what happened about halfway through the party.

Richie was buzzed but found his way to the kitchen where he saw Sierra sitting on the counter, Carmy nowhere in sight. She looked upset, and Richie, being the gentleman, asked her if she was okay. Through teary eyes, she shook her head and put her arms out to the man, expecting a hug or some other kind of comfort from him. Once again, being the gentleman, he comforted the young woman and offered to kick Carmy’s ass if he did or said something that may have hurt her feelings. Sierra laughed and squeezed him tighter- the two had hugged before, but this felt different from the others. 

Sierra's lips crashed onto his as Richie pulled away from the hug. Maybe it was because he was buzzed, maybe it was because he’s a scumbag, he kissed her back. As he pushed his tongue into her mouth, he swore he heard someone come into the kitchen and opted to end the kiss there. 

There was no one there. Richie tried to walk away, saying something about this never happening and how they should keep it between them. Sierra shook her head and hopped off the counter, closing the space Richie had made between the two of them. When her hand floated over his crotch, she purred, “It’s been so long since a real man has fucked me… why don’t we find somewhere we could have some privacy?”

As the words left her lips, Richie was done for. It had been a long time since a woman- especially one as pretty as Sierra had touched him or practically begged him to fuck them; he was putty in her hand. Richie led her toward the basement and quickly looked around, ensuring everyone was preoccupied. He felt exhilarated. It was like he was a teenager again, sneaking away to make out with Tiff. The nostalgic excitement was enough to erase Carmy from his mind temporarily. 

When the two were alone in the basement, Sierra pounced on him. As their lips touched, she pushed her tongue into his mouth, fighting him for dominance. Her hands went to his belt. Richie grabbed her wrists and told her there was plenty of time for that; he was not submissive, and today wasn’t going to be the day he’d experiment with it. He released her wrists and moved to pull the top of her tank top down to expose her breasts. As Richie attached his lips to the soft, delicious, newly exposed skin, she managed to undo his belt. She’d always get her way. When her hand enveloped his cock, he could’ve cum then and there.

Sierra worked her hand up and down his growing erection as Richie bit and suckled on each of her nipples, earning soft groans and mumbles of ‘right there’ from her. Enough had been enough; both adults were sick of foreplay and knew they had to go for it to avoid being caught. 

Richie pushed her up against the wall of Natalie and Pete’s half-finished basement and ripped Sierra’s shorts down her legs. He shoved her panties to the side and penetrated her velvety lips. Richie groaned when he felt just how wet she’d gotten from what they’d been doing. ‘Fuck me, Daddy- I need your cock!’ 

The sound of skin slapping skin and loud moans filled the basement as Richie thrust up into her tight succulent pussy. Any worries from before had left his mind as Sierra moaned into his ear, begging him to cum inside of her. When her teeth sunk into his neck, he felt her walls sucking him deeper inside of her. Richie grunted as he adjusted his grip on her thighs; Sierra threw her head back as she came around him. The gush of her fluids was enough to make him bust.

Richie woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and little memory of the events of the night before. When he looked in the mirror and saw the hickey adorning his neck, it hit him like a freight train. He took a step back and began processing what had happened; he had sex… with Carmy’s girlfriend. In a slight panic, he ran into his bedroom and grabbed his phone from his bedside table. He quickly sent a text to the ‘manager’ group chat to let Syd, Natalie, and Carmy know he wasn’t coming in for the next couple of days, claiming he needed to use his personal time. After a confirmation text from Natalie, he put his phone on Do Not Disturb and fell back on his bed. Maybe he was a loser after all.

~

Richie quickly walked through the kitchen, managing to avoid Carmy, who had been doing inventory and subsequently had his back turned. He sat at a table and pressed his forefinger and thumb into the bridge of his nose. How was he supposed to amp up the waitstaff that night when he felt like this? 

“Hey, Richie- you good?” Syd’s causal question turned serious when she saw Richie’s body language. He shook his head, “Do you want to talk about it?” Syd cautiously asked, sitting across from him at the table. 

“Nah- it’s nothin'. Don’t stress it.” Richie grumbled as he pushed himself up from the table. He went toward the kitchen, ignoring Syd’s calls as he busted through the swinging doors. “Where’s Carmy?” he announced to the prep staff, and one of the new line cooks gestured over to the office door. 

Richie took a deep breath and knocked on the closed door before checking to see if it was locked. It took a moment for Carmy to say anything; the lock clicked, and the door swung open. Carmy stood in the doorway, cheeks flushed more than usual. Richie looked over Carmy’s shoulder to see Sierra sitting on the beat-up loveseat, adjusting her scrub top. She smiled in his direction, causing Richie to go pale. “You good cousin?” Carmy queered, getting Richie’s attention.

He shook his head, “I’m good- I’ll talk to you later.” 

~

Guilt was eating Richie alive- he couldn’t sleep or eat, and everyone noticed. Tiffany was the one to question what had been going on. 

“You’re not okay. What’s wrong?” she asked bluntly as the two sat on a bench at the playground, watching Eva play on the jungle gym with one of her friends. “Nothin’.” Richie attempted to bluff, but Tiffany saw through it. “Richard.” she challenged. Richie sighed. “I did somethin’ really stupid, Tiff.”

After confessing to Tiffany about what had happened at Marcus’s party, he felt ready to confess what happened with Sierra to Carmy. Richie was nervously scratching the back of his neck as he waited outside Carmy’s door. He’d knocked just moments ago, but it felt like hours. 

With messy curls and a flushed face, Carmy opened the door. Confusion plastered his face, “What’re you doin’ here?” he queried. Richie swallowed, “Can I talk to ya?”

“Uh, sure…” Carmy stepped aside and allowed Richie into his apartment. Sierra sat on the couch with a blanket over her lap. There was some Danish cooking show on the TV. The two had clearly not been watching the show, and Richie felt another wave of guilt crash over him. “Are you okay, Rich?” Carmy questioned, concern filling his voice as his eyebrows knit together. 

Richie shook his head, “I don’t fuckin’ know why Sierra hasn’t said shit, but we uh- hooked up at Marcus’s birthday party.”

“What the fuck! Ew!” Sierra yelled from the couch, “I would NEVER fuck you Richie.”

“That’s not what you fuckin’ said on Saturday!” Richie yelled accusatory back at Sierra. She rolled her eyes and stood up, revealing her lacy underwear to the two men. “Carmy and I left at like 11 and I was with him the entire time. When would I have had the time to fuck you, Richie?!” she yelled, stepping closer to Richie.

“You were in the kitchen upset about somethin’. I asked if you wanted me to kick Carmy’s ass, then you kissed me and went off on some ‘haven’t fucked a real man’ bullshit.” Richie clarified. He was angry at himself for sleeping with Carmy’s girlfriend, and now she stood there lying to the two of them. Richie watched Seirra’s face contort in frustration, “That didn’t happen, Richie!” 

“Yes! Yes, it fuckin did! Sierra, what the fuck!” Richie groaned. The two were ready to rip each other’s throats out when Carmy broke the tension with his laughter, “Did Y/N go to the party, Si?” he managed to get out between laughs. The realization on Sierra’s face was comical, “I’m gonna kill her, Carmen.” Sierra shook her head as she stomped her way back to Carmy’s bedroom. Richie shot him a confused look, “Sierra has a sister… identical twin sister- Y/N.”