â He wasn't right for you, and you both knew it, but you always failed to stay away from one another. The chemistry you had together was addictive. After months, you broke the no-contact rule. While it wasn't entirely intentional, you weren't going to deny another quick fix.
Author's Note: WE.ARE.SO.BACK!! I'm so, so sorry for being away for over a year. Life has really been getting the best of ya girl, and I've really been missing writing and engaging with the community. Making fics again was desperately needed, ngl, but especially for Tyrone since it was requested before my unplanned hiatus. I have many unfinished WIPS that need to be polished (and published). I hope I didn't lose ya'll entirely. But I'm so glad I finally found the time to return and work on this. Without further delay, please enjoy lmfao.
The room was as cloudy as your judgment, thick with the smell of backwoods and jungle juice. Every offer to dance was declined, and no drinks were indulged except the bottled water you brought. The mix of bodies and overwhelming heat, the beverage didn't stand a chance, crumpling the plastic and discarding it to an overfilled trashcan nearby.
You would've been home re-watching Insecure hadn't it been for your friends and their pleading. The promotion at your job had begun to take up most of your time, not leaving much room for parties. Though you didn't mind, you felt you had grown out of the partying scene after undergrad. You took it upon yourself to get out there again. It had been months since you made an actual attempt to loosen up.
Your first mistake was not asking what kind of party they had in mind. The last time you were at a house party, your age ended with 'teen'. You tried to let the blaring music numb your senses, your head flinging back, searching for a vacant space in your mind to let go. Your homegirls were elsewhere attempting to find someone, in addition to a bed to lie in for the night. You couldn't remember the last time you decided to put your ass back in this environment. You were so convinced that you rose above this lifestyle.
The last few months at your job, while rewarding, were also hectic and didn't leave much room for the hoodrat shit you used to entertain. It wouldn't hurt to go back to the old bullshit you used to do just for a night, right?
The same hood, same niggas, same opportunities, and same disappointments. But at least it gave you familiarity.
Wellâ maybe not the party, but the way his eyes bored into you from across the room intensified the goosebumps on your skin. You weren't sure if you liked it, but your nether regions had other plans. You prayed that he didn't see you squeeze your thighs together. Any tighter, you were sure your jeans would start busting out the seams.
Tyrone had been eyeing you since you pulled up, and you couldn't help but revel in whatever was occurring between the distance of your bodies. In his mind, though, you were on some bullshit.
You might have left this life behind, or at least most of it. If you'd left everything, you'd have a half-year streak of not bringing your ass to Inglewood, but especially Tyrone's house, where he would give you a much-needed release after your stressful days at your job. You had just finished college and received an offer from your dream job after busting tables and what felt like countless hours with internships. Once the big girl checks started coming through, so did your plans to leave Inglewood. You thought you'd been preparing your whole life for this. To move up, to get rid of the life you once knew, and to do better for yourself.
Even in your success, you didn't have it in you to leave Tyrone. You couldn't leave behind your smoke sessions, the conversations, the multitude of playlists he made for you...and the way he filled you in all the right places, it didn't matter what stage you rose to in life. You always found yourself back on his level. It took one night for you to finally leave everything, and since then, whatever you had going on, dissipated. Tyrone knew where you were, and he always respected your boundaries. But that was easy to do when your return was guaranteed.
It had been weeks since you contacted him. Yet, that feeling you had when seeing him always felt new.
You exchanged formalities and proceeded to stick to your girls so you'd have a reason for him not to approach you. But your friends knew you, and more importantly, you knew your friends. Within minutes, you were left to fend for yourself against a man who you knew was ready to swallow you whole. And as much as you wanted it, you knew it wasn't a good option.
All it would take is just a moment...
You had gotten so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn't realized that Tyrone moved from his spot. The pang that was already present in your chest had grown stronger. Your eyes frantically searched for his cornrows and the blunt that lingered from his lips, until you finally decided to also move from your corner. You started to push your way through the crowd, hoping your friends would find your hands flailing for safety. To no one's surprise, there was too much going on. You just hadn't processed how many more people showed up since your arrival. The loud music and weed started to overstimulate you, and you needed to get somewhere quiet. Fast.
The stairs weren't far from your view, and you excused yourself through the rowdy crowd. It didn't take long for you to make your way upstairs, and fewer people were visible until you reached around the corner to a bathroom. Quickly, you shut the door and took a deep breath of the air. It wasn't completely rid of the activities that were occurring below, but it was better than the stuffiness of it all.
You had felt your legs shaking, struggling to hold onto the sink in front of you. You couldn't remember the last time you were around so many people, but you didn't mind as much going back to a part of your past. And that piece is more than likely lurking around for your silhouette. You pulled out your phone, frantically searching for Yoyo's contact, praying she'd answer and not be off somewhere fucking with her ex for the umpteenth time. Not like you were above that yourself.
But, as you expected, straight to voicemail. If her phone wasn't on DND, you were certain it was as dead as your social battery for the night. For the rest of the weekend, even. You didn't even think to text, knowing she would only respond the following morning. You'd have a better chance of catching her if your phone turned into a bottle of Hennessy.
You took a deep breath, acknowledging the only person here to save you from the party was yourself. Pulling your keys from your purse, you slowly made your way from the bathroom. You hadn't realized a small line formed during your moment of recollection. You lowly mumbled a "sorry" before continuing to make your way downstairs. Your only issue is that these halls seemed much easier to navigate on the way up. It didn't take long before the rest of this house started to feel like a maze.
Your feet had begun to move frantically, hoping that your body could find the exit while your brain was moving miles per minute. With each corner you turned, you became less confident that your escape plan would be successful.
And even less so once you nearly bump into the last person you needed to see.
Before your bodies could collide, shock coursed through your body, coming to a complete halt. You were close enough for your lips to almost touch. The moment his eyes fell into yours once more, you wished the walls that surrounded you hid your silhouette. Even amidst the chaos that rushed through you, his dark brown orbs that bored into yoursâ it felt calming.
"You done avoidin' me now?"
You took a deep breath, Tyrone taking it upon himself to hold up your chin. It took everything in your body to maintain the little composure you still had. You knew he could tell how he made you feel. He knew you were avoidant because no matter how many times you went off, the space in his arms was always reserved for you.
And you both knew it.
"Stop actin' shy, ain't nobody mad at you."
You shrugged his hand away. In return, he respected your space, stepping back to show that he wasn't holding you hostage. And yet, you were still. "So you must wanna talk..."
"It's never just talking with you." You looked away from his gaze once again, the embarrassment settling in. You were praying at any moment that someone would emerge from around the corner. He stepped forward, pinning you with the little space that remained between you, the wall becoming your only support system. Your eyes glared up at him, his stature towering well over you.
Why you following me, Ty?"
Your attempts to stand your ground faltered. If it weren't for your nether regions going off the radar, it would have been easier for you to control the squirming as you were underneath him. Your breath hitched, feeling your crotch rub against his thigh, while your own grazed his growing arousal. Your chest felt as if it were to break free at any moment; you felt that he would eventually drag you into a room to satisfy your craving. And deep down, you really wanted him to.
Slowly, he dragged his thumb across your face, caressing your cheeks, slightly pinching your lips, your gloss coating his fingertips. You took it upon yourself to wrap your lips around him, softly sucking the skin, maintaining eye contact, and letting go of the last of the decorum you had left.
It hadn't been taken into account that the space that was once between you was now nonexistent. Your lips are dangerously close to touching. Tyrone took initiative this time around, swallowing you whole. You felt your lip combo smear across your face as he ravaged you.
"You knew what would happen the moment I got you alone...", he trailed off, his hand sneaking towards your lower region. That feeling in the pit of your stomach had started to build. You had almost forgotten about your surroundings, and you weren't really into voyeurism.
"'Taine, we shouldn't...not here," you breathed out, his hand making its way to your jeans. He teased, gently rubbing over your cunt, applying pressure where he knew your clit would be. He had you figured out long before he caught you alone, long before you let him inside your walls...
"I'd believe you if you weren't encouraging me..."
Your hand had also traveled, guiding him to loosely unbuckle your jeans so he could properly feel where you needed him most. Tyrone was giving you time to protest. And yet, all you could muster up was a mewl, pressing your chest against him, begging him to touch you once more. He knew better than to leave you wanting. Some nights, you wish it weren't so easy for him to break down your walls like thisâ though it's not like you cared once his fingers delved into them. Before the world could hear how he was making you feel, he took the opportunity to cover your mouth, his face cuddled into your neck, feverishly spreading kisses across. You take a leg, wrapping it around his torso to give him better access. He felt you tremble beneath him when he finally hit your spot, moaning into his mouth once moreâ thumb applying pressure to your clit, painfully circling the hood to tease you further. His hand slowly traveled around your neck, slightly applying pressure on the sides.
"So fucking nasty..."
You and Tyrone never had any intimate encounters that risked the viewership of the public eye in recent years, but you weren't complaining, and he could tell you enjoyed it the way your slick coat his fingers. Your knees began to buckle, and he took the earliest opportunity to wrap your weak legs around his torso to further support you. Your arms wasted no time wrapping around his neck, your lips finding his neck to muffle your cries. His lips found your collarbone, peppering kisses where he knew you liked, his free hand grabbing the plump that your ass carried.
"Fuck...Tyrone, I can't-"
"Can't no corporate nigga fuck you this good, you know dat."
Your body fell into his touch, clit pulsating and body jolting from his whispers in your ear. You were into this shit. Without shame, you'd wish he'd carry you into a bedroom nearby to fuck you senseless.
Even after all the times you would spend away from each other, he knew that nostalgia would come back to you.
If you were honest with yourself, you liked the idea of getting caught, of someone finding out that Tyrone, of all people, was claiming to you. Without a doubt, you wanted the whole world to know. And he could feel the heat radiating off your frameâ persistent in dragging it out of you to admit to him, too.
"This what you wanted, right? Don't be actin' shy now."
His thumb pressed soft, fast circles around your clit as he continued to abuse your insides. There was no space between your bodies, his abdomen pressing into your stomach, applying pressure where you needed it most. You felt that pit in your stomach begin to fester into something bigger, your climax nearing, and your lover's taunts not helping your case. You felt your eyes get hazy, but you knew better than to break eye contact with a nigga that was willing to take extreme heights to let the world know that you were his. Tyrone's eyes, deep, riddled with desire, take in the moment, your mouth agape, begging him to coax the orgasm out of you.
"Let that shit go...I wanna hear you."
The music downstairs was blaring to the point where he couldn't care if you were louder than the music. Your back arched as you came to completion, your chest greeting his face as he applied another hickey as you came down from your climax. His fingers still explored your walls, not seeming to show any signs of stopping. Instead, you felt his lips travel lower, lowering your jeans and underwear in the process, pooling around one ankle, while Tyrone placed the other over his shoulder. Before you had time to recover, his face was already feasting between your legs as if you were his last supper.
You didn't have the time to react properly, a small, helpless gasp leaving your lips when Fontaine's hands made their way to your hips, caressing your flesh. His fingers continued to creep up your shirt, quickly finding the shape of your breasts, fondling, nipples peeking through the fabric as he frees your breasts from the constraints of your bra. This side of him felt foreign to you. He had always been so possessive, but he usually would have to think twice about fucking you in the open area.
Already sensitive from your last orgasm, you felt another building in the pit of your stomach. It didn't help when you felt one of his hands stroke your thigh, etching back between your folds. You felt that coil in your stomach tightening, but after your first nut, you were too aware of your surroundings to let his voyeur continue. You had to make a decision for both of you before you let him fuck you in the hallway of a house party you've overstayed your welcome in.
Your hands, quickly but gently, found his head, etching his lips away from yours. He detected your reluctance and chuckled before finally understanding, a 'pop' sound once his lips released for your clit. You had let go of an exasperated breath you didn't realize you were holding. Tyrone caught himself from laughing again, caressing your thighs, lifting up your pants, and buttoning your jeans. While doing so, slowly, he kisses his way up, placing a final kiss on your lips, his hands instinctively attaching to your ass once more. There was a deafening silence charged between you once he pulled away. You both knew what was going to happen next, but he knew you were too prideful to admit that you wanted him to take you home.
Before you could respond to the question he was bound to ask, a familiar voice in the distance was calling for you. Your attention quickly turned to a shadow that was quickly approaching.
"Where the fuck did she go? She was just babysitting her sorry ass water."
YoYo continued to call for you, hearing footsteps travel nearby before she turned the corner, her fro and figure visible, chest heaving from what seems like stress getting the best of her.
"Bitch, you could've at least told me where you were going. I called ya phone umpteenth times."
Quickly, you pulled out your phone from your back pocket, your lock screen plastered with missed calls from your lovely homegirl. Considering the situation you were in moments before, your phone was on the floor, your ringtone drowned out by the excessive bass from the floors below. You turned back to acknowledge Tyrone, but to your surprise, his figure was no longer in sight. You quipped back to Yoyo, hoping she didn't fully notice your reaction.
"....My bad. There was a long-ass line to the bathroom. I got lost on the way out."
You were more than sure that she didn't believe that half-assed lie you told, but you knew she didn't care enough to ask. Or so you thought.
"I saw you up here wit' Tyrone earlier. Nasty ass," she giggled after admitting, relieving you of any guilt before leading you back downstairs.
"We should get going before the police get sent over here. It's getting crazy. The food was nasty as hell, we should grab Wendy's on the way back."
Your phone pinged, lighting up a very familiar name and number you weren't expecting to see.
Without fail, a smile flashed across your face, YoYo quickly noticing and knew all too well what you were about to do. She grins, arguably wider than yours
"Aight nigga. Get that Biggie Bag and get that big dick next. Let me know when you make it there, too."
You knew she only said that because you knew she was about to get some dick too.
â He wasn't right for you, and you both knew it, but you always failed to stay away from one another. The chemistry you had together was addictive. After months, you broke the no-contact rule. While it wasn't entirely intentional, you weren't going to deny another quick fix.
You might have left this life behind, or at least most of it. If you'd left everything, you'd have a half-year streak of not bringing your ass to Inglewood, but especially Tyrone's house, where he would give you a much-needed release after your stressful days at your job. You had just finished college and received an offer from your dream job after busting tables and what felt like countless hours with internships. Once the big girl checks started coming through, so did your plans to leave Inglewood. You thought you'd been preparing your whole life for this. To move up, to get rid of the life you once knew, and to do better for yourself.
Even in your success, you didn't have it in you to leave Tyrone. You couldn't leave behind your smoke sessions, the conversations, the multitude of playlists he made for you...and the way he filled you in all the right places, it didn't matter what stage you rose to in life. You always found yourself back on his level. It took one night for you to finally leave everything, and since then, whatever you had going on, dissipated. Tyrone knew where you were, and he always respected your boundaries. But that was easy to do when your return was guaranteed.
It had been weeks since you contacted him. Yet, that feeling you had when seeing him always felt new.
You exchanged formalities and proceeded to stick to your girls so you'd have a reason for him not to approach you. But your friends knew you, and more importantly, you knew your friends. Within minutes, you were left to fend for yourself against a man who you knew was ready to swallow you whole. And as much as you wanted it, you knew it wasn't a good option.
âand i wish that i could be with you tonight, you give me butterfliesâ
butterflies â oj haywood
pairing oj haywood x Black!afab fem reader
contents slow burn, kinda, but not too much. little bit of angst and self doubt. canon-compliant except holst and jupe did not die, smut (unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), creampies, it gets rough for like one scene but nothing too crazy)
words 8.8k
notes handful of michael jackson references (like 3) so if you don't like michael kill yourself, oh also the title is from butterflies by michael too, this is a re-upload from my old blog!
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The pictures of the horses are beautiful, but the horses themselves? Theyâre gorgeous. After seeing countless pictures of them and marveling at the still images, you ask Holst whoâs horses they are, and if their owner would be okay with you popping up for just a second.Â
The drive is long as hell, some big ass ranch out in Agua Dulce, far from anything except for Jupeâs Theme Park. You make plans to visit one day. Today youâre on a mission to lay eyes on some of the most beautiful animals youâve seen. Which is saying a lot, since you work with pictures of Holstâs animals all day.Â
The man that meets you at the ranch is.. not amused. In fact, he looks extremely annoyed. It seems like Holst is a liar.Â
âWho are you?â he asks, face scrunched up from the heat of the sun, hands on his hips, body language giving stand-offish. You give him your name and he barely acknowledges it. He would much rather know why youâre here and what you want.
âI, um, I work with Holst.â you say with a nervous smile, his displeasure at your unexpected and uninvited presence evident. âI just saw some pictures of the horses and I had to see them in person.âÂ
Hearing your reasoning for basically trespassing on his ranch strikes a bit of a nerve in him. Heâs never met someone whoâs that interested in the horses. But he wants to get this over with quickly. He got shit to do, and you just interrupted the horses feeding time.
He turns, nods in a gesture that you take as him telling you to follow him, and walks off. You follow closely, but not too close. You donât wanna seem like more of a weirdo than youâre sure you already do.Â
âYou drove all the way out here just to see my horses?â he questions, leaning on the arena near a pretty brown horse as he waits for you to catch up.Â
âYeah.â you nod. âI been seeing pictures of them for some months now and i just wanted to see them in person.ââ
âMhm.â he nods, reaching up to sift some dirt off of Luckyâs mane.Â
You step a little closer to the arena, and Oj figures you want to pet Lucky. âCome âere.â He nods his head again, this time gesturing you to follow him towards the horse. You do, falling into place beside him.Â
âGimme your hand.â He reaches for you and meets you in the middle and places it on Lucky. His hair is soft and silky, hot from the California sun, and you can tell just from a feel that Oj takes good care of him, of all of his horses. Heâs gentle with your hand, holds it and guides you. That makes heat rise in your cheeks, heat thatâs definitely not caused by the sun beating down on you two.
Then Oj pulls his hand away from yours, casting his eyes over the expanse of land.Â
That breaks you out of your awe-induced stupor.Â
âI gotta get home.â you say, walking off before he gets the chance to say anything.
On the way home, you have flashes of the cowboy playing through your mind, the burning heat on your hand remaining from his touch, and a couple of butterflies find a hopefully temporary home in your stomach.
â
The next day, you come back.Â
You find him in the stables this time, throwing hay into the stalls.
Ojâs surprised. Usually, people pet the horses, hang around for a little while, and then lose interest.
âHey, Oj.â you wave happily.
âHey. You wanna help me feed them?â He assumes that youâd like to, since youâve shown some interest in them. And of course you do.
Itâs not easy, the bales of hay heavier than you anticipated. But you take the work in stride. Itâs not too hard, not when you get to admire these beautiful animals and see how they work. And, to be honest, you like seeing how their owner works as well.
Heâs so handsome, with his pretty brown skin, glistening with sweat, the image of a hard-working man. You donât know why, and you donât know how, but the cowboy thing is working for him and on you. Heâs captivating, his dedication to his horses and his quiet demeanor working together to have you tripping over your words and feet around him.
You could blame it on the heat, or you could blame it on the feeling of his eyes on you the entire time. Youâre sure heâs just trying to make sure you donât fuck up his horses, but you canât lie, itâs nice to feel for just a second that a man like this is interested in you.Â
When he asks how long youâve been working for Holst, itâs like you completely forget the last 8 months of your life. You stutter over your words, and youâre quite literally confused on how you could stutter over two simple words. Still, you do, and youâre sure you just setback any progress you made in getting Oj to find you at all attractive and worth being around.
Because thatâs the problem. Thatâs the dilemma. Here you have a man, whoâs happiest in solitude and quiet, and here you are, talkative and loud, and you think you want him to want you. Thatâs the problem you have. And itâs a big, inescapable problem.
He tells you to hang back by the door of one stable while youâre thinking, telling you that this horse doesnât take too kindly to strangers. That gives you another chance to really take him in.
Heâs so goddamn attractive, and youâre so glad heâs so focused on the horse, because youâre shamelessly staring at his thighs, visibly thick through the denim of jeans. His chest is built; itâs visible under his shirt, too.Â
And the butterflies are there once again, accompanied by the heat encompassing your entire being.
It isnât quite professional to be eyeing one of your coworkerâs business partners like this, but youâre too caught up in your reverie to care.Â
And then Oj turns around, and you snap out of it as fast as you can. Not fast enough, you suppose, because he asks you if youâre okay when he makes it back over to you.Â
âYou good?â he asks. âThe heat is a lot. You can go if youâre getting too hot.â
âNo, no, Iâm good!â you nod, reassuring him through a heavy breath.Â
âYou sure?â he pushes, eyes fixed on yours.
âYeah.â you nod, but youâre not at all okay. Heâs close enough that you can feel his warmth radiating off of him, and you have to suppress a chuckle at his previous choice of words. You are getting too hot.Â
Itâs just.. with the way he towers over you, looking down at you under the brim of his hat, the way his pretty brown skin shines with sweat, the way heâs so fucking warm and his lips look so goddamn nice, you can barely focus on anything else. And the way heâs staring at you like he wants to do something more than stare has you questioning if Holst would be upset if you kissed his business partner after only knowing him for like 2 days.
A horse neighs. Oj backs up immediately. You have to go, have to get from around Oj before you do some reckless shit.
âThat was the last horse, right?â you ask shakily, uneasiness leaking into your voice.
âYeah.â he nods, hands on his hips, his stance driving you insane.
âI guess thatâs my cue, then.â you respond, walking off before he can even fit another word in.
On the drive home, Ojâs the only thing on your mind.
â
Visiting the Haywood ranch this time is for two reasons.
One: you want to ride one of the horses.
And Two: Oj fucking Haywood.
This time, surprisingly, he isnât outside with the horses. You hear music playing from the house, so you assume heâs in there. Before you can even knock, the door opens, and youâre met with the face of the man you think youâre developing feelings for.Â
âHey.â he greets you.
âHey!â
âIf you wanted to feed them or something, itâs past their feeding ti-â
âNo!â you cut him off before he can shut you down and send you home. âI was hoping youâd take me, uh, horse riding.â You say it like a question, eyes searching his face for any emotion, any answer to your question. The music playing is a glaring foil to your current feelings, smooth reggae contrasting with your hyper aware and scrambled mind. You donât know how he does it.Â
âYeah. Iâll take you horse riding.â he nods, stepping out of his house and closing the door. He clicks at you in that certain way, jerks his head in what you know to be directing you towards the horses.Â
âWhich one?â he asks when you both make it to the stables.
âLucky.â you answer. âIâve liked him since I saw the pictures of him.â Once it leaves your mouth, youâre sure it sounds weird. But his reaction, a warm smile that seems genuine, tells you otherwise. Perhaps heâs growing as fond of you as you are of him.Â
After he saddles Lucky up, he calls you over to the horse.Â
âOkay, so Iâm gonna help you up. You ready?â he asks, leaning down to cup his hands together. You nod, throwing one hand over Lucky and stepping into his hands. He boosts you up, and then heâs swinging up behind you, reaching around you to grab the reins.
Maybe this wasnât such a good idea. Because you can feel him against you, and if you donât hold on tight enough, you just might fall off the damn horse.
âYou ready?â he asks.Â
âYeah.â you nod.Â
He takes you down through the gulch, takes you near Jupeâs Park and somewhere way behind the ranch. The sun is beating down on you two, but you know it isnât the cause of what you feel.
The heat that has enveloped you is caused by Ojâs arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing every once in a while to guide Lucky. Caused by the way you can feel his chest pressed against you, firm and warm. The way merely being close to him has your head spinning.
At some point, he notices the sun starting to bother you. You feel him shift behind you and see his arm go up, and then his hat is on your head, and youâre pushing it down to make sure it doesnât fall off.Â
It means nothing, youâre sure. Heâs just being nice. But god, it means so much to you, though youâre sure it shouldnât.
When you make it back to the ranch, youâre jittery and nervous, letting him help you off the horse and then backing up from him as soon as youâre off, handing him his hat from a distance. He doesnât say anything, crediting it to being your first horse ride and the heat. Heâs right, sort of. Just not right about where the heatâs coming from.
He waves you a quick goodbye in that attractive cowboy way, two fingers and all flicking off his forehead in a salute, and you turn away, trying to get as far away from him as possible.
Youâve tried to make your feelings for the quiet man go away, but heâs not made it any better.Â
You like Oj. Thereâs no denying it, no hiding it. Youâve fallen for a cowboy.Â
â
Some time passes between your realization and your next visit. You needed some time to think, to make sure what you feel for him isnât just some stupid crossing of wires in your brain.Â
It isnât. Heâs on your mind every goddamn for the next 2 weeks.Â
Your visit is Holstâs doing this time. He wants you to take some more pictures of the horses. You go reluctantly, not arguing with him so he doesnât start to pry.
When you get there, Oj seems happy to see you. You credit it to wishful thinking, or maybe heâs just happy to be here with his horses. You donât know, and you donât intend to think about it for long. You just flash him your camera and a wry smile and he nods, understanding what youâre here to do.Â
Well, what youâre here trying to do.Â
Youâre too distracted, eyes flitting over to him with everything you do. Youâll be lucky if you get one clear picture, hands fumbling with the camera like you havenât been taking pictures all your life.
Everytime your eyes find him, his eyes have found you as well, glances shared from under the brim of his hat. It feels like youâre both in middle school, trying to sneak little glances at your crush from across the ranch, your work going undone.
Youâre trying. You really are. You try to focus on your task, to take the pictures Holst needs and leave, but you canât settle the butterflies in your stomach, canât get rid of that familiar heat, not with Ojâs gaze lingering over your every move.
But youâre just imagining things. You know you are. Thereâs no way Ojâs even giving you a second thought. Heâs just watching his horses, making sure theyâre in good hands.Â
You feel uncomfortable even being around Oj, knowing you feel the way you do for him and being sure he doesnât feel the same. You have to go home. You have to get from around him before you do some shit youâll regret.
You turn to leave, to sneak off before he even has the chance to realize youâre gone. You wonât come back again. Youâll think up some bullshit excuse to give Holst later.Â
But then Ojâs voice sounds out from across the way, stopping you in your tracks.
âHey, where you going?â
Shit.
âHome. I donât wanna bother you anymore.â you answer, turning towards him, figuring youâll be truthful since this is the last time you plan to see him.
The look on his face is one of confusion, which matches what you feel inside. This canât be happening right now.
âYouâre not bothering me.â he says. Youâre sure heâs lying, right? Heâs just trying to be nice, trying not to ruin his business relationship with Holst, trying not to hurt the weird photographer who popped up at his ranch one dayâs feelings.
âI think I am.â you respond, eyes looking down at the dirt. Anywhere but at Oj. âItâs obvious you like being alone.â
âI do like being alone.â he nods, walking towards you. You knew it.Â
You nod at his statement, gearing up to ask him why he even stopped you. You back up, ready to leave. Until he speaks again.Â
âUnless I find someone whoâs worth sharing my space with.âÂ
Your head shoots up, eyes meet Ojâs sincere expression of emotion.Â
âAm I worth sharing your space with?â you just want to hear his answer, need to hear it spoken straight from his mouth.Â
Heâs so close now, mere inches separating you two. And the heat is there again, and the butterflies settle in your stomach, just like they have everytime you two have been this close.Â
âHell yeah.â
His lips crash against yours, the brim of his hat brushing against your forehead. You both canât be bothered to care, not when the yearning of two people too afraid to say anything has finally been sated. Not when your lips feel so good together, when he can taste you and you can taste him. Not when his hands have found your waist and are gently squeezing, and your hands have found his neck, scratching softly at the short hair there.Â
Not when the heat of the California sun is nothing compared to the heat shared between you two.Â
You both separate for air, and Oj takes that as a chance to pick his hat up. Your hand flies to your chest, feeling your heartbeat as your chest heaves. He stands back up, laughing breathlessly.
âYou dropped my hat.â he jokes, dusting it off. His eyes meet yours again.
âWell, it was hindering my ability to kiss the very handsome cowboy standing right in front of me.âÂ
âYeah, alright.â he laughs, putting his hat on your head.Â
âIâd hate to ruin the moment, but I gotta go home.â you say reluctantly, blushing at Ojâs action and tucking your braids under the hat.
âYeah.â he nods, looking in the direction of the already setting sun, hands on his hips like they always are when heâs focused. âNext time you visit, Iâm taking you out.â He smiles now, pretty white teeth shining. He looks happy, you think.Â
âIâll hold you to that.â you smile back. He kisses you on your forehead as a goodbye.Â
This time on your drive home, you donât chase the images of the cowboy flashing through your mind away.
â
Your next visit to the ranch is by invitation. You could call it a date, you guess.Â
When you get there, the man that meets you is obviously so happy to see you. He greets you with a kiss, one hand on your cheek, resting tenderly. He tastes like lemonade, and his body is warm like the heat of the sun. You hate to pull away, but you just have to admire the handsome cowboy standing right there in front of you.
He has an orange hoodie on, with something like âScorpion Kingâ written on it. Itâs late in the evening, so you can just barely make it out. It looks good on him.
âYou staring?â he asks with a smirk.
âYeah.â you nod with a smile. âI canât admire the man I just kissed? Plus the hoodie looks good on you.â
He doesnât answer, just smiles again, shaking his head at your words.Â
âNice hat.â he changes the subject, motioning with a nod towards the hat on your head that looks suspiciously similar to the one he gave you last time you saw each other.
âWhere we going?â you change the topic, saving yourself from your own bashfulness.Â
âThereâs this food place like, 5 minutes from Jupeâs Claim.â He decides to leave you alone, but inside heâs feeling all sappy about you wearing it.
âCool.â you smile.Â
The drive there is filled with talking, mostly on your part, and laughing on Ojâs. You both fall into this dynamic quickly. You speak, and Oj listens. You like it.Â
You eat in his truck because you know that Oj doesnât wanna be in the building with that many people. He tries to protest, but you stand firm, even locking the doors when he tries to leave the vehicle.
âYou know, youâre holding me hostage.â he deadpans, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.Â
âYeah, okay.â you laugh through a mouthful of fries. He canât help but chuckle, reaching for his food.
âAnd in my own vehicle?â he jokes, placing more fries into his mouth.Â
âYeah, I guess I am.â you acquiesce. âWeâre not going in there. I like it like this, just me and you.âÂ
His eyes meet yours, and youâre so grateful that you can say something about it this time, can act on what youâve been feeling for the past month or so. So you kiss him, and kissing him feels just as good as the first time.Â
When you hook your phone up to the aux and turn some music on, he cracks a smile, which turns into a laugh when you begin to passionately sing the lyrics.Â
âYouâre very excited about this, I see.â he remarks.
âHell yes I am!â you scream over the track. âItâs my favorite song!âÂ
He just nods, choosing to silently watch as you give him the show of your life, grabbing at his hoodie and sobbing exaggeratedly to get the songâs point across.
You end up back at the ranch after a while, sometime after midnight. You leave, still feeling Ojâs lips on your forehead, his form of a goodbye.Â
âÂ
No way.Â
Absolutely no way.
You rub your eyes like on the cartoons, squinting to make sure your vision is correct.
âOj, what the hell!â you scream up at him.
âWhat.â he responds, like heâs not outside your house on top of a literal horse.
âWhy are you on a horse!â
âI wanna take you horse riding. This time as my girlfriend.â
As his girlfriend.
âGood lord.â you laugh as Oj hops off of Lucky so he can help you up.Â
âHowâd you know where I live?â you ask as he boosts you onto Lucky with a grunt.Â
âHolst.â He answers shortly. This man is gonna drive you insane. He swings up behind you, and then you both are off, riding through the countryside.
Heâs so warm, and you are too, just like that third time yâall met. This time, you can express your thoughts to him.Â
âYou know, last time we did this, it made my feelings worse.âÂ
âIs it doing it again?â he asks, not questioning what else you meant.
âYeah. Hell yeah.â you nod, and you feel him smile against your neck as he places a kiss there. His hand ghosts up your side, the other staying steady on the reins, and he places his hat on your head, just like the other time.
You smile to yourself, relishing in having the affection of the cowboy you couldâve sworn didnât care for anything other than his horses.Â
When he drops you off at your house, you kiss him goodbye this time. He leans down over the horse to accept your kiss with smiling lips, and then heâs nodding like the stereotypical cowboy and riding off to his house.Â
Who would have known Otis Haywood Junior could be such a sweetheart?
âÂ
Ojâs vinyl collection is insane. Currently playing is âFishermanâ by the Congos, the same song that was playing the day you came over for a horse ride.
Oj comes into the living room, two glasses of lemonade in both of his hands.Â
âI like this song.â you say.
âThatâs good. Itâs one of my favorites.â he responds, handing you a glass and taking a seat beside you on the couch.Â
âSo when were you gonna tell me youâre this good at making lemonade?â you question dramatically, going back in for another sip.
âI live on a hot ass ranch and Iâm outside most of the day. I thought that would be obvious.â Heâs a sarcastic little thing, all snarky and cocky under that stoic exterior. You feel so grateful to be able to see this side of him, the side that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.Â
He finishes up the lemonade in his cup, setting it on the table beside the couch and hopping up to change the vinyl.Â
âWhat you turning on?â you ask, swirling your remaining drink around in your glass.Â
âItâs a lil vinyl I made for us.â He pulls the record out, replacing the one on the player with it.
âYou.. you made a vinyl for us?â you ask incredulously, in fucking shock.Â
âYeah.â he nods, placing the needle on the record. You recognize the song as one of the ones that you played in the truck on your first date. The one you told him was your favorite.Â
âYou remembered.âÂ
âOf course I did.â You go silent at that, enjoying the song in a different context now.
He goes to the kitchen to wash and put up the glasses, leaving you in the living room, smiling when he hears you singing along to the record. When he comes back, another song is starting.
âAll you got to do is walk away and pass me by, donât acknowledge my smile when I try to say hello to you, yeahâ
Michael Jackson croons off the player, singing lyrics that song very similar to you and Ojâs meetings and now relationship.Â
âThat sounds like us at first.â you laugh, remembering Ojâs reluctance to even allow you on his ranch when you two first met.
âDoes it?â he questions with a tilt of his head, fully aware that it sounds just like him.Â
âIt does.âÂ
âI just want to touch and kiss, and I wish that I could be with you tonight, cause you give me butterfliesâ
âYou definitely give me butterflies.â you admit.Â
Heâs standing cross-armed now, leaning against the table that the player sits on.Â
âCome âere.â he beckons with a smile at your confession and a jerk of his head, outstretching his hand to you.Â
You stand up, entangling your hands and fingers with his. His other hand meets your hip as he starts to sway back and forth, and you fall in line with his dance.Â
âWould never have pegged you for the slow dancing type, but it works, to be honest.â you smile, eyes fixed on his. He smiles back, shrugging and kissing you on your forehead.Â
âIf you would take my hand, baby I would show you, guide you to the light, babeâ
Time seems to slow, the world outside falling away, leaving just you and Oj here together, dancing to music off a vinyl player on his ranch, your hands connected, bodies moving in sync. It feels kinda overwhelming, falling so fast for a man you were sure didnât want anything to do with you.Â
Your eyes meet again, and so many things are said with just a glance. You have to talk, have to do something to deal with what youâre feeling. He looks too enamored with you, and youâre in too deep to not express it.
âOj, I-â but he cuts you off with a kiss, knowing what you want to say.Â
âDonât talk.â he shakes his head, separating for just a second. âJust do.â he nods, and then he moves back in. Heâs sweet, a mix of lemonade and something you can only describe as him. His other hand moves to your cheek, cupping your face, and you almost melt at his tenderness when you feel his thumb start to rub softly. Your hands find his waist, tangling in the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to keep you in this plane of existence. It doesnât quite work, though, because merely existing with this man sends you high enough to make sure youâll never come down.Â
âCause you give me butterflies insideâ
When you both pull away, itâs with closed eyes and heaving chests. It takes you a second to come back down, to ground yourself back on earth. Ojâs hands have found your waist now, and yours are folded in front of you, too scared to touch him for fear of what will happen next.
Heâs starstruck, but sure about what he wants. His hands find yours as your eyes open to find him gazing at you with adoration and sureness, and he places them on the waistband of his jeans, smiling against your lips when you hook your fingers in the loops and pull him ever closer, sighing against his lips when his warmth overtakes you.Â
Then he kisses you again, hands moving down to where yours are, ghosting under your shirt and resting on the skin above the waistband of your shorts. The kiss is deep, and before you know it your tongue slips into his mouth and his is in yours, and tongue-kissing would be gross with anyone else but with Oj it feels right. Everything feels right with him, and you swear you can feel him, hard and heavy, pressing against your thigh.Â
You canât blame him though, because the heat heâs made fall over you has spread, has entrapped you and found its way between your legs.Â
And, maybe fueled by arousal, or Ojâs urging for you to just feel and do, you unbutton his jeans. You donât know what to do next, donât know anything about how he likes it or how he wants it, but you donât give yourself time to doubt. You hook your fingers in his belt loops again and pull him towards the couch, and you fall back, letting him take his place hovering over you.Â
He leans down to kiss you again, like heâs addicted to the feeling of your lips against his, your taste mixing with him. And he is, god he is. He canât separate, canât bring himself to just stop kissing you, so he doesnât. You separate just for a second, just long enough to push his jeans down so he can take the hint, and he steps out of them, leaning right back down to kiss you again.Â
His kisses flow from your lips down to your neck, and your hands find purchase in his short curls, nails scraping at his scalp, and the appreciative groan he gives you send chills racking through you. He kisses and licks, sucks and bites until he finds the spot that makes you squirm and whine just a little louder than the rest. You feel him smile against your skin, then, and you canât stifle a smile either.Â
âYou found it.â you say quietly, like talking too loud will wake you out of a dream, and youâll wake up in your bed and not under Oj on his couch, with music playing off his vinyl record player.Â
âMhm.â he hums against your neck before he goes to work on that spot, focusing his kisses and licks on that sensitive patch of skin. His hands drift down your body, nimble fingers unbuttoning your shorts with one hand. You lean into his touch, nodding when his eyes find yours, and he asks âIs this okay?â
Your brain blanks at the feeling of his hand so close to the heat that heâs created inside you. And then his hand slides into your shorts, slipping into your underwear to meet the mess heâs made of you.
âThis all for me?â he asks with a smile, and you, with a heaving chest and a fluttery stomach, nod again, head falling back onto the couch. His other hand eases the shorts down your legs, giving himself more room to work with. On his way back, he kisses down your leg, drawing a small laugh from you, so happy to be seeing this loving side of him, and he smiles at you.Â
Then heâs focused again, fingers moving against you, experimenting with different angles and movements and motions, still kissing and nuzzling at your neck while you whine and squirm. Heâs determined, wants to find that one thing that makes you tick.
And then he finds it.
âFuck, thatâs it.â you moan, chest arching into him, feeling him press against you, firm and warm, as his fingers find your clit.Â
âThatâs it?â he asks, mirroring you as you nod before he even gets the question out. Itâs arousing, for some reason, and he swears he can feel the blood rush to your clit. He rubs soft circles over it, watching your face, making it his one and only purpose at this moment to learn how you like, how you want it and what drives you crazy. And when he rubs a certain way, flicks his fingers just right, he canât help but smile again at the unadulterated moan that rips from deep in your chest.Â
âThatâs it.â he speaks against that sensitive spot heâs found on your neck, and it drives you wild.
âShit.â is all you can manage, back falling down from its arch, legs closing around his hand.Â
Oj takes it all in, your whines, your groans, the way you squirm and shake and jerk against him. It feels so good, Oj on top of you, his hands on your body, one between your legs and the other stroking your hair, soothing you as you get lost in the pleasure that heâs giving you.Â
âFeels so good.â you whine, one hand curled in his hair, the other curled in the fabric of his shirt that you wish was off right now. âOff.â you manage to say, and he hates to pull his hand away, but he gives you what you want, pulls his shirt off as fast as he can, returning his hand to where you both want it.Â
âYou dripping, baby.â he hums, and you shiver at the pet name that slips off his lips so easily.Â
You bring him down into yet another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he finds his rhythm again, working you up into ecstasy like youâve never felt before.Â
âYou- fuck, you make me feel so good.â you confess. âYouâre making me feel so good.âÂ
That makes him press harder, makes his movements against your clit speed up, makes him grow harder and heavier against your thigh. He needed that, needed to know that what heâs doing is still something you want.Â
âYou shaking, baby. Feel good, yeah?â His accent has you hanging off his every word, his deep voice and drawl adding to the blood rushing to your clit.Â
âI wanna come.â you say, eyes locked on his.Â
âWell come, baby, you got that shit.â And you do, shaking and shivering as you soak his hand and your underwear and the couch beneath you. You find it funny how youâre coming for him on his couch, coming for a man you swore didnât want you, laughing as you come down, small huffs with your arm thrown over your face, in awe at how fast and hard he made you come.Â
Then his lips are meeting yours again, and everything feels so perfect, final pieces of clothing falling onto the floor beside the couch.
You and Oj make love that night on his couch for the first time, with a vinyl he made for you two playing.
â
You wake up in his bed, slightly confused until the memories of last night come rushing back.
â
Oj bottoming out inside you, kissing you softly as his hips slot against you. His thrusts jolting you up the couch, your arms and legs wrapped around him, his soft praises of âYou look so pretty, been wanting this for so longâ meeting with your moans and groans of âRight there, fuck, right there, Oj.âÂ
Your chest arching into his, breasts pressed against his chest, nipples hard and peaked and sensitive. His hand finding your chest, flicking softly, smiling once again at the shakes that rack through you. His golden chain dangling over you, glittering and hitting against your chin with every forward push of his hips into your heat.
Your hands gripping at his back, scratching and smoothing down his pretty brown skin, leaving red marks in your wake. His hisses and moans into your mouth at the feeling, tongues slipping into each otherâs mouths too.
His fingers finding your clit, using the circles he learned earlier. Your legs tightening around his waist, his other hand ghosting down your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin, tight enough to leave pretty marks that youâll admire in the California sunlight tomorrow.Â
Both of your moans and pants, warnings of your impending orgasms mixing together until youâre coming with each other. You soak his cock and he fills you up, giving warmth to each other like youâve never felt before.Â
Oj collapsing on top of you, caging you in, you both resting in the afterglow of making love after holding back. Music sounding out, the soundtrack to you and Ojâs expression of passion.
Oj carrying you to his bed after a while, disappearing and returning with a warm, wet towel. While he was gone, you heard the music stop. You feel his hands ghost between your legs, soft and slow as he cleans you up, throwing the covers back over you.Â
Oj coming back after putting the towel away, settling on the other side of the bed, not knowing what to do next. You moving over to him immediately, arm thrown over his chest, and his arm coming up to embrace you.Â
You both drifting to sleep, laying in each otherâs arms.
âÂ
Oh. So thatâs why youâre in his bed.
You throw the covers off your body, and you admire the bruises on your thighs in the California sun streaming through his windows. Heâs not beside you, but you hear music spinning and smell food cooking.Â
You pick one of his shirts from his closet, a faded blue tee that stops right around the middle of your thigh. The marks he left yesterday are slightly covered, but enough peek out to satisfy your loving admiration of his touch left lingering on you.Â
When you make your way to the kitchen, you find Oj at the stove stirring a panfull of eggs. Thereâs two plates sitting on the counter, decked out with toast slathered in jelly, grits, and sausage. The food is paired with two glasses of cold lemonade â you can tell by the way the glasses are dripping in condensation.
Heâs just finishing up, sliding eggs onto both plates. He leans into your touch when you embrace him, sliding your arms over his sides and to his front.Â
âGâmorning.â you hum.
âGâmorning, pretty girl.â is his response, voice deep with sleep, deep enough to shake you to your core. He turns around in your arms, places a finger under your chin to lift your lips to his.Â
âHowâd you sleep?â he asks.
âGreat. Even better since I was beside you.â you answer honestly, your smile mirroring his.Â
âYeah?â he muses, before dipping down again to kiss you once more.Â
Kissing Oj feels like magic, feels like sparks and flames and butterflies, shooting heat through every nerve in your body. He pulls away just to sit there, to smile at you and watch you smile back, before kissing you again.
His hands ghost under his your shirt, resting on your waist. He hums at the lack of obstruction, the way what you both know is going to happen is just within his reach. You rest your hands on the sides of his face, thumb rubbing against his skin.Â
Things move fast this time. His hands are running down your body and over your thighs, hooking under your knees to place you on the counter, still kissing you with all he has in him.Â
His jeans and boxers are down as quick as quick as he can pull them, and then heâs pushing inside you again, seating himself where he belongs.Â
He ruts deep, hips flush against yours with your arms wrapped around him, shaking legs pulling him as close as you can. His face buried in your neck as he finds that spot on your neck, and that spot inside you again.Â
âThatâs it, ainât it?â he nods against your neck, smiles when he feels you nod with him, slipping into the morning bliss and the feeling of you around him, wet and warm. Your skin is heated, swapping warmth from him to you and back to him, passion and infatuation hanging in the air.Â
Now, you both learn that you two love it like this as well, slow and deep on the kitchen counter, sunlight streaming through the windows, illuminating and bearing witness to love-making between two people learning to love each other.Â
And when you come, and he does too, itâs with quiet moans and groans of each otherâs name, his forehead against yours, hands gripping your waist, and you, with your fingers curled in his hair, shivering at his touch.
Luckily, cold eggs donât sound too bad.
âÂ
You make the ranch your home in no time. You have to go home for changes of clothes that day, but youâre back before sundown, decked out with some vinyls from your house to add to the collection.Â
You fall into your own routine, getting up and making breakfast somedays, prepping sandwiches for lunch on the days Oj cooks breakfast. You really could just do anything for the rest of the day, but most of it is spent with Oj, learning more about the horses and helping him where you can, sappy little moments ever abundant. At night, he ends up buried inside you again, which is becoming his favorite place to be. And during the day too, if youâre being honest. You two fuck like rabbits.
Itâs cozy, existing in the same space with him. Heâs soft, kisses you every chance he gets, makes you food and fucks you good after. And heâs funny, his wit endearingly annoying at times, though he tries to pretend like he doesnât know.
âPut that shit on.â Black fabric hits your face as youâre sat on the couch, and when you feel it you can tell itâs the satin of your bonnet.
âWhat the fuck, Oj.â You deadpan, though you know heâs right.
âYou left that in bed last night. Them braids look new. Put it back on.âÂ
âSo,â you start, raising up your hands so you can count on your fingers, âand Iâm just tallying you up here, you can: cook, clean, youâre funny, you fuck amazing, you care about my hair, and on top of it all, youâre a real-life fucking cowboy?â
That draws a deep laugh straight out of his chest, his chuckles reverberating through the house, and through you, it feels. You laugh with him, feeling something like home sinking down into your bones. He makes his way to the kitchen, where he was on his way to before he spotted your bonnet on the bed.
âYeah, I guess. And you went through the day without that on your head. So put it on.â
When you fuck on the counter a little after that, your bonnet is on.
â
The birth control / no condom conversation isnât awkward at all, actually. It happens around two weeks after that first night.
With Ojâs cum leaking down your legs in the shower, his head resting in your neck, he finally says something.
âYou on birth control?â he murmurs. âI been cumming inside you this whole time.â You canât help but chuckle, breathless, still coming down.
âYeah.â you nod.
âThank god.â he responds.
He cooks you dinner that night, and kisses you every time he can.
â
It was inevitable, honestly, getting Oj between your legs. Heâs tasted you on his fingers too many times to not want it from the source.
A morning spent in bed evolves into kisses, though everything with Oj means kisses. Youâve learned that Oj loves to kiss.Â
He sucks and licks at your neck on the way down to where he wants to be, hiking his repurposed shirt up to your stomach to reveal your core, wet and waiting for him to have his fill.
You know whatâs about to happen, but you still jolt in shock when he licks that first stripe up your folds. Someway and somehow, he knows where your clit is, swirling his greedy tongue around it, indulging in your arousal.Â
âGod, of course youâre good at this.â you moan, throwing your head back onto the pillows.
âMhm.â he chuckles with an open mouth, tongue out and focused on your already sensitive clit. He bobs his head up and down, moving from your hole to your clit, always returning to the bundle of nerves that heâs so proficiently found and laid claim to.
He spreads you out with his thumbs, licks a fat stripe up from your entrance, sucking your clit into his mouth. Youâre dumb now, stupid from pleasure and mind spinning with ecstacy. Sunlight streams through the windows, lights his pretty brown skin up, gives him a golden glow. It lights you up, too, gives him a better view of what you both know belongs to him already.
And youâre so close already. Three-ish weeks at the ranch has shown you it doesnât take him long to get you high like this.
âOj, âm gonnaââ
âI know. Do it. Come for me.â Heâs so sure in his words that you canât help but follow them. You come, shaking and damn near crying on his tongue for the first time, and he swears youâre the best thing heâs ever tasted.Â
He makes you come with just his tongue two more times before you both start your day. You have to lay in bed for a while before you can even think about walking anywhere on your still-shaking legs.
â
âWhenâd you catch feelings for me?â you ask him in bed one night while you read and he lays beside you, thinking.
âI thought you were pretty when you first came. But I really got roped in seeing you in your element, taking pictures of the horses, even if you were nervous. The day we kissed the first time.â
âGood to know.â you nod. You donât feel the need to say anything else. Sitting in silence with Oj is something youâre growing to love.Â
â
You return the favor a couple days later.Â
Heâs gentle, letting you take your time and take him into your throat at your own pace.
Itâs messy. Spit dripping out of your mouth and onto the ground in the stables. Depraved, cause you couldnât wait to get him in the house. He chuckles breathlessly at your greed, the way you basically jumped him, pushed him against the wall murmuring âGod, youâre so fineâ before you dropped to your knees, unbuckling his jeans with ease.
âThatâs it.â he groans, hands threading into your braids.
You bob your head up and down, wrap your hand around the base of him, giving him just a little pressure, just enough to have a low growl reverberating in his chest.
You donât pull off when he tells you heâs about to come. You donât give a fuck, truly. You want it all. And you take it all.Â
You learn heâs the type to kiss you after he busts in your mouth.
â
Angel and Em come over a couple weeks after you move in. It doesnât take them long to catch on to what you and Oj have going on.
âSheâs yours?â Em motions to you with her vape as she steps into the house. Angel trails behind her, yapping on about aliens or some shit.Â
You see Oj nod from the corner of your eye as Angel makes you his next victim, asking âDo you believe in aliens?â like you didnât see the picture of Jean Jacket on the news. Oj watches in quiet fascination as you fall quickly into Angelâs rant, nodding and adding your own two cents every once in a while when Angel needs a second to breathe (which, rarely happens, unsurprisingly).Â
The house gets loud pretty quickly, with Em quizzing you on who you are and if youâre any good for her brother in one ear and Angel going on tangent after tangent in the other. Ojâs content to just watch, to see you get loud with people who also enjoy being loud. Heâs getting to know all the sides of you, learning the outgoing side he saw in the truck on your first date, learning the quiet side he sees on those music and lemonade nights, learning the soft side he sees when you two make love, learning the side of you that likes it rough and carnal, learning what makes you you.
After a while of talking and sipping lemonade with your copy of Michael Jacksonâs âThrillerâ album spinning, Oj joins Em in the kitchen.Â
âShe reeled you in, didnât she.â Em questions with a smile, poking fun at her brother with the smooth notes of âHuman Natureâ filling the house.
âYeah, she did.â he admits with a nod and a smile. âShe something special.â
âI can tell. she got you smiling and shit. You ainât smiled this much since before.. you know. And from talking to her it seem like sheâs what you need.â
âShe makes me happy. For real.â is all he says, and Emerald knows what he means without him having to say anything else.Â
When Em and Angel leave for the night, you ask him one question, standing across from him in the kitchen, him leaning against the counter.
âI make you happy?â You ask.
âHell yeah. You been making me happy since you came here that first day.â He hopes you believe him.
And you do. You can see a future with him. He sees one with you too.Â
When you both fall asleep in each otherâs arms, youâre content.
â
Itâs hot as fuck. Like, hot. Itâs been a month or so living on the ranch, so youâre growing accustomed to the heat. But shit.
Ojâs feeling the effects of the sun too, wiping sweat off his forehead every second it seems. You take a second to lean against the stables for just a moment, just enough to catch your breath.
âYou good?â he asks when he sees you stop tending to Ghost.Â
âYeah.â you huff, fanning yourself. âItâs just hot as hell.â
You see him reach down to turn the hose on, and you pay him no mind. Heâs just giving the horses some water.
Then you feel water hit you.Â
âOj.â you laugh, wiping your face off.Â
âYeah?â He feigns innocence. âIâm just tryna cool you off.â Itâs sweet, really, his playfulness mixing with him caring for you, making sure you donât pass the fuck out.Â
It turns into a water fight, the hose making its way from your hands to his, wetting him up too.
Eventually, the hose is dropped on the ground, spraying water up over you two while you kiss, laughing in between.
â
Itâs not all love-making with Oj, though, not all sappy moments and heartfelt confessions. Oj knows how to break you just the way you like.
Over the months heâs learned you like it face down in the pillows sometimes, his hips snapping strong and determined into you, cock pressed right up against that spot. Heâs learned you like when controls you, when he takes the reins.
âYou can take it, beautiful. You got that shit.â You sob into the pillow, writhe and thrash in his grasp as he tightens his hand around your wrists, pushes them closer to your back where he has them pulled behind you.Â
âYou feel me deep, donât you? Feel me deep in this pussy, my pussy.â You couldnât form words even if you were able to. He knows this, knows his voice, his accent, his drawl all get you that much wetter. âIts mine, hm?â he knows all of you belongs to him. All of you, down to your soul, belongs to him.
âYours.â you choke out, tell him what he knows already. He makes you come so many times that night, you just barely pass out.Â
â
Things go so easy. Itâs so easy to love Oj and itâs so easy for him to love you.
The first time he says it is completely on purpose, about 6 months after that first date, and 5 months after you moved in.
Itâs a night that goes like many of yalls nights, sipping lemonade and spinning records. The conversation is meaningless, but meaningful because itâs with you. And then things get silent, and it gives Oj a moment to lay in what he has with you. The words make perfect sense when they roll from his lips.
âI love you.â His eyes are trained on yours.
âI love you too.â Youâre sure about it. Youâve loved him for a long time.
And thatâs the end of it. It isnât a big deal, because you both knew what it was you were feeling before you even felt the urge to put words to it.Â
You love him. And he loves you too.
âÂ
Itâs funny how a quick visit to see some horses could evolve into this.
Moving onto the ranch, making love whenever you both please, letting Oj break you the way you love and he loves too. Kisses and I love youâs shared, horse rides and lemonade and dates in his truck, with and without music playing. Compliments on your hairstyles and reminding you to wear your bonnet, late night runs to the nearest store, dates at Jupeâs Claim. Water fights on days when it gets wayyy too hot. Nights spent listening to music and talking about the most mundane of things, eyes and lips always landing on your lover.Â
He eventually tells you exactly how Pops died. How that shit fucked up him up bad. But he makes sure you know heâs grateful for you, thanks whoeverâs listening that you walked into his laugh with a love for something he loved too and shy ass smile.
âYou make me happy in a way I aint felt in a long time.â he tells you in bed between kisses one night with you wrapped up in his arms. Youâre glad you could do that for him.
âYou make me feel safe. You make me feel seen.â Heâs glad he could do that for you.Â
Hi everyone, I really hate to make a post like this, but Iâm in a tight situation and could really use some help.
Iâm an international student from CĂŽte dâIvoire. I came to the U.S. in 2019, and Iâm graduating from college this December.
To stay here legally after graduation and be able to work, I need to apply for OPT. Iâm doing premium processing because with everything going on right now, I canât afford delays, itâs the only way I can remain here and be able to work.
The fee is $2155, and my parents worked really hard these past few days from back home to help me cover almost all of it but weâre still a 100s short. I canât legally work until OPT is approved, so I donât have any income right now.
I normally never ask for help like this, and I know no one is obligated to donate, but if anyone is able to spare anything even a dollar it would genuinely mean the world to me.
CashApp: $Kira200322
(If you canât donate, a reblog helps so much.)
Thank you for reading, and thank you to anyone who helps or shares. â€ïž
Jake is a whore because he betrayed his entire species for some hot aliens after knowing them for three months. Quaritch is a bigger whore because he did it in three minutes
i know this might be controversial, but enough is enough.
as someone who grew up in the rigidityâand, at times, oppressive natureâof roman catholicism, i am so tired of the religious!reader trope where theyâre portrayed as so innocent theyâre practically a child. we were not innocent. we knew the names of our bodies, the weight of shame, and the crushing complexity of guilt. i knew that my vagina was a vagina.
the sheer amount of extremely innocent!religious!reader fics is unsettling. they turn the reader into this caricatureâwide-eyed, naive, almost infantilized, complete with pigtails and an oversized cross necklace perfect for a porn video thumbnail.
for meâand for a lot of other lesbians iâve bonded with over religious traumaâit was never about innocence. it was about guilt. guilt over pleasure, guilt over sin, and all the ways we punished ourselves for being human.
we werenât these overgrown children teetering around in purity. we were messy, complicated, and burdened by shame in ways that were far more nuanced than these portrayals ever capture. enough, please.
This blog is ABOUT AND ADVOCATES for love towards all Black women
This blog SUPPORTS all Black women being the love interests and soulmates
If you're racist/this isn't your "cup of tea," then my blog isn't for you. I will continue to post about and talk about Black women, and it won't ever stop. đ
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