“I live with my mom and uncles. There are twelve of us in one house. Everyone is sacrificing so that I can go to university. My mom works in restaurants and cleans houses. All her money goes to my tuition. She always tells me just to focus on school. We were short on money last semester, but she told me: ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll find it. You just continue.’ She’s always been like that. She never wants me to be stressed. My dad passed away when I was a young child. So we’ve always struggled. Sometimes when I was growing up, there would only be enough for one meal. And my mom always said that she wasn’t hungry. I didn’t realize until I was older that she had only been pretending.”
“As a black American man you’re taught that you have to be the most
imposing, the most physical, that much better than your counterparts—and
being homosexual is perceived as the inverse of that. But finding
Chiron’s character, for me, had very little to do with [his] sexuality,
because I feel like you fall in love with the mental aspect of people,
not the physical. If I’d been born loving men, I’d love them the same
way I love women. For me, it was really more about learning to hate
myself, because Chiron hates himself. I had to allow myself to feel this
disdain towards other people because I couldn’t accept myself. I really
didn’t know I wanted to be an actor until this role. [Acting] always
felt like pretending. But with this character, I felt as far removed
from myself as I could be—and I loved this person. I cried for him.”
Trevante Rhodes about his role in Moonlight
My ex’s ghost begins to haunt my apartment a week after the break up. I spot him sitting inour the breakfast nook, sunlight falling like dust through his torso to the rumpled rug in front of the small table. He’s staring out the window, parts of him fading in and out of view.
“No,” I say, grabbing the counter in case my suddenly weak legs betray me. “No.”
He turns and smiles at me with the weight of the world in his eyes.
I grab my cell phone from the pocket of my sweatpants and call him. One ring. Two rings. Three.
My hand tightens around the edge of the counter until I can hear my bones scraping together. “You ass. You don’t get to do this to me. Make it go away.”
He’s silent for a long moment. Then he sighs. “My ghost?”
“Yes,” I say. “Get rid of it.”
“You know that’s not how this works,” he says.
“I’m the one who’s supposed to haunt you,” I say. “You broke up with me. That’s how this is supposed to go. So stop.”
Stop or come back.
But he doesn’t say anything else before he hangs up.
I turn to scream at his ghost but, like him, it’s gone.
“He’s one of those,” my sister says knowingly. She sounds far away and tiny over the computer’s speakers. “You better be careful. Sometimes they don’t leave.”
I consider my cup of cocoa. She’s holding a matching cup half a world away so that they’re connected. I wonder if she’s foregone her usual shot of baileys this time. “What do I do then?”
“Try to move on anyway,” she says. Behind her something peeks around the kitchen doorway and is gone before I can make out who. My sister’s been drinking for a decade and hasn’t once talked about quitting.
“Right,” I say and imagine the poor quality of the speakers hides the hollowness in my voice.
my fav brand of sakuino is ino loving sakura her whole life but sakura not realizing until after her comp het phase but she doesnt Do anything about it for the sake of their Friendship™ which results in them not getting together for years (and when they do its like years of pent up tension all releasing at once because yall know how rowdy sakura and ino are)
A/N: This is a continuation of my one shot “I Don’t Need to Pretend.” I wasn’t sure if I was going to continue it, it was actually meant to be a one shot (LOL), but a request from one of my new followers, @tippy06, to add another piece made me think of this. This is my first time doing smut in QUITE some time. Hope you enjoy ;)
He pushed open the door and immediately maneuvered you in front of him; otherwise it would have been difficult to hide his arousal from the other club-goers. You both hopped into his car and he peeled out of the parking lot, leaving smoke in the car’s path. Keeping his eyes on the road, more to not distract himself with you, then to follow the rules of the road, he grunted, “Your place or mine, Y/N?”
“Mine,” you responded without looking toward him. “I just bought a new mattress and I’d like you to help me break it in.”
“Fuck,” he swore quietly. When you glanced over, you noticed a bead of sweat drip down the side of his face. He was practically jumping out of his skin. “Why do we have to live 20 minutes away from the club? This drive is killing me.”
You could reciprocate. The feelings you had for him had been brewing since you started at the BAU three years ago - ranging from sweet and innocent walks on the beach to some very dirty thoughts that were probably illegal somewhere in the world. It probably wasn’t possible to cross your legs anymore, but you would sure as hell try. Anything to stave off the feelings brewing within you. It wasn’t helping. If anything, it was making it worse.
The rest of the drive to your apartment was fraught with sexual tension. No words were spoken. You both had one thing on your minds - giving in to what you’d been daydreaming about for years. Just as your mind began to drift off into dangerously sexy territory, you heard him mumble, “Finally.” You were just pulling onto the street where you lived.
Spence hurriedly parked the car, jumped out, and before you’d even been able to unbuckle your seatbelt, he was opening the passenger side door. It was nice to know that even in his sexually frustrated state, he was still nothing but a gentleman. He intertwined his fingers with yours and led you up to your apartment. You didn’t think it was possible to break a sweat in the middle of autumn, but there you were at your apartment door fumbling through your bag for the keys.
“Y/N,” he breathed, taking the keys from your clammy hands, “let me.”
In one fluid motion, the door opened, your keys were thrown on the floor, and you had Spencer pinned to the wall. You impatiently pulled his button-down shirt out of the waistband of his jeans, as he buried his head in you neck; kissing from the base of your neck to just behind your ear.
You breathed out as his hand gently tugged your neck back, giving him better access to the spot behind your ear that had you panting heavily. You barely noticed that you’d undone his belt, ripped it from his jeans and thrown it behind you until you heard the clang of the metal against the side table. Your legs were practically jelly at this point, which he seemed to notice, reaching one hand down to steady you.
Earlier, while leaving the club, he had tamped down his arousal for fear of someone noticing, but it was back in full force and you needed it. You needed him. You wanted the weight of him on top of you. Just as you reached into his boxers to massage him, he picked you up and blurted, “Bedroom. Now.”
Stumbling into your bedroom, all you could think was that your need was desperate - primal. Apparently his was as well, because before you knew it, the halter-top of your dress was pulled from your frame, leaving you bare from the waist up. You tugged the shirt from his body until he was nothing but well-fitted jeans and messy hair.
You both collapsed onto the mattress, clamoring for each other. His hands quickly rid you of your dress, while you kicked your heels to the floor. The hurried nature of just moments ago was slowed to a near standstill as he kissed down your body. It was painfully slow. You just wanted to scream, “Fuck me, dammit,” but somehow your overwhelming arousal just wouldn’t allow you to form words.
“You are absolutely gorgeous, Y/N,” he breathed, making direct eye contact with you for the first time since you’d walked through the door.
“I…” you managed to choke out before his tongue traced up your slit in one fluid motion, stopping to rest on the bundle of nerves that was driving you insane, slowly but surely. Always the quick study, Spence figured out what made you moan, cry out and clutch at the sheets and repeated them over and over again until your body arched upward, wracked with an unbelievably strong orgasm that left you a trembling, sweaty mess.
As you were recovering from your first orgasm, he seemed intent on bringing about a second, his arousal now barely contained within his jeans.
“Please, Spence,” you groaned, as he pulled his pants and boxers off, throwing them to the floor, “I need you.”
“Y/N, this has been three years in the making,” he quivered, placing himself at your entrance, pushing in slowly by degrees. “I need you, too.” He covered your mouth with his own as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer than you ever thought possible. “And I plan on having you again and again until the sun comes up.”