#MAYBE I HAVE BEEN SUCKED INTO HIS DARK WEB OF FRIENDSHIP ALL ALONG

[neitherlightnordark]

he sucks

[mysmemissme]

Up the Rabbit Hole

Summary: You have a problem- you can't stop thinking about how good Barbatos looked in that bunny costume. It's interfering with your studies, duties, and even your friendship with him. With no clue what to do, you begin to avoid him.

Barbatos, however, is not fond of this fix, and when his patience runs thin, he offers you a more unorthodox solution.

Pairing: Barbatos/ Reader

Rating: Explicit

CW: Prostate massage, anal fingering, collars, slight master/pet

Read below the cut or on AO3 

A gift for my friend for Barbatos’ birthday! Enjoy!

It was all that bunny suit’s fault.

Ever since everyone was forced to don those dumb bunny costumes, you had been an utter wreck. You couldn’t focus on your studies, earning you an earful from Lucifer. You couldn’t focus when you were cooking, earning complaints about the pitiful state of dinner from everyone but Lucifer. You couldn’t focus on Mammon’s schemes, or Levi’s games, or Satan’s recommended books, or Asmo’s fashion advice, or Lucifer’s lectures, or Beel’s workouts, or even something as simple as napping with Belphie. You couldn’t focus on anything.

Except for the mental image of Barbatos in that bunny outfit.

Why it had enchanted you so much was a mystery. Maybe it was the change in wardrobe; the way the vest highlighted his slender waist and broad shoulders, the lime green tie bringing out the same shade in his eyes. Maybe it was the ears themselves and the charming tail that accompanied them; the ears revealing a cutesier side to the ever-serious butler, and the fluffy tail drawing attention to his rounded behind. Maybe it was watching him work in the suit, catering to guests as serious, as dedicated, as always, despite the circumstances. Maybe it was the way he wore it all with no shame, not embarrassed in the slightest at the large ears, rounded tail, and odd situation, retaining his confidence through it all…

Maybe it wasn’t a mystery why you liked it so much after all.

Either way, your thoughts and preoccupation with the memories of Bunny Barbatos were providing you with issues- the biggest of which being that you couldn’t even talk with Barbatos anymore. You couldn’t make eye contact with him without thinking about floppy ears and a firm build. You couldn’t listen to him speak without the deep timbre of his voice igniting fantasies mid-conversation that left you a stuttering mess. Even simply being near him caused your brain to derail, hands to sweat, and heart to pound.

In one moment of weakness, you bought a dark green collar you saw while browsing the web, one you knew would look amazing on Barbatos, especially paired with the cursed ears and tail. You hid it in your bedside table, refusing to acknowledge just how far gone you were, refusing to acknowledge the new images, fantasies, and dreams it sparked.

You, in embarrassment and for your sanity, started to avoid him.

You weren’t dumb enough to think this would solve the problem, especially with how sharp Barbatos was. What you had hoped was that Barbatos would tolerate your finicky behavior without prying just long enough for you to get this problem under wraps.

For a while, it worked- Barbatos allowed you to make your escape, sending any messages he needed to tell you through the brothers. He left sweets wrapped with notes attached on them for you to enjoy on your bed. If you ended up in the same hallway, he kindly ducked into a nearby corridor in order for you to pass unhindered.

This game continued for two weeks- you avoiding him, and Barbatos letting you. His patience was commendable, and it was just another thing you admired about him. He let you go, again and again, in an unusual game of cat and mouse.

But everyone’s patience runs out eventually.

It was on the fifteenth day of this arrangement that Lucifer handed you a note. It read:

                 Dear,

Meet me in your bedroom tonight at eight ‘o’clock sharp. There is something we must discuss. No more running from me.

                               Sincerely,

                               Your faithful servant, Barbatos

 You read over the note again with trepidation and glanced at the time on your D.D.D.- 4:01. You had four hours to prepare yourself for the inevitable conversation you knew was to come. Four hours to get yourself under control. Your stomach tied itself in knots.

Stupid bunny outfit.

               -----

Time flew, and before you knew it, eight was upon you.

You paced outside your door, fidgeting with your hands and hair. Your nerves were getting the best of you. What if he rejected you? What if he no longer even wanted to be friends with you? What if he called you a kinky freak and exposed you? What if he convinced Diavolo to send you back to the human world?

‘What if’ upon ‘what if’ piled up in your mind, each one more ridiculous and implausible than the last. It was agonizing, not knowing what was going to happen when you stepped through the door and faced Barbatos. You felt the seconds tick away, each pressing down on you more and more.

Finally, you couldn’t stand the pressure and anxiety anymore. You flung the door open and stepped into the dimly lit room. There, on your bed he sat with-

With bunny ears on and the suit to match. Suddenly, you felt like passing out.

When he saw you enter, he moved to stand, and a flash of light from his neck caught your eye. The bunny ears had distracted you from the rich, dark green velvet adorning his slender neck, the gold chain attached matching the golden detailing and swirls on the green.

It was the collar you had bought. He was wearing the collar you had bought and hid.

“That- that’s the- But I- How’d you- Why’re you-,” you stuttered. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, and they all came rushing out in an incomprehensible mess you continued to stumble through, even as Barbatos glided towards you. He raised a gloved hand and caressed your face when he was near enough to. He shushed you.

“A few days ago, I came in here to drop off a slice of Devil food cake, and I intended to leave a note. However, I seemed to have forgotten a pen. I didn’t mean to pry, but I figured that one such as yourself would keep a pen near your bed, so I looked in your bedside table. While I certainly did find a pen to write with, I also found this charming collar hidden away. It seemed to match perfectly with a certain outfit I wore not too long ago. Care to explain?”

His facial expression never changed, but his eyes shown with a mischievous sheen, his voice filled with amusement, and there was a slight self-satisfied quirk to his smile. You could try and lie your way out of this one, but it was clear he had figured you out long ago. You sighed.

“I think you already know everything, jerk,” you grumbled, before continuing louder. “Fine. You were really hot in that bunny outfit, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I bought that collar because I thought it would look good on you, and I was right. I’ve been having inappropriate fantasies about you, which is why I’ve been avoiding you. There, happy?”

He chuckled. “Quite. Hearing such flattering words come from you is always welcomed. Since you were so honest with me, I believe you deserve a special treat.”

“What do you mean by ‘special treat?’ Like dessert?” He hummed, obviously amused.

“No, I believe something else is in order. You mentioned certain… fantasies pertaining to me, did you not?” You nodded dumbly. His lips twitched, and he reached for his tie, slowly loosening it. “Well then, since you were honest about having them, as a reward I’ll allow you to fulfill them.”

Your brain was running a mile a minute but still couldn’t seem to catch up. “Fulfill my fantasies?” you questioned.

He fully removed his tie, moving to lay it on the bed. He then began to undo the buttons on his vest and shirt, revealing inch-by-inch more of his pale skin. “Yes, fulfill your wishes. Touch me as you wish, direct me as you want. Command me, your humble servant.”

It was like his words had cast a spell on you, because suddenly all the desire and lust you had been repressing for the past weeks welled to the surface. Your hands itched to touch, your tongue to taste, and your eyes to look upon him below you.

“Lay down on the bed.”

He did as told, and you closed the distance in a second, straddling his body. His dark hair fanned out against the pillows, bunny ears tapping the headboard. His eyes practically glowed with a mix of satisfaction and interest. His shirt and vest were completely undone, hanging open. You swallowed.

You pushed the shirt and vest down his arms, and with his help, you removed them completely. Now that his upper body was completely visible, you couldn’t stop your hands from dancing along his shoulders, collarbones, and chest with frantic energy.

“You know,” you started, voice thick, “In my fantasies, I like to spoil the always-composed butler with attention and pleasure till he so overwhelmed that his mask breaks, and I get to see him beg. Spoiling someone who always works so hard, like they are my pet who did a good job, and this is their reward.”

“Then by all means, Master, reward me, your humble bunny.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You leaned down, pressing kisses along his flawless skin from his partially exposed neck, to his collarbones, to his nipples. Your lips latched onto one, sucking and tugging lightly with your teeth, while the other one was pinched with your eager hand. You heard him sigh, but that wasn’t enough- you wanted to hear him lose his composure completely.

You move to the other nipple, laving it with attention as well, till both nipples were hard and perky. Once you were satisfied with that, you continued your path downwards. You alternated dotting his skin with kisses and light nips, stopping to suck here and there. When you passed his belly button, getting ever so close to the waistband of his pants, you felt his stomach tighten in anticipation.

You reached for the button on his pants, undoing it and shoving them down to his ankles, stopping to admire the bulge in his boxer briefs before shoving those down, too. His cock now free and hard, it stood proudly towards his stomach, leaking precum.

You wrapped your hands around it, looking up at Barbatos’ face for any sign of change, but his expression was as placid as always. Using the precum dripping from the tip, you wet your hands, before setting a steady pace of jerking him off, slowing at the tip to rub your thumb against it.

You looked up at his face, yet his expression had not changed despite the pleasure.

You were going to have to up your game if you wanted him to melt beneath you.

You stopped your ministrations, leaning over Barbatos to reach into your beside table. You pulled out the lube you had stashed there, closing the drawer, and moving back down Barbatos’ body. You spread his legs and settled between them, popping the lube open. You poured a sizable amount onto your palm, then began rubbing your hands together to warm the liquid.

“This okay?” you asked, circling your middle finger around his tight hole, but not entering.

“Touch me as much as you want, wherever you want,” he said, voice husky. You rolled your eyes.

“Is that a yes? I need a clear one.”

“Then, yes.” He spread his legs even wider, giving you ample access.

Now that that was out of the way, you tentatively pushed your finger into his tight hole. With your free hand, you grabbed his cock once more, stroking it to make sure he felt good even while you stretched him.

You began to thrust your finger in and out, letting Barbatos adjust to the sensation. When you felt him relax and loosen slightly around you, you added a second finger. He hissed at the additional digit, and when you checked to make sure he was okay, his eyes were closed, eyebrows raised and furrowed.

You stopped moving. “Is this-,”

“Yes, it’s okay. Keep going,” he grunted out, wiggling his hips. You started thrusting your fingers again, and he sighed.

Oh, okay.

So, he was feeling it, but you still wanted more.

You replaced your random thrusting with rubbing against his inner walls, searching for what you knew would cause him to crumble. It took a few moments, but you knew the second you felt the bump that that was what you had been looking for.

You began to circle the small bump, applying steady pressure, causing Barbatos to arch off the bed. Proud that you had gotten such an obvious reaction out of him, you doubled down, circling faster and tightening your grip on his cock as you continued to jerk him off.

You then alternated between circling, tapping the bump, and rubbing it in a ‘come hither’ motion. Barbatos’ legs began to quiver, and when you glanced up, you saw he had become a mess- panting with his mouth open, sweat beading on his brow, and cheeks flushed pink. You stared in wonder, adoring his reactions.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough- he still hadn’t made any noise.

Desperate for him to moan or gasp or anything, you replaced your hand on his leaking cock with your lips, circling the tip with your tongue and licking the underside, before taking him in your mouth.

“Ah!” he gasped, bucking his hips, pushing his cock further into your mouth, the taste of his salty precum and his smell overwhelming your senses. As you took him deeper, you applied more pressure on his prostate, all while keeping your motions random.

It was then that Barbatos’ poise began to collapse completely. He started wiggling his hips, thrusting forward and backward like he was chasing both the warm heat of your mouth and the shocks of pleasure your hand was providing with his prostate. One of his gloved hands came down to rest on the back of your head, fingers wrapping your hair and holding you in place as he used your mouth. He moaned as he fucked your mouth roughly, cock touching the back of your throat.

Then, a loud moan he released caused you to look up once more, only to meet his hazy gaze as he stared down on you pleasuring him. Your eye contact seemed to add fuel to the fire as the grip on your hair tightened, and his thrusts became faster. From how he was biting his lips and arching his back, you could tell he was close, so you ground your fingers against his prostate, harder than before, right as his cock was fully sheathed in your mouth.

With the simultaneous overpowering sensations, he came, sighing long and low as he filled your throat with his cum. You managed to swallow most of it, though some slid down your chin. After a few seconds, when he was done basking in the afterglow of his orgasm, he pulled his softening cock from your mouth, and you moved back from between his legs so he could pull his pants up.

Once he was tucked back in and pants buttoned, you figured you were done and went to stand, only to end up flat on your back on the bed, Barbatos straddling you in a surprising role reversal of earlier. You gaped up at him. His face was already back to normalcy, but his lips were shiny with spit and his hair tousled.

He reached up, taking off his bunny ears and putting them on you. He leaned down, licking the cum off your chin before whispering against your ear.

“Now, it’s my turn.”

[rocorambles]

Redemption

Pairing: Ushijima x Reader

Genre: NSFW, Fluff and Smut

Warnings: Slight Size Kink

Summary: When you find out Ushijima is a virgin, you offer to be his first and help him out. But in reality, you might be the one who needs some help.

Requested by Anon

There’s a comfortable quiet atmosphere between the two of you as Ushijima hands you a clean towel while you pant for breath. Technically speaking, there’s no reason why the two of you need to be together today on one of the few days the Schweiden Adlers had off, but you had a soft spot for the pro-athlete, so when he had asked if you wanted to go workout together at the team training gym, you agreed. You couldn’t deny you needed some exercise. Being a team manager didn’t mean you worked out much yourself, so you looked forward to sweating some extra calories. But you really should have known better than to expect just a normal workout with Ushijima sternly overseeing your routine. 

“Ushijima, you do realize I’m not a pro-athlete like you, right? You can’t expect me to keep up with you.” 

“Anyone can do anything if they set their minds on it and work hard enough.” 

You roll your eyes before fondly looking at the tall man beside you. Was he a little dense and a little too blunt? Sure. But you saw the heart of gold and genuineness within him. You’d always wondered why the man was still single. You know he’s sometimes an idiot when it comes to social cues and can’t hold small talk to save his life, but you’d seen far worse and less deserving men end up tricking some poor damsel into their spider webs. Surely you’re not the only one who sees the diamond in the rough that Ushijima really is? 

You don’t realize you’re intensely staring at him until he uncomfortably shifts. “It’s rude to stare.” You blush and quickly turn away from him, opting to chug your water as a distraction. Checking your phone, you gasp when you realize how late it is. “Shit, sorry, I really need to run…” You trail off and Ushijima narrows his eyes at you as a mischievous grin spreads across your face. He’s all too aware that the look doesn’t mean anything good for him. 

“What are you doing tonight?”

There’s a long pause before he grunts out “nothing” and you suddenly seem more intimidating than any opponent he’s faced across the net when your eyes light up and your head moves until it’s only inches away from his own. 

“Cool! So you’re going to a party with me then.” 

He blinks once at you before completely shutting you down with a resounding no. But really, after knowing you and working in such close proximity with you almost every day, he should realize how relentless you are once your mind is made up. 

“When’s the last time you talked to anyone outside of the team, coaches, trainers, and managers? And Tendou doesn’t count since he’s still technically volleyball related.” 

Ok, so maybe you had a point there. 

“We don’t even have practice for the next few days! So you’ll have time to rest up and recover and be totally back to 100% for the next practice.” 

You smile when you see his determined look slip a bit, but your jaw drops at his next words. “I’m not going to a party where you’re just going to ditch me to have sex with someone and then either complain or brag about it to me the next day.” 

You frantically cover his mouth with your hands as you nervously look around to make sure no one around had heard him. “USHIJIMA! I tell you these things because I expect you to keep quiet about them. Not just blabber it out for everyone to hear.” 

He impassively stares at you and you sigh as you remove your hands from his face before determinedly looking at him again. “But actually since you’ve already brought it up, I noticed you never have any spicy stories to tell me! It’s not fair if I��m the one who’s always sharing. When’s the last time you even had sex? It has to be stressful to not let off some steam in a more enjoyable way than volleyball.”  (Although you secretly wonder if Ushijima finds volleyball more pleasurable than sex. You wouldn’t doubt it.) But you squint as he suddenly seems less stoic than usual and...are his cheeks pink? 

“Ushijima, are you embarrassed? I literally tell you about all my sex exploits and you’re embarrassed by me just asking you when the last time you did it was?” Your voice trails off when a suspicion begins to form and your eyes soften as you more gently nudge him. “It’s okay if it’s been a long time. I know how busy you are. It’s not a reflection of you, I promise. But isn’t that more reason to come out with me tonight?” He mumbles something and you lean in, unable to make out the words, but when he repeats them, you freeze. 

A virgin? Ushijima was a virgin? 

You know you should say something instead of just staring at him like an idiot, but shock numbs you and only when he makes a move to get up and leave do you hastily grab his arm. Your mouth flounders as you try to come up with a response, but when you observe how vulnerable and sensitive the topic seems to be for him, your heart goes out to your friend and you shake the lingering surprise from you. 

“Hey, it’s not a big deal. I think it’s kind of sweet actually. Your first time should be special, with someone you really care about. You shouldn’t ever feel ashamed about the fact that you haven’t done it. Hell, I wish I hadn’t been so quick to lose my virginity to some asshole in college.” 

You smile when you see his shoulders straighten and maybe it’s the slight upturned twitch of his lips or maybe it’s the way dark olive eyes glow when they look at you, but you don’t even register the words that come tumbling from your lips until they hang heavy in the air. 

“I could be your first if you wanted.” 

You are a fucking idiot. You scramble to figure out a way to take back those words, already preparing for Ushijima to angrily end any friendship the two of you had, already dreading how you’re going to manage a team when one of the starters hates you. Your mind is reeling so hard from the dark future you’ve painted for yourself in your head that you almost miss what Ushijima says. 

“Okay.” 

Suffice to say, all plans to go to your party fly out the window and you send an apologetic text to your friend. Ushijima and you go to your respective locker rooms to wash up and freshen up before trekking back to your apartment. The walk isn’t uncomfortable per se, but there’s an electric energy radiating between the two of you as you walk silently next to each other. And shit, you’re not the virgin, but why is your heart beating so hard and so fast that you think it might literally explode from your chest? You scowl at yourself as your hands tremble when you unlock and open your front door and when Ushijima’s back is turned to you as he removes his shoes, you mentally slap yourself to get it together. 

With renewed confidence, you firmly grasp his larger wrist and tug him along to your bedroom where you gently push him onto the bed. You take a moment to revel in the power you feel from being in charge of the stronger, larger man underneath you and arousal stirs within you from Ushijima’s submission and willingness to let you have your way with him. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him and your heart warms as you lean down to softly kiss him, smiling against his lips when you feel him tentatively reciprocate. Kissing Ushijima feels like what you imagine completing a satisfying day's work on the farm feels like. You can almost taste the sturdiness, the comforting warmth of a fireplace burning as you return from the fields, and the authentic, humble roots on his lips. There’s no frills, no pretenses. It’s purely Ushijima and you love it. 

You think you could spend all night just kissing him if you wanted to, but you remind yourself of tonight’s mission. You trail your fingers down his chest until you reach the hem of his shirt which you begin to roll up until it reaches the top of his torso and he helps you fully remove it. Sitting upright on his thighs, you can feel yourself salivate as you take in the broad expanse of his upper body on display for you. You’ve seen it before, but in the dim light of your bedroom and splayed across your bedsheets, it’s mesmerizing and you can’t help the way you unconsciously run your hands across every inch of taut muscle and kiss random lines across chiseled lines. You smirk when you feel Ushijima’s groin thrust up when you coyly flick a nipple with your tongue and you stare at him as you begin to suck on the hardening bud, drinking in the sight of the usually reserved man letting out breathy moans as you continue your ministrations.

You want to tease him more, coax more sounds out of him, but the feeling of something hard prodding your stomach keeps you moving on and you pointedly tug on the waistband of his pants until he gets the memo and raises his hips to allow you to remove everything until he’s completely bare before you. And any confidence you had built up shatters. 

If you’re entirely honest, you’d had your fair share of wet dreams imagining what Ushijima was hiding underneath his shorts, but when faced with reality that’s somehow even larger than anything you had even dreamt of, you bite your bottom nervously as your pussy clenches at the thought of trying to fit him inside of you. You’re not sure if it’s lust or nerves that has your stomach twisting as you wrap a hand around his impressive girth. Probably both, you think, as your throat goes dry and your thighs squeeze together when you see how your entire fist barely covers less than half of him. 

Your attention is brought back to the man underneath you when you hear a low groan as you stroke your fist up and down his shaft, giving some extra attention to the leaking slit at the tip. Your other hand reaches underneath your panties and circles your clit. You’ll need to be absolutely drenched before you can even think of trying to take him. But it’s not hard for your cunt to become a sopping mess when you stare in awe at the way Ushijima writhes underneath you, releasing low breathy pants and grunts that you can feel rumbling throughout his body. Already feeling a wet spot seeping through your clothes, you affectionately kiss him once more before briefly getting up to quickly strip down. His eyes hungrily devour the sight of your naked figure as you crawl back above him and adjust your position until you feel his tip nudging at your entrance. 

You close your eyes and moan as you slowly lower yourself onto him, but even as wet as you are, you can barely take half of him inside you as he stretches you far beyond any person or any toy has. Yet, despite the discomfort and borderline pain of the stretch, you feel even more of your arousal dripping down your thigh as you continuously lift and lower yourself, always pushing slightly harder, slightly further than where you’d been before. Your eyes roll back from the feeling of being so full and your nails dig into Ushijima’s shoulders as you desperately continue to work his entire length into you. But you reach your limit and you swear you can feel him inside of your womb even though there’s still about a quarter more of his cock waiting to penetrate you. You take a deep breath and exhale as you try to sink further down, but you let out a broken moan when fingers twist and tug your nipples. 

Ushijima intensely observes you as he kneads your fleshy mounds, playing with your hardened nubs until he sees the tiny furrow on your forehead smooth out. He sits up and bends his neck to soothingly kiss you. A primal instinct in him had been entranced at the sight of your much smaller figure struggling to take just a part of him and he had to use every bit of will power he had to not instantly cum at the feeling of your warm and wet walls squeezing around him. But when he saw the hints of pain you tried to push past written all over your face, a desire to make you feel only pleasure had overtaken him. 

He continues running his fingers across your chest as your tongues twist and turn against each other and you moan into his mouth as you reach a hand down to furiously rub against your clit until you feel another surge of arousal and more fluids run down your inner thigh. You guide his hands to your waist before continuing to rub your clit and you urge him to help you as you clash your lips against his once more. But you tear away from his mouth in a silent scream as he grabs you and forcefully pushes you down and down until your lower bodies press tightly against each other, any space between them removed. Ushijima’s eyes are glued to your face and he takes in the way your eyes widen and your jaw drops open as you claw at his arms, leaving angry red trails as your body tries to adjust to literally being stuffed full. He patiently waits until your nails stop their frantic clawing and he drops his forehead to your shoulder with a groan as you begin to rock your hips up and down. 

He can feel the sloppy mess you’re making as you continue to flood the sheets underneath with your seemingly never ending arousal, but he can’t bring himself to care as your pace speeds up until you’re practically bouncing in his lap as you desperately chase your end. You scream when he tightens his grip on your waist and assists you, slamming you down and easily picking you up before slamming you down again, perfectly matching your rhythm until everything blends together and you don’t even know who’s doing what anymore. All you know is the feeling of Ushijima’s cock sliding and pressing against every inch and every crevice of your pussy, filling you so well you wonder if you’ll ever be satisfied with anything else inside of you after this. 

You can’t even bring yourself to feel ashamed by the wanton wail you let out as you reach a higher peak than you’ve ever reached before and your entire body shakes with pleasure as Ushijima continues to lift and lower your body even without any support from you until he harshly pushes you down one last time and holds you still as he releases thick spurts deep inside of you, so deep that even in the haze of your orgasm you’re grateful you’re on birth control because you’re sure he’s coating your actual womb with how far inside he seems to reach. You slump into his chest and let yourself be maneuvered by him until the two of you are lying side by side, facing each other, your lower bodies still intimately connected. 

The two of you lay there for a while and you instinctively nuzzle your face into his chest as his arms tenderly wrap around you, pulling you even closer to him and you both take quiet comfort in the sounds of your heavy breaths filling the air. But when your heart beats slow and your breathing evens out, you cringe in embarrassment. 

“Ushijima, I’m so sorry. This was your first time. I should have been the one taking care of you, but you ended up needing to step in and take charge.” There’s a stretch of silence before you feel one of his arms move and a hand lightly nudges your head up to look at him. Your heart flutters when you see the most gentle smile you’ve ever seen on his face.  

“Wakatoshi. Call me Wakatoshi.”

You see a flash of uncertainty in his usually confident eyes as he hesitantly inches his face closer to yours, but you grin as you meet him halfway and your lips slot against each other like two puzzle pieces perfectly connecting. You close your eyes and relish the peaceful moment for a bit before using the element of surprise and pushing against him until he’s on his back underneath you once more. You playfully clench your pussy walls and smirk at the way he throws his head back and hisses at the feeling. You can feel him begin to harden once more inside of you and when he looks back at you, you shoot a wink his way. 

“Let me redeem myself, Wakatoshi.”  

[quixotic-writer]

Lustful Hunger

Request: for my darling @birdgirl1772 <3

Summary: You have never been satisfied with anything. Socially, romantically, physically, you name it. Q has always tried to prove himself, but you always pushed him away. At a wrap party however, you finally give him the chance to see if he can satisfy your cravings.

warning: smut ahead!

A/N: Haha! Suki is back in action! Thanks for being so patient guys, I have so many pieces, one shots, and chapters that will be released soon now that school has calmed down a bit ;)

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Another season wrapped up just like that and the after party was in full swing. Producers, camera men, comedy producers all had a drink of sorts in their hand as they all smiled and clamored over each other talking about the success of filming. Yet again, I was off alone on the side with a can of soda in hand unsatisfied once more with everything. Building such high standards for myself has proven to be far beyond damaging, conversations seem fruitless with others, friendships come and go like seasons, romantic relationships always seemed to fizzle like a match. I'm just…

“All by your lonesome again I see.” I turn and see Q taking a seat next to me with a can of beer in his hand and a smirk on his face. He readjusts the familiar hat atop his head and brushes stray hairs off to the side, “You’re a strange bird you know darling. You always seem so sociable one moment, and so distant the next.” I took a sip from my can and felt a cool draft graze my skin as he said the word ‘darling’ which caused the hairs on my arm to stand on end.

“Not feeling social I guess.”

“Not social? Or not satisfied?” My movements came to a halt and I felt my spine tense. He knew he had me trapped in the spider's web, open and exposed like a patient on a surgical table, I could see it in the way he smiled and the way his eyebrow flicked upwards. He tapped the side of his now empty can with the ring band on his middle finger, the sound was so quiet yet it seemed to overwhelm and intimidate me.

“And what makes you question something like that Quinn?” He lassod my interest, I turned my body to face him. It was my turn to pick at his brain just as he did with mine.

“They say the eyes are the window to the soul. You, my dear, rarely ever have a spark in your eyes. When you talk to others, I can see the gears turning in your head questioning whether the conversation is worth taking any further. You have judging, hungry eyes. Always searching for something better, perfection, but never being able to quite find what you’re looking for. You don’t have a consistent friend group at all, or friends for that matter it seems. And tell me if i’m overstepping, but lovers seem to come and go like the wind and I know it’s not them breaking it off.” He leans in a little closer and a sensation sends a fiery desire through my chest and a radiating pulse in my parietal lobe.

“What makes you so knowledgeable on my psychology? Sounds like someone’s a little too familiar with the scenario than he could be letting on.” I lean in just as he had, and before me were his deep brown eyes. I began recollecting all that I could on the man before me and began to see a pattern in the memories that I played in my head. “Tell me Quinn, could you be like me?” All he did was chuckle.

“Why do you think I love talking to you so much?” My smile fades and I grow slightly flustered. Everyone always made an effort to talk to me, but I guess out of all the guys and the crew, Q was the one I seemed to talk to the most. He always talked to me whenever he could. Whenever I made a judgement in my head and pushed people away, they usually would give up after two or maybe even three tries. Not Q, though. He seemed relentless and up for the challenge. He didn’t treat me like a prize to be won, he just kept talking to me in the most genuine matter as though his one true goal truly was just to get to know me. In return, I would do the same with him, and to my surprise got the same act thrown right back. It was like a taste of my own medicine and I never realized it, but I found myself subconsciously chasing Q just as he was chasing me. “Tell me, what does it take to satisfy a girl like you then?” He said it in a low tone, it seemed like a command to tell him rather than a question. I swallow hard, I haven’t had any alcohol tonight but he has me feeling as though i’ve had more than enough to drink.

“What’s it to you, Quinn?”

“A question isn’t an answer darling.” The way he dominated the conversation made my thoughts wander to what else he had in store for me tonight. The tension was thick between us, you could cut it with a knife. I bit my lip not knowing whether I should give him the fulfillment of all of my flesh driven desires. What did I have to lose?

“As far as friends go, I like honesty and depth. It’s not easy finding that when all people do is use you to get to the people you work with. So I keep my distance. My family and you guys are my friends, don’t need much beyond that.” I smile at him and look at all the crew members paying no mind to myself and Q. It felt as though this conversation should be kept away from nearby ears, so I planned to keep it that way. “Relationship wise, many boys have come and gone in my life as you can see. But that was the problem, they were boys, not men. Sure, they could grace me with a promising conversation, treat me with respect as anyone should, give me physical intimacy. I could give them the same because in a relationship it’s like teamwork, you build each other up in ways you can. But when I wanted more, I noticed more and more that they wouldn’t be able to satiate my needs. They grew selfish with their love, they only cared about their own satisfaction and happiness, so I would leave.” I played around with my empty soda can on the counter, tracing the rim of it with my fingertip and tapping on it with my nails as I spoke.

“Absolute man eater, left a string of broken hearts behind you.”

“You got quite the track record yourself. Don’t act so innocent.” A guilty and sinister smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Q was always seen with some new girl every so often. As soon as they popped into his life, they seemed to disappear just as fast like it never even happened.

“Guess I've had my fair share of rounds. Have an insatiable hunger myself that some just couldn’t quite appease. Broke a few hearts along the way and had mine broken a few times, but I pick myself up and keep moving forward.” He raises a can as a means to toast his own statement as he brings it to his mouth for a sip, tilting his head back to get each drop in. There was something in that action that made me salivate slightly, the way I caught a glimpse of his adams apple bouncing as he drank, the tendons in his neck so clearly visible. My eyes diverted over to his arm, his ‘quixotic’ tattoo just barely visible and half covered by the sleeve of his t-shirt, his bicep slightly flexed just enough to allow filthy visuals to flow in my head. He slams the can down onto the counter top and lets out a refreshed exhale past his lips.

“How hungry are you, Quinn?” Our chairs seemed like magnets, we kept getting closer to each other. I felt the passion ignite inside, a desire to challenge the willingness of the man that was sitting before me. Our faces were inches, no, centimeters away from each other as we began leaning in close to each other. I could smell the beer on his lips. I took a plunge into the pool of lava that coaxed me into the deep end. Our lips were connected, and he tasted like the stinging electricity of promise with the lingering aroma of alcohol. With an arrogant smile on his face and a look of passion in his eyes, I knew this was only the beginning. “Wanna ditch this party?”

“Only if you give me the pleasure of finally showing you what satisfaction feels like.” I didn’t need to say much else, we made our stealthy exit and decided on his place as our final destination. I couldn’t tell if he always drove as though he was in a terribly fired rush, or he just couldn’t wait any longer and I managed to flip a switch inside of him. I already felt myself grow wetter as the seconds passed, the unpredictability of Q left my imagination working over time to create an endless web of scenarios that could play out. He guided me through the front door and once he had the door closed behind him, he had me pinned against the wall and our mouths collided. Our lips moved in sync and I felt his tongue slowly protrude into my mouth, I willingly allowed its entrance and allowed my tongue to snake around his. My hand wandered to the zipper of his jeans, I rubbed an open palm against him and felt the bulge in his pants. Instinctively, his hips jerked into my hand and a moan exudes from him.

When he pulled away, I attached my lips to a new area of flesh. His neck. I sucked hickeys onto the skin as he slowly guided me to his bedroom, stumbling against walls humming at each new sensation that felt like an intense wave of pleasure. When we finally made it to the bed, I fell onto my back and sank into the soft cushion of the mattress, there he was with lust glazing his eyes and swollen lips in a devilish smile. I help him take his shirt off and I gently rub my hands against his now bare chest. His hand slips carefully up my shirt, cold fingertips dragging up the warm skin of my stomach as he smothers into the crook of my neck, my back arches up aching to feel more of him against me. All our clothes were discarded off to the side without a second thought until we were left in nothing but our underwear, his boxers were tented, and my panties were soaking wet.

“Brian. Please, touch me more.” I sat up against the pillows and he was between my thighs, leaving dark hickeys all over my abdomen. He pulled away and smiled with a darkness in his eyes.

“I want you to pleasure yourself for me.” My eyes open up and I look down to him confused. “I want to see what makes you feel good.” He repositions himself on the bed to lay right next to me. For his odd request, I was determined to put on a show just for him.

I look down at my bare body and trace my hands carefully along my thighs and let out a shaky sigh at the feeling. My hand dips into my panties and I drag my middle finger into my soaking wet folds and hum at the slow, trained movement. I bring my middle and ring fingers to my lips and generously coat them, tasting my own juices on them as I moan and bring them back down to my entrance and slowly push them in. My eyes close and I start off slowly, carefully sliding my fingers in and out of myself.

“Tell me what you’re thinking of darling. What in your filthy mind are you imagining that’s making you so wet?” His voice is low and his breath was hot against my ear. When he spoke, there was a baritone rumble that scratched against his throat in the most breathtaking way.

“Thinking of what you’d do to me if it wasn’t my fingers making me feel so good.” I gasp and take my lower lip between my teeth. I hear shakily breath next to me and he kisses along the side of my neck and I loll my head to the side to grant him more access.

“Are you thinking about what it’d feel like if it were my thick fingers pumping in and out of your soaking wet pussy. I can imagine already how you would tighten around them when I curl them just the right way and hit the spot that would force whimpers out of you.” As he spoke, I began to imagine it all. The way I know they would slip right into me because of how wet I was, I could feel how filling they would be and stretch me in ways my own dainty hands couldn’t. “You’re so fucking beautful like this, I can’t wait to see more.” My hands wander all over my skin that was igniting, I felt myself burning from the inside out as his words drew me in closer to my climax. “I can’t wait to just get a taste of you and have my tongue discovering each and every inch of you, fucking you with it until you release all over my face and I have nothing left to do but clean it up as you buck your hips as your climax fades away. I bet you taste as good as you look.” My fingers are working faster and my free hand finds its way down to my clit and I begin rubbing circles. My feet are planted onto the sheets of the bed as I feel my hips slowly begin to lift off the bed in desperation for more. “Then I can’t wait to just shove my throbbing cock into your tight little cunt, finally show you what a good fucking feels like, give to you pleasure no other man could ever get you to experience. Pure euphoria, and it will all be because of me.” I’m gasping and whimpering as I finally fall down into the pool of euphoria, a strangled moan frees itself from my throat as my hips buck into my hand.

“Holy shit…” I gasp as I finally come down from my high and open my eyes to see him sitting next to me with a satisfied look on his face. He grabs my face in his hands and kisses me rough and deep, I almost thought he was going to suck the soul out of me. He begins to trail down and down until he’s back between my legs and tugging at my panties. “Bri, what about you?” I say as I look at the painfully visible hard on in his underwear. He presses a finger to my lips and hushes me.

“No darling, tonight is all about you. Your pleasure is my pleasure.” He throws my underwear with all the other loose miscellaneous clothing articles and looks almost hypnotized by my bare core displayed before him. “Gorgeous,” was the last thing I heard from him before he planted a few kisses onto my clit, then he took his tongue and took a few long strokes from the bottom to the top very, very slowly.

“Oh fuck. More Brian. Please I want more!” I felt him smile against me as his tongue became more pointed, tracing all about my folds then sucking hard on my clit making me pulsate hard. His arms were wrapped around my thighs and pulling me in closer and tighter to his face. “God your mouth feels so fucking good on me Bri, you’re gonna make me cum again.” My eyes were rolled back into my head as I felt the heat building in my navel as Q focused in on my clit, lapping, sucking, and swirling his tongue all around it until I released all over his face. He finally pulled away, licking his lips, the scruff on his face was damp with my liquid ecstasy and it turned me on more.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum darling, the way your jaw hangs open, your pretty little whines, and watching your eyes roll back in your head is enough to make me almost blow in my boxers baby.” He crawls up to me and captures my lips, giving me just a subtle taste of myself. I finally unclasp my bra and it’s tossed aside just like everything else, it felt like a wave of relief. “Now, let’s get something inside of you sweetheart.” His fingers were now rubbing against my entrance and slowly he slid a thick finger into me.

“Oh shit.” I huff at the sensation. His fingers were without a doubt thicker than mine, and god did they feel so good. He watched each of my reactions carefulle, observing as my chest rose and fell with each movement of his hand. His head craned down and attached his lips to one of my nipples, swirling his tongue around it and taking my nipple between his teeth and gently biting it. “Oh my god Brian, you make me feel so fucking good, faster please, I need more.” My hips buck into his hand, he smiles and happily obliges and watches as his now slick fingers slip in and out of me at a faster rate.

“Baby, I can’t wait to fuck you until your legs are shaking and you can’t walk, can’t wait to feel your juices dripping down your thighs all because of me, can’t wait until I fuck you until you can’t speak anymore.” His lust filled words served only to push me further to another climax, being as sensitive as I was, it wasn’t all that hard. His fingers worked magically within me, hitting each spot that made my arch back and my lungs expel heated breaths of excitement. Words were slowly becoming hard to form as I was tipped over the edge without so much as a warning, only whines and moans were the only noise I could get out of me. As he helped me ride through another high, he roughly kisses me and grinds himself against my thigh, I smile against his lips and rub my hand against the tent in his boxers and feel a wet spot where the tip of his cock was. He groans and I see a wave of slight embarrassment wash over him as he sees that I know he came in his boxers.

“That’s so fucking hot Bri.” He lights up and smiles, I pull my lips close to his ear, “Now, I want to give you some relief. I want you to keep that promise and fuck me til’ i’m shaking.” I climb on top of him and grind my hips against his. His hands grab at my hips and his head falls back at the sensation.

“Your wish is my command, lovely.” He rustles through his night stand and grabs out a condom as I pull his boxers off his body and his erection springs to life outside of the confines of his underwear. He slips it on and lines himself up. I rub my entrance against the head of his cock and take my lip between my teeth in anticipation. “Sink down baby.” And I do. I slowly lower myself and feel as he stretches me wider and wider the deeper down I go. I feel tears forming in my eyes because this is all slowly becoming too much for me to handle, but I love it so much. “I can feel you dripping on my thighs already, you’re so wet, so tight, so perfect.” His hands smooth over the sides of my body and stop at my hips and give them a little squeeze. With a gasp, I begin to rise and fall atop of Q, feeling as he slips in and out of me in the most delicious way. My hands reach back to his thighs so I keep my balance as my hips work faster daring to reach another high.

“Q… Bri… Feels. So good… Fuck.” I gasp out as my eyes screw shut taking in the sensation of the sweat beading on my forehead and upper lip, the burning sensation in my thighs from cumming over and over, Q’s hands that keep wandering all over my naked body sending shockwaves through my nerves, and the feeling of his now slick cock inside of me. “I’m… So sensitive… Gonna…” My hips drop down as my legs begin to tremble as I cum once again, a strained whine being the only noise I feel capable of making. I feel my body begin to slow down and Q flips us over, laying me back on the bed and him hovering above me.

“One more time baby, just one more time. For me please.” He starts thrusting harshly into me, exuding a string of incoherent moans and whines as he sought to chase his own high. His hair was pressed against his forehead and face contorted in pleasure. Picturesque and beautiful. I had my hands placed on his shoulders and I felt as his muscles tensed with each groan. “Please baby girl i’m so close, look at what you do to me. I’m such a mess for you. God you feel so good. Just for me. All because of me. I’m gonna–” His rambles came to an end with a final thrust into me, it was enough to send me over the edge one last time and we both collapsed onto the bed, the cushioning of it cradling our now sore bodies. Heat radiated off of our skin, the steam of our body creating a sheen of sweat that coated both of us. My body felt spent beyond belief and it was a sensation I had never before experienced. Satisfaction. I look down and see him lying on top of me, head resting on my sternum, panting and smirking, neck and chest littered with an array of beautiful hickeys left by yours truly. I caught a glimpse of my own body and saw a similar display and couldn’t help but laugh.

“I think I can confidently say I have never experienced anything like that before.” I rake my fingers through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead and petting him like a sweet puppy. His fingers danced across my skin, giving me goosebumps.

“Would you say that your lustful thirst has been quenched my darling?” He asked in a hoarse voice. I hum in response with a smirk. “Good. It’s what you deserve… You know, I have never blown a load in my pants like that. Not since high school at least.” His eyes met mine and I felt my heart skip a beat in my chest.

“Guess tonight was just a night of firsts for us, huh?” We both laugh together and he leans up and captures my lips in a sweet kiss, but I push things a little further as I slip my tongue into his mouth. He quickly pulls away, cocks his eyebrow, and his lips curve into a smile.

“Are you trying to hint at something?”

“And what if I am? Can’t keep up Quinn?”

“At least take me to dinner first!” He says in an exaggerated tone and a hand against his chest.

“That can be arranged. I’d love that actually. For now, round two. It’s my turn to torment you though.” I say pumping his cock back to life with a devilish smirk.

“You’re on.”

[kbstories]

impression//expression

"It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone."

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Post-Kamino Arc, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Kiri Has A Dog Because I Said So

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Content warning for anxiety attacks and discussions thereof. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Kirishima comes to sunlight shining on his face and an armful of Bakugou.

It’s not a sudden jolt of consciousness that alerts him of this. His brain comes online one synapse at a time with how all-around cozy he is, bundled up in comfortably warm covers with Bakugou’s head nestled in the crook of his neck, his arm wrapped loosely around Kirishima’s waist. In actuality, Kirishima slept so well it’s legitimately hard to get himself to wake up beyond lazily squinting an eye against that bright glare.

Which is why his first move is to pull the blanket up higher and snuggle closer to his Bakugou-shaped pillow. Bakugou, for his part, breathes something between a mumble and a sigh and slumbers on.

Out like a light. He’s onto something there, Kirishima muses. For a while, he lets himself drift to the calm two-step beat of Bakugou’s heart keeping time against his chest, the gentle tickle of Bakugou’s hair under his chin. Blissful oblivion nips at the edges of his mind; his body can’t quite get there, though, that pesky bit of awareness clinging to existence despite his best efforts.

Urgh, fine.

Kirishima blinks with a little more purpose behind it. His vision is blurred from overall drowsiness and the murky half-dark the blanket provides. Bakugou is easy to make out regardless, face slack and close enough Kirishima can see the minute shift of blonde lashes as he snoozes. It’s the residue redness around his eyes that nudges Kirishima’s brain to wonder and think and remember–

Blue fire. Unread texts. The hospital, Kamino Ward, All Might. Bakugou.

All at once, the sight of Bakugou passed out in his arms is anything but a peaceful one. It’s intimate in a way Kirishima suddenly feels uncomfortable with, not because he doesn’t like it – in his educated opinion, any day starting with cuddling is good by default – but because Bakugou is the least touch-y person he knows and this is crossing so many lines. All the lines.

Lines drawn by unspoken rules and implicit understandings Kirishima learned by sheer trial and error. All those other times Bakugou let his guard down around him seem like peanuts compared to this.

But… Bakugou is resting. Catching up on untold amounts of missed sleep, looking far more relaxed than Kirishima could’ve hoped for. Perhaps it would’ve been better to ensure he makes it to his own bed instead of sharing the pull-out couch; perhaps Kirishima shouldn’t have pushed when things are so fresh. Kirishima’s hands ache to move from between Bakugou’s shoulders yet letting him go feels wrong, too.

It was far too easy, last time. To sit there and bicker in class while Bakugou faded from view, mere miles away.

The dread roiling within him is familiar, as are the maybes and what-ifs that accompany it. It returns like an old friend, the thought of losing him to people who mistake his violence for villainy, who disregard the good shining at Bakugou’s very core in favor of the hurt his hands can cause. The brightest star in the sky, burning, desperate to be seen, to be acknowledged.

It makes Kirishima restless, this feeling – like the air is growing thin and the ground is about to collapse beneath their feet, and it’s up to Kirishima to get them out of there. His blood thrums with the need to fight tooth and nail to keep whatever is causing it away, to shield Bakugou until the shaking stops and the debris settles.

Kirishima has failed Bakugou once already. Not again, never again–

“Think any harder an’ your brain’s gonna melt.”

Kirishima’s heart nearly stops, then jumps into overdrive. A hesitant glance proves that, yup, that’s Bakugou stirring, right there. Bleary-eyed and still far too soft around the edges but awake. Kirishima isn’t ready for this.

He’s also dead. Super dead. Buried-so-deep-nobody-will-ever-find-his-body dead.

He swallows, any sort of greeting escaping his mind except a quiet, “Oh.”

Bakugou yawns and rubs at his eye, a gesture made clumsy with sleepiness. “Mm?” He props himself up, a hand laid flat on Kirishima’s chest. “Calm down, will ya? Your heart’s goin’ like crazy.”

There are no words to describe how impossible that is right now. “Um”, Kirishima says intelligently, and: “Sorry.” A little sheepish, since he can’t exactly help what his heart does (or his brain, for that matter).

He is on the verge of panicking, Kirishima notes dimly. That realization alone does little to chase away the half-formulated doubts threatening to choke him, that inkling of fear that’s on the brink of spiraling out of control. A moment later, he has to consciously unclench his hardened hands from the back of Bakugou’s shirt, which–

Ah. That’s what woke him up.

“Shit. S-sorry, I–”

There’s a frown on Bakugou’s face as he sits up. “Nothing’s goin’ on”, he tells him, calm where Kirishima can’t be. “’s just my room.” Just as deliberate, the covers are pushed aside to allow cool air to flow into their private niche of the world. Everything’s so bright, so–

“Kiri? Hey. Give me your hands.”

It takes considerable effort to focus on Bakugou’s voice. “Whuh?”

“Your hands. Like this.”

Bakugou holds out his own, palm-up. Kirishima does the same, staring blankly at his trembling, rock-hewn fingers. When Bakugou holds his palm, it’s with a touch Kirishima can barely feel. “Focus on this”, a low murmur followed by pressure to the meat of Kirishima’s thumb, faint despite the bones in Bakugou’s wrist showing from the effort. Bakugou slides it upwards and to the webbing connecting to his index, marginally more giving.

“You’re okay. Just breathe. Focus, right here.”

The touch shifts again, down to his wrist. Kirishima lets him do whatever, watching with a detached sort of fascination as his quirk relents. Bakugou’s thumb brushes over the spot where Kirishima’s veins are becoming visible again, the skin there thin and delicate. He digs in, an inch or two from his hand.

It’s a little rougher than before. Not unpleasant, just unexpected, and Kirishima’s fingers twitch. Bakugou’s lips press together. He does it again, notably gentler. “You with me?”

Kirishima hums. The question registers a moment later and he nods for good measure. “Yeah, I– It helps. This.”

“Mh.” Bakugou gestures for his other arm; he starts from his wrist and goes up to his hand this time, eyes on what he’s doing. “Pressure points are useful shit. You got one here”, a pinch to that spot between thumb and index, “and here”, a tap to his wrist. “Works best if it’s someone else doing it but you can, too.”

That sounds vaguely familiar. Perhaps something that came up the last time he googled it? Panic attacks used to be much more of an thing for Kirishima – before he hair-dyed and bench-pressed Red Riot into something more real, more than a distant daydream. More than a scared kid with shitty self-esteem.

(Life’s been manageable, since. Chaotic and distressing in a host of other ways as it swings back and forth between joy and disaster like fate’s cruelest pendulum and actually, it might be a bit of a miracle it took this long for his anxiety to make a comeback.)

Memorizing any new info is beyond Kirishima right now; he strong-arms his braincells to hold onto the term ‘pressure point’, at least. And if Bakugou is sharing, Kirishima figures it’s only fair to share back.

“The one I know is like, deep breathing? And, um. Talking through it. Counting things you can sense. What you see, hear, smell, and so on. It’s just…”

“Hard to do that by yourself, yeah.”

By this point, Bakugou is just brushing his thumb along the lines on Kirishima’s palm and that feels really nice, too. The image of his hands clawing up worn fabric is hard to shake off, though, making Kirishima’s stomach churn with guilt.

“Sorry, man. For waking you up, I mean. And freaking out on you. I didn’t hurt you, right? You’d tell me if I hurt you.”

It’s meant to come out with confidence, because Kirishima trusts Bakugou. It’s trusting himself that's the problem, sometimes.

A groan, long-suffering. “How many times…” Bakugou gives him a look caught between annoyance and fondness. “Kiri. First off, after yesterday, I have no fucking room to complain when it comes to– That. It happens, it sucks, it’s fine. It’s not your fault or whatever. Secondly–”

Kirishima almost chuckles at how pointed that one word is. He shelves the comment on his tongue for after the Bakugou Lecture he’s being treated to.

“I fell asleep on you. Which, my bad but also fuck you, I was tired and some fucking sap wanted to talk feelings at screw-this-AM. There’re no… scratches or anything, and you make an okay pillow for being a literal rock. So, we’re even.”

Kirishima does laugh at that. “I’m not a rock! Get your facts straight, bro.”

“And thirdly”, Bakugou continues with a smirk, “I just turned your hands into bombs, you dumb fucking rock. Either you let me spark it off you or I’m kicking you out to wash it off before that shit goes boom.”

“Spark off?” Head tilting, Kirishima looks at his hands. He doesn’t see anything but if Bakugou says there’s nitro, there’s definitely nitro. “Wait, is that what you do when you…?”

The gesture Bakugou does to let rapid-fire explosions flicker in his palms is easily copied, Kirishima has seen him do it countless times. The other rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. I got tired of getting it all over the place and wearing gloves twenty-four-seven is uncomfortable as fuck, I tried. Plus, burning shit is fun.”

Huh. Kirishima holds out his hands once more, a swift grin on his lips. “Sounds cool. One sparking off, please!”

Bakugou slaps them away immediately. “Use your quirk, dipshit. Or d’you actually wanna get ‘em blown to pieces?”

“Oh. Right.”

Everything under Kirishima’s elbow hardens in an instant. This time, Bakugou huffs under his breath and takes them between his palms. “Here goes.”

A flash, the familiar crackle of firecracker explosions – Kirishima braced himself for it to hurt a little despite Bakugou’s insane control over his quirk, and he does feel it. It tickles, mostly, the sensation of tiny bursts of heat rolling from his fingertips to his wrist a strangely soothing one.

Bakugou looks over his hands when he’s done, the tightness between his brows easing. Then he glances up to Kirishima’s face and sees the smile that’s broad enough to make his cheeks ache. The frown comes back tenfold.

“No.”

“Dude, yes. Do that again.”

“Nope. Fuck you, Shitty Hair, no.”

“You said it’s fun two seconds ago! Checkmate, I win.”

“Kirishima.”

Kirishima snickers until Bakugou’s palm presses against his cheek. It’s basically second nature to harden in time for the explosion to go by harmlessly and oh, this is so going to become a thing.

“It’s a thing now”, he informs Bakugou. “Can it be like our handshake? We totally need a handshake. What kind of besties are we withou–” A gasp. “Oh, oh, we can do the thing after training, too! I won’t even need to wash my hands. It’s fun and useful.”

Bakugou’s face twists. “What the hell? That’s fucking disgusting.” In one fluid movement, he’s out of their blanket nest and stomping off the couch. It would be intimidating… if not for his wrinkled shirt and sleep-mussed hair making it kind of adorable, instead.

“I’m done talking to you.”

“Aww, bro!”

Kirishima crawls half-way over the armrest only to catch a throw pillow – hah! – to the face. Another thud follows, turning out to be Kirishima’s phone tossed from across the room.

“Even mooched off my charger, ugh. You got a million missed messages. Take care of ‘em before your moms call the cops, bro.”

Bakugou's tone is practically drenched in sarcasm but Kirishima doesn’t care, he beams. Bakugou called him his bro and there’re simply no take-backs allowed on a declaration like that.

*

💪🏻 Kirishima Power 💪🏻

Mama K: Honey, are you awake yet? (received 10:10)

Mama K: Your mom and I are ready to come pick you up whenever. (received 11:20)

Mom: also let us know when we can start hunting your teachers for sport (received 11:22)

Mama K: No murder until our son is back, dear. (received 11:22)

Mom: mhmm sure (received 11:23)

aaaa morning!! (sent 11:38)

oh shit it’s almost noon hhhh (sent 11:38)

Mom: language kiddo (received 11:38)

oh crap** sry (sent 11:38)

Mama K: Welcome back! ❤️ (received 11:39)

hey mama ❤️ (sent 11:39)

ok so picking up is good!! we’re eating breakfast rn (sent 11:42)

well more like lunch 🙈 (sent 11:42)

Mama K: Okay! Now or later? (received 11:43)

ah, mitsuki is saying you two should swing by for tea so maybe in an hour? (sent 11:47)

and that the teachers are actually coming here?? later?? idk why tho (sent 11:48)

aside from, y’know (sent 11:48)

Mama K: Yeah 🙁 (received 11:50)

Mom: how’s katsuki holding up? (received 11:50)

umm ok. kinda. he looks tired as heck tbh and i’m not sure how happy he is about the teacher thing (sent 11:55)

it’s all a bit oof (sent 11:56)

Mom: hmm. anything we can do to help? (received 12:01)

def give him his space (sent 12:03)

and maybe don’t kill aizawa @Mom looking at u haha (sent 12:03)

Mom: bummer (received 12:06)

actually… one more thing? 👀 (sent 12:10)

Mama K: You want us to bring the big guns, huh? (received 12:12)

*

After the hellos and introductions and obligatory fussing over Kirishima – Mama gives him her usual forehead kiss, expertly avoiding his freshly-spiked hair, while Mom wraps him in her patented rib-pulverizing hug – the parents go inside, leaving Bakugou and Kirishima in the yard with…

“Riot.”

Kirishima grins and nods. He heaves the hundred pounds of tail-wagging excitement into a more comfortable position against his chest, big paws coming to rest on his shoulders. “Yeah! Isn’t he the cutest?”

“Your dog is called Riot.”

“Yup!”

Bakugou openly stares at Riot’s drooling smile. After a painfully long pause, he goes: “Okay.”

If all it took to make Bakugou speechless was an Akita with an unexpected (?) name, Kirishima would’ve introduced him to Riot ages ago. As it is, it’s taking all his willpower not to crack up at Bakugou’s expression. It’s like watching one of those ancient Windows computers suffer a system crash so severe even the task manager stops functioning.

Arms full of dog, Kirishima nudges him with his elbow. Reboot initialized. “But?”

Bakugou shakes himself a little. He gestures to Riot, or perhaps to Kirishima, or both? It’s hard to tell. “But… just, like… Why?”

Priceless. Kirishima silently vows to cherish this rarest of blessings in his memories for eternity. It won’t do to rescue Bakugou only to give him an aneurism the very next day. Setting Riot down, Kirishima pats orange-white hair off his borrowed clothes. The Akita immediately trots over to Bakugou to say hi. 

“I got Riot when I was really small, like six-ish? Seven? Something like that.”

Bakugou crouches and holds out his hand for a curious black nose to sniff. Kirishima sits down next to them, watching Riot take a deep whiff and promptly sneeze. Bakugou mutters something about explosives and dumb dog, be careful. Despite the forced casualness on Bakugou’s part, it’s clear he’s not used to being around dogs.

Still, he’s trying. Kirishima’s grin tempers to a soft, close-lipped smile at the sight.

“Back then, I only had a vague idea of who I’d wanna be. As a hero, y’know?” He reaches over to scratch Riot’s favorite spot at the base of his curled tail. It starts wagging immediately. “I was tossing around a few names and somehow Riot stuck. So, I tried it out on him and by the time I realized ‘Yup, that’s the one!’, he didn’t wanna listen to anything else.”

Riot pants at him, mouth wide. Kirishima boops his wet nose. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ about you. Stubborn dog.”

“You’re telling me your hero name got stolen”, Bakugou summarizes drily. “By a dog. When you were six.”

Figures that’s what Bakugou would get out of this. Kirishima snorts and shrugs.

“I guess? Riot – the hero, not the dog – existed way before the whole ‘Red’ stuff came along, ‘cause like… Crimson was out there, I knew he existed, but his philosophy was a bit beyond me. He wasn’t my hero yet, you feel me?”

Bakugou hums. “You weren’t a hero nerd yet. Just a space nerd.”

That startles a laugh out of Kirishima. He knocks his shoulder against Bakugou’s. “Exactly! See, you get me.”

“Shut up, nerd”, comes the predictable reply with a rougher knock back.

Eventually, Bakugou joins him in the grass, his knees propped up and elbows resting on them. Riot makes himself comfortable as well, sprawling on his side with his head resting on Bakugou’s thigh. The full might of pleading canine eyes look upwards. Bakugou squints. “The fuck.”

“He wants scritches”, Kirishima translates readily.

A beat, then Bakugou carefully rubs the knuckles of his index and middle finger in-between the white spots on Riot’s face. Riot huffs a content sigh and melts into the gentle touch.

“Hm. He’s soft.”

“Right? As a puppy, he was the softest and tiniest thing you can imagine. Wait, I might have pics on my phone. Gimme a sec.”

A bit of searching, and Kirishima taps on an old photo of him as a kid, pointy teeth flashed in an impossibly big smile as he hugs a chubby ball of brown fluff close to his face. Mama had dug it up from some dusty family album in a bout of nostalgia after Kirishima broke the news he’d been accepted to U.A.

“Behold: Baby Riot.”

Kirishima shows it to Bakugou. Only after Bakugou’s brows rise does he remember he’s probably never seen him with his natural hair color. Whoops.

Studying the photo for a moment, Bakugou continues to pet the adult version of Riot absent-mindedly. “He looks like a potato.”

“Wha–” Kirishima checks the photo to make sure it’s the same one. “Bakugou. It’s a puppy. It’s like, scientifically proven puppies are the one and only road to world peace. Hello? Nobody hates on a puppy, especially this one.”

Whatever face he’s making has Bakugou smirking, eyes sharp under a brow raised in challenge. “It’s got a weird shape and is brown. Potato.”

Kirishima whines. “Why are you like this? Riot, don’t listen to him, man. You’re the best.”

Riot has fallen asleep, oblivious to the outrageous claims being made in his presence. It’s better that way – the good, old boy deserves better than this slander.

Bakugou is looking down to the snoring dog, too, and something about it must soften even a prickly hedgehog heart like his because he sighs and grumbles: “He’s kinda cool. Maybe.”

Gotcha.

Kirishima pumps his fist in sweet, sweet victory. Nobody, not even the eternally grumpy, can resist the Kirishimas’ secret weapon.

*

On the way back home, Kirishima messes around with his camera until he’s managed a half-decent selfie of himself and Riot sharing the backseat of his parents’ car. A brief moment is spent hovering over his chat with Bakugou.

It’s the first time he’s opened it since– Since.

Baku 💣💥

[riot(s).jpg] (sent 16:58)

thanks for hosting me man 🐶 (sent 16:58)

dorm life, here we come!! (sent 16:59)

The tension in Kirishima’s chest is knocked loose as the ticks turn blue without delay, closing the gap to the ones from the lodge like it never existed. It unwinds entirely when, a handful of minutes later, Bakugou replies.

Baku 💣💥

idiot (received 17:05)

see you soon (received 17:05)

>>Chapter 6

[96harmony96]

Chapter 2

Just before I exited the elevator into the vestibule of Waters Field & Leaman, the advertising firm I worked for on the twentieth floor, Lauren whispered in my ear, “Think about me all day.”

I squeezed her hand surreptitiously in the crowded car. “Always do.”

She continued the ride up to the top floor, which housed the headquarters of Jauregui Industries. The Crossfire was her, one of many properties she owned throughout the city, including the apartment complex I lived in.

I tried not to pay attention to that. My mom was a career trophy wife. She’d given up my father’s love for an affluent lifestyle, which I couldn’t relate to at all. I’d prefer love over wealth any day, but I suppose that was easy for me to say because I had money��a sizable investment portfolio—of my own. Not that I ever touched it. I wouldn’t. I’d paid too high a price and couldn’t imagine anything worth the cost.

Megumi, the receptionist, buzzed me through the glass security door and greeted me with a big smile. She was a pretty woman, young like me, with a stylish bob of glossy black hair framing stunning Asian features.

“Hey,” I said, stopping by her desk. “Got any plans for lunch?”

“I do now.”

“Awesome.” My grin was wide and genuine. As much as I loved Cary and enjoyed spending time with him, I needed girlfriends, too. Cary had already started building a network of acquaintances and friends in our adopted city, but I’d been sucked into the Lauren vortex almost from the outset. As much as I’d prefer to spend every moment with her, I knew it wasn’t healthy. Female friends would give it to me straight when I needed it, and I was going to have to cultivate those friendships if I wanted them.

Setting off, I headed down the long hallway to my cubicle. When I reached my desk, I put my bag and purse in the bottom drawer, keeping my smartphone out so I could silence it. I found a text from Cary: I’m sorry, baby girl.

“Cary Taylor,” I sighed. “I love you . . . even when you’re pissing me off.”

And he’d pissed me off royally. No woman wanted to come home to a sexual clusterfuck in progress on her living room floor. Especially not while in the middle of a fight with her new girlfriend.

I texted back, Block off the wknd 4 me if u can.

There was a long pause and I imagined him absorbing my request. Damn, he texted back finally. Must be some ass kicking u have planned.

“Maybe a little,” I muttered, shuddering as I remembered the . . . orgy I’d walked in on. But mostly I thought Cary and I needed to spend some quality downtime together. We hadn’t been living in Manhattan long. It was a new town for us, new apartment, new jobs and experiences, new partners for both of us. We were out of our element and struggling, and since we both had barge loads of baggage from our pasts, we didn’t handle struggling well. Usually we leaned on each other for balance, but we hadn’t had much time for that lately. We really needed to make the time. Up for a trip to Vegas? Just u and me?

Fuck yeah!

K . . . more later. As I silenced my phone and put it away, my gaze passed briefly over the two collage photo frames next to my monitor—one filled with photos of both of my parents and one of Cary, and the other filled with photos of me and Lauren. Lauren had put the latter collection together herself, wanting me to have a reminder of her just like the reminder she had of me on her desk. As if I needed it . . .

I loved having those images of the people I loved close by: my mom with her golden cap of curls and her bombshell smile, her curvy body scarcely covered by a tiny bikini as she enjoyed the French Riviera on my stepdad’s yacht; my stepfather, Richard Stanton, looking regal and distinguished, his silver hair oddly complementing the looks of his much younger wife; and Cary, who was captured in all his photogenic glory, with his lustrous brown hair and sparkling green eyes, his smile wide and mischievous. That million-dollar face was starting to pop up in magazines everywhere and soon would grace billboards and bus stops advertising Grey Isles clothing.

I looked across the strip of hallway and through the glass wall that encased Mark Garrity’s very small office and saw his jacket hung over the back of his Aeron chair, even though the man himself wasn’t in sight. I wasn’t surprised to find him in the break room scowling into his coffee mug; he and I shared a java dependency.

“I thought you had the hang of it,” I said, referring to his trouble with the one-cup coffee maker.

“I do, thanks to you.” Mark lifted his head and offering a charmingly crooked smile. He had gleaming dark skin, a trim goatee, and soft brown eyes. In addition to being easy on the eyes, he was a great boss—very open to educating me about the ad business and quick to trust that he didn’t have to show me how to do something twice. We worked well together, and I hoped that would be the case for a long time to come.

“Try this,” he said, reaching for a second steaming cup waiting on the counter. He handed it to me and I accepted it gratefully, appreciating that he’d been thoughtful about adding cream and sweetener, which was how I liked it.

I took a cautious sip, since it was hot, then coughed over the unexpected—and unwelcome—flavor. “What is this?”

“Blueberry-flavored coffee.”

Abruptly, I was the one scowling. “Who the hell wants to drink that?”

“Ah, see . . . it’s our job to figure out who, then sell this to them.” He lifted his mug in a toast. “Here’s to our latest account!”

Wincing, I straightened my spine and took another sip.

* * *

I was pretty sure the sickly sweet taste of artificial blueberries was still coating my tongue two hours later. Since it was time for my break, I started an Internet search for Dr. Terrence Lucas, a man who’d clearly rubbed Lauren the wrong way when I’d seen the two men together at dinner the night before. I hadn’t gotten any further than typing the doctor’s name in the search box when my desk phone rang.

“Mark Garrity’s office,” I answered. “Camila Cabello speaking.”

“Are you serious about Vegas?” Cary asked without preamble.

“Totally.”

There was a pause. “Is this when you tell me you’re moving in with your billionaire girlfriend and I’ve got to go?”

“What? No. Are you nuts?” I squeezed my eyes shut, understanding how insecure Cary was but thinking we were too far along in our friendship for those kinds of doubts. “You’re stuck with me for life, you know that.”

“And you just up and decided we should go to Vegas?”

“Pretty much. Figured we could sip mojitos by the pool and live off room service for a couple days.”

“I’m not sure how much I can pitch in for that.”

“Don’t worry, it’s on Lauren. her plane, her hotel. We’ll just cover our food and drinks.” A lie, since I planned on covering everything except the airfare, but Cary didn’t need to know that.

“And she’s not coming with us?”

I leaned back in my chair and stared at one of the photos of Lauren. I missed her already and it’d been only a couple of hours since we’d been together. “she’s got business in Arizona, so she’ll share the flights back and forth, but it’ll be just you and me in Vegas. I think we need it.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled harshly. “I could do with a change of scenery and some quality time with my best girl.”

“Okay, then. She wants to fly out by eight tomorrow night.”

“I’ll start packing. Want me to put a bag together for you, too?”

“Would you? That’d be great!” Cary could’ve been a stylist or personal shopper. He had serious talent when it came to clothes.

“camila?”

“Yeah?”

He sighed. “Thank you for putting up with my shit.”

“Shut up.”

After we hung up, I stared at the phone for a long minute, hating that Cary was so unhappy when everything in his life was going so well. He was an expert at self-sabotage, never truly believing he was worthy of happiness.

As I returned my attention to work, the Google search on my monitor reminded me of my interest in Dr. Terry Lucas. A few articles about her had been posted on the Web, complete with pictures that cemented the verification.

Pediatrician. Forty-five years of age. Married for twenty years. Nervously, I searched for “Dr. Terrence Lucas and wife,” inwardly cringing at the thought of seeing a golden-skinned, long-haired blonde. I exhaled my relief when I saw that Mrs. Lucas was a pale-skinned woman with short, bright red hair.

But that left me with more questions. I’d figured it would be a woman who’d caused the trouble between the two men.

The fact was, Lauren and I really didn’t know that much about each other. We knew the ugly stuff—at least she knew mine; I’d mostly guessed her from some pretty obvious clues. We knew some of the basic cohabitation stuff about each other after spending so many nights sleeping over at our respective apartments. she’d met half of my family and I’d met all of her. But we hadn’t been together long enough to touch on a whole lot of the periphery stuff. And frankly, I think we weren’t as forthcoming or inquisitive as we could’ve been, as if we were afraid to pile any more crap onto an already struggling relationship.

We were together because we were addicted to each other. I was never as intoxicated as I was when we were happy together, and I knew it was the same for her. We were putting ourselves through the wringer for those moments of perfection between us, but they were so tenuous that only our stubbornness, determination, and love kept us fighting for them.

Enough with making yourself crazy.

I checked my e-mail, and found my daily Google alert on “Lauren Jauregui.” The day’s digest of links led mostly to photos of Lauren, in black tie sans tie, and me at the charity dinner at the Waldorf Astoria the night before.

“God.” I couldn’t help but be reminded of my mother when looking at the pictures of me in a champagne Vera Wang cocktail dress. Not just because of how closely my looks mirrored my mom’s—aside from my hair being brown, long and straight—but also because of the mega-mogul whose arm I graced.

sinu Cabello Barker Mitchell Stanton was very, very good at being a trophy wife. She knew precisely what was expected of her and delivered without fail. Although she’d been divorced twice, both times had been by her choice and both divorces had left her exes despondent over losing her. I didn’t think less of my mother, because she gave as good as she got and didn’t take anyone for granted, but I’d grown up striving for independence. My right to say no was my most valued possession.

Minimizing my e-mail window, I pushed my personal life aside and went back to searching for market comparisons on fruity coffee. I coordinated some initial meetings between the strategists and Mark and helped Mark with brainstorming a campaign for a gluten-free restaurant. Noon approached and I was starting to feel seriously hungry when my phone rang. I answered with my usual greeting.

“camila?” an accented female voice greeted me. “It’s Magdalene. Do you have a minute?”

I leaned back in my chair, alert. Magdalene and I had once shared a moment of sympathy over Corinne’s unexpected and unwanted reappearance in Lauren’s life, but I’d never forget how vicious Magdalene had been to me the first time we’d met. “Just. What’s up?”

She sighed, then spoke quickly, her words flowing in a rush. “I was sitting at the table behind Corinne last night. I could hear a bit of what was being said between her and Lauren during dinner.”

My stomach tensed, preparing for an emotional blow. Magdalene knew just how to exploit my insecurities about Lauren. “Stirring up crap while I’m at work is a new low,” I said coldly. “I don’t—”

“she wasn’t ignoring you.”

My mouth hung open a second, and she quickly filled the silence.

“she was managing her, camila. She was making suggestions for where to take you around New York since you’re new in town, but she was doing it by playing the old remember-when-you-and-I-went-there game.”

“A walk down memory lane,” I muttered, grateful now that I hadn’t been able to hear much of Lauren’s low-voiced conversation with her ex.

“Yes.” Magdalene took a deep breath. “You left because you thought she was ignoring you for her. I just want you to know that she seemed to be thinking about you, trying to keep Corinne from upsetting you.”

“Why do you care?”

“Who says I do? I owe you one, Camila, for the way I introduced myself.”

I thought about that. Yeah, she owed me for when she ambushed me in the bathroom with her catty jealous bullshit. Not that I bought it as her sole motivation. Maybe I was just the lesser of two evils. Maybe she was keeping her enemies close. “All right. Thank you.”

No denying I felt better. A weight I hadn’t realized I was carrying around was suddenly relieved.

“Something else,” Magdalene went on. “she went after you.”

My grip tightened on the phone receiver. Lauren always came after me . . . because I was always running. My recovery was so fragile that I’d learned to protect it at all costs. When something threatened my stability, I ditched it.

“There have been other women in her life who’ve tried ultimatums like that, camila. They got bored or they wanted her attention or some kind of grand gesture . . . So they walked away and expected her to come after them. You know what she did?”

“Nothing,” I said softly, knowing my man. A man who never spent social time with women she slept with and never slept with women she associated with socially. Corinne and I were the sole exceptions to that rule, which was yet another reason why her ex sent me into fits of jealousy.

“Nothing more than making sure Angus dropped them off safely,” she confirmed, making me think it’d been a tactic she’d tried at some point. “But when you left, she couldn’t chase after you fast enough. And she wasn’t herself when she said good-bye. she seemed . . . off.”

Because she’d felt fear. My eyes closed as I mentally kicked myself. Hard.

Lauren had told me more than once that it terrified her when I ran, because she couldn’t handle the thought that I might not come back. What good did it do to say that I couldn’t imagine living without her when I so often showed her otherwise with my actions? Was it any wonder she hadn’t opened up to me about her past?

I had to stop running. Lauren and I were both going to have to stand and fight for this, for us, if we were going to have any hope of making our relationship work.

“Do I owe you now?” I asked neutrally, returning Mark’s wave as he left for lunch.

Magdalene exhaled in a rush. “Lauren and I have known each other a long time. Our mothers are best friends. You and I will see each other around, Camila, and I’m hoping we can find a way to avoid any awkwardness.”

The woman had come up to me and told me that the minute Lauren “shoved her dick” in me, I was “done.” And she’d hit me with that at a moment when I was especially vulnerable.

“Listen, Magdalene, if you don’t cause drama, we’ll get by.” And since she was being so forthright . . . “I can screw up my relationship with Lauren all by myself, trust me. I don’t need any help.”

She laughed softly. “That was my mistake, I think—I was too careful and too accommodating. she has to work at it with you. Anyway . . . I’ve taken up my minute. I’ll let you go.”

“Enjoy your weekend,” I said, in lieu of thanks. I still couldn’t trust her motivation.

“You, too.”

As I returned the receiver to its cradle, my gaze went to the photos of me and Lauren. I was abruptly overwhelmed by feelings of greed and possession. she was mine, yet I couldn’t be sure from one day to the next whether she’d stay mine. And the thought of any other woman having her made me insane.

I pulled open my bottom drawer and dug my smartphone out of my purse. Driven by the need to have her thinking as fiercely about me, I texted her about my sudden desperate hunger to devour her whole: I’d give anything to be sucking your cock right now.

Just thinking about how she looked when I took her in my mouth . . . the feral sounds she made when she was about to come . . .

Standing, I deleted the text the moment I saw it’d been delivered, then dropped my phone back in my purse. Since it was noon, I closed all the windows on my computer and headed out to reception to find Megumi.

“You hungry for anything in particular?” she asked, pushing to her feet and giving me a chance to admire her belted, sleeveless lavender dress.

I coughed because her question came so soon after my text. “No. Your choice. I’m not picky.”

We pushed out through the glass doors to reach the elevators.

“I am so ready for the weekend,” Megumi said with a groan as she stabbed the call button with an acrylic-tipped finger. “A day and a half left to go.”

“Got something fun planned?”

“That remains to be seen.” She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Blind date,” she explained ruefully.

“Ah. Do you trust the person setting you up?”

“My roommate. I expect the guy will at least be physically attractive, because I know where she sleeps at night and paybacks are a bitch.”

I was smiling as an elevator car reached our floor and we stepped inside. “Well, that ups your odds for a good time.”

“Not really, since she found him by going on a blind date with him first. She swears he’s great, just more my type than hers.”

“Hmm.”

“I know, right?” Megumi shook her head and looked up at the decorative, old-fashioned needle above the car doors that marked the passing floors.

“You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”

“Oh, yeah. Wish me luck.”

“Absolutely.” We’d just stepped out into the lobby when I felt my purse vibrate beneath my arm. As we passed through the turnstiles, I dug for my phone and felt my stomach tighten at the sight of Lauren’s name. she was calling, not sexting me back.

“Excuse me,” I said to Megumi before answering.

She waved it off nonchalantly. “Go for it.”

“Hey,” I greeted her playfully.

“camila.”

I missed a step hearing the way she growled my name. There was a wealth of promise in the roughness of her voice.

Slowing, I found I was speechless, just from hearing her say my name with that edginess I craved—the sharp bite that told me she wanted to be inside me more than she wanted anything else in the world.

While people flowed around me, entering and exiting the building, I was halted by the weighted silence on my phone. The unspoken and nearly irresistible demand. she made no sound at all—I couldn’t even hear her breathing—but I felt her hunger. If I didn’t have Megumi waiting patiently for me, I’d be riding an elevator to the top floor to satisfy her unvoiced command to make good on my offer.

The memory of the time I’d sucked her off in her office simmered through me, making my mouth water. I swallowed. “Lauren . . .”

“You wanted my attention—now you have it. I want to hear you say those words.”

I felt my face flush. “I can’t. Not here. Let me call you later.”

“Step over by the column and out of the way.”

Startled, I looked around for her. Then I remembered that the Caller ID put her in her office. My gaze lifted, searching for the security cameras. Immediately, I felt her eyes on me, hot and wanting. Arousal surged through me, spurred by her desire.

“Hurry along, angel. Your friend’s waiting.”

I moved to the column, my breathing fast and audible.

“Now tell me. Your text made me hard, camila. What are you going to do about it?”

My hand went to my throat, my gaze sliding helplessly to Megumi, who watched me with raised brows. I lifted one finger up, asking for another minute, then turned my back to her and whispered, “I want you in my mouth.”

“Why? To play with me? To tease me like you’re doing now?” There was no heat in her voice, just calm severity.

I knew to pay careful attention when Lauren got serious about sex.

“No.” I lifted my face to the tinted dome in the ceiling that concealed the nearest security camera. “To make you come. I love making you come, Lauren.”

she exhaled harshly. “A gift, then.”

Only I knew what it meant for Lauren to view a sexual act as a gift. For her, sex had previously been about pain and degradation or lust and necessity. Now, with me, it was about pleasure and love. “Always.”

“Good. Because I treasure you, Camila, and what we have. Even our driving urge to fuck each other constantly is precious to me, because it matters.”

I sagged into the column, admitting to myself that I’d fallen into an old destructive habit—I’d exploited sexual attraction to ease my insecurities. If Lauren was lusting after me, she couldn’t be lusting after anyone else. How did she always know what was going on in my mind?

“Yes,” I breathed, closing my eyes. “It matters.”

There’d been a time when I’d turned to sex to feel affection, confusing momentary desire with genuine caring. Which was why I now insisted on having some sort of friendly framework in place before I went to bed with a man. I never again wanted to roll out of a lover’s bed feeling worthless and dirty.

And I sure as hell didn’t want to cheapen what I shared with Lauren just because I was irrationally scared of losing her.

It hit me then that I was off balance. I had this sick feeling in my gut, like something awful was going to happen.

“You can have what you want after work, angel.” her voice deepened, grew raspier. “In the meantime, enjoy lunch with your co-worker. I’ll be thinking about you. And your mouth.”

“I love you, Lauren.”

It took a couple of deep breaths after I hung up to compose myself enough to join Megumi again. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yes. Everything’s fine.”

“Things still hot and heavy with you and Lauren Jauregui?” She glanced at me with a slight smile.

“Umm . . .” Oh yes. “Yes, that’s fine, too.” And I wished desperately that I could talk about it. I wished I could just open the valve and gush about my overwhelming feelings for her. How thoughts of her consumed me, how the feel of her beneath my hands drove me wild, how the passion of her tortured soul cut into me like the sharpest blade.

But I couldn’t. Not ever. She was too visible, too well known. Private tidbits about her life were worth a small fortune. I couldn’t risk it.

“she sure is,” Megumi agreed. “Damn fine. Did you know her before you started working here?”

“No. Although I suppose we would have met eventually.” Because of our pasts. My mother gave generously to many abused children’s charities, as did Lauren. It was inevitable that Lauren and I would’ve crossed paths at some point. I wondered what that meeting would have been like—her with a gorgeous blonde on her arm and me with Cary. Would we have had the same visceral reaction to each other from a distance as we’d had up close in the Crossfire lobby?

she’d wanted me the moment she saw me on the street.

“I wondered.” Megumi pushed through the revolving lobby door. “I read that it was serious between you two,” she went on when I joined her outside on the sidewalk. “So I thought maybe you’d known her before.”

“Don’t believe everything you read on those gossip blogs.”

“So it’s not serious?”

“I didn’t say that.” It was too serious at times. Painfully, brutally so.

She shook her head. “God . . . listen to me pry. Sorry. Gossip is one of my vices. So are extremely hot women like Lauren Jauregui. I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to hook up with a gir whose body screams sex like that. Tell me she’s awesome in bed.”

I smiled. It was good to hang out with another girl. Not that Cary couldn’t also be appreciative of a hot guy, but nothing beat girl talk. “You won’t hear me complaining.”

“Lucky bitch.” Bumping shoulders with me to show she was teasing, she said, “How about that roommate of yours? From the photos I saw, she’s gorgeous, too. Is she single? Wanna hook me up?”

Turning my head quickly, I hid a wince. I’d learned the hard way never to set up an acquaintance or friend with Cary. He was so easy to love, which led to a lot of broken hearts because he couldn’t love back the same way. The moment things started going too well, Cary sabotaged them. “I don’t know if he’s single or not. Things are . . . complicated in his life at the moment.”

“Well, if the opportunity presents itself, I’m certainly not opposed. Just sayin’. You like tacos?”

“Love ’em.”

“I know a great place a couple blocks up. Come on.”

* * *

Things were going well in my world as Megumi and I headed back from lunch. Forty minutes of gossip, guy-ogling, and three awesome carne asada tacos later, I was feeling pretty good. And we were returning to work a little over ten minutes early, which I was glad for since I hadn’t been the most punctual employee lately, even though Mark never complained.

The city was thrumming around us, taxis and people surging through the growing heat and humidity as they crammed what they could into the insufficient hours of the day. I people-watched shamelessly, my eyes skimming over everyone and everything.

Men in business suits walked alongside women in flowing skirts and flip-flops. Ladies in haute couture and five-hundred-dollar shoes teetered past steaming hot dog vendor carts and shouting hawkers. The eclectic mix of New York was heaven to me, stirring an excitement that made me feel more vibrant here than anyplace else I’d ever lived.

We were stopped by a traffic light directly across from the Crossfire, and my gaze was immediately drawn to the black Bentley sitting in front of it. Lauren must’ve just gotten back from lunch. I couldn’t help but think about her sitting in her car on the day we’d met, watching me as I took in the imposing beauty of her Crossfire Building. It made me tingly just thinking about it—

Suddenly, I went cold.

Because a striking blonde breezed out of the revolving doors just then and paused, giving me a good, long look at her—Lauren’s ideal, whether she’d been aware of it or not. A woman I’d witnessed her fixate on the moment she’d seen her in the Waldorf Astoria ballroom. A woman whose poise and hold over Lauren brought out all my worst insecurities.

Corinne Giroux looked like a breath of fresh air in a cream-colored sheath dress and cherry red heels. She ran a hand over her waist-length hair, which wasn’t quite as sleek as it’d appeared last night when I’d met her. In fact, it looked a little disheveled. And her fingers were rubbing at her mouth, wiping along the outline of her lips.

I pulled my smartphone out, activated the camera, and snapped a picture. With the proximity of the zoom, I could see why she was fussing with her lipstick—it was smeared. No, more like mashed. As if from a passionate kiss.

The light changed. Megumi and I moved with the flow, closing the distance between me and the woman who’d once had Lauren’s promise to marry her. Angus stepped out of the Bentley and came around, speaking to her briefly before opening the back door for her. The feeling of betrayal—Angus’s and Lauren’s—was so fierce, I couldn’t catch my breath. I swayed on my feet.

“Hey.” Megumi caught my arm to steady me. “And we only had virgin margaritas, lightweight!”

I watched Corinne’s willowy body slide into the back of Lauren’s car with practiced grace. My fists clenched as fury surged through me. Through the haze of my angry tears, the Bentley pulled away from the curb and disappeared.

[encouleurdevie]

let’s finish what we started.

a/n: here we fkn go yall, part 3!! feel free to yell at me for taking so long with this one. also look at how small he is in this gif. you’re welcome.

word count: 3,000

You were perched on the edge of your bed, the day’s events playing and rewinding in your head so many times you couldn’t seem to focus on anything else. You mind was jumbled with a web of feelings and questions.

Alone in your apartment, you were fixated on that afternoon. You pictured Timothee’s face between your thighs. The accidental brush of his fingers against your core, revealing how much you wanted him, how he made you ache with just his close presence. The way his eyes looked when his gaze burned into yours after realizing that he was the one who made you feel like that. And how he then just up and left after the scene, leaving you alone in front of the directors who merely thought this “acting” was stellar.

You wondered where he was, where he went, after descending the stairs. Was he thinking about you too? Was he mad? Did you completely ruin whatever friendship the two of you had by letting yourself get entranced by his touches? Your mind was riddled with questions and clouded beyond measure. And it didn’t help that the dull ache between your legs never quite went away.

After getting back to your apartment, you had changed into a tank top and black shorts, hoping that getting out of character would get your mind back on track but somehow, seeing your bikini lying on the floor only made things worse. And so here you were, sitting on your bed staring at the TV trying to make sense of everything.

The sun had nearly gone down, the day almost over. A few beams of light trickled in through your curtained windows. It reminded you of the night before, when Timothee had walked you back to your apartment, the same light hitting his face as he bade you goodnight.

You’ve got to get this crush under control, you thought to yourself. There were still four more weeks of filming and if he didn’t feel the same it was going to be a terribly long month.

Exasperated, you let yourself fall backwards onto the bed, the sound of some Italian sitcom still spilling into your room. Once again, you thought back to the night before, when Timothee had been sat in front of you, running through his Italian. You thought of his laugh when he would stumble on a word, and his grin when he said something correctly. All of him. You thought about all of him.

You lightly ran your hands across your face, willing yourself to think of something other than Timothee and his face and his hands and -

“Ugh,” you said aloud, your voice sounding dull and annoyed. You were so frustrated, both emotionally and sexually, and you had no idea how to get out of this rut.

Before you could continue to wallow in your frustrations, a sudden knock on the door grabbed your attention. It couldn’t be, you thought. But who else would be at your door? Who else knew exactly which apartment was yours? And who else would want to speak to you this late in the evening.

You pulled yourself off the bed and crept towards the door. What would you even say? You felt the palms of your hands get clammy with nervousness. Either way, you would have to talk to him eventually. No time like the present, right? You almost rolled your eyes at how quickly that phrase had gone from making out with him in the pool to being scared to even open the door. You placed your hand on the cool metal doorknob, slowly twisting it and taking a deep breath.

As you pulled open the heavy door, your suspicions were confirmed. Your eyes attached themselves to the curly headed boy who was currently taking up all the space in your brain.

Timothee stood in the doorway, wearing a loose black shirt and a fitted pair of grey pants that clung to his hips. Instantly, you smelled his cologne and you were transported right back to when you were pulling him close to you in the pool earlier. All you could do was look at him, wondering what on earth was going on inside of his head.

He gazed back at you, jaw clenched and hands lightly curled at his sides. He was breathing in and out deeply, boring his green eyes into yours. They were like tiny emerald magnets; you couldn’t pull your gaze away. He didn’t look angry, but his aura felt fierce, bubbling with pent up feelings. Finally, he broke eye contact and bit down on his lip. You could tell he was formulating words in his head, but having a hard time getting them out. Just as the silence was getting unbearable, he looked at you once more and opened his mouth.

“Do you know what you do to me?” he hissed. You were startled. The voice coming out of him was low, almost a whisper. He looked down for a moment before taking a breath and beginning again.

“Are you even aware that every goddamn thing you do makes me crazy?” He spoke with a harsh, yet needy tone, like he’d been waiting to say this. It seemed that maybe you weren’t the only one who was being eaten up by the tension that was brewing between the two of you.

By now you were breathing heavily, looking up at him, and still not knowing what to say.

“I--” you started, but he took a step closer to you and kept talking.

“Ever since I walked onto this set, I’ve been so distracted by you I can barely think straight and I swear I’ve been going mad just wondering if I even have a shot. Do you honestly think I can just “make this an Elio and Mariza” thing because I know damn well that’s not working for me. And after today I don’t think… god... I don’t think it’s working for you either.” He looked at you hard. “I know you were wet for me earlier.” He edged closer and you forced yourself to nod slowly, urging him to keep going.

At this point he leaned down so his face was lingering inches in front of yours, his breath ghosting over your mouth. “Do you know how fucking hard I was after that?”

You let out a sigh unintentionally, “God, just kiss me, Timothee.” Your words were the green light he needed. Weeks of pent up feelings surged between you as his lips collided with yours.

Unlike the kiss earlier that day in the pool, Timothee had a new sense of confidence as he kissed you. His lips were pressed firmly against yours, moving fast and hungrily. There was no hesitation this time and it was real. It felt like your brain was on fire, each kiss adding more fuel and passion. His hands worked their way down to your hips, and yours went straight into his hair, something you had been waiting to do since you first laid eyes on him.

As the kiss grew deeper, the ache that you had left the set with surged back. You pressed harder on the back of his head, drawing his face even closer to yours. He tugged you closer against him, not daring to break the kiss.

Timothee gradually started backing you into your apartment, reaching behind his back once you were both all the way in and closing the door tight behind him. You both knew he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

“Had to go home and touch myself today,” he whispers into the kiss. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

His lips were hot against yours as he licked into your mouth, each kiss growing needier and needier.

You finally broke away just enough so that your next words came out as mumbles against his lips. “I’ve been thinking about this. About you.”

“Yeah?” he coos, letting you lead him further into your apartment. You detached your lips from his, biting down on his lower lip before turning around and taking his hand in yours. You pulled Timothee by the hand through your apartment until you were finally back inside your room, this time with the boy you craved right at your heels. The tension between the two of you had been so thick for so long, and as you slowly spun around to face him once more, you couldn’t believe this was finally happening. All those nights of needing and yearning for each other had finally paid off.

Timothee’s lips were red, swollen, from kissing you with such intensity. His gaze followed you precisely, not daring to look away as you slowly sat down on the bed. Reaching a hand out, you curled your finger around one of his belt loops and tugged gently. Ever so slowly, you leaned backwards. To him, you were like a magnet, and as your back hit the bed, he was right there, hovering above you and clouding your senses with his sweet smell.

You moved your hands upwards, snaking them underneath his shirt and up his back. His skin was hot to the touch as you drew him in closer for another kiss.

He pecked your lips a few times, then dragged his lips across your cheek and began moving downwards. Timothee’s lips attached themselves to your neck. Sucking and biting the skin, he left a dark purple hickey which you knew the makeup artists would question you about endlessly the next day. You grinned, finding it sexy that only you would know it was Timothee who had left it.

“Let’s finish what we started, shall we?” he breathed into your neck. You groaned involuntarily, knowing that you’d finally get the release you’d been craving.

“Please, baby.” you whined, not wanting to wait any longer.

He worked his way down your chest, burning kiss after kiss into your skin. He massaged one of  your breasts over your tank top while he kissed the other, opening his eyes to gauge your reaction as he continued to send chills down your body. You watched him through hooded eyes, admiring him as he caressed you.

When he approached the waistband of your shorts, he slipped both thumbs under the fabric near your hips. You arched your back and allowed him to drag your shorts down your legs, taking your lace underwear along with it. Goosebumps flooded your legs and torso as the cool air nipped at your exposed body.

“Still wet for me, baby?” he murmured, “You were soaking on set, weren’t you?”

He flung your bottoms behind him and pressed his hands against your inner thighs, pushing them apart and completely revealing the puddle between your legs. You whined, aching for his touch, and he smirked, knowing he drove you wild.

Timothee’s head dipped down, and before you could even process what was about to happen, his tongue was flat against your core. You moaned, your eyes fluttering shut as he began to work his magic between your legs. He licked a long stripe up your center before twirling his tongue around your clit. The pleasure was overwhelming and you squirmed beneath the firm grasp he had on your legs. He sucked harshly against you and dipped his tongue tantalizingly in and out of you. As you continued to moan and whine, Timothee removed one of his hands from your leg and moved it downward. While continuing to tease your clit with his mouth, he carefully inserted a finger inside of you. You cried out as pleasure began coursing through you. He hummed against you, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge.

“Look at me when you come,” he said, watching you closely.

You forced your eyes back open and caught his stare, letting the pleasure take over. His eyes followed you as your orgasm washed through your body, his mouth never leaving your core.

As you came down from your high he pulled his fingers out of you and placed them directly into his mouth. Standing up and sucking on his fingers, he tasted you slowly. The only sound in the room was your heavy breathing, which was slowly replaced by the quiet rustle of fabric as you sat up and pulled your tank top off of your body. Silently, you thanked yourself for deciding not to put on a bra, since you immediately observed Timothee’s eyes scanning your naked body in a way that made you feel sexy beyond measure. You moved closer to him on the bed, hands quickly finding the edge of his shirt. In one swift motion, you pulled it up and over his head, revealing his toned chest and slight v-line that was partially shielded by the pants that still covered him.

Gently, you leaned forward, one leg on either side of his standing body, and kissed his torso. His already fitted pants were straining against him, the outline of his cock prominent beneath them. You ran a hand along his dick, relieving him slightly with the added pressure. You continued your light kisses that were traveling lower and lower along his navel. Timothee sighed above you and tangled his hand into your messy hair.

You tugged on his pants until they came down and loosely fell in a pile around his ankles. The sight of him standing in front of you with solely a pair of black underwear was enough to stir up a second round of the pounding between your thighs. Continuing your teasing kisses on his tummy, you pushed the black material down his legs, adding them to the pooled pile of fabric at his feet.

His cock sprung free from the confines of his underwear and stood tall in front of your face. The size of him made you quietly suck in a breath of air. He was big, and you squirmed in  needy anticipation. Instantly, you attached a hand to the base, looking up at him from behind your eyelashes. Above you, he bit his lip and watched you stroke him up and down. Timothee let out a whine, a sound you never knew how much you needed to hear until now. You couldn’t help but smirk a bit. Timmy was needy, whiny, and all for you.

You hands touched his length greedily, and you slowly moved forward again to position your lips around his tip. Carefully, teasingly, you bobbed your head down on his cock, letting him fill your mouth until you felt his tip hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” Timothee’s jaw dropped open in silent pleasure, and almost as quickly as you had taken him in your mouth, he was pushing you back off.

“I’ve waited too fucking long for this and if you don’t stop that it’s going to end way too soon.” he panted. He bent down and took your face in his hands, letting his lips met yours again and his caressing your cheeks.

You felt him begin to push you backwards. His body was hot on top of yours as your back hit the bed.

“Want you, baby,” you hummed. “Want your cock.”

Timothee reached a hand between his legs pumping himself while you traced the line of his spine with one of your fingers. That was all it took.

He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed into you painstakingly slow. He wanted you to feel every inch of him sliding into you, filling you up so perfectly. You moaned into his ear, gasping and moaning even more as he carefully slid out and back in, developing a quicker pace. Before long he was thrusting in and out of you, each time hitting a bit deeper inside of you. He pulled you close against his chest, fitting his mouth against the curve of your throat.

“You like that? You like my cock?” he groaned. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyelids hung low over his eyes. He reached down and pulled your hips even closer. Nothing separated the two of you anymore. Skin was on skin, hearts pounding against chests, and hands touching everywhere that was in reach.

“Shit,” you cry out, “I’m gonna cum.” You reached a hand up and titled his chin so that you were looking him dead in the eyes as he continued to fuck into you.

Timothee’s jaw hung open and you could tell he was close too. He thrusted his hips hard against yours, watching you take all of his rock hard cock so well. You wrapped your arms tighter around him, fingernails digging into his shoulders as he hit your spot over and over again.

You felt your vision start to blur as the familiar high started building up inside of you again.

“Timothee,” you groaned out, arching your back as your orgasm washed over you. You writhed in pleasure underneath his touch feeling so much relief that your eyes watered.

Timothee started letting out small, whiny, grunts above you holding you in place as he reached his own high. Burying his face back in your next, he stilled inside of you, cumming in hot, thick spurts and moaning against you.

The two of you stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily and taking a moment to process everything that just happened. He pulled out of you and rolled over, taking you with him so you were nestled into his side. You were the first to break the silence.

“I was so nervous when I opened the door, you know. I thought you’d be mad or something that I ruined whatever we had going on.” you admitted.

Timothee laughed, “You really thought I’d be mad that the hottest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on wanted me just as much as I wanted her? Yeah, definitely not mad about that.”

You giggled. “Stay. Please. Just stay here tonight.”

“Mi piacha… uh, mi piacer..” he stumbled on his Italian, leaning over and resting his forehead on yours. “Fuck it. I’d love to, Y/N.”

[scrapyardboyfriends]

Finally all caught up on the last two weeks of Emmerdale...

Human Graham is surprisingly tolerable. Don’t get me wrong, I still couldn’t really care less about him getting killed off because frankly, it’s been a long time coming. However, this more human version of him that is in casual clothes and hanging with Rhona and actually has motivations of his own, is really what his character should have been all along. Because the stuffy robot in a suit who just grunts and takes orders from Joe and then Kim, especially the Kim version, was just really not a good character. Freeing him from the hold the Tates have had over him has really made him so much better because he doesn’t have to be cryptic anymore. I’m sure there’s still another ten or so convoluted backstories in there just ready to burst out before the end, but still, it feels like he can finally speak freely for the first time in forever. I also kind of enjoy him taunting Al with the whole “don’t be me and get sucked into Kim’s web of insanity, she’ll eat you alive” thing. Cause it’s true. 

Speaking of Al, I miss the confident smarmy businessman he started out as. And I don’t know that I want him to just be the new Graham. I mean, he at least has other connections so maybe that will spare him the same fate, but we’ll see. 

New Ellis...is...strange. I’m sure he’ll just take some getting used to but in that scene where he was sort of scolding Billy, he kind of felt like the older brother and not just because he looks a lot older than Asan. They’re going to kind of have to work out a new dynamic for him and Billy. I don’t know. We’ll see how it goes. #DamnitAsan 

I do think overall though, Home Farm has improved a bit. I mean it’s still not great, but at least we’re not spending ten minutes an episode dealing with Millie going to private school as a B plot. So there’s that. And Human Graham being more of a wild card does make the Millie paternity thing marginally more interesting. I also thought Kim with Andrea after the miscarriage was pretty decent. 

I still think it would be interesting to see Kim show some real emotion though. She’s still very guarded 99% of the time. I’d love to see her actually fall for someone and have real feelings for them. I also miss her friendship with Rhona. She needed that relationship, I think. However, I did love her going round to try and bribe Wendy to leave and warning her that she better not make a wrong move. 

The Jamie/Belle stuff was interesting. I wanted that when he first showed up because they were kind of sweet together. But then they saddled him with a wife and child and he was soooo boring and whiny. So since Millie is clearly going to be Graham’s and who knows...maybe Andrea will kill him, maybe this does free Jamie up for a thing with Belle. I’m not sure her and New Ellis will work out so I’d support this. 

I still could do without Nate but just...thank god the affair is over now. He’s tolerable just trying to round up turkeys and hanging with Pete and Belle. I mean, I still do not need him to be Cain’s son and try and form a relationship with him. Because really Cain and Charity too were the last people that needed more random (adult) children. But here they are...being useless. Ryan’s barely even on the show. At least Nate is sort of doing something being a pawn for Kim. 

Moira since the affair is...well more tolerable than during the affair I suppose. I did like her chat with Vanessa. It’d be nice if they remembered they were friends more often. I just want her to lose the farm soooo badly though. She’s just stuck up there and it’s not good for her character anymore. She needs to lose the farm, really hit rock bottom and then build herself back up away from it. And then we can get a new farming family...one with plenty of members to kill off in future storylines. Haha. I did love Pete’s line “and what happened to all of the family I came here with?!”

That Danny kid is a total creep but I like seeing more of Noah and I like him trying to protect Sarah. 

The Jai/Laurel/Jimmy/Nicola/Arthur/Archie stuff has been interesting. I really do like Jai and Laurel together and I think it’s good that they’re giving them all of this angst. It’s affecting their relationship but it’s also giving them stuff to work through. And the tension between Laurel and Nicola has been good too because at least it’s giving a focus to their friendship, however fractured it is right now. And I love getting more of Nicola and Jimmy and her sticking up for him always. And poor Jimmy. He doesn’t deserve any of this. Dark!Arthur is interesting. I do think they’ve done it in a way that makes sense. And I think both kids are doing great with the story. I really hope once it all comes out though that both kids can get some help and come out of it well in the end. Poor Archie though. And with the King kids joining in too. 

Random, but I loved Nicola telling her kids not to talk to Arthur anymore or Dottie...well Dottie doesn’t really talk but don’t talk to her either. Haha. 

Lydia is still breaking my heart. Agatha is super annoying. I feel like there’s hope there somewhere for a relationship between them someday but for now she really needs to back off. I did enjoy Beth wanting to watch the village drama though. 

Speaking of village drama, the panto stuff is quite fun. It’s nice to have that story running along with the rest. I love Manpreet as the director and Liam trying to take over. I don’t really understand this whole Leyla/Liam thing. I wonder if it’s just a tease for later and a plot point so that Diane can tell Liam that Bernice probably isn’t coming back because eventually that news is going to have to come out. 

And then there’s Wendy....who sucks. Interesting watching all of it in context to the rest of the episodes. Finally got to see that Chas and Wendy conversation. It was....yeah. I mean I don’t think they meant to equate anything Aaron’s done with what a rapist has done but...they did. And they should stop. I still hate Bob being all nice to her and telling Aaron to be nicer to her. Would he tell Vic that too? I mean I guess Chas, her other cheerleader, did so who knows?! I do at least like the rest of the villagers sticking up for Victoria. I liked that Brenda and Laurel conversation about her. And Nicola and Jimmy in the pub with Charity. All of it just makes me really confused as to where they’re going with it though. I mean they have to be working towards her admitting what Lee did but when? And what does that do for the story? Ugh...blech. I just want her to go away. And as much as I thought the Luke and Aaron scenes were well done, and I’m glad he’s standing up for Victoria too, he can still go with Wendy. I just want Vic free of that family once and for all. 

Poor Aaron though. He really does not look well at all. I did notice watching it again, that he has to sit down because he’s about to pass out when Luke mentions “your husband is in prison” though. I’ll take what I can get okay. Haha. Still loving that “this is for Robert” line also. Bless. 

[deathisonlypermanent]

We’ve Only Just Begun Pt4: Together

Watching the Signs Along the Way Talking It Over Just The Two Of Us  Working Together Day To Day Together (You are here)

Peter Parker x Reader Rating: PG-13 for cursing wc: 2267

Previously on We’ve Only Just Begun:

“Oh, hey, what are you guys doing for New Year’s Eve? I’m having a party and I would love if you guys could come.” (Y/N) casually invited Peter and Ned.

“I’d love to come!” Ned said immediately.

“I’ll ask May, but it sounds like fun.” Peter smiled at (Y/N).

“Cool! I’m actually about to head out, but let me know!” (Y/N) called as she exited the cafeteria.

“Peter, this is the perfect time to confess your feelings!” Ned practically shouted at Peter.

“What are you talking about? That’s a terrible idea.”

“Then Spidey up! There’s no way she’ll say no if you’re Spider-Man!”

“No, Ned.”

But Peter couldn’t help but think that it was a good idea...

We continue:

As New Year’s Eve crept closer and closer, (Y/N) got more and more nervous. She had been planning on confessing her feelings to Peter at this party, but the more she thought about it, the more she thought it was an absolutely terrible idea. What-if scenarios kept her up at night. What if he didn’t feel the same and it ruined her only good friendship? What if she never confessed her feelings and never got to know whether or not her and Peter were meant to be? But what if he liked her back? What would she do then? She’d never been in a relationship before and had no idea how to function in one.

Before she knew it, it was the day of the party. She quickly opened her phone to shoot a text to her, Peter, and Ned’s group chat.

From: You To: Apple Bottom Jeans (boots w the fur)🍎🍎

See you guys at 8?

(Y/N) couldn’t help but think of the day they came up with the ridiculous name. They were all at their respective homes rapidly changing the name of the group chat to equally ridiculous -- and occasionally offensive -- names. It was stupid, but fun. “(y/n) sucks” “Peters left pinky” “Neds gay for flash” (This one prompted an immediate response from both Ned and Peter saying “thats not even funny” and “he wishes”). It had settled down after a couple minutes, everyone had ran out of funny ideas, so (Y/N) suggested that everyone hit paste and send whatever it was.

(Y/N): ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Ned: Martha was ugly like a shaven baboon,

So she wrapped herself up in a curtain cocoon.

And after a week, she finally emerged,

She smelled like wet garbage, what a psycho.

But Peter...he had a link to the song Apple Bottom Jeans by T-Pain.

And it was almost....too good. (Y/N) and Ned refused to let it go, changing the group chat to “Apple Bottom Jeans (boots w the fur)” every time Peter tried to change it to anything else. Eventually, he gave up and left it like that -- (Y/N) and Ned sent confetti with their next few messages out of sheer excitement.

(Y/N) was pulled out of her sentimental flashback by a buzz.

From: Peter To: Apple Bottom Jeans (boots w the fur)🍎🍎

Ya ill see you then :)

His text brought a small smile to her face. He wasn’t even trying but he did it anyway. God, he’s just so cute. (Y/N) thought for a moment before her anxiety came back, full swing. Why does anxiety exist? It was understandable in caveman days because they were prey, but now there’s just a teenage girl hoping to find the courage to confess her feelings.

The human brain sucks. She thought with disdain as she slipped her phone into her back pocket and made her way to the party in her kitchen/living room. There was already family there that her parents had insisted come early so they could get drunk together before the kids got there.

Her home was never this crowded, people sat all around their table and nearly every seat on the couch was taken. (Y/N) wouldn’t consider her family upper-middle class, but they certainly lived in a nicer apartment in Queens. It was a three bedroom apartment, with a room for her, her brother, and her parents. Her living room didn’t have a wall separating her kitchen so the edge of the couch served as a sort of barrier. The entire place was decorated, not only with New Year decorations, but with pictures of her family. The kitchen cabinets were covered in pictures of (Y/N)’s childhood, framed photos of relatives she’s never met and people she’s spent her entire life with covered the walls, and it made her feel happy. If she ever felt down, she only had to look around and see all the people that would support her no matter what. And, right now, she needed support.

Ned, Peter, and May arrived at 7:55, which absolutely delighted (Y/N). She greeted them and invited them in, giving them all year 2000 glasses -- it was her family’s tradition, they refused to buy any year past it -- and colorful party hats before introducing May to her parents and sitting around the kitchen table with Peter and Ned.

Ned took a look around the party, nodding in approval before turning back to (Y/N), “Kickass party!” He shouted over the chatter and music.

“Thanks!” She laughed, “Nice hat!” She pointed at Ned’s party hat on top of his favorite fedora.

Ned smiled and took a small handful of chex mix. The party was, generally speaking, a success. Drunk relatives kept coming up to (Y/N) and her friends and making very strange conversation, but, for the most part, Ned, Peter, and (Y/N) were free to hang out. Their conversation was light and breezy, mostly carried out by Ned because (Y/N) and Peter were both consumed by their nerves and entirely in their own heads.

Around 11:00, Peter excused himself to the bathroom and left (Y/N) and Ned to talk. And, that’s totally fine. But it was now 11:45. Needless to say, (Y/N) was worried and upset.

“....and that’s why Star Trek can never really beat Star Wars when it comes to quality.” Ned finished his point and (Y/N) realized she hadn’t listened to a thing he had said because she was so busy checking the time and scanning the room for Peter.

“Oh, totally.” (Y/N) wholeheartedly agreed, nodding passionately, even if she had listened, she knew pretty much nothing about Star Trek or Star Wars. “Do you know where Peter is?” She finally asked Ned, maybe he knew something she didn’t?

“Uh…” Ned looked nervous and checked his phone before responding, “He’s in the bathroom, right?”

“For an hour?” (Y/N) questioned and sighed. She was getting frustrated and upset, she planned to tell Peter at midnight but he was nowhere in sight. She knew full well that if she didn’t tell Peter tonight, she’d never have the nerve to tell him ever again. There’s no better time than on New Year’s Eve! If things went bad, she’d have time to move on, and if things went well, they’d have time to go on a date before school started. But every minute that passed was another minute closer to midnight.

“I think I’m gonna go for a walk,” (Y/N) told Ned, standing up and stretching. “I need some air before midnight.” Ned nodded, knowing that her anxiety was that much worse in social situations like this.

(Y/N) felt bad for leaving Ned in a house full of people he didn’t know, but she was upset with Peter and she was surrounded with people when she really just needed to be alone. Once her coat was on, she left her apartment and made her way outside. The cold New York air stung her cheeks as soon as she stepped outside, even though it was supposedly the “warmest winter New York had seen in years.”

She walked around the neighborhood for a bit, grateful for her distance to Times Square during the tourist season. She could never understand the overwhelming desire people felt all over the world to be in New York for the New Year.

“Damn TV for making New York seem so glamorous.” She cursed under her breath as she walked. She slowed her stride and sighed as she began to think about her life again. She couldn’t help but look for signs that she was making a mistake with Peter. ‘I mean, he disappeared. Is there a bigger sign that I’m making a mistake?’ She thought over their friendship and how devastated she would be if she lost her two closest friends. If Peter liked her, Ned would have told her, right?

“Ugh, I’m so stupid.” She groaned, stopping and burying her face in her hands. She stayed there, feeling sad about her feelings that would never be shared, for several minutes before steeling her nerves and deciding to go back home.

She had just turned around make her way back when something big and wet hit her on the top her head. “What-?” She looked up only to be hit with several more on her face. “Crap.” She whispered before speeding up in an attempt to get home before she was drenched. ‘Of course, I had to bring the one coat without a hood.’

(Y/N) was, unfortunately, unsuccessful and was soaked by the pouring rain well before she got home. She stopped under a small awning to check the time and message Ned that she might not make it back for midnight.

11:55

‘Yep, definitely missing midnight.’ (Y/N) sighed and opened her messages when she heard a familiar voice yell, “Uh, a little help!”

(Y/N) glanced around, curious and on edge. “Peter?” She called back, walking slowly toward the alley the voice called from. She peered down the dark alley, terrified and cold, searching for her best friend.

Much to her surprise, and disdain, instead of Peter, she found Spider-Man, tangled in his own web upside-down, drenched from the rain.

Her eyes went wide at the sight. “Oh my God, are you okay?” (Y/N) ran over to him but had no idea how to get him out of his own webs.

“Yeah, just, uh, messin’ around and got myself stuck.” He laughed awkwardly, his body spinning slightly.

“If only the world could see the amazing Spider-Man now.” (Y/N) laughed, plucking one of his webs like a guitar string after steadying him.

“Oh, god, please don’t tell anyone about this,” He groaned, the eyes of his mask getting smaller, somehow.

“I won’t,” she giggled, her eyes crinkling, her left handing coming up to her mouth to hide her smile. “But, your voice sounds so familiar…” She bit her lip, contemplating whether or not she should speak more.

“Oh!” Spider-Man shouted suddenly before deepening his voice and speaking again. “I get that a lot.”

“...I’m...sure you do,” (Y/N) agreed, nodding her head at the same pace she spoke.“But, you sound a lot like this guy I know. His name is Peter.”

“Who’s this ‘Peter’ guy? He sounds super cool.” Spider-Man said, sounding embarrassed.

(Y/N) giggled, her heart fluttering at the thought of Peter.“He’s a huge dork. But, that’s what makes me like him so much.”

“Oh, yeah?” His voice was suddenly small

“Yeah...he’s really cute. I was actually going to tell him tonight, but I haven’t been able to find him.” She confessed. “Aaaaaand I just confessed something weird and embarrassing to a super stranger.” She screwed her eyes shut and sighed, even though she was nearly certain that Spider-Man was no stranger.

“It’s not embarrassing!” He insisted, “I’m sure he feels the same! Something super important probably came up and he-he couldn’t, uh, couldn’t come back?”

(Y/N) cracked a smile. She could practically picture Peter’s curls underneath the mask. “Yeah, that’s probably it.” She said softly, looking into the eyes of the mask as if it would tell her everything she was wondering about.

“Yo-You should definitely still tell him how you feel, though. I mean, I’m sure he’d love to hear it.” Spider-Man stuttered out.

“You’re right,” she said, stepping closer to the dangling, masked, drenched, hero. She was certain at this point. “I’m going to tell him that I like him.” The pitter-patter of the rain on the fire escapes was going to be the soundtrack to her confession. She knew what she was doing. Or, at least, she hoped she did.

Her voice dropped as she stepped even closer to Spider-Man. “I’m going to say that I love his enthusiasm for everything he’s involved in. I love the way he casually checks in on me when he knows I have a bad day. I love that he pretends not to notice when I do something super embarrassing. I love that he’d do anything for his friends. I love that he’s smart enough to do whatever he wants but he chooses to hang out with me and Ned and take normal classes to be with me. I love that he comes to my shows even though I know he doesn’t like them. I love his beautiful brown eyes and his wonderful smile. I love that I can depend on him. But, most of all,” She took a shaky breath before her final confession, “I love him.”

A heavy silence fell around them. Peter wasn’t sure what to do and (Y/N) had just spilled her heart. Peter was about to say something, anything, to break the silence when a loud cheer went up and fireworks exploded in the sky.

(Y/N) looked up at the sky and smiled before returning her loving gaze to the boy in front of her. “Midnight.”

Spider-Man said nothing but stared at (Y/N) as she grabbed the edge of his mask and pulled it down to his nose. She leaned forward slowly, her breath hitching just before she pressed her lips to his.

It was a small kiss, but it was enough to leave them both breathless and elated.

“Happy New Year, Peter.” (Y/N) said softly, no longer caring about the party or the fact that she was drenched in cold rain. Her heart was warm and that was all that mattered.

[artificialzeezee]

Sorry to my unknown lover.

Summary: Based on Halsey’s song ‘Sorry’. Roy reflecting on what he won’t let himself have. Roy reflecting on his insecurities and his mistakes, and the love he let slip away before it ever began. A drabble about Roy and Shane, and what never was.

“All you are is a bastard! You could never be someone’s boyfriend because your tongue is already so far up your own asshole!”

“Real classy, Shane. Keep ‘em coming, you think I haven’t heard this song and dance before?”

“Of course you have, I just never thought we’d play it! I never thought you’d be like this to me!”

-

Roy didn’t enjoy arguing. No sane minded individual did, unless they had some sort of God complex- and contrary to popular belief, Roy didn’t have one of those. Roy didn’t take pleasure watching people he loved in pain, he didn’t get a kick out of tears and screaming, and he wouldn’t choose to repeat any of the dark nights where his voice went hoarse shouting, while his partner curls up in ball of self pity on the floor. For Roy, arguments had become a regular visiter, but not a friend he greeted warmly. Just an acquaintance he begrudgingly accepted. All his previous relationships ended not with a whistle, but with a bang.

How did he end up here? A Friday night, laying on the grass of his garden, staring up at the stars and letting the summer breeze whistle past his anxieties. The over grown grass blades tickling the exposed parts of his skin, the midnight blanket attempting to coo him into a blissful state of relaxation, and the hammering of his heart drumming louder and louder every second he represses the aching of his chest. He should be out on the town, breaking hearts and living the extravagant life of an L.A bachelor.

This was a normal thing he did however in times of great difficulty. He use to retreat to a field a few blocks down from where he lived as a kid when he got stressed. When his mother flipped out after finding the red dress under his bed, when his father told him about his grandfathers heart attack, and when he’d gotten into a huge fight at school after a jock called him a faggot one too many times. He coped with fresh air, and silence, letting his conflicting emotions battle it out civilly. Roy would briskly trudge up the hill, counting every breath he took on his trek, and then lay under the twinkling night sky above him. Thoughts would begin to untangle from the web like a lucky fly, and the spider that spun the dread and anger from corner to corner of his mind would eventually rest. Then he was left fragile, but tranquil. He could breath again without the pang of rage boiling at the centre of his soul. Roy watched the silver balls of fire sit still and calm in the void, and he’d imagine himself to be them. 

Against all odds, the stars weren’t sucked up by the mind numbing darkness. They carried on triumphant and bright, beautiful no matter what surrounded them, and he took inspiration from them. 

He came out to his family. He started performing on bigger and better stages. He got a job as a costume designer. 

He won Drag Race.

Somehow he always ended up the same way, as if he was still the twig-like, trifling kid from way back yonder. Laying on grass, trying to relax his rigid, uneven breathing, and over thinking to a point he may explode like a volcano. Why did it all have to be so familiar? Why couldn’t he move on, and stop relating to the 11 year old that would scream angrily through the burning tears streaming down his cheeks, crying into the empty space of an uninhabited park. 

Roy rested his hands against his chest, focusing on the way they lifted and fell in time to his breathing. He began untangling the irksome knots of his worries, but he finds himself stuck on the most infuriating, intangible thought that he wanted to avoid at all costs. How foolish was he to pretend it would simply go away with some air and concentration. 

Shane. The one and only reason he was currently laying in his garden at 12:42AM, with goosebumps and a sour expression on his face. 

They’d gotten into a huge fight, and it had felt like an eternity of shouting until eventually Roy stormed off, driving into the night with Shane screaming bloody murder after him. His voice became nothing but a ghostly echo, and Roy was left with an eerie silence he didn’t feel any better about. Now he was all alone, he missed Shane, even at the worst. To miss the sound of someone’s screeching, even the sound of their heart ripping apart...did that make Roy satanic, or just human? 

/

A few weeks after he was crowned on Drag Race, he was in a club with Shane; as regular as any other night on the tear with his friend. Arms slung over one another as they merrily sang along to whatever the DJ was playing, cheeks pressed together and words tossed around with little concern for the shattering effect they may have in the light of a sober morning. 

Maybe it was the smell of apples in Shane’s hair, or the sparkling in Roy’s eyes, or maybe it was the bass pounding their blood through their bodies, but something was different that night. Shane laid his eyes on Roy in a way no one ever had, and as fast as the thought even crossed his mind, Roy threw himself at Shane for a sloppy yet passionate embrace. 

Blurred delights and burning loins, Shane led Roy back to his hotel. Hands nervously tugging at damn material blocking their desires, hair caught in the tight fist of a lovers rushed need; the two barely had a second to take a breath before they were under the sheets, hot and sweaty. That was their first time.

It went on for months. Shane and Roy would meet, exchange pleasantries, have a couple bottles of wine, and find themselves in a mess of the others limbs, under a shameful blanket or duvet. 

Eventually, they stopped drinking wine. 

Eventually, they would sleepover after having sex.

Eventually, it was a dream come true...

So eventually, Roy felt claustrophobic.

He wasn’t good at relationships. He was good at casual sex, and he was good at being a shoulder to cry on, but the idea of someone depending on him, or his darkest, most vile secrets being shared with another person, scared him. Whole heartedly petrified him - spine tingling, hair standing up on his arms, sweat dripping down his forehead terrifying. Then there was the worst point of all, that this wasn’t just some yank he’d picked up at a bar, but it was one of his best friends.

And deep down, Roy knew he was falling in love with Shane, despite all the guards and walls he built up around him.

It was the most disgusting, despicable sensation to realise he was falling in love with Shane. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in love, but it was by far the worst, because the repercussions this time would mean tearing himself open, wounded and vulnerable. He knew so much about Shane - facts engrained onto the flesh of his brain, like his birthday or his best memory growing up, or even his mothers favourite song. So much about Shane had become who Roy was, and he despised the codependency they had fallen into. 

Watching his “boyfriend” in one of his work shirts as a nighty, cooking breakfast, shinning in the toils of the sun’s rays that leaked through the window. Listening to the angelic, carefree notes of Shane singing in the shower. Watching him beam with pride when he made Roy laugh. Shane had, unfortunately, become Roy’s favourite pass time, but he wasn’t overjoyed by the soft glow of new love. 

Commitment-phobe. That’s what Danny had jokingly tossed at Roy when he told him about his hatred for relationships. Who was Danny to talk anywho? The boy who wrote songs about fake falling in love with a stranger on holiday, and ending every relationship he had before they got too intense. Danny was a commitment-phobe just as much as Roy probably was.

But, he was young. Roy couldn’t afford to keep jumping out of bed every time things got serious.

He didn’t want to be alone, not in a long shot! It was just, love was never a sure thing. Love wasn’t an unbreakable bond, and relationships could crumble and end in tragedy when placed upon the wrong person. Roy felt that he was the wrong person, and Shane was not. Shane was kind, and bright. Shane was warm, and loving, and had a whole world to offer a person. How could grumpy, workaholic, narcissistic, pessimistic Roy even think about taking that world away from someone who truly deserved Shane?

So he started missing phone calls. He stopped sleeping over the now infrequent times they hooked up for sex. He stopped putting in the effort in an attempt to distance himself and save the friendship he cherished.

/

*Tap, tap, tap.*

Roy sat bolt upright as the sound abruptly shook him from his thoughts, looking toward the source. There sat his precious dog Dede, whimpering as she gave him wide, pleading puppy eyes, scratching at the glass every couple of seconds. He snickered, hiking himself off the ground to let her out.

She pounced at his legs, letting out soft yippie barks of excitement as he fussed over her, and then they were both sat back in the middle of the garden, quiet and calm. Dede snuggled up in his lap as he stroked her, recalling where his thoughts last were.

Lost. He was now thinking about how much Shane use to pamper his dogs, spoil them like they were his own, and how the two adored Shane as much as they did Roy. He recalls the time they spent all morning in bed together, the two small dogs snoring at the foot of the bed. Shane resting on Roy’s chest, their fingers linked and held against his chest. Roy can still feel the gentle pitter patter of his love struck heart against his palm, trying to break it’s way out of Shane’s rib cage. 

/

I should never have kissed him. The most frequent thought that crosses Roy’s mind these days. Especially since the argument.

Shane had come round fuming, not even allowing Roy the chance to shut the door in his face since he had shoved his way through to the living room. His face was fresh with makeup, beautiful and soft, but nothing else he wore indicated drag. Obviously he’d rushed from a gig to get changed before bursting onto the scene. 

It started with an unnerving quiet, just the intensity of Shane’s burning glare. Roy felt his blood boil just having the usually calm boy’s eyes glued to him. Then came the shouting - the horrible sound of distress coming from the most important person to Roy. He never had the strength to stop it however. Rather, a demonic part of him deep, deep down wants Shane to keep shouting; till his lungs burst; till all the days end and there’s no longer a life to fight against. It’s the flight part of his fight, that would rather Shane tier himself out of this “relationship” as apposed to Roy putting in the effort to be with someone he fits with imperfectly. 

It’s a good thing, not to be perfect. Roy’s a little crooked and Shane’s a little bent out of shape and they fall together like two different puzzle pieces, miraculously working, despite the picture. 

“What did I do to you, Roy? We were so good for so long, and then you stopped-”

“We? What are you even talking about, Shane! We were never a thing, and you know it!”

“How can you stand there and lie to me? Lie to yourself?!”

“You were nothing but a good fuck, okay? Why do you have to kid yourself and pretend this was more than it was? We’re two adult, single, men, who were lonely, and wanted sex. That’s it! That’s all this ever was, Shane.”

He’s lying. They both know it, like the markings on the back of their hands. Shane can see the desperate attempt at escape that Roy leaves exposed within the twinkle in the iris of his eyes. 

“Stop playing the gobby, no feelings cunt you put on for everyone else. I know you, Roy. I know the real you, deep down-”

“Ah, what a load of bullshit. What you see with me is what you get. Sorry to disappoint you, Shane.”

“No, I’m not just a pretty face. I’m smart and I see exactly what is going on here. I’m not some sex toy you can discard when you’re done with me, especially with you, of all people! My best fucking friend, that’s who you are. So don’t you dare tell me I don’t know you, and don’t you dare pretend what we had was nothing!”

It went on for more than an hour. Roy threw his fist at the wall, Shane pounded his palm onto the coffee table, both ended up exhausted and no where nearer to an ending. Shane knew all their late night conversations meant more to Roy than he was letting on, but he also knew how unbearable the pain of unrequited love felt, and how at his age it just wasn’t worth fighting for. If it was anyone else, Shane would have given up. If it wasn’t his best friend - his rock to confine in - he would be home asleep, a little broken, but relieved. 

Roy remembers cocking his jaw, slick with a sleazy smirk that would infuriate anyone who saw it. He remembers laughing mockingly, in time to the music of Shane’s shattering affections. He remembers when things got violent and both began hurtling insults back and forth, for no particular reason other than to hurt the opponent. 

When would it end? It didn’t seem like either was going to get their way. Shane wasn’t going to walk away in a relationship and Roy wasn’t going to leave with a best friend. They would both end up angry and alone.

“All you are is a bastard! You could never be someone’s boyfriend because your tongue is already so far up your own asshole!”

“Real classy, Shane. Keep ‘em coming, you think I haven’t heard this song and dance before?”

“Of course you have, I just never thought we’d play it! I never thought you’d be like this to me!” Shane screamed, the foundation of his makeup unable to cover the burning red of his cheeks. “Why are you incapable of real human compassion? Huh?! You couldn’t just let us develop like we were, you had to be a prick! God, do you even realise how mean you can be? I mean for God sake, you kissed me all those months ago, not the other way round! You’re the one who started this...” Shane stopped, his chest struggling to keep up with his breath as he tried to settle the racing of his heart. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

I should never have kissed him. Roy cursed under his breath, a hand pushing through the tufts of his hair. “I know.” he whispered, to himself and to Shane. “I know. I never should have-”

“No, don’t take that moment away from me. I’m glad you kissed me.”

They’re on opposite ends of the living room, staring at each other, with less rage and more pity. Roy was broken. Shane was broken. Everything about them and between them was breaking. Roy wants nothing more than to hold Shane, rest a hand on his cheek and apologise till he’s used up all the words within him, and he’s contently mute. He wants to be able to love Shane without the fear burning away inside him, but the anxiety is too much. He’s convinced Shane could do so much better, and he’s convinced it’s written that he must spend his days alone. Shane believes in love, Roy believes in realism.

Roy grabbed Shane by the wrist. He dragged him out of the house, locked the door and got in his car, alone. Shane shouted for him to stop, pounding on the car window, begging him to resolve whatever it was he was missing. Roy just looked at Shane through the glass and sighed. 

“Someone will love you,” he said, too quiet for Shane to actually hear against his persistent shouting, “But that someone isn’t me.”

He drove away, from his own home and from his dying love. He drove toward the unknown and the lonesome future. 

/

Dede began to stir in her slumber, and before Roy could pick her up she jumped off his lap, scuttling back to the house. He watched her, smiling warmly despite the agonising twisting off his stomach. So many self destructive thoughts to match self destructive actions. 

The stars glimmered high above, singing against the silent audience of darkness. Roy fell on his back again and just stared at them, in awe, hoping they would tell him what to do next. Such grace and beauty, dancing above for all the see but never to touch. He’d burn up the very second he lay the tip of his finger on them, and right now when he felt so conflicted and nauseous, it was exactly what he wanted. To become the shimmering star dust within the cosmos, with no problems and no feelings. Just a stunning chain of lights, free and admired. 

It had been a day since the argument. It felt like a battle that had extended for years, the way his throat was tightening; reflecting on Shane’s depressed pleads and his distressed screams, pulling Roy down under and filling his lungs till he drowned in the same feelings. Why couldn’t he just accept love? Why did he have to run for the hills?

He could spend all his life analysing and still never come up with a clear answer. Childhood trauma, fear of abandonment, some other bullshit answer- Roy didn’t want to find answers as to why he wouldn’t, he just wanted to know how to unapologetically love Shane. To love him without the compulsion to back peddle, and to give him the undying, obsessive, proud love Shane truly deserved. 

“I’m making it harder than it fucking has to be.” He spoke quietly to himself. “This is...fuck, why can’t I believe that anybody ever really starts to fall in love with me?! Why am I...” He grunts, slamming his head down against the grass and squeezing his eyes shut as he settles the rising anger. “fuck.”

The longer he lay watching the stars, the longer he’s depriving himself of a blissful future in the arms of his very real love. The longer he lets his hot headed nature be the dominant feeling, the longer he is without carefree, tender intimacy. 

/

“What was I to you then, Roy? Tell me- tell me right now, because I know I wasn’t just sex and you won’t convince me otherwise.”

“Then what the fuck is the point in me saying anything, you’ve already decided on the answer!”

“Are you telling me all the mornings we spent talking about our lives, stark naked, unable to take our hands of each other, was nothing? Because it didn’t feel like nothing. It felt like everything!”

“You can’t just enjoy the bullshit. You have to ruin a good thing by putting thought into it-”

“Me ruin it?! You’re the one who started screening my calls, ignoring my texts! You’re the one who tried me on like a piece of cheap jewellery and threw me away! If you thought I’d just shrug and move on without a second glance back, you’re not as intelligent as I figured you were.”

“You’re use to being an over sized flesh light anyway, why are you-”

Shane threw himself at Roy, slamming him against the wall and screamed every crude insult he could think off. Roy shouted back, practically spitting, clenching his fists at his side. 

/

It was ugly.

It was heart wrenching.

Why? Why did Roy ruin such a good thing, why did he destroy the one person who meant more to him than anything ever had?

When he was a kid, watching the stars use to do him a world of wonder and clear up the web of worries cluttering his thoughts. Now, in his 40s, it did nothing but leave him cold and star struck. 

Should he call Shane? Or, was it simply too little too late? It seemed their fait was sealed; his ignorance had broken Shane’s heart, and he failed to see it at the beginning till he tore Shane up at the end.