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the-californicationist · 9 months ago

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Hello Cali ❤️. Por alguna razón no te había visto más en mi muro de tumblr y me preguntaba si no estabas aquí, por eso busqué tu perfil y me di cuenta que tumblr me estaba jugando una mala pasada.

How are you??? I'm so busy because I have a loooot of work, pero me tomaré el tiempo de leer todo lo que me perdí de ti ✨✨✨

YOU ARE THE BEST, OK? I LOVE YOU ❤️💍

Quisiera que escribieras un smut de John Price CEO/Mafia con un Reader inteligente y astuto, que queda cautivado cuando John comienza a seducirla, porfis ✨

Anything for you, my friend!! I love you so much <3 <3

Wonderland

John Price is a famous mob boss... but you don't know that. All you know is that you've got a crush on a mysterious, handsome man, and you're willing to go all the way to find out if his bite is as bad as his bark.

The parking garage was dark, and the concrete seemed to hold in the cold like a freezer. It felt like ice on his cheekbone, and not even the blood from his eye socket was enough to warm the skin. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, that odd whooshing sound, and in a distant memory he could recall the first time he had ever gotten a black eye. But, all that was gone now. He had ratted out the one man that no one had dared fuck with in the past five years: John Fucking Price.

Those fucking coppers had said they’d protect him. He even had his people outside his house every hour of every day. How could this happen? He had to admit, he wasn’t even scared, he was just pissed off. Fucking bastards. They’d get what was coming to them. Maybe he’d tell them so. Not like they'd give him any more chances.

“Fuck you, Price. I hope those pigs skin you alive,” he spit out the blood that had began to pool in his mouth, and hoped it hit those stupid boots John was always wearing.

John Price slid his shoe away from the red stain that had began to swell on the ground, keeping his kangaroo leather Berlutis from ruin. The fool beneath his feet had no idea what was about to happen to him, and John almost felt sorry about it, if only for a moment. He and Vinson had been friends once. Hell, he’d even stood up at his wedding.

“Vince, what did I tell you about that bloody mouth of yours? Said it'd get you into trouble, didn't I? Wish there was something I could do for you now, cause you and me, we used to be mates. But, I can't afford friends like you. Not anymore," Price gave the rat a quick shove with his heel and watched as the stain smeared in a thin streak across the cement. He turned to his men,

"Well, lads, I've got a party to get to. You wouldn't mind cleaning things up here for me, would’ya?"

"No, boss," was their quiet reply.

"You'll be sorry, you goddamn pussy!" Vinson was screaming now, "I hope they hang you from the fuckin’-”

Bang! The loud gunshot echoed through the hollow space.

Vinson didn't say anything after that.

"Let's get outta here, Gaz."

"Right away, boss," Gaz opened the door to the limo and prepared to drive John back into the city. There was a big gala at the Genting Casino tonight, and Mr. John T. Price was never late.

He was never early either. In fact, he was perfection incarnate. When he was younger, that wasn't always the case, but after his father died, he had needed to change. No one was fit to rule Liverpool in his stead, and he was thankful that no one had been foolish enough to try. His father had made this town what it is. Liverpool was built by his family, and even though everyone thought the Price regime had grown tired of their reign on the old docks, they couldn't have been farther from the truth.

John had his cut from all of the major casinos, and he traded security in exchange. He owned two of them himself, along with four shopping malls, five bars, three neighborhoods, two apartment complexes, and a golf course - not to mention the property that wasn't in his name. He made sure to give his men plenty of reign over their own enterprises, even if most of them were strip clubs. But, he didn't care. As long as tribute came in every quarter, he never messed around in their business.

He thought Vinson was one he could trust. He'd even given him a car dealership just last month.

"Don't run it into the ground, Vince," he had said.

But, no. What had the little bastard gone and done? Put a tracker on his car and dropped bugs in his office. After everything he'd done for him, that's how he was repaid? To tell the truth, John never liked violence. It was awkward. But, his father had given him fists and showed him how to use them, so there was really no going against it. Violence and fear were vital pieces of the only language that men like Vince could understand. Now, with another family coming to Liverpool, John had to be on his best behavior. Even if 'best' was a little more loosely defined.

As he lit the tip of his last cigar, he reminded Gaz to grab him another few sticks on the way home. Gaz would've never turned coat on him like Vince did. He'd give him the car lot.

"You want the dealership on Sefton street, Kyle?" He offered.

"Sure, boss. Thanks a lot," Gaz smiled, knowing exactly which business he was talking about, "You want me to pull around back?"

They had arrived at the main entrance. Throngs of people were craning around the limo, trying to see who was inside. John thought about it for a second, smushed his cigar tip into the ashtray, and adjusted his tie.

"Nah," he said, "We'll give them the show tonight."

"Sure thing, boss."

Gaz parked the car and leapt out of the cab. His hand was on the door before John could take another breath, and on either side of the door, some of Price’s own foot soldiers took up their posts as bodyguards. When he emerged from the muffled quiet of the limo, it shocked John for a moment to be in such a whirl of chaos.

"Mr. Price, can I get a photo?"

"Over here, please, Mr. Price," a cute reporter was frantic enough to step in front of his men. They picked her up and put her back in the crowd.

John made sure to smile and wave, shake hands with those he had seen before, but he knew it was safer inside.

The manager greeted him warmly and, he noted, by first name,

"John! Good to see you again, mate. We've got just the table for you, tonight. Wait til you see the legs on these girls! It'll be a night to remember."

"I'm sure it will."

"Ah, sorry, but we don't allow weapons past the main floor," the manager's face fell. So did Kyle’s.

Gaz cleared his throat,

"I'm sure you can make an exception for Mr. Price. We'll be very discreet."

It was more of a threat than a promise, and John smiled at his friend's heavy tone. Kyle was anything if not polite.

"Uh, yes, we can certainly make arrangements. Right this way, gentlemen," and now the manager was nothing if not nervous. Perfect.

The night continued as well as it could, but he had never really enjoyed gambling. Why make all this money if he was just going to throw it into the wind? But, he could mingle with the right people here. Except that these weren't his people. He had come as a favor to his long time friend, Alex Keller, but Alex was nowhere to be found.

"Passed out on his missus’ tits, probably!" One of the strangers guffawed at the other end of the Blackjack table.

"He’ll show, don't you worry," another replied.

Well, John didn't have all night to wait on a man to get to his own party. He needed a drink. When he rose to head to the bar, Gaz stopped him,

"I'll get it, boss. No need to bother yourself with it."

The table was silent. The strangers who had been so brassy before were now silent and transfixed on the pair of men at their table, one of whom was important enough to have his slightest whim catered to at a moment's notice.

"It's alright, Garrick. Play my hand, yeah? I'm headed out for a smoke."

"Yes, sir."

John retreated. The awkward stares and weird glances were too much for him to bear. Surely there was a patio around here, somewhere.

By the time he found one, he was disappointed to see it was occupied.

"Oh, beg your pardon. Thought I was alone out here," he said.

To his shock, it was a woman's voice that responded from the shadows. Your voice.

"You're fine. You got a light? Fuckin’ matches are all wet..." You fumbled with the book, striking to no avail.

He smirked,

"I have the fire if you've got an extra smoke."

"Fair trade," you smiled back jokingly.

You were dressed in a clean chef's coat, your hair was pulled up, and you might have been going without makeup, but it was almost too dark to tell. It certainly wasn't casino makeup, that was for sure. John watched as you tugged two cigarettes free from the box, put them to your soft lips, and covered his flame with your hand. Your fingernail paint was pink and chipped. You pulled in the fire of both cigarettes and offered one to him. He took it,

"Thanks."

You grunted in a minimal response.

"So, you're a chef?" He asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him, giving him the glare he deserved for such an obvious question.

He back pedaled,

"I mean, you work here as a chef. I just thought, with the coat...I mean, where's your big bloody hat? You need the hat."

You laughed. It was wonderful to hear, and he liked the way your mouth moved when you started to speak,

"Yeah, I work here. Have for the past three years or so. Bill signed me on as head chef, and I've been slaving away for him ever since."

"Bill?"

"Oh, he's the culinary manager. Runs all the restaurants in the casino and the hotel. When the last guy disappeared into thin air, they had to scramble to find someone, I guess. What about you? Where's your fancy hat? Based on that Hermes tie, I'm gonna assume you're here with the party."

He mindlessly adjusted his tie, noticing its feel on his neck as she called it out,

"Well, I might be."

"Yeah? You some kind of big-shot?" You eyed him again, challenging him to answer with something more than a yes or a no. You had heard yes and no plenty of times.

"I might be," he wouldn't give in.

"If we keep going like this all night, you might end up being the Queen, for all I know."

You both laughed, but then, you sighed,

"Oh well, Mr. Mystery. Keep your secrets then," you shrugged and turned away from him.

He couldn't have that.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Sarah," you spun back around, "Rachel. Tiffany. Willamina. Might be anything."

You had the audacity to wink at him.

"Alright, you got me, love," he moved a little closer to you, "I'm John. John Price."

He extended his hand and waited for the bad news to sink in. No one who knew his name in this town would be dumb enough to be on a patio alone with him at night. He had dodged the media for a long time, but his trials always managed to get leaked. Twelve accounts of assault and battery, two separate accounts of theft, three murder charges - all acquitted of course. But, still, he was no stranger to ducking the law.

"John? Of all the names," you shook your head and smiled, taking his hand firmly, "Pleasure to meet you."

"You as well. You've never heard of me?"

"Oh, Jesus," you lamented, "Are you famous or something? Look, if I'm not in the kitchen, I'm at home asleep. Sorry. I don't even watch TV."

"No, nothing like that, I just - " He thought about it for a moment before you saw him decide to take a different trajectory, “Not famous.”

“Why is it that I feel a little bit like Alice tonight?” You took a long drag and let the smoke fall from your lips, “Like I’m following a white rabbit down a deep, dark hole.”

He chuckled, and you enjoyed seeing his eyes shine with his laughter,

“If you follow me down,” he sidled up to you, his face close enough to yours so you could smell the balsam in his aftershave, “I’ll show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

A man’s voice cleared his throat behind you, and you both turned to look at who it was.

“Garrick?” John asked, clearly annoyed.

“Yes, sir. Johnny and Simon made it up. They said they know why Keller hasn’t shown.”

John didn’t answer. He simply turned back to look into your eyes, trying to divine some sort of future from them. He must’ve liked what he saw because the next thing you knew, you were being given a golden key card. Top floor.

Not famous, my arse, you thought to yourself.

“Why don’t you take the night off, love. Come see Wonderland, yeah? I’ll be right behind you.”

“My, my,” you said, palming the card from him, “No one ever tells you no.”

Another smile, a little colder than the first,

“No, they don’t.”

“Maybe I will,” you pulled the tiger’s tail.

“You won’t,” the tiger growled back.

As you watched him leave the small patio, his broad back stretching that expensive suit, his thick fingers flicking his half-smoked cigarette off the balcony’s edge, you were kicking yourself. You knew you were going up to his room, even though something inside of you really wanted to yank this guy’s chain. But, his dark, purring voice had made Wonderland sound so inviting… maybe just one little peek wouldn’t hurt?

You waited a whole five minutes before slinking off to the service elevator, cutting out for the night. No one was making dinner anyway; it was the bar that was slammed. You’d already cleaned and prepped your station, so no one would miss you.

You ducked into the bathroom just before the top floor, getting off on the service side in an empty hallway, checking your face for stray flour or coffee stained teeth. You smelled like a pizza oven, but maybe you could sneak a shower before he showed up?.

What a slut, you heard the angel on your shoulder chastise you.

So, what? The devil’s side replied, indignant.

You peeled the chef’s coat off of your body. All you had underneath was a black tee. It was cropped a bit too high for work, but you wore it anyway. Your black work pants were covered in flour and dried food. You brushed them off as best you could. It would have to do. You shoved your coat into your bag and headed back to the hallway.

Luckily, the main elevator was vacant, as was the hallway, so you wouldn’t run into any other guests on your way to Wonderland.

The angel rolled his eyes. The devil glared at him.

The elevator dinged, and you inserted the gold card, clicking the very topmost button to the penthouse.

You’d been up here before. Sometimes, you picked up cleaning shifts on your off days for the extra cash, so you knew the layout. But, that had been in the cold, hygienic light of day. At night, this floor was a sparkling vision. When the elevator doors opened, huge clear windows reached all the way into the ceiling, framing Liverpool’s city center, looking more beautiful than it ever seemed from the ground.

You took quiet, uncertain steps out of the lift, checking for any signs of life. There were none, so you made your way to the bathroom. Huge black marble monolith slabs were carved in a semicircle, a nautilus that curled around the four separate shower heads, all ready to pour their steaming water down your naked body.

You stripped, stepping into the stream, letting yourself pretend that you lived in this sort of luxury for a moment. A soft lather of soap and a little shampoo later and you were clean. The single-use toothbrush and paste was in the hidden drawer that no guest would ever notice, so you stole an extra set, scrubbing yourself to a minty shine.

A pair of black satin robes hung in the closet, so you stole one, tying it around your waist, fully aware that one stiff breeze and the loose-fitting garment would fly right off of you. The soft fabric lay against your skin in the most sensual way, barely touching you and yet making you feel touched.

You explored the hotel room a bit, avoiding Mr. Price’s suitcase like it would bite you. The kitchen came stocked with ice buckets of champagne, so you helped yourself to one, pouring a glass and lounging by the window, wondering how long you’d have to wait for your date.

Fortunately for you, only an hour had passed and you heard the elevator ding. Out from the dark lift came the man himself… bleeding from his lip.

“John! What happened?” You put down your wine and rushed over to him.

He held you back, waving you off like it was nothing,

“Don’t worry, love. Just a bit of a scuffle, tha’s all.”

“But —”

“Seriously,” he grabbed you by your arms and looked you up and down, enjoying the wide opening of the robe as it revealed your body to him, “You should see the other bloke. Let me get cleaned up. Pour me one of those, would’ya?”

Before you could protest, he ducked into the bathroom, out of your reach. You were left standing there, worried and a little concerned for your own wellbeing. You didn’t actually know this man at all, and here you were, lamb to the slaughter, eager and bleating happily.

While he was in the bath, you decided to do a little research. You searched up his name, and you were finding almost no hits, until you stumbled upon a mugshot.

There he was… the notorious mob boss, ruler of the English underground arms dealing circuit, enforcer and racketeering extraordinaire. And here you were, nearly naked in his room with not so much as a penknife within reach. This guy had been in the armed forces, special forces, black ops — the works. He retired and fell into the armed security world, making a name for himself by pushing out the competition by any means necessary. His father had maintained ties to the dark underground, and now John had taken over the family business, doing shady deals for the government and crime organizations alike. All of it was hearsay, of course, and none of the charges had ever landed a single hit… but you knew the truth.

John Price was the most dangerous man in the world; Liverpool’s crime arena was just a quiet little hobby for a man like him. If he wanted to, he could make you disappear like a magician behind a mirror. Gone without a trace.

What would you do? Would you run? Where would you go? How would you explain your sudden exit? Food poisoning?

Before you could even begin to formulate a plan, John was out of the shower. He looked incredible. His hulking, heavy form was steaming from the hot water, and his hairy chest was uncovered. He’d slipped into a pair of running shorts and nothing else, so his brutal body was on display for you. He was covered in scars, and he was heavyset, but his largeness was from his strength. His core was bulky and strong, and when he moved, you could see the tight muscles rolling around beneath the skin like a snake ready to strike.

He turned to you, but even though he wore a smile at first, the moment he made eye contact, his face fell. Somehow, he knew that you knew.

He sighed,

“What did you see?”

He rushed over to his suitcase but found it still locked, looking back to you quizzically. You didn’t move, you didn’t dare. John stepped over to you slowly, deliberately, almost as if he was ready for another fight.

You turned your phone towards him and showed him his own mugshot.

“Thought you said you weren’t famous,” you whispered. Your voice sounded so small and far away, you almost felt like you hadn’t spoken the words.

He smiled bitterly, tossing his towel on a nearby chair and sat beside you on the bed,

“Cat’s out of the bag, then?”

“Yeah,” you looked down at your phone, unable to look him in the eye.

“Go on,” he waved his hand at you, motioning toward the door, “Get out.”

You didn’t move. You should have. Every fiber in your being was telling you to make a break for it. Now was your chance. And yet… you stayed. It was silent for a long while. You could feel his gaze raking over you, hot and heavy. His breaths rumbled in his chest.

“Go!” He spat, “No one’s keeping you prisoner here, girl. That’s me, alright, and the newspapers don’t even know the bloody half of it. Just go.”

You reacted to his volume, shirking back a bit, but you still didn’t stand. You looked at him then, searching for the kindness you thought you saw on the patio just hours before, checking to see if it was still there, if it was even real.

When you met his eyes, his fury was masking a very real pain. He was angry, sure, but the ache of being cast out was apparent, even though you were the one doing the leaving, and you just wanted that bit of brightness back again.

John studied you, watching your every movement, trying to determine what you were thinking but coming up short. He stood right in front of you, his hips inches from your face, and he asked,

“What are you waitin’ on, love?”

A strong thumb lifted your chin, raising your jaw up to look at him again, and he used his enormous hand to grab your face, keeping you there under his will.

“I know you’re afraid of me,” he commented softly, “I can feel it.”

“So?” You replied, trying to keep your tone steady.

His voice was bitter and mocking, and as he leaned forward, you could smell his clean, warm skin,

“You wanna play with the big bad wolf, hm? See if I bite?”

He grabbed you a little too tightly, trying to scare you. It worked, but you tried not to show it. Instead, you decided to place both of your hands at his hips, your palms flat against his warm belly, feeling the dark hair that formed a faithful trail, guiding your eyes down to his waistband.

It was his turn to be surprised. You felt his breathing catch as you moved your hands up along his ribcage, rubbing gentle circles into his skin, petting him like a skittish hound, expecting him to snap.

Letting go of your face, he grabbed your wrist, and just as you thought he was going to stop you, he took your hand and placed it on his chest, stretching your arm all the way up from where you were sat, making you extend your spine as you reached up to him. Your fingers traced the fur that lay flat against his pectorals, and finally, you plucked at his nipples, not allowing there to be any question as to your intentions.

The tip of his wide finger dipped into the silken collar of your robe, swirling around your neck and following it down to the swell of your breast. He didn’t find your peak, but he didn’t seem to care to. He was just exploring.

Suddenly, John moved faster than you could even begin to understand what was happening. He had reached under you, lifting you, and then tossed you back down on the bed. You lay, sprawled, trying to catch your bearings, and then you were covered by his huge form, his wide body casting shadows over your vision, cloaking you in his own private darkness.

His mouth was on you like a hot flame, licking and burning and biting and sucking wherever he wanted to, eager to taste every inch of your skin, the imperfections of a wrinkle or a freckle seemed to go fully unnoticed as he devoured you, sucking you down like his last meal.

You were overwhelmed by the pleasure he was stoking inside of you, and you let a small mewling sound escape from your lips that caught his attention.

“Mm,” he climbed up your body so that you were face to face, “Enjoying your walk on the dark side, love? Think you’re tainted by me now? Or maybe that’s what you wanted, is it? Something naughty, just for a night?”

You didn’t understand his negativity, nor the self-deprecation, so you tried to protest,

“No, I —”

“It’s alright. I’ll show you how to be a bad girl. I’ll teach you, love. C’mere.”

His voice was smoldering and sticky, clinging to your ears with some of that same bitterness from before. But, you didn’t have time to worry about that. He was standing by the bedside again, and he grabbed your arms, making your head and shoulders hang part way off of the mattress. You were left staring at his thick thighs and scarred knees, worried about what he was up to.

Then, all became clear. He had dropped his running shorts, and the fattest cock you’d ever seen hung down, shining with drool, ready to be fed into your mouth.

Your eyes went wide, and although you reached your hand out to try and brace against his legs, it was no use. He supported your head from underneath and bent himself over until the tip of his swollen cockhead touched your lips, the gleaming precome sticking to you like gloss.

Unwilling to be frightened by his aggression, you opened your mouth for him, laving your tongue across his turgid flesh, allowing him to press himself inside of you.

His cock was slick on the head but dry on his shaft, so you did your best to wet him, licking and sucking as he pumped himself in and out, already nearing the back of your throat and not even halfway sheathed.

When he nudged your soft palate, making you gag a bit, you made a noise. You tried steadying him with your hand, and he grunted, grabbing both of your arms by the wrist, holding them above your face, clutched to his hip. Then, he continued to fuck your face, ignoring your writhing gasps for breath.

Your throat tightened around him, but you tried to stay calm. You’d never taken anyone this deep before, but you stilled yourself, ignoring the urge to panic, and you made a point to swallow, feeling your throat squeeze around his head. You could taste him as he painted the back of your throat, salty and sweet at the same time.

That made him moan, and you felt like you’d won some sort of battle. If he was trying to frighten you, it was going to take more than just a little rough sex.

“Mm, fuck… Maybe you are a naughty little girl, aye?”

You hummed, making sure you could feel the vibrations travel through his girth.

He removed himself fully, taking a trail of your own drool with him, gasping from the pleasure of your mouth.

“Fuck, I need to taste you,” he muttered darkly, crawling over you and settling himself between your legs.

You tried to lift yourself back onto the bed, but he kept you hanging there, pinning you down with his strong arm, pressing into your belly with his hand to prevent you from sitting up. Finally, after feeling him kiss and nip at your thighs, teasing you mercilessly, you felt the warm, wet slip of his tongue as it fell between your lips, tasting your throbbing pussy for the first time.

The robe was half-off, and only the tie around your waist was even providing any coverage, and you realized that as he began to eat you, he was yanking off your clothes as well, ripping through the knot of the robe to free you from the fabric.

Now, his mouth moved deeper, and you felt him seal his lips to your pussy, messily drinking you in. As he fucked you with his tongue, his mouth and jaw were strong enough to rock your body up and down on the soft bed, making it seem as if he were actually using his smooth wet muscle as a writhing cock, thrusting it up into you and reaching deep into your hole.

The scruff of his beard was enough to make you want to come, much less the power that he ate you with. Every deep, curling lick sent sparks into your core, making your pussy drip with eager stickiness. It was hungry for that fat, uncut cock, forcing you to imagine how delightful it would be when he popped his giant head into your pink flesh.

You were keening for him. Well, it wasn’t exactly for him, per se. The noises you were making were coming from your throat against your will. If you didn’t scream, you’d pass the hell out, you were sure of it.

“Fuck, that’s it, love. Get loud for me. Ungh… you taste… mmfh… so damn sweet,” he was ruthless, speaking between long suckles from his mouth, commanding you from below.

You wished you could see him, but all you could see from your hanging position was the giant window, looking out across the sparkling city. So, you called out to him, your voice thick with want, with need,

“John…”

That was all it took. He tugged your hips down until he was above you again, prowling over you like some sort of beast, all snarling unbridled lust and appetite. As soon as he was in position — and your body knew he was in position — everything stopped. He stopped.

John looked down at you and became… different. The flirty bloke from the patio was back, and he smiled at you. You smiled back, out of breath and already drunk with hunger, but that was all he needed. He kissed you deeply, making you taste your own musk, and as his soft lips slid over yours, you felt the pressure of his huge cock at your hole, pressing through your folds to reach your hot, soaked center.

You gasped through his kiss, both of you moaning in the same timbre as you felt his heavy dick fit into you for the first time, a sparkling desire swirling within you as every delicious inch of him buried itself in you. He began to thrust himself up into your aching slit, fucking you on half of his length, and then using your own sticky fluid to slip himself the rest of the way in.

“Bloody hell, this fuckin’ pussy… fuck me,” he groaned, wrenching his eyes shut from the pleasure.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” He asked, seeking your praise.

“You’re fucking huge,” you didn’t mean to sound so concerned, but there was a part of you that was.

He sat back on his heels, taking some of the pressure away, staring down at your body lecherously, savoring your tits and fondling them in his hands,

“Alright, love?”

“You feel so good,” you insisted, wrapping your hands around his arms as he enjoyed your body.

“Tell me again,” he said, grunting again as he fucked his cock deeper inside of you, reaching a new end before dragging himself all the way back out just so he could start the journey again. He upped his tempo, pounding into you with his weight, the loud smack of his body against yours beating into you like a drum.

“Tell. Me. Again,” he growled his warning, snarling down at you, pinching your nipple to punish you for your silence.

You were gasping for breath. He was so deep now, you could feel the pressure of it in your belly. Between sharp intakes of air, you hissed,

“You… feel.. so… fucking… good…”

“That’s my girl,” he bent over you again and that familiar pressure returned. His cock was too big, and yet you took it anyway. Your body was panic and pleasure all at the same time, and he had you pinned down for the ride of your life.

You weren’t sure how many hours passed that night. He seemed to have the stamina of a much younger man, and every time you dozed off, you’d wake up again to fingers or tongue or cock playing inside of your folds, coaxing you to open yourself up to him. You were happy to oblige, but you were properly fuck drunk. If someone asked you for the alphabet, you weren’t positive you trusted your answer. But, when John Price asked you to open your mouth or your legs for him, you were the top scholar.

A golden, creamy dawn was rising up over the docks as you stared out the window. John’s hand was rubbing your bare back in long, relaxing strokes, and he was leaving soft, lazy kisses down your spine. You knew you were a mess. Your hair was tangled; you’d thrown it up into a messy bun on the second runthrough, done with trying to pretend to be a pristine hot girl. Your body was covered in his marks. Bruises from his teeth and red welts from a delightful slap on the ass or two were painted across you like little tattoos to commemorate your coupling.

“You alright, love?” He checked in on you.

He’d been checking in all night. For all his ruthlessness, he never crossed a line, and he never forgot to make sure you were safe. Sometime in the wee hours, he’d even made you drink a bottle of water and eat some fruit to hydrate, teasing you with grapes like some sort of earthly Baccus.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Looks like it’s time for me to get out of your hair. Not sure I should be seen by the public in my current state.”

“You have work, or…” John looked confused.

You thought about lying to him for a moment. It would hurt so much less for you to just break it off now in the soft dawn glow rather than a painful goodbye over cold breakfast. But, you didn’t.

“No, just… don’t wanna fool myself into thinking this was something that it wasn’t.”

Your truth hung there in the air for a moment, but before he could open his mouth to reply, you heard the elevator ding.

You turned to look at it, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled you off the bed and forced you to the floor. It was so fast that you didn’t even realize what he’d done until your nose was in the carpet. Then, you heard a sharp, snapping pop of something hitting the bed.

You watched in horror as John’s hand reached under the mattress and pulled out a small pistol. He held it like a professional, calm and trained, and shot twice. Then, it was quiet again.

He helped you to your feet, and he was telling you something, but your brain wasn’t registering his words. What had happened? Why were there bullet holes in the mattress? Who had he shot?

Then, you saw it. A man’s body was laying across the door of the elevator. Wanting to descend, the elevator’s alarm wailed, beeping and beeping.

John grabbed your jaw and made you listen to him,

“We have to go. Now. Get your clothes on. Now. Now.”

“Okay…” You couldn’t move. It was so hard to even lift your arms. They felt like solid lead. You just wanted to sink back to the floor. Maybe if you could just…

“Hey! Now!”

He shoved your clothes into your hands and you started to put them on, doing your best not to look at the elevator. John was packing a black bag, half-dressed himself, and checking the windows over and over, looking for something in the streets below.

“There’s no time, c’mon, love.”

You felt his hand cover yours as he led you to the elevator. You watched him ruthlessly kick the body away from the doors and push you inside. Once you were in, the doors closed and you rode in silence with him. You could only hear your heart in your ears.

“...to my car. Stay close to me.”

“Okay…” It was all you could say. No other words even dared to come to mind.

“Hey,” he held your face in his as the floor numbers dropped to the teens, “You’re alright. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Okay.”

The doors opened, and you found it extremely weird that the lobby was empty. There were no workers, no guests, not even a custodian. It was just a big, silent cavern in what was usually a lively casino.

He was leading you out to the parking garage, and just as you stepped into the concrete enclave, you heard the screech of tires round the corner. John stood in front of you and gripped the gun in his hand, but he didn’t move away.

The car stopped in front of you, and you braced yourself, hiding behind your lover as much as you could.

“Get in, boss! They’re right bloody behind us. Soap, shove over,” a man’s voice came from the car. He was in the driver’s seat, and he was wearing a ballcap with the Union Jack emblazoned on the top. In his passenger seat was a man in a black balaclava, and in the back was a bright-eyed man with a mohawk who you guessed had to be Soap.

“C’mon, love,” John shoved you inside just as a black SUV rounded the same corner, the engine roaring when it saw Price’s car.

Gunshots rang out, and you knew some of them had hit the car. You worried for John, but he stood straight up, aiming carefully for the driver, and fired his gun. As if you were in some sort of action movie, the SUV careened off-course and slammed into several parked cars. Men began to pour from it, armed to the teeth.

John jumped in beside you and made you kneel in the floorboards, holding his body over yours protectively.

“How’d they find out? Gaz!” John yelled at the driver, shouting his name when he saw another SUV approaching from the side.

Gaz swerved, narrowly missing being rammed, and sped off down the highway, trying to run from his pursuers.

“No idea, mate, but they think it was us who tore up the warf. Banno’s man must’ve turned snitch. Only explanation.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” the masked man sighed, rolling down his window to fire shots at the SUV chasing you down.

“Who’s the bonnie hen, boss?” Soap peered down at you before turning his attention back on the car chase.

“Uh… she’s…” John tried to explain, but you realized that you never even told him your real name, “I dunno.”

“You dinnae ken?” Soap’s brows knitted together.

“Soap! Shut up and shoot, mate,” Gaz turned his attention back on the fight.

“Well,” the masked man grumbled loudly, “She’s stuck with us all the way to Hadrian’s Wall. Heading to Katie’s house. No place else is safe.”

“Aye, good call,” John agreed.

Finally, after leaving the city, your pursuers turned back around and left you to your escape. John helped you back into the seat and checked you for injuries.

“John… I’m…” Your voice shook with fear, and you felt all of that stress tumbling down into your chest, turning into shock and tears.

“Shh, it’s alright, love. I’ve gotcha. I’m… I’m sorry. Should’ve known better.”

“Better?” You whispered as he held you to his chest.

“Aye. Thought I could be a normal man for a night. Hit on the hot bird at the bar, go to a fuckin’ party. But, nothing’s normal right now. I’ve put you in this mess, and I’m sorry.”

You didn’t have a reply, not one that made any sense, and as he held you, you watched the English countryside come into view. Rolling green hills still wet with their dew made everything that had just happened to you seem so far away, but you could smell the gunpowder on his hands as he pet your cheek, and you knew that nothing could be further from the truth.

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bloodwrittenballad · 2 years ago

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Sleepover Confessions | Abby Anderson x Reader

Summary: The sleepover take a turn when Abby makes a shocking confession

Warnings: Smut, oral (abby receiving) fingering (abby receiving) sub!abby (speaking my truth) hair pulling (just a lil, to spice things up) cheating (abby cheats on owen, i do not condone doing this but it’s just for the fic. but also fuck that guy) this is not proofread, we die like joel miller men. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI, or you will be golfed 🏌️‍♀️ ALSO this is my first piece i’ve written in a hot minute, please be kind. i love feedback

Fuck, this is so messed up. You thought to yourself, as you all but buried yourself alive inside of Abby’s dripping wet pussy, her moans only encouraging you further as you stuck not one but two fingers knuckle deep. The sounds coming from her cunt and mouth were divine, but not messed up enough to stop.

You continued your brutal pace on her pussy, tongue sliding and diving into every delicious crevice it could find, all while your fingers sped in and out like it was your life’s mission. Abby sobbed and swore, her bare chest heaving up and down as she drove fast toward her orgasm. Tears slid down her red cheeks, and her pussy continued leaking, to which you gobbled up.

“More, more, please!” Abby panted, her greedy hand reaching down to where you sat in between her legs, thighs shaking and clenching around your head while she searched for a life line. Eventually she found it, in a fistful of your hair. The pull on your scalp wasn’t an unwelcome sensation, but certainly a surprise.

Moaning against Abby’s cunt, she squealed at the feeling, spurring you on further. Your free hand had reached up to grip the top of her thigh for support, continuing to bop and grove your head between her.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you drunkenly giggled along to Abby’s confession. “So you mean to tell me, that you and Owen, the couple that’s always going at it like fucking rabbits, don’t do oral?” You couldn’t help but laugh more at the way Abby’s cheeks grew red, her head ducking down as she swirled the bottle of beer in her hand. She then shook her head,

“Well, no, it’s not really that.” Abby spoke, “I give Owen head all the time, he just…” Abby trailed off, almost like she was embarrassed as she turned her head away from the burning like you were giving her.

“He just what?” you ask, not liking where you knew that was going. Her response was so quiet, you almost didn’t here it, but when she said those words. Those damned words, “he’s never eaten me out.” Oh, you saw red. You’ve been in her shoes before, more times than you’d like to admit, wasting your time on people who didn’t care about your pleasure.

Hearing that Abby was going through the same thing made you burn with anger for her, and towards that meatheaded boyfriend of hers. You and Owen always had a rocky relationship, right from the start. You’d been Abby’s best friend since forever, and when Owen joined the picture, things changed.

Not by much, Abby was your best friend and always would be, but of course she wanted to spend time with her boyfriend and you never got in the way of that. However that was until it started to feel like Owen was always purposely trying to pull Abby from you, taking her off to god knows where for hours on end, even when you and her had made set plans.

It pissed you right the fuck off, each time he’d tag along or just straight up steal her away from you, so much so that it caused countless arguments and near physical fights whenever you confronted him. Maybe that’s why you started to feel less guilty about tongue fucking his girl, right there on his bed. After all, you were just showing her what real pleasure felt like and catching up on all the lost time he took from you.

So maybe in the end, this wasn’t so messed up. After all, Abby seemed to be fucking loving it. She was writhing around, getting tangled up in the bedsheets like her soul was being expelled from her body. The fleshy walls of her cunt squeezed around your fingers as you continued to lick and fuck Abby for all she’s worth. “F-fuck!” She moaned, you smirked at how pathetic she sounded and she could feel the curve of your lips, almost like you were mocking her.

But fuck, with how good she felt right now, Abby didn’t care if you were mocking her or not. “I-I’m, f-fuck I’m so close!” she whined, her strong thighs squeezing around your head, the pressure made your whole world spin. “Oh yeah, baby?” You asked in a slightly teasing, sultry voice. “You gonna come for me?” Abby nodded wildly, her hair like a halo on the bedding she rested on, a strangled moan of “yes! yes! gonna come just for you, please, please, please!”

Your eyes, already blown wide with lust, only darkened further as you dedicate your entire body and soul to finishing what you started. Adding a third finger and applying a special extra attention to her clit, you worked hard and endlessly, fucking Abby over the edge. Her breathing got caught in her throat as her juices splashed against your face, her moans coming out choked and just desperate as when you first started. Your fingers and tongue slowed in their pace, letting the roller coaster she was on slow in its tracks, before fully releasing yourself from her fully.

You crawled up on the bed, the realization of what you both had truly done setting in, but even then you found it hard to care. Abby deserved someone who truly cared about her, cared about her needs…

The two of you, both sweaty and panting, sat in otherwise silence as you tried to contemplate what to make of this situation. However, it didn’t last long, as Abby had seemingly was thinking of exactly what you had been just mere seconds ago as she spoke, “I’m gonna break up with Owen.” This confession, was much more shocking than the last.

“What?” Surprise in your voice, the confidence you felt before when you were talking her throughout the entirety of fucking her was now gone. Yeah sure, you didn’t like Owen and you certainly didn’t like him with Abby, but if they broke up and word got around that is because of you? Fuck, all hell would break loose.

“I-” Abby started, clearing her throat. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, actually. Things between us have just been… I dunno, they’ve just been off. I think a lot of it has to do with my grieving process over my dad, but also…” Abby trailed off once more.

“But what, Abs? What’d he do?” You reached your hand over to grab her hand, holding it gently. Abby scoffed a laugh, “why do you assume it was him that did something?” She quirked an eyebrow at you, “because, Abby, it’s Owen. He’s always doing something fucking stupid, he is a man, after all.”

Abby barked a loud laugh at that, and agreed with you nonetheless. You smiled and laughed with her, but calmed down enough to tell her to spill and finish what she was saying. Abby turner seriously again as she said, “I think he has a thing for Mel,” she answered honestly. “They’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, like, a lot of extra time together. Plus, I’ve seen the way he looks at her, it’s hard to miss.” Abby breathed out, not too seemingly torn.

“Oh, Abby,” you began to rub her shoulder in comfort, but she grabbed your hands in hers and looked you in the eyes. “It’s okay,” she reassured. “I started to make peace with it a while ago, and well… tonight I think really solidified how I feel. Both for him and for… you.”

You couldn’t help the gasp you made, as you starred at your best friend. Here you thought tonight was just going to be a one night thing, hell, you thought this might’ve even been the end of your friendship. You feared that once Abby came down from her high that she’d regret everything and never want to see you again, but it was in fact the opposite.

Emotions overcame the two of you, and before either of you fully knew it, your lips collided in a messy kiss. You still tasted like Abby, her tongue sliding over your lips as she savored the essence of herself. And, just like how quickly things escalated earlier, they did again. Only now, it was Abby who was fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

#abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fics #abby anderson loves pussy

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beelmons · 2 years ago

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Golf lessons pt. 2

Pt2 of this blurb! Pairing: dbf!hotch x Fem!Reader Rating: NSFW, 18+ Word count: 2,757 CW: unprotected sex, kinda public sex, overstimulation, vaginal penetration. Tagging the two moots that inspired part 2 <3 @ssahotchnerr @ssamorganhotchner

As it turns out, being able to hit the ball was not enough golf expertise for the ever-so-perfectionist Aaron Hotchner. Regardless of both of your urges to do something entirely different, Aaron’s commitment to making you the next Tiger Woods forced you to stay in the golf club until almost midnight, and by that time everything was either closed or too lousy for him to ever consider taking you. At the end, he dropped you back home so you could pack for the retreat.

The thought of not seeing him again for an entire weekend was saddening, specially when it meant being shoved inside a room with your dad and his snobby friends, but the picture of him smiling at you, the proud, sly smile he would wear when you told him just how many holes in ones you scored, and how your pars were the best, and about your putts (you didn’t understand golf, like, at all) was the token you held onto to keep going.

The retreat was okay, you came up sixth out of the total twenty teams, so at least your dad was not a sulky mess, and he would go around showcasing your golf skills and how you “took after him”, even if it was also his first time seeing you play. To wrap up the event, there was an additional party with a “Sunday golf” theme, which meant everyone would go dressed in fancy sports clothes. Looking through your wardrobe, you were lost in your own mind trying to figure out what to wear when your phone chimed.

Mr. Aaron Hotchner: Apparently, today’s Sunday Golf party is open to friends and family as well. Your father has decided to invite me. Will you be attending?

Your eyes skimmed through the notification and a bright smile appeared on your face. Great, you got to see him sooner than you expected.

You: Yes, I’ll be there!

Mr. Aaron Hotchner: Great. Can’t wait to hear all about the golf competition.

You hugged the device to your chest in excitement, and the decision of what to wear suddenly seemed like a life and death situation, or so you felt until a very risky idea popped into your head.

The party looked like everything else you had seen during the weekend: bland and uninteresting. Across the venue you spotted your dad, who had gone ahead without you, sucking up to his boss and some other higher-ups. Your sight then landed on a handsome gentleman standing by the appetizers table, a couple of men his age chatting him up. He was wearing a white polo and khaki dress pants with a pair of brown shoes. He looked stunning as per usual. As if sensing your eyes on him, Hotch’s sight travelled to you; you watched him mutter an ‘excuse me’ to his acquaintances and he hurried in your direction.

“Hey!” he shouted lightly when he got closer, his arms quickly surrounding your waist to pull you into a happy hug, which you gladly returned “I have been hearing great things about you all day.” he pulled back from you to be able to look at your face.

“Well, apparently I did very good for a first timer” you answered him with a smile.

“I can tell. Your dad has done nothing but brag about it the whole night.”

“He has?” you asked with genuine surprise “So, golf, huh? Who would have thought that’s what it took for him to finally be proud of me.” you said in a self-deprecating tone.

“Don’t be so hard on him, he can be tough to deal with, but you are the apple of his eye” he tried to reassure you, but the huff of your cheeks let him know the comment was not exactly well received “Well, for that matter, I’m incredibly proud of you. You truly learned fast.” he continued in attempt to lessen the tension.

His strategy worked, because shortly you were back to a smiling mess. “I had a great teacher” you said with your eyes locked onto his “which reminds me, I still have to repay the favor. If I remember correctly, you asked for two, very simple things, didn’t you, Aaron?” you batted your eyelashes innocently as you spoke. Your hands travelled down to play with the hem of your skirt, raising it slightly to reveal some of the skin on your thighs. He couldn’t help but stare for a second, solely focused on how good your legs looked.

The moment your words dawned on him, his entire demeanor switched. His fingers gripped your wrist firmly, and with a rather rough tug he pulled you to the closest wall, forcing your back to be pressed against it, his body shielding your front from curious eyes. “Have you lost your mind?” he asked with a low voice “It’s bad enough that half these men have taken at least one look at your legs, do you know what would happen if someone noticed you’re not wearing underwear?” you could detect a hint of possessiveness in his tone, a frown plastered on his face, and so you found the opportunity to finally get what you wanted: him. Your fingers tugged at the sides of his shirt, his body still covering you from the stares of the rest of the guests.

“Then take me somewhere only you can see.” you almost whispered. He turned his head to try and spot your dad among the crowd, he seemed to be engrossed in whatever conversation he was having. He took a second look at you, and you watched as his eyes travelled quickly to your bottom piece of clothing.

He slipped his hand behind your back to guide you away from the main area of the venue and towards the bathrooms, constantly walking behind you to make sure no one else would try and pry at your rear. As you walked through the halls, you watched him snatch an ‘out of order’ sign from a random surface. Once you reached the entrance of the men’s bathroom, he gave you an order to wait for a second, he opened the door and tilted his head to look inside, once he made sure all the stalls were clear he gently pushed you in by the shoulders and hung the sign on the outside of the door.

“The men’s bathroom?” you cocked an eyebrow in his direction, a playful smile on your face.

“If your dad notices you’re gone, the first place he’ll look is your room. I don’t have one of my own because I’m an foreign guest, and men are three times less likely to ask staff for clarification about services not being provided than women.” he clarified as he locked the door; once he made sure it wouldn’t open he took a couple of steps closer to land his hands on your hips “but of course, if it makes you uncomfortable, we can always do this some other time.”

“Hell no, you’re not escaping this twice.” your tone was resolute and almost desperate, without wasting anymore time your arms threw themselves around his neck and you pulled him closer to land a kiss to his lips.

The gentleness which with he usually treated you was absolutely absent from the kiss, his mouth moved roughly against yours with his body pressing forward to close the gap between the two of you. Without so much as a warning, his hands slid from your hips to your thighs instead, he caressed his way up, lifting the skirt in the process, until he landed on your buttocks, the tightness of the squeeze he gave to them was for sure going to leave a mark, and the sensation and slight pain caused you to wince; the newly opened mouth was an invitation for his tongue to take control, you could feel it explore yours hungrily, heavy pants accompanying his movements.

“Hop.” he commanded against your lips, without a second thought you complied, and soon you were sitting on top of the lavatory counter. The coldness of the marble against your bare skin caused you to moan, and Aaron broke the kiss to shoot you a playful smile “Seems like you didn’t think this through.”

His comment allowed a blush to spread on your face. He had nailed it, you didn’t think anything through, actually, you were just so excited to see him, to be with him again, that you wanted to do something that would make him happy. “I thought this is what you wanted” you admitted with a shy tone.

“It’s you I want.” his eyes took a second to stare tenderly into yours before his lips attached to the base of your neck. Your hands tangled on his hair and your body arched forward, trying desperately to feel more of him. His own fingers snuck in between your pressed bodies to caress your slick, his middle finger prodded at the entrance, and you let out an unholy moan. His mouth attached onto yours once again with the full intention of shutting you up, two fingers slipping inside your hole. His pace was slow, painfully so, pulling in and out as if he was trying to figure out where to press best.

“Aaron.” you whispered into his mouth “No teasing, please, I need you.” you begged. He let out a chuckle, a little embarrassed of being found out, and nodded. He took a second to undo the zipper of his pants, seems like you weren’t the only one without underwear, and shortly after his member was freed.

Your legs instinctively pulled him closer at the sight. “Seems like someone’s eager.” he whispered, however he was just as desperate as you were, his right arm snaked around your body, pulling you to an angle that allowed his tip to hover at your entrance. Slowly, he began to thrust forward, giving you some time to adjust to his size. You buried your face in his neck and muttered a quiet ‘fuck’ against it. His hips began to move steadily, you could feel him fill you up, they were deep and passionate, his groans were ringing in your ear “you feel so good” he muttered against it.

You were trying to keep your pants quiet, not wanting to cause a scene and have your dad find out you were fucking his best friend in the hotel bathroom, but he felt so good, so deep, that you couldn’t help but to let out a cry. Aaron pulled back and out of you, which caused you to whimper in protest, without a word, he forced you off the marble counter and turned you around, his hand pushing your head forward to have you bent over it instead “if you can’t keep quiet on your own, I will have to do it for you.” he raised the fabric covering your ass to expose the skin and gently guided his dick back to your entrance, his thrust, however, was way rougher compared to before. You almost let out another moan, but his hand was quick to cover your mouth tightly and it ended up muffled “seems like this will do” he whispered with a mocking tone.

His hips began to snap against yours again, faster and rougher, he was much more in control in this position. His lips focused on nibbling around the shell of your ear, trying his best for his moans to also be muffled. You could feel his balls hitting against the lower part of your pussy, your hands desperately looking for a place to grip, your throat emitting sounds trying to keep yourself sane. He felt you began to clench around him, and so he decided to slide his free hand down to rub around your sensitive clit. You could feel his rhythm become more erratic by the second, with you clenching furiously around him trying to hold back your orgasm and prolong the delicious encounter. Seeking for his release, he used one of his legs to push in between yours and slide your feet on the ground to spread them further open.

The mere gesture caused another muffled moan and you threw your head back. You were able to see yourself on the lavatory mirror, the whimpering mess you had become, and the focused, pleased expression that he had on his face. His fingers quickened the pace “Don’t push yourself for me, sweetheart, show me how good I’m making you feel.” he ordered against your ear; he leaned forward and landed a sweet kiss to your cheek, his hips never giving yours a second of rest. You snapped yours in return and when one of the thrusts was particularly deep, you let your climax take over you.

He clutched the area of your mouth tighter, making his best to push back most of the long moan that you let out. His hips began to lower his speed and his hand moved away from your face. “You still haven’t come.” you whispered trying to do your best to keep yourself propped onto your elbows.

“I’m close.” he answered as he straightened his back. He watched how his member entered and exited you, and the mere sight was making him even more excited “Can you behave for a little?” he mentioned referring to your sounds. You turned around to give him an eager nod and he responded with a smile. “Or perhaps you should let your voice out, so everyone out there can know how good I can treat you.”

You opened your mouth to answer, and in that instant his hands gripped your hips once again to snap your hips into his. You bit down on your bottom lip, hard, to avoid letting your wince come out. His thrusts went back to the original pace, and you could feel yourself just bouncing against the counter, your hands gripping the marble for dear life. His hands squeezed your ass tightly, pulling them back and forth to meet his rhythm. His member began to throb inside you, and you could feel him getting closer. “Inside.” you let out as you turned back to look at him “I want you to fill me up, Aaron” you whispered in between quiet moans.

Your expression was so erotic he couldn’t help himself. His hands gripped tighter on your already reddened rear, and they held your hips in position for his cock to slide all the way in, letting you feel the sensation of being filled up with his cum. You whimpered loudly and allowed him, slightly weak at the overstimulation he had accidentally caused.

He leaned forward to grab one of the paper towels before sliding out of you, his hand pressing it against your entrance to prevent his seed from dripping out on the floor. “We should clean you up.” he mentioned, suddenly very aware of what, and where, he had done.

“I can take care of it.” you said with a gentle smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“After we go out, please go back to your room and put something underneath.” he said almost like an order.

“Yes, sir.” you answered with a purposedly innocent smile.

He nodded approvingly and turned in the direction of the door, he was planning on waiting outside to make sure no one would be there when you came out, that could cause suspicion, but before he actually exited he turned back around and gripped your face, in a blink, his lips were back on yours with such passion you would have thought round two was about to come. You responded with a gentle caress of his cheek and an opening of your mouth for his tongue to slip in once again. After a couple of seconds, he let go, and without another word he sneaked outside the bathroom. You were left dumbfounded and smitten in front of the stalls, giggling to yourself at what just had happened.

Aaron waited patiently, making sure no one would come around and try to get into the bathroom in spite of the ‘out of order’ sign that still hung from the door. After a few minutes, you came out of the room and he offered a gentle smile to welcome you back.

“Well, seems like I paid off my debt” you said jokingly. His arm folded and was offered in your direction, which you took gladly, for him to escort you back to the main hall.

“In that case, next time I can teach you some racquetball.”

#i know its midnight and i have work tomorrow but i got carried away #fic: mine #fic: hotchner #fic: criminal minds #mine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotcher x reader #aaron hotchner/reader #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch/reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fan fic #aaron hotchner fic #hotch fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #crimnal minds #criminal minds fic #tagging is always a pain

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my-autism-adhd-blog · 1 year ago

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Hi! My friend recommended your blog as a nice place for some research about Autism.

I've started to notice a few things and question if I could be autistic, but I wasn't able to find enough information about it while researching.

Do you have any info about how to identify autism in adults? It would help a lot 😊

Hi there,

I’ve found some resources. I’ll leave excerpts below. They are a bit long.

Common signs of autism in adults include:

* finding it hard to understand what others are thinking or feeling

* getting very anxious about social situations

* finding it hard to make friends or preferring to be on your own

* seeming blunt, rude or not interested in others without meaning to

* finding it hard to say how you feel

* taking things very literally – for example, you may not understand sarcasm or phrases like "break a leg"

* having the same routine every day and getting very anxious if it changes

Other signs of autism

You may also have other signs, like:

* not understanding social "rules", such as not talking over people

* avoiding eye contact

* getting too close to other people, or getting very upset if someone touches or gets too close to you

* noticing small details, patterns, smells or sounds that others do not

* having a very keen interest in certain subjects or activities

* liking to plan things carefully before doing them

Autism in women and men

Autism can sometimes be different in women and men.

Autistic women may:

* have learned to hide signs of autism to ‘fit in’ - by copying people who don’t have autism

* be quieter and hide their feelings

* appear to cope better with social situations

* show fewer signs of repetitive behaviours

This means it can be harder to tell you're autistic if you're a woman.

Common symptoms of autism in adults include:

* Difficulty interpreting what others are thinking or feeling

* Trouble interpreting facial expressions, body language, or social cues

* Difficulty regulating emotion

* Trouble keeping up a conversation

* Inflection that does not reflect feelings

* Difficulty maintaining the natural give-and-take of a conversation; prone to monologues on a favorite subject

* Tendency to engage in repetitive or routine behaviors

* Only participates in a restricted range of activities

* Strict consistency to daily routines; outbursts when changes occur

* Exhibiting strong, special interests

Autism spectrum disorder (ASD) is typically a life-long condition, though early diagnosis and treatment can make a tremendous difference.

Autism Symptoms in Adults at Home

Other peoples’ feelings baffle you. You have a collection of figurines on your desk that must be in the same order at all times. These, and other common manifestations of ASD, may be apparent in adults at home:

* Your family members lovingly refer to you as the “eccentric professor” of the family, even though you don’t work in academia.

* You’ve always wanted a best friend, but never found one.

* You often invent your own words and expressions to describe things.

* Even when you’re in a quiet place, like the library, you find yourself making involuntary noises like clearing your throat over and over.

* You follow the same schedule every day of the week, and don’t like unexpected events.

* Expressions like, “Curiosity killed the cat” or “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch” are confusing to you.

* You are always bumping into things and tripping over your own feet.

* In your leisure time, you prefer to play individual games and sports, like golf, where everyone works for themselves instead of working toward a common goal on a team.

Symptoms of ASD vary greatly from person to person based on the severity of the condition. These or similar manifestations of ASD may be apparent at work:

* When you’re having a conversation with your boss, you prefer to look at the wall, her shoes, or anywhere but directly into her eyes.

* Your co-workers say that you speak like a robot.

* Each item on your desk has a special place, and you don’t like when the cleaning company rearranges it to dust.

* You are really good at math, or software coding, but struggle to succeed in other areas.

* You talk to your co-workers the same way you talk with your family and friends.

* During meetings, you find yourself making involuntary noises, like clearing your throat over and over.

* When talking with your boss, you have difficulty telling if he is happy with your performance or mad at you.

In addition, autistic individuals may exhibit extraordinary talents in visual skills, music, math, and art. And roughly 40 percent of autistic individuals have average or above-average intelligence.

Some of the characteristics that adults with an autism diagnosis commonly report, include:

Communication

You may:

* Find joining in conversation difficult.

* Speak in a flat, monotone voice, or not speak.

* Have trouble relating to other people’s thoughts or emotions.

* Use repetitive language.

* Find it hard to read someone’s body language and emotions.

* Find that others don’t understand how you are feeling and say that “it is hard to know what you are thinking”.

* Dominate conversations and provide excessive information on the specific topics you are interested in.

* Find it easier to talk ‘at’ people, rather than engaging in a two-way conversation.

* Have trouble reading social cues.

* Find ‘small talk’ such as talking about the weather and what others are doing difficult.

* Take things literally. For example, if someone says ‘oh that’s a piece of cake’ or ‘you’re barking up the wrong tree’ you find it difficult to know what they mean.

* Be blunt in your assessment of people and things.

* Find it difficult to maintain eye contact when you are talking to someone.

* Have your own unique phrases and descriptive words.

* Find building and maintaining close friendships and relationships difficult.

* You may make faces that others find unusual.

* You may make gestures when speaking with people.

Behaviour

* You enjoy consistent routine and schedules and get upset or anxious should that routine or schedule be changed.

* You find it upsetting when something happens that you did not expect to happen.

* Have trouble regulating your emotional responses.

* Are bothered if your things are moved or rearranged by someone.

* Have a series of repetitive rituals or behaviours that you follow on a daily basis.

* You make noises in places where you are expected to be quiet.

* Preference for highly specific interests or hobbies that you spend a lot of time on.

* Have difficulty multi-tasking.

* Have a very strong reaction or no reaction at all to sensory stimuli, such as textures, sounds, smells and taste.

* Like operating solo – both at work and play.

I hope these sources help you. Thank you for the inbox. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ♥️

#inbox #inbox reply #inbox is open

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cleoluvrr · 2 years ago

Text

The Last Days of Summer V (Rafe Cameron x Heyward!OC)

Warnings: violence, underage drinking, drug use, verbal abuse, jealousy, forbidden relationship, enemies to lovers, gaslighting + manipulation

Synopsis: Stuck in a situation she never dreamed of, Neriah Heyward blurs the line between Kook and Pogue; Rafe Cameron a witness.

masterlist

word count: 4.2k+

↠━ღ◆ღ━↞

“I can’t believe I’m going to this shit.” I say angrily as I slip on my shoes.

I stare at myself in my friend’s mirror, body and mind filled with self-pity. I couldn’t help but feel sad as I looked at the beautiful, pink gown draped over my body. Tonight was Midsummers, and instead of being excited about going with my best friend, I’m dreading having to go with the guy who beat up my brother. Twice.

“Maybe your ass should’ve thought before you beat him with my golf club.” Londyn says, adjusting the flower crown on my head.

“I said I was sorry!”

“Oh you’re sorry alright.”

Londyn and I left her house shortly after with her parents, moping in the backseat as we drove to the Island Club. I saved up all year to buy myself another Selkie gown, only to waste it on being a piece of arm candy at a dick measuring contest. Rafe made me send him a bunch of dresses, and I knew it was my fault for sending a picture of this one, but I still had hope he wouldn’t choose it.

“The pink one.” Rafe said over the speaker of my phone. I sighed heavily, looking at the dress laid out on my bed.

“But I wore pink last year…” I tried to protest, but he wasn’t going to give in.

“So wear it again this year.” He doesn’t leave any room to argue, hanging up the phone rudely before I can get another word in.

We arrive at the club, the sun setting on the horizon as we pull in. Londyn and I sneak away from the adults when they aren’t looking, avoiding the dick measuring the best we can. I see my Pope with our dad by the grill, and they spot me as well. I move to go talk to them, waving as a greeting, but am stopped with a firm grip on my bicep.

I recognize who it is immediately by both the look on my brother’s face and the signature scent of Versace Eros. My smile drops almost instantly, my shoulders slouching in disappointment once again. I look up at Rafe, who is now waving at my brother with the same smug look he can’t seem to get rid of. Pope looks as furious and defeated as I feel and turns away.

“Get your hands off me, douchebag.” I say, shrugging his arm off my shoulder. Londyn looks at him in disgust, laughing when I pretend to shoot myself in the head and play dead.

“Hello to you too, Neriah.” He greets, smiling down at me. “Londyn.”

“Don’t talk to me.” She says, rolling her eyes. We all turn our heads when we hear her name called by her mom who motions her over to them. “I’ll find you later, sweets.” She sighs out before dragging her feet towards the tall woman.

Rafe leads me away as well, mentioning something about seeing his dad. I try to drag my feet in a way similar to Londyn, but the blonde places a hand at my back as we walk which prevents me from going any slower than him. We pass Topper and Sarah who seem to be having some kind of confrontation, but we walk past them without saying a word.

We walk through the familiar halls of the club, brushing past adults dressed rather flamboyantly. After a few minutes of me being dragged around in silence, we find Ward inside surrounded by a group of older men. I feel my heart about to crawl out of my throat at the sight. I feel only a little relieved when I spot Londyn’s father.

“Oh, there you are! I was wondering where you disappeared off to.” Mr. Woods says as we approach. He spots Rafe’s hand on me and the uncomfortable look on my face. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” I reply after the older boy squeezes my waist.

“Dad, you remember Neriah?” Rafe says to his father, whose eyes have landed on me finally.

“Of course I do.” Ward looks between the two of us quite strangely, as if he doesn’t understand why I’m standing here with him. “You look very beautiful tonight, Ms. Heyward.” I blink at the use of my last name, a reminder of my status amongst everyone else.

“Thank you! You clean up very well yourself, Mr. Cameron.” I reply sweetly, laying on the charm heavily.

“Heyward? You’re Heyward’s daughter?” One of the men asks, his eyebrows scrunched together. The rest of the men show similar expressions.

“Yes, I am.” If I felt offended, I didn’t show it.

“Are you working here tonight?” Another man asks, quite rudely. I shake my head no, biting me tongue so as to not say something I shouldn’t.

“She’s here as my guest.” Mr. Woods interrupts, sensing me becoming uncomfortable as time passes by. “She’s my daughter’s best friend. They go to school together.”

“Oh?” The rude one says. “Really?” He asks as if he can’t believe it. I stop myself from rolling my eyes.

“She’s on a scholarship if I remember correctly.” Ward looks at me for confirmation and I nod. “She’s a very smart girl from what I've been told. Very hardworking.”

“Are you two here together?” One of them asks. Ward raises his eyebrows at his son, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, we are.” Rafe says, pulling me closer and looking down at me with a fond smile. “I’ve always been too much of a coward to talk to her, but after seeing her looking so beautiful under the sun of the golf course, I just had to ask her to be on my arm tonight.”

“Well isn’t that just lovely?” The rude man says, eyeing my attire.

“She’s such a great influence on me, y’know?” Rafe continues, the hand previously on my waist now rubbing up and down my arm affectionately.

The motion gives me goosebumps.

“Really?” Ward’s eyes light up a little, his eyebrows far into his hairline.

“She just makes me want to be better for her. I think she’s too good for me, honestly.”

I think my face has gone numb with how long I've been forcing a smile during this conversation. Hearing Rafe speak about me like this while knowing the things he actually feels is making me feel almost violent, my nails digging into my palms once again.

Ward leaves the group to join us, introducing me to a bunch of people I’m sure don’t even view me as the dirt under their shoe. The fact I’m a scholarship student and my father being Heyward is thrown around a lot, as if that’s something to be bragged about. Surprisingly, people find that interesting. My father is well respected, for a Pogue at least, and nobody knew that he had a daughter.

The adults seemed shocked that someone like me could end up in a school with their children, assuming that I’m some sort of prodigy to be able to get a scholarship. I’m dragged around like a show pony, which I didn’t sign up for. I guess Ward Cameron endorsing a little pogue girl is a big deal, but quite frankly, I want nothing to do with this family.

The whole ordeal makes me sick to my stomach.

At some point I’m able to sneak off, the men far too deep into their conversation to notice me slip away into the crowd. I ran up to Londyn, spotting her with a bunch of other girls our age. Sarah Cameron included. I don’t even care about the night of the beach anymore, just glad to see someone that isn’t a bunch of old rich men showing off their money.

“There you are!” A tipsy Londyn says as I approach. “Where have you been?”

“Hell.” I answer, grabbing a glass of water from a passing waiter.

“I thought you were with Rafe?” Sarah quirks up at that, eyeing me curiously.

“You were with my brother?” She asks, looking me up and down.

“Not willingly.”

“What do you mean ‘not willingly?’” She inquires. I sigh, taking a long sip from the glass in my hand.

“Well,” I start, putting the glass down on the table. “Your brother beat the shit out of my brother, so I beat the shit out of him. As a result, your brother made me come here with him or else he’d press charges. For some odd reason, Ward really likes me, so Rafe thought if I came with him it would somehow get your dad off his back.”

Sarah’s mouth gapes open slightly, as if she can’t comprehend what just came out of my mouth.

“So no, I did not come with Rafe willingly.” I say. “Your brother’s a pussy by the way.” She snorts at that, clearing her throat to cover up the sound.

“Agreed.”

I’m not sure how much time we spend dancing with each other. The music was kind of bad, but we didn’t let it stop us. We laughed so hard that my cheeks burned from smiling. Sarah apologized for that night at the beach, but all had been forgotten by now. I was having fun, more fun than I’d had in a long time.

I’m watching Londyn do the catdaddy in front of me when I see a head of blonde hair float by out of the corner of my eye. JJ somehow snuck into the event, well dressed in a vest and dress shirt. We catch each other's eye, the boy coming up to me with a smile on his face. I smile back gleefully, embracing him in a warm hug when he reaches me.

“You clean up well! I didn’t know you were coming?” My voice raises a question.

“I’m ‘working.’” He says vaguely, winking at me to hint he’s up to something else.

“Hm…right.” I laugh lightly, the blonde wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“You look beautiful as always.” He pulls back from our embrace to get a full look at my outfit, his eyes shining brightly. “The prettiest girl here, actually.”

“Don’t flatter me, JJ.” Smiling shyly I look down, my face burning up at the compliment.

“I'm serious! Don’t tell your brother I said that though,” He glances back at my brother by the grill before facing me again. “He’d kill me.” I giggle, shaking my head at the slightly nervous boy I’m dancing with.

“Thank you, JJ. And I won't, promise.” I hold out my pinky which he takes with his own, the two fingers interlocking. “But seriously, what are you doing here?”

“You’ll see.” He smirks. I raise my eyebrows in suspicion as he glances around the venue for a moment. “I gotta go. I’ll see you around.” He says. Before he leaves, he plants a kiss on my cheek.

“JJ?” He gives me a thumbs up as he backs away grinning.

“Don’t tell Pope about that either.” Is the last thing he says to me before he gets too far for me to hear him over the music.

A few minutes pass without seeing the blonde and I assume he left the party, off to cause trouble somewhere else. However, my assumptions are proven wrong when I turn around and spot JJ dancing with Sarah back to back, discreetly passing her a note and whispering in her ear. Before I can warn him, Rafe and his goons approach him faster than I can get a word out.

I can’t hear what they’re saying over the music, but Rafe and his friends look very intoxicated and ready to pick a fight. A nervous JJ tries to talk them down, walking backwards to avoid them but they keep pressing up on him.

“Until then, help yourselves to hors d'oeuvres.” I hear him say as they pass by me.

“Guys,” Rafe motions the gaggle of Kooks to come follow him. “JJ’s gonna serve us some hors d’oeuvres.”

The group passes me, Rafe catching my gaze briefly with a look on his face I don’t recognize.

JJ says something to them before he takes off running, snatching open the door of the club and rushing inside with the Kooks hot on his heels. I shake my head and rub my temples, telling myself to stay out of whatever drama they have going on now despite every bone in my body telling me to go check on him.

When I turn back around, Sarah has also disappeared from the patio. I shrug and continue dancing with the rest of the girls.

It’s none of my business tonight.

That is until a disheveled JJ is escorted out of the building by one of the security guards.

“It’s okay everybody!” He shouts. “Do not panic.”

“Oh God…” I say to Londyn. “What the hell happened in there?”

“Leave it to the men and women in uniform!” He continues. “Let’s hear it for them. Rose!” He calls out, clapping at Sarah and Rafe’s step mother.

“Is he drunk?” Londyn whispers to me, watching the situation go down next to me.

“Let go of him!” Kiara says loudly, appearing on the balcony in a purple dress. Rafe appears beside her, drinking something I’m sure is alcoholic and laughing at the drama he definitely caused. “You can’t just boot him. I invited him here.”

JJ pushes the guard off of him, the man stumbling into a table filled with people.

“Mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie.” JJ says, pointing up at the girl standing on the balcony with her parents before turning to my brother. “Pope, you as well, alright?”

My head swivels towards my dad and Pope, sure that nothing good is going to come from whatever he just said. I watch as Kiara slips away from her parents, running towards the beach after JJ, and John B who has appeared seemingly out of nowhere. My brother rips off his gloves and apron as my dad warns him not to leave the party. He runs off as well, leaving my dad to stand on his own.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He calls out after his son, watching as he disappears into the darkness of the beach with his friends.

Heyward turns to look at me for an answer and I shrug, turning back to the balcony where Rafe is standing. He’s already looking at me, smirking as he watches me over his glass. The music starts again, everything going back to as normal as they can get after that.

Rafe descends the stairs slowly, discarding the now empty glass on a random table. He approaches me, the smell of alcohol and cologne filling my nostrils strangely pleasant. He says nothing, grabbing my hand and leading me further onto the dance floor.

“I think you owe me a dance.” He says as he pulls me closer to his body.

“I’ve already fulfilled my duties for the night.” I tell him, but I don’t pull away. “What did you do JJ?” He scoffs at my question like it was the dumbest thing he’s ever heard.

“Why do you care?”

“Because he’s my brother’s best friend?” I replied obviously. “What the hell did you do?”

“You guys looked very comfortable earlier.” He says smiling, a tinge of anger in his voice. I scrunch my face up at him. “Too comfortable.”

“Were you watching me?” I try to pull away from him but his grasp is firm. “I’m allowed to dance with whoever I want to. And I think you’re forgetting that he’s my friend.”

“I thought he was your brother’s friend?” He tilts his head at me.

“Two things can be true. What did you do to him?” I ask again, now irritated at his non-answers.

“I didn’t like watching a Pogue put his hands all over my date.” Rafe’s jaw hardens. “I especially didn’t like watching him kiss her with that dirty mouth.” He chuckles dryly, poking his tongue into his cheek.

“Rafe.” My brows knit together as I watch his tense shoulders and face covered in more than just irritation.

Is he…jealous? What right does he have to be jealous?

“Nothing he didn’t deserve.” He answers my previous question vaguely. I open my mouth to ask him to clarify but he cuts me off before I can say anything. “It’s none of your concern, princess. Your job right now is to dance with me.”

“I am dancing with you.” I say. We sway gently to the music amongst the crowd of people that have now joined us. Rafe’s hands are planted firmly on my waist, holding me against him as my own hands rest on his biceps hesitantly. He leans down to whisper in my ear and I wince.

“Try to look like you don’t want to kill youself.” He speaks lowly into my ear. He grabs my hands and wraps them around his neck instead before placing his own hands back on my waist.

We stay like that for a while, painfully close as the adults watch us from afar. Ward keeps a close eye on us especially, whispering to Rose as he takes in the scene of me dancing with his son. I started to enjoy it at some point, the feeling of his warm body against mine almost relaxing.

And that terrified me.

“I need to talk to you.” Rafe says pulling me away from the crowd suddenly.

“Can you slow down? I can’t walk that fast.” He ignores me, dragging me through the door of the club by my arm. I stumble over my heels trying to keep up with his fast pace.

People throw us quick glances of curiosity, the sight of a random girl being pulled to the club by an anxious Rafe Cameron barely capturing their attention long enough to spare us anymore than that. He opens a random door and flips on the light switch, pulling me inside with him before shutting and locking the door.

He releases me and begins walking back and forth through the room, stressfully running his hands through his hair. I hear him breathing heavily, whispering to himself as he paces. I watch him in silence, unsure of what his problem is this time.

“Jesus Christ, Rafe.” My voice dripped in irritation. “What’s wrong with you this time?”

He doesn’t seem to hear me, still pacing through the room.

“Rafe. Rafe!” I call for a third time, finally capturing his attention. “What? What do you want? What’s the problem now?”

“You can’t talk to JJ, not anymore.”

“What?” I say in disbelief, eyeing him incredulously.

“You can’t hang around him. He’s no good.” He keeps going, not making any sense. “None of them are any good, not for you. None of them.”

“Rafe.” I repeat, even more confused than I was previously.

“I can’t keep seeing you around those fucking Pogues. You’re too good for them. They don't deserve to have you.” He keeps pacing, not even acknowledging my presence in the room. Something in the back of my head tells me to start inching towards the door, but I don’t.

“Rafe, are you having a psychotic break right now?”

“I’m not fucking crazy!” He suddenly lunges at me, only stopping a few inches in front of me. “I’m not crazy, everyone needs to stop calling me that.”

“Okay, well are you high? Because you aren’t making any sense right now.” I push past him further into the room, learning from my past mistakes to not have my back against any wall when in a room with him. “And quite frankly, you’re creeping me out.”

“I’m making perfect sense.” He advances towards me again, stopping less than a foot away from my body. “You can’t be around those people anymore. You’re too good for them. I don’t like the way JJ looks at you.”

“Who are you to tell me who I can’t hang out with?” I ask angrily, poking a finger in his chest to push him away from me. He only moves a couple inches. “You don’t even like me, first of all, so what’s it to you?”

“No, No, that’s where you’re wrong, Neriah.” He says, shaking his head aggressively. “I do like you. I like you so much that i-it makes me feel crazy and I don’t understand why because you’re a fucking Pogue. And I sometimes think ‘maybe I am crazy,’ but I’m not!”

“What are you talking about?”

“God, Neriah. You just don't get it, do you?” He runs his veiny hands through his hair once again before looking at me with his blown out pupils.

“No, Rafe! I don’t ‘get it!’” I shout frustratedly. “The only reason I’m here with you is because you threatened me with criminal charges. You beat my brother and were going to let Topper fucking kill him! You, you-” I scoff, pressing a hand to my forehead with a slightly gaped mouth.

“And I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for that, really.” He pleads with his eyes, pulling my hand away from my face so I’d look at him. I snatch it back, stepping past him to get to the door. “But I didn’t know how else I’d convince you to come with me. I didn’t have a choice. You didn’t give me any choice.”

“Didn’t have a choice? You didn’t have a choice?” I spin around to face the stressed out blonde behind me. “Your choice could’ve been to leave me the hell alone!”

“But I can’t do that, Neriah!” He shouts back. “I can’t do that anymore. I’ve been doing it for so long and I just can’t anymore.”

“Yes you can.”

“No, I can’t.” He presses his fingers into the sides of head as he walks up on me. “Do you know I can’t sleep without listening to that video of you singing at the Club talent show a few years ago? I used to follow you around school and watch you during lunch to make sure nobody was picking on you. I only became friends with Brye because I know he’s your best friend and I needed a way to get closer to you.”

“Rafe, you’re fucking insane.” I say in shock, backing away from him and feeling around for the door behind me.

“No I’m not! Stop calling me that!” He corners me against the door, the handle pressing into my bottom uncomfortably. He wraps a hand around my neck tightly, not enough to stop my breathing, but enough to hurt. “I love you, Neriah.”

“You don’t love me, Rafe. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I place my own hand on top of his, shivering at the way he looks down at me. “You barely know me.”

In his eyes is a mixture of things, none that I can recognize immediately with the feeling of our breath mixing together. My heart skips a beat and my stomach drops into my feet, my brain begging me to fight against him but my body staying statuesque at the feeling of his against mine.

“I do! I do…” He trails off, swallowing dryly as he looks deeply into my eyes. “I know everything about you. I know your favorite place to eat, to hang out. I know all of your hobbies, how much you used to love singing. I know you used to dance when you were younger but stopped because your parents couldn’t afford it anymore.” What the fuck?

“Rafe…”

“I know your favorite color and your favorite places to shop. I know that John B was your first kiss when it should’ve been me.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“I told you, I know everything about you.”

“Rafe, you’re scaring me.” He loosens his bruising grip on my neck, hand still firmly in place.

“I’m sorry. I just…” He sighs, pressing his warm forehead against mine.

“You called me a dolled up gutter rat and told me in so many words to stay off Figure 8, so I’m really having a hard time believing your very…abrupt change of heart.”

“I was just scared to confront my feelings. I was a stupid boy then, but I’m not like that anymore.” He says, gently rubbing circles on the side of my neck with his thumb. “Please, Neriah.”

“Rafe, please stop touching me.” He hesitates at my request for a moment before reluctantly backing away.

I swallow hard, touching my tender neck as I watch him warily. I shake my head, pressing on the door handle and briskly walk out of the room. He calls after me but doesn’t follow, leaving me to return to the party on my own.

“Hey, where did you go? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Londyn appears in front of me, her sudden appearance causing me to jump. She looks at my anxious and stressed out expression with concern, brows knitting together as she eyes the way I hold my neck. “Are you okay? What happened?”

I shake my head, moving to sit at a table near the corner of the venue and away from everyone else. I watch the door for the rest of the night, waiting anxiously for Rafe to return.

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bugattieb111 · 6 months ago

Text

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keyh0use · 1 year ago

Note

im begging you, please make Barry the one who gets caught, it would be an amazing idea, and I need to read

The people spoke & Rafe won. But here <3:

Rafe had left the warmth of their bed earlier than usual, determined to drive over to the North side of the island to join Topper and Kelce for breakfast before hitting the golf course. When the plan was first discussed, Barry admittedly felt a wave of relief at the thought of having one morning alone to read in peace, without the kooks scattered conversation and prying hands interrupting him. That was before he had a busy week at work, a sudden influx of jobs to do that had him leaving the trailer early and returning late, barely finishing dinner before the two men passed out for the night. Now all Barry wanted was alone time with Rafe, goofing off and complaining about stupid decisions movie characters make and fucking, obviously. But the last thing Barry wanted to do was bother Rafe by being needy, his boy already doing so much for him all the damn time, practically at his beckoned call.

So, naturally, Barry settled for the next best thing.

After Rafe had toed on his shoes, grabbed his bike keys and kissed his man goodbye, he was out the door and headed for the North side, leaving Barry to return to bed and search for the perfect photo.

His phone was slow and old, the screen much smaller than the kooks new, expensive phone. Barry could have anything he wanted, on his own dime but also on Rafe's, but he made the decision not to upgrade and this was a consequence.

There were dozens of pictures to choose from, most of Rafe in compromising positions; on his knees with Barry's dick pressed to his tearstained cheek, cock-drunk with lidded eyes and drool shining on his chin. The next, Rafe on the damp ground with his back arched and his ass in the air, covered in red hand prints and ropes of Barry's come—something that always pissed Rafe off, he wanted his man's come in him and no where's else but Barry found that shit hot, hence the photo for memory. Then, a shot of the kooks face when he fully sat down on Barry's prick, ass flush to thighs and wearing a look of complete bliss, morning sun hitting him just right where they sat on Tanneyhill's porch furniture.

Looking back made Barry's cock throb but still, the next swipe was from a day the two spent on the Cameron's yacht, Rafe tan and shirtless and smiling so wide at something the older man said.

Fuck, Barry misses him.

Rolling the pad of his thumb over the slit, Barry smears his slick all over the tip of his cock, eyes trained on that beautiful, glowing, happy boy. It's easy to remember what happened after that photo was taken, the sun setting and the smell of the sea, the way Rafe didn't say anything when he plucked whatever novel Barry had been reading and dropped it on the deck.

How in one second the kook was naked and in Barry's lap, grinding down on his dick and begging to be fucked. Begging—not because the dealer needed any sort of convincing, but because it's what turned him on, watching Rafe become desperate for him. Only for him.

Barry's fist wrapped around his length and pumped, attention never leaving the screen as he recalled the way Rafe sounded, the way fully gave himself to the older man, the way it felt to be buried inside the boys tight—

"Oh!" says a startled Rafe, one hand still on the door handle.

For a second all Barry can do is freeze in horror, embarrassment settling over him at being caught. But Rafe has seen him naked more times than they can count, has even watched the older man stroke his cock, so really, nothing about this is new.

"You're home really early," Barry says, dropping his phone face down on the mattress and attempting to cover his dick. When the boy doesn't answer, only stalks slowly towards the bed, Barry prompts, "You're home really early."

"Yup," is all Rafe says in reply, brows knit and mouth drawn in a hard line. He reaches over his man's body to snatch the discarded phone and quickly unlocks it, shoulders dropping as he snorts at the choice of photo.

Barry feels like his face is on fire. There's nowhere to go, exposed and embarrassed on the sheets. So he defensively says, "Ain't you got somewhere better to be?"

"I think you want me here," counters Rafe, tossing the phone and grinning smugly down at his man.

The most humiliating part of this whole debacle is how Barry is still rock hard despite being caught in the act and no longer actively touching himself, except for to try and hide. Between the object of his desire popping up in the doorway and the way Rafe possessively nabbed his shit without permission has his balls aching for release.

And while it's true the last thing Barry wants is for Rafe to go, his intention wasn't to edge himself and he'd like to blow his load and move on to the dozen other odd things he had planned to accomplish during their time apart.

Trying to seem disinterested, Barry mutters, "Nah, you go, friends are waitin' on ya'."

Nimble fingers ghost over Barry's forehead to tuck loose, damp with sweat strands behind his ears and Rafe's other hand settles firm on his chest, sliding further and further down as the boy says, "That's really hot, you know? You jerking off to me."

"I don't know, actually."

"I literally caught you," replies Rafe.

Barry can hear the smirk in the kooks voice and squirms. "You ain't catch shit, country club. Run along." But the last thing Rafe ever does is what he's told, unless Barry's beat him into submission. Curling a fist around the older man's shaft, giving a slow jerk, he says in awe, "Fuck, you're this hard from a photo of me smiling?" "No," grits out Barry, head thrown back. "Hard 'cause you're touchin' my dick." Rafe only snorts in reply, squeezing the base just a little too hard to hear Barry groan and then he's letting go, any protest silenced when he moves to straddle his man. Calloused hands instinctively make a grab for Rafe's hips and Barry's quizzically asking, "Rafe?"

It doesn't take a genius to catch on to what the boy is doing, yet Barry's head is floaty with lust, incapable of realising what's happening until Rafe had slicked spit down his shaft and sank down on the thick length.

Barry's cockhead popping through the tight muscle is what snaps him from his daze, fingers flexing around sharp hip bones hard enough to bruise. A startled noise tears out of him.

Rafe's mouth is hanging open and his brows are drawn together, palms coming to rest flat on the dealers heaving chest.

"Slow down," Barry chokes out.

It's not that they haven't fucked over the busy week, but it hasn't been as often or as long as usual, the two tumbling into bed together to have lazy sex, gentle and loving.

Now Rafe is taking too much too fast, body tense and erection flagging.

"No," whines Rafe.

But Barry cares about his baby, even if the only thing he wants right now is to thrust up. "Gonna hurt yourself," he warns softly.

"I need you," says Rafe easily, then he's taking a deep breath and sitting down fully and Barry is sitting up to lick into his mouth, the two of them swallowing eachothers moans.

Usually, Barry doesn't let Rafe ride him for too long, when they're on the couch or in the trucks backseat being the only exceptions. Otherwise he doesn't see a point in fucking on a bed if he doesn't spread Rafe wide open on the sheets.

Rafe shoves at his man's chest until Barry's lying back once more, curls falling out of the loose bun. "You work so hard, take such good care of me," he gasps. "Let me do this—take care of you."

All Barry can do is lie there and take it, mindlessly spewing compliments about how good the kook is doing. Rafe doesn't have the mind to be smug, whining as he rocks with cock crammed deep inside him, keeping his walls stretched snug around the throbbing length.

Any embarrassment from being caught has passed, and any embarrassment Barry would feel over being so vocal right now isn't exactly at the forefront of his brain.

"Fuck," Barry whines, brows knit and a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.

Rafe is so damn pretty, hunched forward and moaning shamelessly. "You gonna come?" he asks.

The grip on the kooks hips is bruising, strong hands helping to drag him back and forth, no longer bouncing or rocking, just grinding down on Barry's pulsating cock.

All Barry can give as warning is a low whimper and then he's spilling deep inside, Rafe milking every last drop as his own orgasm washes over him, trembling and convulsing in his man's lap.

Rafe's collapses from exhaustion, Barry's half-hard dick still inside him as he breathes harshly, cheek pressed against the heated skin of the dealer's chest.

"Not that I'm complaining," starts Barry softly, carding gentle fingers through the kooks sweaty hair. "But aren't you supposed to be at the country club, country club?"

"Going tomorrow instead," Rafe mumbles.

A small smile graces the older man's handsome face and holds Rafe a little closer. "Why?"

"I missed you."

#why do i like this version better lmao #cheesy ending? Yeah (:#rafebarry #rafe x barry #barry (obx)

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rugtopper · 1 year ago

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THE INTERVENTION

BY RUGTOPPER

Vinny did not expect to find anything in his mailbox at work. He did not he know why he bothered looking in it. He had been an inter-office courier at Payton Publishing for three years. No one ever sent him messages; he was never invited out for a drink after work; and, no one even bothered to say hello to him in the halls as he made his rounds. Finding a handwritten note in his box was a shock. He was even more shocked to read that he was invited to watch a football game with some of the executives from the eighth floor this weekend. He hated going to the eighth floor. All the male executives would give him strange looks. They were looks he was not used to getting. They were looks of pity, but not in a condescending sort of way. It was a look of pity that you see someone give another human being when you know that that someone is about to help that human being. Regardless, it did not make Vinny feel comfortable. When he left the eighth floor, he always felt like he was about to be the next big project for the local Junior League to take on to make them feel good about themselves. He had no idea how wrong he was. He had no idea just how good he was going to feel about himself.

Vinny went to eighth floor, as instructed in the note. He waited outside Mr. Reynolds' office. Albert Reynolds was a tough man to size up. He was not the type of man you would see going to a football game, much less hosting a football party. He was more the type who might sing with the local chamber ensemble on a Tuesday night, and play golf on Saturday afternoon. Mr. Reynolds came out of his office with a big grin on his face. He was a slight man, maybe 5'7", if that tall; very trim with no facial hair. Aside from his height, his most striking feature was his fiery strawberry blond hair. At 43, he was still very youthful looking with his ruddy complexion and the flaming head of hair.

"Here are the directions to my house, Vinny. I hope you don't have any trouble finding the place. There are only going to be six of guys there, plus you."

"Should I bring anything, Mr. Reynolds?" Vinny asked.

"Well, Vinny, first call me Al. Second, if you want to you can bring some chips. The other guys are bringing the rest of the food. I'll be in charge of the grill out back."

Thanks, Mister . . . ah, Al."

"No, problem. See you Saturday at noon."

"Sure."

All week, Vinny looked forward to the weekend. Also, he noticed that the guys on the eighth floor looked at him differently. He wasn't sure what kind of look this was. Still, when they saw him, they did at least speak to him. That was the best change.

Saturday finally came. Vinny showed up at Al's house right at noon. He could hear the TV when he got out his truck. He grabbed the grocery bags and headed toward the front door. Before he even got to the porch, the door opened. It was Mr. Pierce. Perfect Pierce they called him. He once recalled a book that had had 10,000 copies printed because of a punctuation mistake on the last page of the book. He was not one to mess with at all.

"Hey, Vinny, glad you're here." Mr. Pierce said as he took the bags out of Vinny's hands.

"Hi, Mr. Pierce.

"Now, Vinny, we're away from work. Just call me Derek."

"Okay, Derek." Vinny replied.

"I think you know all the other guys here," Derek said as Vinny made his way through the door.

Yes, Vinny knew all of the men. After a quick survey of the room, he also knew why he might be there. He didn't really make the connection when Al gave him the directions, or even when Derek, with his stark-white preppy hairdo, greeted him at the door. Now he knew. There sitting in front of the giant screen television were the other four men from the eighth floor. All six were clothed in their khaki slacks, typical golf shirts and their obvious toupees. Here Vinny was in his blue jeans, faded t-shirt, tennis shoes, and ratty black hair. Now he knew that something was up.

Derek closed and locked the door. Al got up from his chair and came to shake Vinny's hand. Vinny was led over to the sofa.

One of the guys turned off the television.

"Now, Vinny, I bet you're wondering why we asked you here. Especially when you think we haven't even had anything to do with you all these years."

"Well, it is kind of odd, don't you think?" Vinny asked, as he ran his hands over his messy hair with the V-shaped hairline.

All the men just looked at each other and then at Vinny.

"Vinny, we want to help you. We think you're a great guy. We know you've been waiting for job to open up in editing. You've seen people come and go. You've even been overlooked twice. Most men would have left, but you've stuck it out. We appreciate that more than you know. But we can't help you until you decide that you need help. We need to know that you are willing to do what it takes to improve yourself for the job that you want."

"Look, uh, Mr. Steel, is it? I just came to watch the game. Yes, I'd like to move into editing. Yes, I'd like to remain in the publishing business. I've got time. It's been three years since I finished grad school. I've had a lot of offers, but not with a smaller publishing company like yours. I like what Peyton produces. I like their style. I like the fact that they really want to publish local authors."

"Yes, it is Mr. Steel, but you can call me Gene. We like what we see, but only in your resume, Vinny. There is plenty of room for improvement in so many areas of your life. We just want to help you, that’s all."

"Vinny, let me just cut to the chase. The way you present yourself on paper is suburb. The way you present yourself in public is another story. That is what we want to change."

"Look, Al, let me make myself clear. I don't need your pity that each of gives me every day at work. I certainly don't need some sort of intervention to help me make it in the publishing world."

"True, Vinny, but believe me when I say that the publishing world is not busting down any doors to find the next best editor. It is a closed field. Everything is focused on the next author, the next bestseller. No one cares about editors or proofreaders. They are a dime a dozen. What I'm trying to tell you is that, as you are now, you will never stand out. There is nothing in your appearance that says, 'yes, I am a professional.' It says 'look at me, a man in his thirties who can barely make ends meet, who can't dress himself, and who is losing his hair.'"

"So, it comes down to that, does it? My hair. Is that what this is all about? This is rich. A room full of men in rugs giving me a lecture on hair loss. This day just gets odder and odder."

"Alright, Vinny. So what. So, we happen to wear toupees. The alternative is what you are quickly moving toward. We have all been there. We all know what will happen. We see what you do. We see you try to hide it at work. We see you use a lot of product to make the front look fuller. You brush down the sides to hide that growing V at your temples. We even see you slap on that awful ball cap when you get into your truck everyday when you leave. Is that how you want to live, Vinny? Are you prepared for what happens next?"

Up until this point Vinny and Al had been the only two involved in this exchange. Suddenly, Mr. Cappato spoke up. He was Italian, just like Vinny.

"Vinny, you and I are a lot alike. We both come from big Italian families. We both know how hard it is to be the one in the family who is losing his hair. Look at me Vinny. I was your age when all my thick, black hair started going down the drain." With that, Mr. Cappato reached his hand up to his full, coal black pompadour, and took it off. There sat Mr. Cappato with just a narrow rim of dyed black hair over his ears and across the back of his head.

Vinny just sat there in shock, speechless.

"This is where you are headed. Look at me, Vinny. Let me help you. Let us help you." Mr. Cappato pleaded.

"What, now all of you are going to take turns showing me your bald heads?" Vinny asked.

"We just might, but first I think we need to do something else."

That was Mr. Peyton, Jr., the boss’s son. He had the fakest head of brown hair you have ever seen. It did not even match the course salt-n-pepper hair on the back and sides. He didn't even bother to dye it to match.

"Vinny, I think you need to go to the bathroom and wash out all that product. I think you really need to see just what little you have up there."

"I think you might just need to make me, Junior." With that Vinny jumped up and snatched off Mr. Peyton's toupee. Not only did it reveal his bald pate, but it also revealed where his tan line stopped and his pasty scalp started.

"Well, I think that is enough childishness for one day." said Al. "Boys, I think Vincent here needs a bit of help. Please escort him to my barbershop in the basement."

When Al said this, two security guards from the building came in from the other room and lifted Vinny off the ground. One of the other executives, who had remained silent to this point, produced a large needle.

"This will make things easier, Vincent." said the executive with the tightly-curled wig.

Vinny found himself half awake in a barber's chair, strapped down and wearing only his teal-colored bikini briefs, surrounded by the six men. All of them were now totally bald. Their wigs and toupees were lined up in front of Vinny on stands just staring at him. One of the security guards was now dressed in a white barber's uniform. Vinny's hair was dripping wet. All of the black-colored mousse and fiber thickeners had been washed out. Gone was all the darkened powder used to hide his nearly hairless crown. Vinny just looked at himself for the first time. Then he looked at the men in the mirror. Lastly, he looked at the six Styrofoam heads staring at him.

With slurred speech, Vinny managed to say, "you're right, guys, I need help. I know if I ever want to advance to the eighth floor, I have to change my look. I've been denying it for over ten years now. I need to improve my image. I want a full head of hair like you guys. Mr. Cappato, I do want to look like you."

"Call me, Carmine, Son. I think that would be the best thing."

"Rex, go get a wig just like Carmine's out of the closet for Vinny here." Al told the barber.

While Rex was gone, the other security guard, now in full barber's gear came and began prepping Vinny.

Vinny's head was shaved until there was just a shadow left. Vinny was given two more shots. With this he passed out. Hours later, he awoke in the chair with a stiff neck. He was still hung over, but managed to open his eyes. In the mirror was this guy with eyes like his, who had a totally hairless, shiny dome. Rex was behind him mopping the floor. The smell was worse than a locker room. He knew that smell. He didn't need to think about what had happened while he had been out. The other barber came back into the room. He rubbed Vinny head with a clear liquid. This was cool and cleansing. It also completely removed the shine on his scalp. While the barber was doing this, Vinny noticed that there was only one wig stand in front of him. On it was a thick, black wig. The barber took this off the stand, applied tape to the underside and put it on Vinny's head. He pressed hard so the tape would adhere. He turned Vinny to the side and started combing and cutting. Next, he got out a steamer and started styling the wig. While Vinny was still groggy, Phil turned Vinny toward the mirror. Suddenly, Vinny was wide awake. Now he really recognized himself. This was the Vinny from high school. This was the cool Vinny that every girl and boy wanted to sleep with.

All six executives filed into the room. They were wearing their toupees and wigs.

"Vinny," Al said, "We have a change of clothes for you upstairs. We've recorded the game, if you want to watch it with us. Also, you are expected in my office on Monday morning to discuss your new position as a copy editor. Are we clear?"

Vinny nodded as Rex and Phil helped him up. Mr. Cappato helped Vinny up the stairs to the guest bedroom. Vinny put on his new casual clothes while Carmine watched and occasionally helped. Several hours later they eventually emerged from the guest bedroom each brushing down the back of his hair. The weekend turned out better than he had hoped. Vinny never watched the game, but spent the rest of the weekend with Carmine. Monday morning a whole new world began.

THE END

#cheap toupee #voluntary bald fringe #toupee for men #hair replacement for men #male transformation #toupee

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alexhornefan · 1 year ago

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There's a bit more in the link about John playing golf with the group in the article but you can read it in the link below. This is probably the first half of the interview and besides from a picture of Alex sat at a table with a lot of beer, there's little else about Alex there either.

John Robins Interview about golf

My reintroduction to golf some five years ago was all because of a foreign trip. My friend Alex Horne, a comedian and Taskmaster’s assistant of some renown, called me out of the blue and asked if I fancied a trip to Spain to play golf with twenty other men I’d never met.

I’ll be honest, I had my reservations. Firstly, foreign golf trips can be expensive, and this is before I knew the truly stratospheric inflationary pressures on cold bottles of water in mainland European golf resorts! Anyone who’s played golf abroad will know that ice cold bottled water is about four times as expensive as petrol whenever you’re within two miles of a club shop.

Secondly, I’m not entirely comfortable in large groups of people I don’t know, especially not twenty of them, all men, in a foreign country.

Thirdly, and perhaps most pressing, was the sight of my golf clubs. Which, at the time, I treated very much like a lot of people treat a guitar gathering dust in a corner.

I paused on the phone. I had played golf. But it’s a very different thing to say you play golf.

For a day I wrestled with various anxiety demons. What if they were all amazing at golf and I held everyone up like a big idiot? Would they just leave me on the course? I’d need to buy some actual golf shoes! What if my clubs are really bad? What if you need a handicap? And a proper handicap, not just the fact that you haven’t played since the coalition government.

Luckily the better angels of my nature were also at work. “John you drive a 2004 Skoda Fabia and you haven’t spent any money on anything nice since the pair of sunglasses you got in 1999. And you left them in a phone box. Alex is nice, his friends will be nice. Just do it!”

And so I did, and it’s one of the best decisions I ever made.

It turned out that not only was this group of twenty golfers some of the nicest people I’ve ever met, they were also all of a similar standard as me. Mostly ranging from 15-36 handicaps with one scratch golfing mascot who answers the barrage of questions about technique with patience and grace, the most common one being “HOW THE F*CK DID YOU DO THAT?!”

We play a Ryder Cup format in two teams over three days to compete for The Murray Cup, a trophy that has been competed for by the same two teams for the last seven years. It is the highlight of all our calendars, and I’m sure you have similar events in yours.

#alex horne #John Robins

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nevermindallgolf · 3 days ago

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Golf in Style: Trendy Men’s Shoes for Every Swing

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#small design pouch bags #Buy Golf Shoes for Men

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anewgolfusa · 1 month ago

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How to Style Men’s Golf Shorts: A Complete Guide

Every golfer's outfit consists mostly of golf shorts, which provide style and usefulness. Beyond the grass, they have become a preferred alternative for laid-back summer vacations. Effective Men's Golf Shorts Online styling will improve your appearance and guarantee your comfort and confidence on the course or at a social event.

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Final Thoughts

One item that fits perfectly from the course to informal events is a golf short. Emphasizing fit, fabric, and complimentary style details can help you produce a range of stylish yet practical combinations. Whether starting a summer cookout or teeing off, well-designed golf shorts guarantee you always look your best.

#luxury designer golf bag #Men's Golf Shorts Online

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ariserclothing · 1 month ago

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The Ultimate Guide to Ariser Cotton Golf Polo T Shirts for Men

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Styling Tips for Polo T Shirts for Men

One of the best things about Polo T shirts is their versatility. Here are some tips to style your Ariser Cotton Golf Polo T Shirts:

Casual Look: Pair your Polo T shirts for Men with denim jeans or shorts and sneakers for a relaxed yet put-together outfit.

Golf Outfit: Combine a neutral-toned Polo T shirt with tailored chinos and golf shoes for an ideal on-course look.

Semi-Formal Attire: Wear a dark coloured Polo T shirt for Men with a blazer and trousers to create a refined yet comfortable ensemble.

Benefits of Investing in Ariser Cotton Polo T Shirts

Comfort and Functionality Our Polo T shirts for Men are designed to keep you comfortable throughout the day, whether you’re playing sports or attending a social event.

Timeless Appeal The classic design of Polo T shirts ensures they never go out of style. Investing in a few high-quality pieces allows you to create multiple outfits that remain fashionable year after year.

Great for All Seasons Cotton Polo T shirts for Men are versatile enough to be worn in any season. They provide warmth in cooler months when layered under jackets and keep you cool during summer.

Value for Money Durable and stylish, our Polo T shirts offer great value by combining premium quality with affordable prices.

Why Ariser Stands Out

At Ariser, we are committed to delivering excellence. Our Polo T shirts for Men are a testament to our dedication to quality and customer satisfaction. Each product undergoes rigorous quality checks to ensure it meets the highest standards.

Additionally, we understand the importance of sustainability. That’s why our Polo T shirts are made from eco-friendly materials, ensuring minimal environmental impact.

How to Care for Your Polo T Shirts for Men

To maintain the quality and longevity of your Ariser Cotton Golf Polo T shirts, follow these simple care tips:

Wash them in cold water to prevent shrinkage.

Avoid using harsh detergents or bleach.

Air dry whenever possible to preserve the fabric’s integrity.

Store them neatly folded or on hangers to maintain their shape.

Where to Buy Ariser Cotton Golf Polo T Shirts for Men

You can find the finest selection of Polo T shirts for Men on our official website. Browse our collection and choose from various colours and sizes to suit your preferences.

With secure payment options and quick delivery, shopping with us is hassle-free. Plus, our dedicated customer service team is always ready to assist you with any queries.

Conclusion

Polo T shirts for Men are more than just a wardrobe staple — they are a statement of style and comfort. Ariser Cotton Golf Polo T shirts offer a perfect combination of quality, functionality, and timeless design.

Whether you’re dressing for a casual day out, hitting the golf course, or attending a semi-formal event, our Polo T shirts for Men are your go-to choice. Explore our collection today and experience the Ariser difference!

Visit us for more options: Polo T shirts

#Polo T Shirts for Men #Polo T Shirts #Polo T Shirts Combo

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golfruso · 2 months ago

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Men's Skechers Golf Shoes: Comfort and Performance for Every Golfer

Golfers know that the right footwear can make all the difference. Whether you're a seasoned pro or a weekend player, comfort and performance should always be top priorities. That’s where Men's Skechers Golf Shoes come into play. These revolutionary golf shoes are designed to provide the perfect combination of style, comfort, and functionality, giving you the support you need to take your game to the next level. In this blog post, we’ll explore why Skechers golf shoes are a great choice for golfers and what features make them stand out.

Why Choose Skechers Golf Shoes?

Skechers has built a reputation for offering high-quality, stylish footwear that doesn’t compromise on comfort. Men’s Skechers golf shoes are no exception. These spiked golf shoes are designed with the modern golfer in mind, offering features that enhance performance on the course while maintaining a sleek, stylish look. Let’s dive into the key features that make Skechers golf shoes a top choice.

1. Unmatched Comfort

Comfort is a crucial factor when choosing golf shoes. Long hours on the course mean you need footwear that keeps your feet relaxed and supported. Skechers golf shoes feature advanced cushioning technology that absorbs impact and provides all-day comfort. The memory foam insoles mold to the shape of your feet, creating a custom fit that ensures your feet feel great round after round.

2. Maximum Grip and Traction

Golfers need best golf shoes that can provide excellent grip, especially during those crucial swings. Skechers golf shoes are equipped with a traction system designed for stability and maximum grip. The spiked soles and multi-directional traction pattern give you confidence as you make your swing, ensuring you stay steady no matter the conditions of the golf course.

3. Enhanced Performance Features

One standout feature of Skechers golf shoes is the Twist Fit Dial technology. This innovative design allows you to quickly adjust the fit of your spikeless shoes, ensuring a snug and secure feel throughout your round. Whether you’re walking the course or swinging for a birdie, this feature ensures that your perfect golf shoes stay comfortable and supportive, giving you the confidence to focus on your game.

4. Stylish Design

Golf shoes don’t have to be bulky and unattractive. Skechers combines style with function to deliver sleek and fashionable designs. Their golf shoes are available in various colors and styles, so you can look great while playing. Whether you prefer a classic look or a more modern, sporty style, Skechers has options to match your personal taste.

5. Durable and Long-Lasting

Investing in a good pair of golf shoes is essential for any golfer, and Skechers ensures that their shoes stand the test of time. Made with high-quality materials, these shoes are built to last. They are designed to withstand the wear and tear of the golf course, providing you with reliable performance for months and years to come.

6. Weather-Resistant Features

Golf is a sport that’s played in all weather conditions. Skechers golf shoes are designed with weather-resistant materials that keep your feet dry and comfortable, even on damp or wet courses. The water-resistant uppers ensure that you can keep playing in light rain without worrying about soggy feet. These shoes also provide excellent ventilation to help keep your feet cool during warm days on the course.

7. Lightweight Design for Better Mobility

Another key feature of Skechers golf shoes is their lightweight construction. Unlike heavy, bulky shoes that can slow you down, Skechers shoes are designed to be light and easy to wear. This helps you move freely and with agility, improving your overall performance on the course. The lighter weight also reduces foot fatigue, allowing you to play your best for longer periods.

8. Ideal for All Skill Levels

Whether you’re just starting out or have been playing for years, Skechers golf shoes are ideal for all skill levels. The shoes provide the perfect combination of comfort, support, and performance, making them a great choice for golfers at any stage of their game. Whether you need a reliable pair for weekend rounds or a performance-driven shoe for competitive play, Skechers has you covered.

Skechers Golf Shoes vs. Other Brands

With so many options available in the market, why should you choose Skechers over other golf shoe brands? While there are many high-quality golf shoes on the market, Skechers stands out for its commitment to comfort, affordability, and innovation. Many other brands focus primarily on style or performance, but Skechers offers a balanced approach that prioritizes both.

Another advantage is the price point. Skechers provides top-tier golf shoes at a reasonable price, making them an accessible option for golfers looking for high-quality footwear without breaking the bank.

Skechers Pro Series: The Next Level of Golf Footwear

If you’re looking for premium features, the Skechers Pro series offers even more advanced options. These shoes come with additional performance features like added cushioning, advanced traction, and extra durability, making them ideal for competitive golfers who demand the best. The Pro series is engineered for those who want to take their game to the next level.

How to Care for Your Skechers Golf Shoes

Taking proper care of your golf shoes ensures they stay in top condition for longer. Here are some tips to help you get the most out of your Skechers golf shoes:

Clean regularly: Use a soft brush or cloth to remove dirt and debris from your shoes after every round. This prevents buildup and helps maintain the integrity of the materials.

Store properly: Keep your shoes in a cool, dry place when not in use. Avoid leaving them in direct sunlight or damp areas, as this can damage the materials.

Dry after use: If your shoes get wet, remove the insoles and let them air dry. Avoid using direct heat to dry them, as this can cause the shoes to lose their shape or become damaged.

Replace worn-out spikes: If you notice that the spikes on your Skechers golf shoes are worn down, replace them to maintain maximum traction on the course.

Where to Buy Men's Skechers Golf Shoes

You can find Skechers golf shoes in various retail stores and online. Skechers’ official website offers a wide selection of golf shoes, including different styles, colors, and sizes. You can also check out well-known retailers, both online and in-store, to find the perfect pair that suits your needs.

Conclusion

Skechers has become a trusted name in the golf footwear industry, thanks to their focus on comfort, performance, and style. Men’s Skechers golf shoes offer a blend of features that every golfer can appreciate, from superior traction and comfort to stylish designs and durability. Whether you're walking the course or swinging for that birdie, Skechers golf shoes ensure you have the support you need to play your best.

If you're in the market for a new pair of golf shoes, consider giving Skechers a try. With their range of innovative features and stylish designs, Skechers is sure to provide the perfect fit for your golfing needs.

5 FAQ

1. What makes Skechers golf shoes comfortable?

Skechers golf shoes feature advanced cushioning technology, including memory foam insoles that mold to your feet for all-day comfort.

2. Do Skechers golf shoes provide good traction?

Yes, Skechers golf shoes have spiked soles and a multi-directional traction pattern to ensure maximum grip and stability on the course.

3. Are Skechers golf shoes suitable for all weather conditions?

Skechers golf shoes are designed with weather-resistant materials to keep your feet dry and comfortable, even in light rain or damp conditions.

4. How long do Skechers golf shoes last?

Made with high-quality materials, Skechers golf shoes are durable and built to last, providing reliable performance for months or even years.

5. Are Skechers golf shoes suitable for all skill levels?

Yes, Skechers golf shoes are ideal for golfers of all skill levels, offering a combination of comfort, support, and performance for both beginners and seasoned players.

#men's skechers golf shoes #skechers golf shoes #golf shoes

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