#Best Mens Golf Shoes

[ienjoywritingfilth]

a sinner i am

If its so wrong, why does it feel so good?

trope: Boyfriend's Dad PP character: Joel Miller x f reader summary: Your boyfriend Shawn Miller and his dad Joel bring you along to Hawaii for Christmas vacation. Things don't go as planned.

warning: 10/10 on the sexual tension scale, slowishh burn, kissing, grinding, cheating on your bf (but it’s cool, cuz its with Joel and everything is fictional in this universe), alternative universe b/c daddy miller stays alive and hates golf and he has a son named Shawn, no Sarah. rating: E

words 6.8k

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part i : takeoff

The best things in life are the people we love, the places we’ve been, and all the memories we’ve made along the way. - author unknown

"Loving him is a sin; of that I'm fully aware. But a sinner I am." - Bella Jewel

Your boyfriend Shawn brings over two iced coffees as the two of you work on a crossword together at your local coffee shop. You have been filling in the squares quickly.

"Thanks babe," you say warmly as you take the coffee from him. He presses a kiss to your temple, taking a seat next to you. 

"Damn, you're fast this mornin'," he says when he sees all you've filled in. It's a tradition for the two of you; weekend crosswords over coffee. It's nice. It's domestic. 

It's a little boring. 

You're college sweethearts who met your sophomore year and have been inseparable since. And while the love is still very much there the butterflies have unfortunately been hibernating for a while. 

It's normal, you tell yourself when you sometimes zone out during sex. It's normal when you've been together with someone so long. 

"It's so nice to be doing this instead of college essays," you say. 

"Fuck yeah it is." 

This is your first summer of freedom without the threat of schoolwork looming in the near distance. Shawn is starting his master's in the fall and you've just accepted a position at the local museum. 

“Just think I’ll actually be able to enjoy Christmas this year,” you tease. “Unlike someone who’ll be working on essays.”

“Hey now,” Shawn says with mock offence. “I’ll be able to enjoy my Christmas just fine. Actually, my dad wants to celebrate Christmas somewhere warm this year. He's talkin' about some resort in Hawaii."

Shawn comes from money, the son of the infamous Joel Miller of The Miller Company, the premiere construction firm in Texas. This means expensive vacations, nice cars, all of that is normal for him. You meanwhile have had to work hard for everything you have.

Being left behind at Christmas seems strangely unkind for the normally thoughtful head of the Miller family. Shawn's dad has always treated you like one of the family so this news is unexpected.

"Have a great time," you say trying not to be jealous. "Bring me back some chocolate macadamia nuts."

You can admit that even though both Shawn and his father are humble, kind men, you're always a bit bitter that they live so nicely. Leaving you out of their holiday vacation seems especially unkind. 

"He's taking both of us babe," Shawn says with a grin. "You think he's gonna leave you behind on Christmas? After you’ve spent the last six with us?" 

Christmas in Hawaii? Is this a dream? Your pencil lays forgotten on the table as you gape open-jawed at your boyfriend. 

"Are you serious?"

"Babe," Shawn says meaningfully. "My dad likes you better than he likes me. Of course you're invited."

You've always gotten along with Joel. It's impossible not to. He's friendly, funny and charming. There's a reason he's good at his job. And you're a good girl, a kind girlfriend to his son with clear career ambitions. 

A smile breaks out over your features and you pull Shawn into a tight hug. He chuckles, embracing you back, kissing your cheek. 

"Make sure you don’t overpack, okay?" He murmurs in your ear as you giggle. “I don’t feel like helping you haul six bags of shoes for a week-long trip.”

Thoughts of lounging by the pool with a drink in one hand and a magazine in the other while the Hawaiian sun beats down on you is all too enticing. You kiss him fiercely, imagining the time together.

"I can't wait." 

The two of you finish the crossword puzzle all the while talking about the drinks and food and the excursions you'll both take. 

"Maybe once I've got a handle on school we can think about findin' an apartment in the new year," Shawn broaches, his hand over yours.

Sex fades, but this? This domestic stuff you have with Shawn? That's special. That's love. 

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He gives you a smile, that dimple poking out of his cheek that makes you swoon.

"Ready to go?" Shawn asks, extending his hand to you when your coffees are drained. 

"Yeah," you say with your hand taking his. "Let's go."

When December twentieth announces itself with a thunderstorm you couldn’t care less because you’re at the airport. Your large rolling bag bag is stuffed with cute outfits, swimsuits and even some snorkelling gear. 

"Feels like you got a dead body in here," Shawn laughs as he struggles with the two bags, handing you yours before swinging an arm around your shoulders. 

"I wanted to be prepared."

"Let's go my little Girl Scout," he laughs with a gentle kiss to your temple. You both check in and then find your boarding gate. 

"I'm gonna grab breakfast, you want anything?" Shawn asks as he parks you and the suitcases by the gate full of noisy travellers. 

"Nah, I'm good." 

Shawn jogs off in the direction of a Starbucks you passed on your way in. 

Out the larger windows you can see planes taking off. You've never flown before; you thought that you'd be excited. But at the first view of those planes out the window you feel your stomach drop. 

They’re so big and bulky. How does it fly properly? It couldn’t. What if people shift around too much in their seats? Surely this can’t be a safe form of travel!

You pull out your phone, distracting yourself with a game. You try for several moments but your eyes keep being drawn to the huge planes outside. You grimace, wondering if you should have gotten your doctor to prescribe you something for anxiety. 

"Cheer up," a voice says. "You look like you're goin' to prison, not a five star resort." 

You glance over to see Shawn's dad, Joel, at the other side of you, an amused look on his handsome face. He's wearing jeans and a faded grey Longhorns t-shirt. You're momentarily thrown as normally you see him in dress pants and button downs for work. 

"I'm excited for the resort, just not the giant metal death box hurling through the air that is my only means of getting there." 

"Touche."

Shawn jokes about Joel liking you better then he likes him, but the truth is you and Joel are very similar. Your senses of humour, your ability to read people, your tendency to see the worst in people before they prove themselves worthy.

Shawn is more like his mom, sweet and naive at times, always seeing the good in people. It's ironic considering which parent stuck around to raise him and which one escaped the country six years after Shawn was born. 

Joel takes the empty seat next to you, his kneecap kissing yours as he pulls out his phone. 

"Never flown before," you explain. 

"Ah, I see," Joel puts his phone in his pocket, his attention fully fixed on your face. "Well what if I told you it's actually the safest way to travel?"

"I'd call you a liar."

Joel chuckles richly, his hand falling to your knee and squeezing as he laughs. 

"I promise you, I wouldn't take you on anything unsafe. And if all that's not good enough, you'll have Shawn beside you holding your hand the whole time."

You grin at that, nodding. The thought of Shawn being there does help your anxiety. Joel smiles back, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

"Thank you so much for inviting me along in this trip, Joel. I've always wanted to go to Hawaii."

"S'a beautiful place," Joel nods. "And you don't need to thank me. You're practically family at this point." 

Shawn returns with a muffin and two coffees in hand. 

"Hey dad, got you a coffee," Shawn says handing it to his father. 

"Thanks," Joel says gratefully. Just then the intercom alert sounds 

"Good afternoon passengers.This is the announcement for flight 82B for Oahu, Hawaii. We are now inviting passengers to begin boarding. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Thank you.”

“That’s us.”

The lineup goes uncomfortably fast. You stand beside Sean who is talking to Joel behind you, the two of them deep in conversation about football, a subject you couldn't care less about. You are still too preoccupied with the flight, being surrounded by almost all strangers sailing through the sky. 

You're not a fan of heights. So when you get to the door of the plane you hesitate, willing your foot to move. When it doesn't and the flight attendants shoot you a confused look, you feel yourself start to panic. 

Shawn has gone on ahead to grab your seats and place your carry-on bag in the overhead bin, not noticing that you're not behind him. A large hand flies to the small of your back, a comforting gesture. Joel. He rubs there, soothing you. 

"You'll be okay darlin'," he rumbles in your ear. "Remember, it’s safer than drivin' a car."

“Liar.”

Joel’s deep chuckle makes you grin and you allow Joel to gently prod you onto the plane, shooting the waiting attendants grateful looks for their patience. He takes his seat near the front, watching as you make your way to your seat next to Shawn. As you buckle in a thought occurs to you and you move your voice to a whisper.

"Isn't it gonna be kinda weird with us being there all week with just your dad? I mean, sharing the place and all?" 

"Nah, he made sure the rooms were far apart. Plus, he invited his girlfriend to come along so I doubt we'll see much of him."

Joel is a chronic workaholic, often pulling late nights and working on his phone. You’ve seen him out and about with beautiful women at the events Shawn takes you to but never formally dating them. You always assumed to be a lifelong bachelor. You wouldn't blame him, especially after what he's been through with Shawn's mother. 

"I didn't know he had a girlfriend," you say honestly. "Good for him."

"A couple months now," your boyfriend tells you. "You know my dad, mister private. But he took me to dinner and told me about her so I think he's getting serious." 

"That's really sweet," you say honestly. You want nothing but the best for him. 

All of a sudden the plane starts to jiggle, sending people stumbling down the aisles and others gasping in surprise. You reach over and grab Shawn's hand, trying to regulate your breathing. 

"Not so tight, babe," Shawn complains before gently sliding his hand from under yours. "You scratched me with your nails."

"Sorry," you mumble, eyes closed as the jostling of the plane continues.  

You tighten your seat belt before gripping the seat arms so tightly that your knuckles are white. Sean squeezes your kneecap, murmuring that everything will be okay and that you’re safe. You keep your eyes closed, trying to focus on the soothing sounds of his words.

Eventually the plane enters smooth skies and the seat belt sign is turned off. Despite this you remain keyed up, sitting stiffly as Shawn fades into a nap. 

"Excuse me, Miss?"

You crack open an eye to see a beautiful redheaded flight attendant bending down towards you with a glass of what appears to be whisky in her hand.  She extends it towards you and you take it confused.

"This is from the gentleman in A-1. He says to take this and you'll be relaxed for the rest of the flight." 

You look up a few rows to see Joel giving you a brief wave. You thank the women before raising it towards Joel in a Cheers motion. 

Drink it. Joel mouths. 

Yes, sir. You mouth back complete with a stiff fake salute before tossing back the drink. 

He grins at you before settling back in his seat. 

The drink does the job. 

"Here we are."

The cab drops the three of you in front of the beach resort. When you step out the air is fragrant with the scent of flowers. You wait while Joel checks you all in before he's back, motioning for you both to follow. 

There's the main section of the resort with luxurious hotel rooms. The more secluded section contains a variety of self contained houses that dot the waterfront. Its reserved for people who have unlimited credit card limits and drive cars that cost more than your parents first home.

When you arrive to your unit, your eyes are ready to bug out of your head. It's massive, as far as vacation rentals go. When you all step into the air conditioned unit you have to take a moment to take it all in. 

The beach house is beautiful with floor to ceiling windows, stunning tile floors and tasteful furniture. All of this is topped off with spectacular views of the beach outside your door. 

A plate of sliced pineapple and chilled wine sits on the kitchen table, along with a note that Joel reads when he wanders over. 

"Welcome note," he explains when he sees you looking at it. "I knew the owner back in trade school." 

You and Shawn nod, your boyfriends hand trailing down your back gently. It's much the same as what Joel did back at the airplane, but it feels different. You trail your suitcase behind you hearing the clack of it against the stone floor as you move around the room. 

"Wow." 

It's all you can utter as the three of you tour the rest of the unit. There’s a simple kitchen with an expensive looking coffee machine and a brand new bag of kona coffee waiting to be used.  The living room holds a table and four chairs, a few board games and a list of nearby places to visit along with the wifi code.  The couch is simple, placed in front of a large television that you’re sure you won’t use.

"My bedrooms on the right," Joel tells you both. "Yours it's on the left. We're sharin’ a bathroom, sorry about that. Pretty common in these places." 

Who cares about sharing a bathroom when you're in one of the most beautiful places you've ever been? Even the bathroom is beautiful with its high waterfall shower head and sleek marble. This place must have cost a fortune for the week. 

Joel encourages you both to take a look at your room down the hall and you don't hesitate to take Shawn's hand, dragging him there. Shawn pushes open the door to the bedroom and you can't hold in your shriek. 

"Holy shit! It's gorgeous!" 

The big windows overlook the ocean, the late afternoon beach beckoning to you. The bed is large and plush with white sheets, and framed prints of Oahu sunsets. Its spacious, the bed so large it looks like two giant beds pushed together. The closet is spacious and boats dozens of wood coat hangers.

“Wood, because it’s classy,” you tell Shawn in amusement who is already unpacking his suitcase while you continue to stare in a daze. 

"You like it?"

Joel is standing at the door frame, a shoulder balanced against it, watching you take it all in. He's smiling at you in that gentle, sweet way of his that makes you feel cared for. 

You're suddenly overcome with gratitude and you streak over to him. 

"Thank you, Joel!" You say, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him. "This is the most beautiful place I've ever been."

Joel laughs along with Shawn at your embrace and enthusiasm, holding you around the middle and hoisting you in his arms. Your face presses into his neck as he squeezes you, and the scent of leather and sandalwood envelops you. 

You've never really hugged Joel before. Maybe a polite side hug during family events, a high-five during baseball games and even once a hard push to his shoulder when he made fun of you for being afraid of a spider that had gotten into the house. 

But you've never had your front pressed to his, never really felt the muscles of his back and arms, seen the tendons in his neck or realized just how big his hands are when they squeeze your waist before lowering you.  

"I guess that means you like it," he says, red-faced. You pull back, embarrassed at your overzealous response. 

Shawn and his dad are very similar in their looks. Except Shawn is clean-shaven while Joel has a beard and Shawn's eyes are hazel like his mom's while Joel's are the darkest brown you've ever seen. You've never really noticed how dark until this very moment. 

You shoot him a cheery thank you again before smiling and skipping over to Shawn announcing that you'll unpack as well. 

"You two enjoy, I gotta make a few calls but then we can head out to dinner."

"Sounds great," Shawn says as he searches for his phone charger. 

Joel closes the door behind him and you turn to your boyfriend. You can't explain it but you feel turned on. The Hawaiian air must be doing something to you because

You crawl towards where he kneels unpacking. You grin, feeling the pulse of desire hitting you below the navel. You kneel beside him, dropping your voice to a husky murmur. 

"Should we break the bed in?" 

An hour later the three of you are sitting at a local eatery. Joel and Shawn are talking with one another while you scan the busy restaurant. 

Couples, families, all laughing and cheerful. And why wouldn't they? This is Paradise after all. But you don't feel anything like it, if anything, you feel like a little black rain cloud. 

Shawn turned down your earlier advances, citing that he was too tired. The problem is for the past three months Shawn has been too tired most of the time. At first he blamed grad school but when you pointed out he still made lots of time for gaming with best friends Brian and Kevin he'd been quick to explain that gaming relaxed him. 

That conversation had gone over about as well as a turd in the punch bowl. You remember being so hurt at what you felt was a slight against you. Weren't you relaxing? Weren't you something that made him happy? 

So yeah, you had hoped that this little vacation might stir some of that old spark back. But maybe you were too eager. You had just arrived at the place after all. Maybe you were being unfair. Still, the rejection stung.

"Thought we could do all the tourist-y shit while we're here," Joel says after you've all placed your orders. "Luau, sunset cruise."

"Snorkelling?" Shawn offers. 

"Hell yes," Joel nods grinning. "ATV tour too."

The Millers like to have fun. They also like to keep busy. It's like second nature to them to be off on adventures or activities. You meanwhile plan on spending lots of time by the pool or the beach, reading and drinking. 

"What about you, darlin'?" Joel asks between sips of whisky. "What're you hopin' to do?"

You know exactly what. The thing you've been dying to do since you were a kid at the aquarium. 

"I wanna swim with the turtles."

Shawn bursts into amused laughter beside you, and if you weren't already irritated with him before, you certainly are now. He grins at you not understanding that you're secretly furious with him. 

"Turtles? Really?"

"What's wrong with turtles?"

"Seems kinda babyish doesn't it?"

"What's babyish about liking animals?" Joel cuts in. "You forgetting about the time we wouldn't let you in the petting zoo and you threw your shoe at me?"

"I was five, dad."

"Yeah well, some things don't change," Joel says with a smirk. "Still throwin' tantrums when you don't get your way."

"Fuck off old man," Shawn says through chuckles. “Don’t forget I’m your only child. I pick which retirement home I’m gonna stick you in when your mind goes.”

“Little bastard,” Joel mutters, trying to hold back a loud laugh.

He settles for tossing a drink umbrella in Shawn’s direction, chuckling when Shawn dodges it easily. You can't help but laugh along with him, your bad mood fading. 

By the time dessert arrives you're all several glasses of wine in reminiscing about Shawn's last attempt at surfing. 

"I've gotten better," he exclaims. “I swear.”

"Yeah well we'll see about that," Joel says paying the check. "Alright team, let's head back and get some shut eye. This old man needs it." 

You roll your eyes at that. Joel isn't even fifty and even if he was he's about the best looking man his age bracket and younger. You've seen the way women stare at him, whispering, blushing when he looks their way. He is not what you’d qualify as old.

The three of you arrive back at the unit to the sound of nighttime creatures croaking and buzzing. 

"Alright I'll meet you two out here tomorrow morning around nine. We can go to the excursion desk and plan the week. Sound good?"

"Sounds good, night Dad."

"Night Joel."

The three of you part ways into the opposite bedrooms. Shawn nuzzles your neck gently kissing there. He always does that when he's been drinking. You smile delightedly at this, eager to get into bed.

When the lights are off and the two of you have slipped off your clothes and under the covers you roll towards him, peppering his face with soft kisses. 

"It's late, babe," he murmurs, kissing you sweetly but with finality. 

"We're on vacation," you remind him, slipping your hand under his boxers.

You feel him slowly start to harden in your grip. You hear his breath hitch and you smile, knowing those sounds so intimately. You tug off your panties and slide onto his lap, preparing to ride him. 

"Fuck me," you whisper, hips grinding against his. "Wanna feel your cock in me."

“Baby, no.”

Shawn pulls you off of him and you tumble into the bed next to him, feeling your cheeks grow hot with humiliation.

"My dad is right across the hall," Shawn hisses. “I don’t want him hearing us.”

Rejection never sits well with you and immediately you feel yourself growing defensive. 

"You're dad is gonna be across the hall the whole week, Shawn,” you whisper angrily. “So what, we're not going to have fuck this entire trip?"

"We'll have sex," Shawn said rolling his eyes. "Just not when my dad is ten feet away sharing a fuckin' bathroom with us."

Bullshit. Another excuse to put off the intimacy that’s been dwindling for months. You push yourself from the bed, tugging on your dress from earlier. Shawn leans up on his elbows, giving you a look of concern.

"Where are you going?"

"A walk."

"I'll c---"

"No," you say sharp as a knife. "I want to go alone." 

You stalk out of the house, eyes glossy with hurt and anger. That's the thing they don't tell you about relationships that have gone on so long -- both partners need to work to keep the fires going. 

You make your way to the beach along the softly lit pathway. Its well after midnight and the resort is quiet; the lights dimmed or off entirely. You take a seat on a nearby rock, listening to the gentle sound of the evening waters lapping by the shore. You're very excited to go swimming tomorrow. To feel the warm sand underneath your feet. 

You can hear noise coming from the far end of the resort. You remember over dinner Joel going through the resort map on his phone, letting you know what amenities they had. He had told you both about the dance club the resort had.

Shawn had immediately laughed, stating that he’d take a pass on it.  Shawn hates dancing. You tried to get him to do dance lessons with you once but he wouldn't even give it a shot. 

Right now it seems all you can do is focus on Sean's flaws. You know that he's a decent man, you know the treats you well, but there are these bugaboos these irritants that can't help frustrate you right now. 

"Fuck it," you murmur to yourself, raising yourself from the sand and brushing it from your sundress. You follow the sound of the music, stopping in front of a door with blinking lights. A man in a blue Hawaiian shirt smiles at you when you approach. 

"Aloha, may I ask your Unit number?"

"Number 4, under Miller."

The man types into his computer before nodding, opening the door for you. You step into the darkness, letting your eyes adjust to the blue lights and colourful dance floor. The speakers are playing typical vacation music with a heavy bass.

Bodies writhe on the dance floor, half naked in revealing dresses or in the men's case, unbuttoned shirts. You order a drink at the bar, taking it with you as you scout the area for a free chair. A hand on your wrist surprises you.

"Joel?"

Joel is seated at one of the small circle tables nursing what appears to be a tumbler of Scotch. He motions for you to take the free chair next to him and you do gratefully falling into it, your arm bumping his. 

"What are you doin' here? Since when does Shawn dance?" He asks over the bass, grinning. He looks a bit tipsy, his neck red. 

"He doesn't, I'm here alone. I needed to blow off some steam," you tell him over the music. 

"Me too," he says loudly back. "Couldn't sleep. Too excited, I guess." 

You nod, looking back at the dance floor wistfully. Everyone looks like they're having such a fun time, their worries and concerns far away from them as they undulate to the rhythm of the music.  Joel takes another sip of his drink, watching you from the corner of his eyes. 

You wish Shawn was here with you, you wish he was spinning you around on the dance floor. You wish it was like those early years where you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

"You and Shawn doin' okay?"

Joel's voice cuts into your confusing thoughts. You glance his way.

"Why do you ask?"

"Cuz I'm a dad," Joel. "And I've been married. And I know what tension between two people looks like." 

You sigh heavily, your mind drifting to earlier. You don’t answer Joel because what would you tell him? You can’t tell your boyfriend’s dad that you’re worried his son is growing distant. You can’t tell him that your sex life has been disintegrating for the past several months. Instead you just shrug.

"You two talked about marriage?"

"What? No.”

You and Shawn have been together a long time, but you have no intention of settling down anytime soon. Sean is still doing his masters and you're loving your job at the museum.

"Good. No, not like that," Joel amends when he sees your stricken expression. "I just mean you're both so young."

"You were younger than us when you got married.”

"Yeah and look where that got me," he says with a scoff. 

"Yeah, well, I think it's just been a long time and we're hitting a rough patch. Nothing we can't overcome," you add quickly. "It's just hard sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah," Joel nods. "I know." 

The two of you lapse into silence, watching the twirling, shouting, laughing people swan around you. You shouldn’t be glum, you should be experiencing life!

"You wanna dance?"

His voice is low and husky in your ear. You start, surprised to see Joel inches from your face. You know he's speaking so close to you because it's so loud in here, but it doesn't stop your pulse from ticking at the shock. 

"Don't really know how.”

"Shit reason. C'mon."

Joel throws back the rest of his drink and drags you onto the dance floor. You laugh as he spins you, both of you almost knocking into an older couple who are taking the dance very seriously. They shoot you both a nasty look and you and Joel have to work hard to muffle your laughter. 

"You're gonna get us kicked out!"

"Nah," Joel shakes his head, spinning you again but closer to him. "I'm too charmin’."

"You think pretty highly of yourself don't you?"

Joel shrugs, laughing as the song ends. Another quick one begins and Joel looks serious. 

"I'm gonna teach you some moves Shawn's mom taught me."

"Okay."

You're surprised, he doesn't really mention Shawn's mother very often. 

You watch as Joel attempts to teach you some simple dance moves. You don't know if it's the stuffy club, the drinks running through your veins or the fact that you're dancing with your boyfriend's dad, but you can't really focus on the steps.

"I give up," you moan after the fifth failed attempt at a two-step. 

"You ain't a quitter," Joel assures you, trying to spin you slowly so you can get your footing. 

You never realized that Joel was such a good dancer. Watching him move his tall body is strangely hypnotizing, mainly because you never expected a man that broad and muscular to move so fluidly. 

"Atta girl," he says proudly when you get some of the footing correct. 

You smirk when you see the women nearby watching him, shooting him smiles. But his focus is on you, teaching you the moves and assuring you: it's alright darlin', we'll get you there just take your time. 

You're having so much fun with him you barely realize that an hour has gone by and you can only tell when you realize the back of your neck is damp with sweat. 

You're about to announce your heading back to the unit when the beat slows and many trickle off the dance floor. It's a slow song, and only the couples remain in the glowing dance floor. 

You go to step off when you feel Joel spin you again, back into his arms. You smile breathlessly up at him, the two of you shiny from perspiration from the dancing and the warm crowded space. 

Joel is looking at you strangely, his eyes luminous in the reflection of the twinkling club lights. When he slides a hand at your lower back and urges your hands around his neck you don't hesitate. You lace your fingers there, shifting from foot to foot.

You feel strange to be dancing with Joel. And not because he makes you feel uncomfortable, it's the opposite, actually. You feel almost too comfortable. Joel’s eyes are trailing over your face, sometimes highlighted by the flash of the DJ’s lights.

“You talked to Shawn about all that’s botherin’ you and this rough patch?” Joel asks out of nowhere.

He looks vulnerable; unlike the Joel you know who is all smiles and jokes.

“Kinda,” you say shyly, looking over his shoulder. “It’s just hard. . . We can both get pretty defensive. Plus, I wonder if I’m maybe being unfair. He’s in school and everything.”

“Uh huh, and you started that museum job didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty demanding job, ain’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Joel gives you a look as he rocks you both from side to side

“Can I say somethin’ you might not wanna hear?”

You nod.

“In my experience, it takes two people to make a relationship. Not one puttin’ in all the effort while the other one has his or her head in the sand.”  

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. The song ends and Joel releases his hands you’re your waist before he announces he has to hit the washroom. You head to the bar for a glass of water and to wait for him. 

"Hi beautiful." 

An Australian man around Joel's age with a moustache is leaning against the bar next to you. His eyes are bleary and red-rimmed, his cheeks ruddy. He’s obviously very drunk. You give a forced smile before going back to wait for your water.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"No thanks," you answer quickly. "Just getting water." 

"How about a dance then?"

"I'm good," you say forcing a polite smile. You’re facing away from him, eyes on the bartender hoping he notices you.  

"C'mon beautiful," the man insists, eyes sliding over your chest in a very obvious way. "I'm a good dancer too. Could give you lots of lessons." 

"She said no."

Joel's voice is there, having clearly come back from the bathroom. You step backwards and before you know it Joel is sliding his arm protectively around you.  You glance up to see Joel's face contorted into a mask of fury. His teeth are bared like some wild animal and he grips you tightly to him. 

"Sorry man," The guy says holding his hands up in surrender towards Joel. "Didn't know she was taken." 

Joel sneers before leading you out of the club. The cool air is a welcome reprieve when you step outside, breathing deeply. 

"That place is nothin' but perverts," Joel growls as the two of you make your way back along the beach in the direction of your unit. 

"Joel,  you were there," you say giggling. "That make you a pervert?"

"Ha ha."

You walk quietly along the shoreline, confused as to how you can feel this good when just an hour ago it felt like everything was falling apart. Maybe it’s the drink in your veins, maybe its Hawaii, or maybe it’s just Joel.

"Watch it--"

Joel takes your hand when you stumble over a rock in the semi darkness. You let him, not dropping it even when your walking evens out. It feels nice to walk hand in hand with him, it feels safe. He doesn't let go of your hand either as you continue along, your shoes making dual footprints in the sand. 

"Thanks for in there," you say. “I hate creepy guys like that.”

"Was nothin'," he says, then he drops your hand after a moment. "Shawn would have done the same."

"No, he wouldn't have." 

It slips out before you can stop yourself. Joel stops in the sand, his concern there in his face. It’s clear that what you’ve said has upset him.

"What?"

"He doesn't like confrontation, you know that," you say with a shrug. "And I like that about him."

"You do?" Joel challenges. "Really?" 

"Sometimes." 

Honestly you’ve never enjoyed the men who start fights for no reason, who act like cavemen when someone looks at their girlfriend. Shawn is too smart for that, too above it to engage with assholes like that. But you have to admit that there was a part of you that found Joel’s actions inside the club to be a bit attractive. Is that the word? Would you really call your boyfriend’s father attractive?

You look at him standing there, his grey t-shirt clinging to his muscles and wide shoulders, the muscular thighs in denim and you think, fuck, yeah he is attractive. You knew he wasn’t ugly, you’d just never looked at him like that. Like he was a man outside of being Shawn’s dad.

"I come from a time when you take care of what's yours." Joel runs a hand through his messy curls. "If you were mine I wouldn't let anyone talk to you the way that man did, let alone touch you." 

If you were mine. 

You can't understand why but you're nipples tighten under your dress at those words. The possessiveness in Joel's voice is so dark and husky. He’s looking off into the dark like he’s really upset.

"If I was yours," you murmur. 

His glazed eyes move from the beach over to your face. You’re standing so close to one another and you can see his chest rising and falling quickly as he breathes. His scotch-coated breath huffs over your cheeks and you swear you’re getting drunker just inhaling it.

You must be, because why else would you be putting your hands on his shoulders. Why else would you be pressing your mouth to his? Why else would you be tracing his plush lips with your tongue and whimpering when he groans into your parted mouth?

And he must be drunk because he doesn’t pull away or hesitate. He dips his head and his hands wrap around your waist, bringing your body against him tightly. His palms slide over your skin, desperate to touch you everywhere as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. You welcome it, going gooey in his arms, allowing him to take what he wants from you.   

He’s so fucking broad, so strong, so masculine. You gasp into his mouth when he grips your ass with his big hands, pulling your hips against his, circling them as he kisses you. You feel his hardened cock through the layers of fabric, straining against the zipper of his jeans, desperate to bury itself in your slick heat.

To be desired like this feels powerful. It feels like years since Shawn wanted you like this much. It makes you lean more into Joel, desperate to keep the sensation going. His hands are sliding under your dress, up your silken thigh and you tremble.

A splash sounds nearby in the water, a fish or something startling you both and you simultaneously break apart. You both take a step back from one another in the sand, eyes wide. Joel looks completely crazed.

“The fuck—what are we doin’?” Joel whispers, the regret clear in both your faces.

You bring your trembling hands to your warm cheeks and tears immediately spring to your waterline.

What have you just done?

“Oh my fuck, no no, I don’t – I don’t know why-“

You bend at the waist, hands braced on your knees as you start to hyperventilate. Joel is pacing up and down the sand, his silhouette barely seen in the darkness of night. You can see his feet pacing back and forth. . . back and forth . . . He stops when you let out a hiccup, on the verge of throwing up.

“Honey stop,” Joel says, a hand on your back, rubbing gently along your spine. “Calm down. Calm down, its okay.”

“I don’t know why I did that,” you say, tears streaming down your face and dropping into the sand below. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“S’not your fault,” Joel says, his voice even and calm. It makes you feel calm. And yet, guilt still bubbles up in your lungs, making a small sob escape.

 “I have to—you need to—I need to tell Shawn. Right now.”

“Hold on,” Joel says roughly, gripping you by the shoulder and urging you to stand. He peers into your face with a grim expression.

“You cannot tell Shawn anythin’.”

“I have to,” you whine.

“It’ll just hurt him,” Joel insists, nodding and hoping you’ll do the same. “It was a mistake. It was nothing, it was just the booze. We just drank too much and we were all hopped up on that asshole inside the club and we weren’t thinkin’.”

“Right,” you agree, relief sliding through every vein you possess as he lays it out for you. “That’s totally what it was. The drinking. We’re drunk.”

“Completely.”

“Okay. Good.”

You’re still shaken up by what just happened, still tipsy from the drinks. Joel runs an anxious hand through his curls, looking utterly wrecked.

“Let’s go back.”

The two of you walk the rest of the way back in silence. You still cannot believe what you did. You kissed your boyfriend’s father. You kissed him and he kissed you back. Fuck, you both must be utterly wasted. Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll both forget it even happened. You would welcome the hangover from hell if it could erase the last fifteen minutes from both your minds for good.

Joel tugs open the sliding glass door, not able to look at you as you both pad towards the opposing doors. You glance over your shoulder to see Joel staring at you as you enter the bedroom where his son sleeps. You give him a sorrowful smile before closing the door.

You crawl under the covers, thankful that Shawn is asleep. You slip off the dress, your hair wild from dancing, your skin sticky with sweat, and your mouth still tasting of scotch. Your cunt flutters at the memory of the noises he made.

You roll onto your side, trying to drift to sleep. Shawn, still half-slumbering snuggles up against your back. His arm slips over your waist and he holds you, as he often holds you back home, gentle and tender and full of love.

“I’m sorry about before, babe,” he murmurs into your hair.

You feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You blink rapidly, closing your eyes and trying to swallow the guilt.

You know that Joel is in his bed right now similarly afflicted, thinking about how he did something so unforgivable and to his own son. Joel is the kindest dad you know; he loves his son more than anything. You know that what you both just did was awful and disgusting.

You also know that there is something deeply wrong with you because as you lay there in Shawn’s arms your pussy floods with memories of his father’s mouth on yours still vivid in your mind.  

do you guys want more of this? or should it be a one-shot? also trying a new aesthetic what do we tthink?

[the-californicationist]

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.

[bloodwrittenballad]

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.

[beelmons]

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.”

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

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. ♥️

[cleoluvrr]

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.

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

alternatively, can we get Xavier and a tall reader? i’m not 6’2” by any means but could make eye contact without much effort. i want to see your thoughts for this too!

yes!

I tried my best, my 5'4 ass could never be tall.

XAVIER THORPE HC x tall reader

thinks your long legs are sexy

a lot of people always tell you that your too tall for a girl, and try to make fun of you, but Xavier is always there.

"she must play basketball"

"you must play mini golf, now piss off" he would say to them

never asks what your exact height is because you know you get annoyed when people ask you

he one time wore shoes with a bit of a heel to them to make himself taller when standing beside you to tease you

he hugs you around the shoulders, forcing you to wrap your arms around his torso. (he does this so your trapped in his arms)

LOVES SEEING YOU IN HEELS

people will come up to you "aren't you tall enough?"

"she looks gorgeous"

makes joke about how it's nice being tall

- "the weather's nice up here, isn't it?"

he liked getting things off the top shelf for you and seeing your face when you look at him like 'you know for a fact I could of gotten it myself' he thinks it's funny

if you're taller than him, he likes looking up at you to talk. a lot of boys or men would find it intimidating or emasculating but he thinks it's humbling.

he likes sitting on the edge his or your bed with you standing between this legs looking up at you.

dies a little when he sees you in a short skirt.

rests his head on your shoulder while hugging.

nests his head in your chest while cuddling.

[bugattieb111]

votre eminance charles 3

vous trouverez votre reponse bientot

En echange de belotti 18 lateral droit #tommy #hilfinger hat green et kane tottenham substitute felipe anderson 10 milieu offensif lazio (-) courrier Einfild way rose 4 .. blu sky ... plus " le cadre de cr7 red devils adidas black (+) lines x 3 oranges epaulieres signer original one only one ... the special < One >

3. Kane 10 grenouille inception (10.000£) - green 7 hat (for me) tommy hilfinger 50.000£ <=> 60.000£

6. Broncos 6 jeep inception . compleat hat (+) t- shirt george

160.000£

9. Lebron 23 violet noir hat purple 9 atalanta-BC ... 5. Supercopter, yellow L.A.. Lakers sweet shirt 160.000 £ recupere just la casquette 5 (orange fluo psg) *man united 50.000£

Look the collection into meeting day netherland ok !

Me 7. sharks anayem 0 plus dolphins 0 miami hat regalo da comprare encora ??

34

Shaquil O' Neil los angeles lakers 7 ... hat 5 old yellow nubuck.. ? Starscream inception ultimate defense deceptikons ... <=> auto boots ! 160.000£

Man city 4 (thör) for harry man city blu + hat golf nike 160.000 £

From allianz arena 5 6 7 ...

And A casa di milano ac milan 1 2 3 4 ....

One peter super eagle's foot us... basket cloths survetement white red white nike air... consol Xbox One ultra slim 1 To HDD

Oichi cloths t shirt Donic short Donic raquette d' entrainement performante... consol PS3

2

NIKE BOB (+) ONE ECHEC'S GAME....

In continuity ... never other cloths football .. than AfA 3 *** and t-shirt pre-match

Fot me dear grand father ; hugo boss... weight 32... from longer 30/32 us size

2 costumes color bordeaux 300 € - 180 € and black 450 € / 250 € performances 2 chemises blanches avec emoticon (+) 2 chemises 44 elastane noires cravates plus pinces a cravates chaussure 43 stop

Society waikiki and best mountana lacoste shoes ... stan smith copy reebook ?, i have the right !

You' ll should be happy grand father ... the paquets posted returns into france ... why sir ... lord Biren... isn't unfortune ... yes we can !

Gamete igor + gamete harry dobble fecondation 2G gravity fuzion twins

I beleave in you mind uncle .... sam ( usa )

Oichi first .... Peter 2nd .... godfroy & arthur 3rd and 4th ...I wait into dobble soon as twins samely ... bref tu m' inspires la serenitude et le calm ... le plus grd ennemy que tu es c' est ta propre bouche si tu veux eviter d' avoir des problemes apprends a la fermer ...

On ne peut pas vendre le 107.5 fm on a les serbes qui deviennent fou ... le foutu four 4th war world orthodoxe versus europe !! Moi aussi ils m' ont douiller (tarifer,) 75kg /100 d'or mes etudes en ingeniery du son sound priver private tomber a l' eau !

pepites d' or ! #luxembourg on vous les echange a condition d' obtenir la mignolette de la world cup adresser a Materrazzi 2006... pour iomatrix-23 [, he took my name on tweeter ] i am exiged the beauty boop... the trophy => italia rend the le double col du cou plus les lanieres lacet a tirer la tete de nos joueurs attendez notre reaction ... puis rosebiff twickenam 7-56 pour le maillot du dragon ... ... SF PARIS ils se sont fait terasser ok !

@pentagon-net : recupeared thx a lot ... the cadre usa five monnay of paris ... excelent choice versus 1.200.000 $ (0.78£) . ok men ?

Price => 750.000 £ exchange acrylic peint 970.000 $ x 0.78 = 760.000 £ ...

Other point (1) BD clean shit. Soon as the tri tri nations will existing we aren't been both three ... team (8) rugby... football (7) .... basket (5)... the same in all sports category ... interrested for a confrontation direct between England France Italia 2 partys x 3 sports .. each will be played as RSA - Australia - New Zeland !

[keyh0use]

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."

[rugtopper]

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

[alexhornefan]

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.

[leftbehindgolf]

Why Every Golfer Needs a High-Quality Golf Cap on the Course

Golf is a game of precision, technique, and, believe it or not, the right gear. While clubs, balls, and shoes get a lot of attention, one essential piece of golf equipment is often overlooked: a golf cap for men. Whether you're playing on a bright summer day or battling unpredictable winds, a high-quality golf cap can make a significant difference in your performance and comfort.

In this blog, we will explore why investing in high-quality golf hats for men is crucial for every golfer, how it can enhance your game, and why golfers across Canada and the USA are making this investment. As the largest supplier of left-handed golf gear in North America, Left Behind Golf Company is committed to providing golfers with the best headwear to match their game.

1. Protect Yourself from the Sun and Weather

One of the primary functions of men’s golf headwear is protection from the elements. Golf is typically played outdoors, often for several hours at a time, which means you're exposed to various weather conditions. A golf cap for men acts as a shield against harsh sunlight, preventing sunburn and reducing the risk of long-term skin damage.

If you're playing in Canada or the northern US, where UV rays can be strong, even in cooler weather, investing in the best golf hats is essential for your health. By keeping your head and face shaded, you'll not only stay protected but also more focused on your game.

2. Boost Confidence and Style

Your golf gear is a reflection of your personal style, and nothing ties together a sharp golf outfit better than stylish golf hats for men. A well-designed cap can boost your confidence on the course, helping you stand out whether you're playing at a local club or a famous golf course.

Look for high profile golf hats or luxury golf hats if you want to make a bold statement. Golf is a game of elegance, and your headwear should reflect that. At Left Behind Golf Company, we understand the importance of combining fashion with function, which is why our selection of men’s golf caps not only looks great but performs well in any conditions.

3. Enhanced Comfort on the Course

Golf is a game that requires focus and concentration, and distractions caused by discomfort can negatively affect your performance. A quality golf cap for men is designed to provide superior comfort throughout your round.

Top brands manufacture best golf caps for men using breathable, moisture-wicking materials that keep your head cool and dry, even on the hottest days. By absorbing sweat and allowing ventilation, these caps prevent discomfort and maintain a clear line of sight.

Whether you're playing in the US sunbelt or Canada’s warmer regions, the right golf hats for men will enhance your comfort and allow you to focus solely on your swing.

4. Improved Visibility and Focus

A men's golf cap doesn't just offer protection from the sun; it also improves visibility by keeping the sun out of your eyes. The visor or brim helps reduce glare, allowing you to focus on your ball and the course ahead. In golf, every detail matters, and being able to see clearly is critical for accuracy and performance.

Caps that are designed for performance, such as popular golf hats for men, offer the ideal visor length and curvature to maximize coverage without obstructing your vision. They help you stay on top of your game, whether you're teeing off or putting.

5. Reflecting Professionalism and Etiquette

Golf is a sport steeped in tradition, and proper attire is a key part of golf etiquette. Wearing men’s golf headwear that is both functional and stylish is a mark of respect for the game and the course. When you wear a lefty hat from Left Behind Golf Company, you’re showcasing your dedication to the sport and its customs.

Moreover, golf hat companies create designs that reflect the rich history and culture of golf. Many of the famous golf course hats from iconic tournaments embody this tradition, and owning a similar cap shows that you’re part of the broader golf community.

6. Tailored for Left-Handed Golfers

At Left Behind Golf Company, we understand the unique needs of left-handed golfers. Our collection includes hats specifically designed with lefty golfers in mind. While left-handed players are often overlooked in golf gear design, we ensure that every left-handed golfer feels represented and comfortable on the course. A lefty hat combines practicality with the perfect fit, so you can play your best game every time.

7. Durability for Long-Term Use

A high-quality golf cap for men is not just about looking good or feeling comfortable—it’s about durability too. Investing in the best golf caps for men means choosing headwear that will last through multiple seasons of play. Top brands prioritize materials that can withstand frequent wear, sweat, and weather exposure without losing their shape or color.

Whether you're playing a casual round with friends or competing in a club championship, you'll want a cap that can endure the elements and still look good after repeated use. That's where luxury golf hats stand out—they are built to last and retain their appearance over time, making them worth the investment.

8. Popularity Among Professional Golfers

Professional golfers are known for their attention to detail when it comes to their gear. Many of them opt for high profile golf hats because they understand the benefits they offer. Whether it’s for sun protection, style, or brand sponsorship, these caps have become a staple on professional tours.

By wearing the popular golf hats for men that professionals trust, you’re emulating the choices of the best in the game. It’s not just about looking like a pro; it’s about performing like one too.

9. Support and Belonging to the Golf Community

Wearing the right gear is also a way to show that you're part of the golfing community. At Left Behind Golf Company, we’ve built a network of left-handed golfers who not only share their love for the game but also support each other through high-quality gear.

Choosing mens golf caps from a dedicated community of left-handed players ensures that you're not just buying a product, but also joining a passionate and growing group of golfers who appreciate the unique challenges and joys of the sport.

10. Make the Right Choice for Your Game

At the end of the day, choosing the right men's golf caps is about more than just function or fashion—it’s about making an investment in your game. The next time you're shopping for golf gear, don’t overlook the importance of a quality golf cap for men. Whether you're looking for famous golf course hats or a stylish golf hat for men, Left Behind Golf Company has you covered.

[manchesterchiropractors]

Who We Meet At This Manchester Sports Injury Clinic

As chiropractors, the team at Manchester Chiropractors are helping clients daily with the problems frequently generated by our lifestyle, they can be work related and neck pain and back pain are typical of the requests for help that they receive. But many patients also seek assistance with the results of their interest in keeping fit and healthy in the pursuit of self care! Both professional and amateur sports men and women and those that work out at the gym, suffer sports related injuries.But it is not always just the more obvious causes such as those felt by marathon runners or those involved in contact sports who are treated. Because a sports injury specialist in Manchester may meet horse riders who experience low back pain from the repetitive high impactinvolved in the nature of their sport, or golfers who develop injuries all because of poor posture in their golf swing, too!

Take your time to build up your stamina

Here at this sports injury clinic in central Manchester, we have to say that those clients who have incurredthe most common injuries are the runners. Over the past couple of decades, runninghas becomethe form of physical activity that most take up in their get fit regime. It may be a personal decision to get off the couch and events such as Park Run seem like the ideal opportunity. Little investment is neededexcept a quality pair of running trainers, and it is in fact here that those who do not get the best shoes may initiate their problems. It is a great work out but as with all activities take it slowly. Don’t allow your new found motivation to carry you away! Because running can be tough on the body, especially in the early stages! The impact from running may see you booking online or calling to book for treatment at this Sports Injury Clinic in Manchester.

If injury happens then our Chiros are here to help

Whether you are a regular runner, even in the elite class, or out for that fun run, no one can always avoid an injury. At the clinicour team sees patients suffering from ankle, knee. back and shoulder issues. Your Consultation will uncover the root causes for your discomfort, the Report of Findings will give you and your chiropractor the chance to discuss what is wrong and the way forward to getting you fit again, plus advice on how to avoid common injuries in the future. Then your following appointment will be for adjustment that will set you on the path to recovery. No matter your sport or activity, we are confident that hands-on spinal adjustment can rectify the cause of your joint pain working alongside an exercise programme. We aim to get you fit and make you more resilient to injury in the future.

[nevermindallgolf]

Perfect Picks: Unique Gift Ideas for Golfers and Essential Golf Shoes Every Player Needs

For many, golf transcends only entertainment value. Whether for a celebration or a thank-you, choosing the ideal gift for a gamer may be interesting. Many gear and clothing options are available. This article discusses unusual gift ideas for golfer, including must-have golf shoes. Read on to find unique presents that will improve their game and course time.

Named golf balls

Plaque golf balls are a simple and thoughtful present. They can have their names, nicknames, or unique messages on the balls. This makes them unique and shows you considered what to provide. Personalised golf balls may brighten every golfer's day. Imagine their satisfaction and joy playing golf with their balls. Golfers constantly use golf balls, making them a helpful present. They will appreciate having their customised balls, which will help them discover them during games, especially when there are several. 

Golf gear

Consider adding valuable goods to their collection. Good golf towels, multi-tools (divot repair tools with ball markers), and attractive golf hats make great gifts. An excellent towel helps golfers clean their clubs and play their best throughout the round. Wedge repair tools help with course maintenance and benefit golfers. Dressy golf headwear can keep their heads cool in the sun and add style. These small gifts improve their play and gear; you can buy golf shoes for men. Golf equipment is fantastic since you don't always notice it until it's too late. Giving them accessories shows you know the sport and care about their comfort and success.

Golf lessons

Local pros can help golfers improve by teaching them. This considerate presence helps them improve, learn new tricks, and obtain new ideas to improve their course performance. Trainers may help any player develop, regardless of skill. The teacher can tailor courses to their ability level, whether they want to train in putting, driving, or a short game. This present helps the golfer in real life and lets them meet their teacher and new individuals. Many schools provide clinics or group courses, making it pleasant and social.

Quality golf shoes

When considering gift ideas for golfer, proper shoes are crucial. Golfers need comfortable, stable, and gripping shoes. High-quality golf shoes can boost a golfer's game by offering support and grip. Buy golf shoes for men should choose fashionable, functional styles. FootJoy, Adidas, and Nike make many golf shoes. After a hard day on the course, waterproof, breathable, and padded shoes are helpful. A pair of shoes spiked or not, can improve their playing and make the round more pleasant. 

Golf-themed clothes

Golf-themed outfits are also excellent. Golf apparel is abundant, from moisture-wicking polos to elegant helmets and jackets. Gifting something that matches someone's style is enjoyable and practical. Golf apparel keeps golfers comfortable in every weather and boosts self-confidence on the field. Ensure the name is good, and consider their favourite hues and patterns to ensure they like wearing it on and off the course. Golfers may stay cool on hot days with moisture-wicking shirts and toasty on frigid mornings with attractive apparel. 

ConclusionFinding the perfect gift for a player may be enjoyable and rewarding. Personalised golf balls and high-quality golf shoes are among the many gift ideas for golfer aficionados. You care about them and know they love the game with each present. When shopping for golf gear, comfort and efficiency are most crucial. Better golf shoes will help men play better and relax on the field. Never Mind All Golf is the best place to get high-quality gear and play golf with a love. They have the best gift ideas for golfers and the coolest golf shoes for men.

[kshitij1804]

Slip-On Winter Shoes: Convenience And Warmth Combined

As the winter chill sets in, the quest for comfortable and warm footwear becomes essential. Slip-on winter shoes have emerged as a favorite choice for many, offering a perfect blend of convenience and warmth. Whether you’re rushing out for errands or simply enjoying a cozy day at home, slip-on shoes provide the ease of wear that traditional boots often lack. This blog will explore the benefits of slip-on winter shoes, highlight some of our best offerings, and guide you in choosing the perfect pair for your needs. The Convenience of Slip-On Shoes One of the standout features of slip-on shoes is their convenience. No more fumbling with laces or struggling to get your foot in—these shoes allow you to easily slide in and out, making them ideal for busy lifestyles. Whether you’re getting ready for work, dropping the kids off at school, or just stepping outside to grab the mail, slip-ons simplify your daily routine. Additionally, slip-on winter shoes are perfect for those moments when you need to take off your shoes quickly, such as when entering a home or a cozy space. With designs that often prioritize a snug fit, these shoes can keep your feet warm and protected without the hassle of complicated closures. Check out our Golf Ball Slides.

Comfort Meets Style Beyond convenience, slip-on winter shoes offer a variety of styles that can cater to different tastes. From sleek designs perfect for casual outings to plush, cozy slippers ideal for home use, there is a slip-on shoe for everyone. The aesthetics of these shoes make them not only functional but also fashionable, allowing you to express your style even in colder months.

Take, for instance, our Non-Slip Spa Slippers for both men and women. With their soft, cushioned soles and elegant designs, these slippers provide the comfort needed for long hours of wear while ensuring you look great. Check them out here. Check out our Golf Ball Slides.

Warmth for Every Occasion When it comes to winter, warmth is paramount. Slip-on winter shoes are often designed with insulation or fleece lining, making them perfect for keeping your feet cozy during chilly weather. Unlike traditional footwear that can feel cumbersome, slip-ons provide a lightweight alternative that doesn’t sacrifice warmth. For example, our Bubble Textured Golf Ball Slides combine playful design with practicality. Perfect for indoor and outdoor use, these slides ensure your feet stay warm without compromising on style. You can explore this unique design here. Check out our Golf Ball Slides.

Versatility for Every Lifestyle Another appealing aspect of slip-on winter shoes is their versatility. They seamlessly transition from indoor comfort to outdoor adventures, making them suitable for various activities. Whether you're lounging at home, visiting friends, or running errands, slip-on shoes adapt to your lifestyle effortlessly. Our Golf Ball Slides with Charms exemplify this versatility. Designed for both men and women, these stylish slides offer a fun twist with charm embellishments, making them a conversation starter wherever you go. Perfect for casual outings, they’re available for you here. Check out our Golf Ball Slides.

Conclusion Slip-on winter shoes are a practical and stylish solution for navigating the colder months. With their ease of use, comfort, and ability to keep your feet warm, they are an excellent investment for anyone looking to enhance their winter wardrobe. Whether you prefer chic slippers for indoor use or versatile outdoor slip-ons, there's a perfect pair waiting for you. Don’t let the winter chill slow you down! Explore our collection of slip-on winter shoes at Golf Ball Slides today and discover the ultimate blend of convenience and warmth. Your feet will thank you!

[martinarecolvice]

AMVET Donations

When it comes to supporting our veterans, every little bit helps. One of the most impactful ways you can make a difference is through AMVETS donations. This organization has been dedicated to assisting veterans and their families for decades. By simply giving away items you no longer need, you can contribute to programs that directly benefit those who have served our country.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>AMVET Donations<<<<<<<<<<<<<

But what exactly can you donate? And how does your support help improve the lives of veterans? In this blog post, we’ll explore the various items accepted by AMVETS, their rating as an organization, pickup schedules for your convenience, tax benefits for donors, and the profound impact your generosity has on veterans' lives. Dive in and discover how easy it is to turn clutter into a meaningful contribution!

Items that AMVETS Accept for Donation

AMVETS accepts a wide range of items for donation, including:

1. Clothing and Shoes: They accept gently used clothing and shoes for men, women, and children. This includes items such as pants, shirts, dresses, jackets, and shoes.

2. Household Items: AMVETS accepts household items such as dishes, utensils, pots and pans, small appliances (in good working condition), bedding, towels, curtains, and other household decor.

3. Furniture: They accept furniture in good condition such as sofas, chairs, tables, dressers, bed frames, and mattresses (in good condition).

4. Electronics: AMVETS accepts electronics that are in good working condition such as TVs (flat screens only), CD/DVD players, stereos, computers/laptops (5 years old or newer), tablets/e-readers (5 years old or newer), and cell phones.

5. Books/Media: They accept books (hardcover or paperback) in good condition as well as DVDs/CDs/video games.

6. Sports Equipment: AMVETS accepts sports equipment in good condition such as bicycles (adult size only), golf clubs/bags/sets/accessories/balls/gloves/carts/rangefinders/sunglasses/hats/shoes/grips/tees/shirts/pants, tennis rackets/balls/strings/grips/shoes/clothing, soccer balls/cleats/jerseys/shin guards/goals/nets, footballs/helmets/pads/jerseys/cleats/socks, basketballs/shirts/shorts/sneakers.

7. Tools: They accept tools in good working condition such as hand tools, power tools, and gardening equipment.

8. Toys: AMVETS accepts toys in good condition such as board games, puzzles, dolls/action figures, building blocks/legos, cars/trucks/trains/plane sets, and outdoor play equipment (sandbox/swing sets).

9. Small Household Items: They also accept small household items in good condition such as lamps/light fixtures, rugs/carpeting (clean), wall art/mirrors/picture frames/decorative items.

10. Vehicles: AMVETS accepts vehicles including cars, trucks, boats (with trailers), motorcycles (must have title and be in running condition).

It's best to check with your local AMVETS location for any additional restrictions or guidelines on what items they accept.  

What is the rating of AMVETS?

AMVETS, or American Veterans, is a well-respected nonprofit organization dedicated to serving the needs of veterans across the United States. Ratings for such organizations often come from independent evaluators who assess their financial health and impact. AMVETS has consistently received positive reviews for its commitment to transparency and effective use of funds.

One notable rating source is Charity Navigator, which evaluates nonprofits on various criteria including accountability and integrity. AMVETS typically scores high in these areas, reflecting its dedication to both ethical practices and service delivery. This level of scrutiny ensures that donors can trust their contributions are making a real difference.

Additionally, organizations like Guidestar offer insights into AMVETS’ operations by providing information about its missions and finances. Many donors look for these ratings before giving because they want reassurance that their support will lead to tangible benefits for veterans.

The overall reputation of AMVETS as a reliable charity contributes significantly to its ability to attract donations. When potential donors see these favorable ratings, they feel more inclined to contribute resources towards supporting veterans' programs and initiatives.

AMVETS Pickup Schedule

AMVETS makes donating easy with its convenient pickup schedule. Donors can arrange for a pickup right from their homes, saving time and effort. This service is especially beneficial for individuals who may not have the means to transport items themselves.

To schedule a pickup, donors can visit the AMVETS website or call their local chapter. The process is straightforward; you’ll provide your address and details about the items you wish to donate. After that, AMVETS will confirm a date and time for collection.

The pickups typically occur during weekdays, but some locations may offer weekend options as well. It’s important to check availability in your area since schedules might vary across different states or regions.

When preparing for pickup, ensure your donations are packed securely and accessible on the day of collection. By following these simple steps, you can support veterans while making it easy for yourself to give back through AMVET donations.

Tax Benefits for Donors

Making amvet donations can be both a generous act and a smart financial decision. Donating to AMVETS, a nonprofit organization dedicated to serving veterans, often qualifies for tax deductions. This means that you may be able to reduce your taxable income by the value of the items you donate.

To claim this deduction, it's important to keep detailed records of your donations. You should document the items donated along with their fair market values. Having receipts or acknowledgment letters from AMVETS can also help substantiate your claims when filing taxes.

It's beneficial to note that not all donations are treated equally under tax laws. Generally, clothing and household goods in good condition are eligible for deductions, while other types of contributions may have different rules. Always consult IRS guidelines or a tax professional for specific advice tailored to your situation.

By contributing items you no longer need while potentially lowering your tax bill, you make an impact on both personal finances and the lives of veterans needing support—an excellent way to give back without compromising financial health.

Impact of Donations on Veterans' Lives

Donations to AMVETS play a crucial role in transforming the lives of veterans. Each contribution, whether big or small, directly supports programs designed for their well-being. These initiatives often include job training, mental health resources, and educational scholarships that help veterans reintegrate into civilian life.

Many veterans face challenges after serving our country. They may struggle with transitioning back to daily routines and finding stable employment. By donating goods or funds to AMVETS, supporters provide vital assistance that can lead to sustainable careers and improved quality of life.

Additionally, donations aid in providing essential services such as housing support and medical care. Accessing these resources allows veterans to focus on healing rather than worrying about basic needs. This kind of security is invaluable for those who have sacrificed so much.

Moreover, the camaraderie fostered by donation-driven community events helps combat feelings of isolation among veterans. Engaging with fellow service members creates a strong network where they can share experiences and support each other’s journeys toward recovery. Such connections are fundamental in enhancing overall well-being.

Conclusion

When considering amvet donations, it’s clear that your contributions can have a profound impact on the lives of veterans and their families. By donating items like clothing, household goods, and vehicles to AMVETS, you not only declutter your space but also support essential programs aimed at helping those who served our country.

The organization has garnered positive ratings for its transparency and effectiveness in utilizing donations. With convenient pickup schedules available, it’s easier than ever to make a difference without leaving your home.

Additionally, donors benefit from tax deductions when they give to AMVETS. This financial incentive enhances the appeal of donating while providing crucial resources that help veterans reintegrate into civilian life successfully.

Your generosity plays a vital role in changing lives. Every item donated contributes directly to improving services for veterans across the nation. Engaging with AMVETS through donations is more than just giving; it's about standing by those who stood for us.

FAQs

What items does AMVETS accept for donation?

AMVETS accepts a wide range of items, including clothing, household goods, small appliances, electronics, furniture, and more. However, they do not accept large appliances, hazardous materials, or items in poor condition. It's best to check with your local AMVETS chapter for specific guidelines.

How do I schedule a donation pick-up with AMVETS?

You can schedule a donation pick-up with AMVETS by visiting their website and using the online scheduling tool or by calling their toll-free number. You can choose a convenient date and time for the pick-up, and AMVETS will come to your home to collect your donations.

Are donations to AMVETS tax-deductible?

Yes, donations to AMVETS are tax-deductible. After making a donation, you will receive a receipt that you can use for tax purposes. Be sure to keep the receipt as it serves as proof of your donation.

Can I donate a vehicle to AMVETS?

Yes, AMVETS accepts vehicle donations, including cars, trucks, motorcycles, boats, and RVs. The process is simple: fill out an online form, and AMVETS will arrange for a free tow. The proceeds from the sale of the vehicle will support AMVETS programs.

Where do my donations go, and who benefits from them?

Your donations to AMVETS help fund programs that support veterans and their families. This includes assistance with job training, healthcare, education, and more. By donating, you directly contribute to improving the lives of veterans across the country.