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therealbeachfox · 11 months ago

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Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

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We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

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So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

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Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

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We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

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They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

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There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

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It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

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When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

#gay marriage #gay rights #gay history #gay

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seriousbusiness4130 · 19 days ago

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also major fuck you at any and all who started using the word autistic as a synonym for something or just someone being stupid.

seriously what the fuck is wrong with you people 😒

fuck everyone who's started saying the r slur again i hate you and i hope your life falls apart and you die alone

#this is SO aimmed at my brother and cousin #got fucking whiplash the other week to hear them fucking both using it like so #and the fuckers told ME to shut up when i reasonably when wtf???#like WHYYYYY #THEY KNOW IM AUTISTIC #my brother's a fucking douche when it comes to this topic #ive argued with him about it in the past after hearing him use the r slur and i really thought the whole thing was done and dusted #BUT HERE WE ARE AGAIN BUT SOMEHOW EVEN WORSG #FUCK U BOTH AAAAGH #like they dont even GET why im so upset #to them its just another word for dumb #bc they're “gamer bros” who spend alottt of time in competitive game communities so like i get where they picked it up from #but for FUCK sake knock it off #just bc some the others ur around are like that DOESNT MAKE IT OK UR USING SLURS #Especially!!! when ur fucking sister!!!/close cousin!!! is part of the demographic ur fucking using slurs about #also THEY'RE BOTH 20 YEARS OLD #YALL ARE NOT CHILDREN SO STOP ACTING LIKE ONES #hell! im the only one working out of the three of us! theyve just been sitting on thier asses doing jack shit #they did take up college classes this past year. skipped the summer semester tho #and ha funny story. my bro fucki g DROPPED OUT OF ALL OF HIS FUCKING CLASSES BC HIS DUMBASS DIDNT WANT TO DO THE WORK #ma found out the DAY before Christmas and a few weeeks after the semester had ended #that sure was fun for him. not #honestly with that happening and with how busy the past weeks been ive completely forgot to bring the word usage to my ma #will be doing that #maybe she'll be able to talk some sense into him... doubt it tho

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 3 months ago

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i care for you still

ex bf!jj maybank x fem!reader

cw — talks of a breakup, both cry, fluff, kissing, angst, implied sex

summary — after a few months, you finally decide to talk with jj one on one.

a/n — idk why jj just popped back up into my mind but i wrote this in like 20 minutes so excuse me if its garbage. please request though!!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

it’d been months of tense hangouts with the pogues, months of jj moping around, and months of your friends begging you to just talk to him. you’d tried multiple times but he was stubborn. every conversation somehow ended with you two back to the same topic of your past relationship.

it wasn’t that you didn’t love jj anymore, you were sure part of you always would. he was your first boyfriend, first love, first kiss, first time, first everything. he’d always have part of your heart. he was the one who taught you real love.

but there was that saying that went “you can’t love someone else if you don’t love yourself,” which couldn’t be more true. you couldn’t pin why or when it started, but you slowly started to lose yourself. your mental health began slipping, you hated looking in the mirror, and you wanted to do nothing else but rot in bed.

in turn, you started pulling away from jj which only hurt him more than you knew. it broke your heart, and it broke even more to have to break up with him. but you couldn’t just string him along when you knew you weren’t in the right state to be in a relationship.

after you’d done it, the two of you took a break from the pogues in fear you’d have to see the other. in the early months, it felt like you’d never get over him and the thought of having to see him only made your heart ache more. thankfully, you still had sarah and kiara to keep you company while he had pope and john b.

after a while, you both began hanging with the group as a whole. it was always tense and awkward but you still tried to enjoy it and not make it weird for your friends. on the odd chance that you were alone with him, he’d always bring up your relationship and ask where it went wrong.

once he’d received no real answer the last ten times, he just stopped asking. he had realized maybe it was better that he didn’t know. he’d heard rumors of you messing with other guys and he wasn’t sure he could take it if he found out you were truly with someone else.

this all brought you here at the chateau with your friends. you all were sat on the porch, besides jj who was sat in the hammock with a can of beer in his hand. you were completely zoned out and definitely not listening to the argument between john b and kiara about micro plastics.

you sighed and took a sip out of your bottle of water before getting up to use the bathroom. “be right back,” you told the others as you stood and opened the front door to go inside. you toed past the small piles of clothes on the floor and picked up some empty cans on the way to throw out.

you headed into the bathroom and turned on the sink, pressing some cold water on your skin to cool off before washing your hands and looking at yourself in the mirror. you chewed your lip anxiously as you just stared.

you had to have been in there for a few minutes, maybe five if you had to guess. then there was a knock and the sound of kiaras voice. “we’re heading out to get some more beer. you want anything?” she asked, slightly muffled through the thick wood.

“no, i’m okay,” you replied quickly knowing you definitely didn’t need to be drinking heavily tonight. you heard her mumble a quick goodbye before her footsteps got louder and the sound of the front door echoed through the empty space. you dried your hands on the towel behind you then made your way back through the house.

you stepped outside onto the porch, freezing when you were met with jj. “thought you went with them,” he said awkwardly after clearing his throat. his body stiffened and his hands fidgeted with one another.

“uh, no,” you stammered just as awkwardly. “i was in the bathroom.” you didn’t even know why you said that. he didn’t need to know that and he probably didn’t care either.

he shook his empty can in his right hand. “we’re out of beer,” he explained almost as if he were letting you know why he was up on the porch in front of you. the last thing he needed you thinking was that he was some weird stalker.

you nodded. “i heard,” you said and stepped aside to allow him to walk past you and into the house. he quickly walked inside and to the fridge in search of something. “are you okay?” you blurted out as you followed him in even though you most likely knew the answer.

“fine. you?” he replied bluntly. he knew you weren’t stupid and he knew you were definitely onto him. he closed the fridge door and leaned against the kitchen counter to look at you.

you frowned slightly at his cold attitude. “i’m sorry, jj,” you said softly. “i’m sorry about the way i treated you.”

he bit the inside of his cheek and crossed his arms over his chest, looking off to the side for a second to gather his thoughts. “why’d you do it?”

you almost chose to play stupid for a second and ask what he meant but you’d had this conversation one too many times to not know what he meant. only this time, you intended to finish it. “i was scared,” you began timidly. “i wasn’t doing good and i was scared to hurt you.”

“but you did,” he replied just above a whisper. the air was thick with tension and the house was so quiet you could hear a pin drop and every floorboard creak.

you pursed your lips into a thin line and nodded sadly. “i know. i thought breaking up would make it easier instead of dragging you down with me,” you said with the same softness in your voice as his. “but it didn’t and i hurt you. and i’m sorry for that.”

his eyes bored into yours, his once energetic, bright blue eyes now a more dull, tired shade. “why couldn’t you just talk to me about it? i coulda helped you.”

you could hear the shake in his voice. the conversations never really went this far, usually stopping the moment they started because you just couldn’t handle it. and here you were, beginning to choke up. “because i didn’t wanna bother you,” you stated.

“it wouldn’t have bothered me, you know that,” he said, uncrossing his arms and instead placing them behind him on the counter. “i woulda wanted you to talk to me if somethin’ was up. i coulda been there to help you or at least support you.”

you bit your lip nervously and looked down at your hands, now beginning to pick at your cuticles. “its hard to talk about,” you muttered. “i jus’ didn’t feel good about myself and i couldn’t put that on you.”

he let out a shaky breath. “i woulda done anything for you,” he whispered. “i jus’ wanted to be there for you.”

you heard the soft sob that slipped past his lips. the two of you were reopening old, unhealed wounds now and the unshed tears that had been pushed down for months were beginning to finally surface. you finally looked back up to his face, him already looking at you with tears in his eyes. “do you want a hug?” you asked gently.

when he didn’t reply, you took cautious steps toward him to give him an opportunity to back out before wrapping your arms around his neck. you immediately felt his arms lock around your waist tight and him crane down to bury his face into the space between your shoulder and neck.

his body shook with sobs as he cried into your t-shirt. it only made your heart break more and in turn, you felt tears finally fall down your cheeks. “i’m really fucking sorry jj,” you mumbled through your wobbling voice.

“it’s okay,” he sobbed, squeezing you a little tighter against him. “i forgive you. i forgave you months ago.”

you frowned and closed your eyes, just savoring the moment between you two. it felt like the world went silent for a moment. like it was just you two again. you missed this feeling and by the way he was clinging onto you, you assumed he did too.

you two stayed like that for another minute before he finally began to pull away slowly, still keeping his hands firmly holding your hips. your arms stayed linked around his neck with how close the two of you remained. “gimme one more chance,” he mumbled, his intense gaze staring right into you.

you closed your eyes and sighed. “jj—“

he cut you off. “please, sweetheart. i don’t want you to be alone. whatever you need, ’m here. i jus’ wanna be here for you.”

“you can’t fix me,” you replied honestly. “this is something i need to do on my own.”

he thought for a moment before nodding. “thats okay. you can do it alone. i’ll jus’ be here to support you.”

you felt your bottom lip wobble and your eyes burn with tears. you’d never really had someone like jj who stuck with you through your stubbornness, someone who continued offering help even when you consistently denied and subconsciously began to self sabotage. “i don’t wanna dump all my problems on you.”

he wiped the drop of liquid that ran down your cheek with his thumb before taking both your hands in his own. “don’t worry about that. just worry about you, ok? i got the rest.”

you shook your head. “that’s not fair to you, jj.” you leaned your forehead against his chest to hide your face when you felt more thick tears fall silently.

he brought one hand up to cradle the back of your head while the other intertwined your fingers. “if it means you’ll feel better, then i don’t care. i just wanna help you. trust me, ‘m gonna be fine.”

you immediately began to melt when you felt his hand play with your hair softly. you couldn’t say no to him, you never could. this was the man you were completely and utterly in love with and even after putting him through so much, he was still this soft with you. how could you just move on?

pulling away from his chest, his hand moved from the back of your head to your cheek, cradling it in his large palm. his thumb lightly traced your cheekbone as he searched your eyes for any negative signs, anything to tell him what he was about to do was wrong.

when he found absolutely nothing, he surged forward and pressed him lips to yours. you sighed into the kiss, months of longing and passion poured into one simple movement. his other hand moved from yours to your hip inside, squeezing lightly at it and pulling you closer so your body was pressed to his.

“fuck, i missed you,” he mumbled against your lips before kissing you again, slipping his tongue inside and moving his hand that was once on your cheek to your neck to gently press at the sides. you felt a little lightheaded at the action in the best ways possible.

the kiss was slow and passionate, something you’d missed so desperately about being with jj. he didn’t often rush things like this. he preferred to take his time and make you feel all woozy and worked up.

you could feel him begin to get slightly antsy, unsure of what to do with his hands. you chose to grab the one on your hip and slide it down lower. he instinctively brought the other one down as well and cupped your ass before laughing against your lips when you whimpered.

once the two of your finally needed to catch your breath, panting and mingling your breaths, he smiled cheekily. “how ‘bout we make up for lost time?”

you couldn’t help but return the same smile. “i think i like that idea.”

he wasted no time in grabbing the back of your thighs and lifting you up, heading straight for the guest room he claimed as his own.

#gracie writes jj maybank 🌸#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #obx jj #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj maybank angst #jj maybank blurb #jj #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank obx #jj maybank one shot

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chaoticace2005 · 11 months ago

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Rules for the Hazbin Hotel, authored by Vaggie:

1. No drugs.

2. No fights.

3. No pranks.

4. No problematic language.

5. No murder (OR TERRITORIAL GENOCIDE WHAT THE FUCK ANGEL)

6. No smuggling in of drugs. Not by sticking them up your ass. Or by hiding them in a pizza box. Or by slingshotting them to the roof. Or getting someone else to. Not at all.

7. No sexual rendezvous with outsiders in the hotel. No SHOWING sexual rendezvous with strangers to people of the hotel either.

8. Make sure the pig/future pets stay in the patron’s room. (This includes eggs!!)

9. No singing Limit singing to once twice per day

10. Stop flirting with the bartender Angel

11. Don’t call Husk “Husker” unless he allows it.

12. No harassing the staff at all. This includes asking who tops.

13. Don’t suggest anything sexual/romantic to Alastor unless you want your head cut off.

14. NO CUTTING OFF PEOPLE’S HEADS

15. NO EATING PEOPLE

16. NO MAKING CHARLIE CRY.

17. Don’t ask me to put my spear “inside you” Angel, what the fuck?

18. Don’t turn the interior of the hotel into a swamp?! Keep it contained in your room if you must!

19. No stabbing staff or residents. No matter how much they look like bugs! (OR IF THEYRE NAME IS ANGEL)

20. Don’t try and stab bugs if they’re within 10 feet of another demon.

21. Don’t call anyone a “bitch” OR TALK ABOUT HOW MY NAME SOUNDS LIKE “VAGINA”

22. Limit Niffty’s access to sharp objects.

23. NO DEALS ALASTOR

24. No drinking. Limit drinking at bar.

25. No mentioning the Stock Market Crash of 1929. For everyone’s benefit.

26. Don’t blow a hole in the wall.

27. Try to keep roast battles OUTSIDE the hotel. (Or stop picking fights?? Please Alastor I swear to God…)

28. No spying on the hotel for outside sources or putting technology that can be used against us.

29. No evil laughing in the middle of the night, what the fuck Alastor?

30. No building weapons/war machines.

31. No eggs! (Fine the eggs can stay.)

32. Someone please keep an eye on Niffty. (And the eggs.)

33. Stop touching people ANGEL.

34. Don’t make other people storm off HUSK.

35. Respect boundaries.

36a. If Angel looks like he’s about to pass out/cry don’t comment. Let him do his thing.

36b. Don’t try to talk to Angel if he’s on the phone with Valentino. Honestly don’t even mention his phone calls with Valentino.

37. Please don’t call Lucifer “Daddy”

38. Don’t turn into a 20 foot tall demon-eating creature unless absolutely necessary.

39. Don’t cause angry loan sharks to show up at the front door.

40. NO EXPLOSIONS!

41. Rule #2, “No fights” can be broken if the person you’re fighting is Valentino. Or Adam.

42. Don’t lie to your girlfriend or hide the fact you were secretly an angel.

43. DONT TALK ABOUT PEOPLE’S TITS (or lack of)

44. KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING A BEDROOM ESPECIALLY IF SOMEONE’S HAVING MAKEUP SEX

45. Don’t give people makeovers while they’re sleeping, ANGEL!

46. Don’t pretend to eat someone’s pet, ALASTOR

47. Don’t die.

48. I never want to hear the words “cum-plete” again.

49. STOP HAVING FIGHTS ACROSS THE BUILDING LUCIFER AND ALASTOR!!

50. If Charlie is passed out on the couch LET HER SLEEP

51. No making bombs in the hotel Cherri!

52. Stop breaking rules and then saying it’s “FOR SIR PENTIOUS!”

53. Angel don’t try to shoot someone if they break spaghetti.

54. Don’t break spaghetti. Or “ruin” Italian food. Whatever the fuck that means. This apparently includes pineapple on pizza.

55. Don’t mention Valentino unless Angel brings him up first.

56. Don’t comment on Angel and Husk’s flirting.

57. Only call Angel “Anthony” if things are serious (or if you’re Husk)

58. Don’t use any of the nicknames Husk and Angel use for each other. This includes but is not limited to: “Whiskers”, “Legs”, “Kitty”, “Webs”, “Tony”, “Love”, and “Baby.”

59. It’s better not to question whatever facts Husk gives about his past.

60. Family dinners at 6 pm unless you can’t make it due to prior obligation. Game nights after on Sundays.

61. No hunting people for sport and NO KNIFE MONOPOLY.

62. Don’t attach knives to a roomba so you can have a “boyfriend” Niffty.

63. Keep Niffty away from Roombas.

64. Alastor, treat people with decency. Really, it’s not that hard.

65. No making giant ducks that breathe fire to chase people around the hotel just because they call you short.

66. Therapy. Everyone.

67. DONT HAVE SEX ON THE BAR WHAT THE FUCK GUYS?!

68. If Valentino enters the property you have permission to stab him.

69. “Hell is forever” is bullshit. You guys aren’t. You can do this.

#stupid hazbin hotel lists #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #hazbin hotel vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #vaggie #angel dust hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #charlie hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #sir pentious #cherri bomb #niffty #hazbin hotel crack #chaggie #huskerdust #angelhusk

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justagalwhowrites · 7 months ago

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Just to be Sure

Your husband Joel is desperate to get you pregnant again.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Breeding kink smut. Joel really really REALLY wants to knock you up. Lots of pregnancy talk. Reader has given birth before and is at the age where she can give birth again so choose your own adventure for age gap but I picture them about the same age with Joel late 30s. Husband!Joel. No outbreak AU. Creampie. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 1k

A/N: Forgive me for this. I am completely baked and couldn’t shake the thought of Joel having an insane breeding kink. I think if there was no outbreak and Joel found a woman, he’d be DESPERATE to knock her up over and over. He is all about his family, wants so many kids to look after, he’s always begging her for just one more. This is that Joel. He’s filthy. I love him. Also I wrote this in an hour and a half while on an edible and barely proofread it fuck if we ball also sorry I wrote it half on my phone in bed OK BYE LOVE YOU!

“Fuck, Joel…”

Your voice trailed off, weak and breathless, your hands grasping uselessly at the sheets around you.

You weren’t sure how long he’d had you here like this, sweating and fucked out as your husband slowly worked his cock in and out of you. You just knew you had to be quiet, that your one year old was asleep just a room away, a feat that was damn near impossible as Joel pulled yet another orgasm out of you.

“What, baby?” He panted over you, one hand gripping the headboard as he buried himself inside you yet again.

“You…” You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to focus. “You don’t have to get me pregnant to..to…tonight, you know…”

“Oh I know,” he said, his voice heavy with need and scratchy with exertion. “Wouldn’t mind tryin’ with you for a few months, fucking this pretty pussy full of me every damn night, comin’ so deep in you that you’ve got part of me in you all day every day.”

“Joel,” you whimpered, you couldn’t help it, your pussy drawing tight and hot around him.

“But, see, I’m not sure I can wait that long,” he said, pressing somehow deeper into you and holding himself there for a moment, making your cunt clench around him, your legs scrambling for purchase as your next orgasm built higher and higher. “Need to put another baby in you now, need to see your belly grow, need to fuck you until you’ve got part of me in you for damn near a year.”

“Oh fuck!”

You moaned it louder than you should have, Joel’s large hand going from propping him up to clamped over your mouth as your orgasm took you, the heat of it shooting out from your core and through your entire being, your heart racing, channel throbbing.

“Oh goddamn,” he groaned, fucking into you even harder now. “That’s right little mama, pull another baby out me, that’s it…”

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you panted over and over again into his hand, mind reduced to nothing but your husband and how damn full he made you feel, especially with his bare cock buried deep inside of you.

It had been a year almost to the day that you’d last fucked without a condom. You’d been right at the end of your pregnancy, desperate for Joel and desperate for something - anything - to kick start your labor. The last time you hadn’t needed a condom, your contractions started 20 minutes after it ended.

Ever since, you’d been taking precautions. Not because you didn’t want another baby - you definitely did - but because you hadn’t gotten the OK from your doctor yet.

Today, that had changed. You’d gone to your check up and your doctor gave you a clean bill of health, including the OK to start trying to get pregnant again.

You’d figured Joel would want to get started trying that night. You just hadn’t counted on him pulling endless orgasms as a part of trying.

“Think you got one more in you, baby?” He asked, freeing your mouth to run his hand over your hair. You just whimpered. “M’close, wanna come with you. Come on, you can give me one more, know you can.”

You couldn’t find the words as he moved to suck your neck, so you just moaned and nodded and clawed his body closer and tighter to yours.

You could feel him smile against you then, the pace of his pounding cock picking up, the tip of him hitting the spot inside you he’d long ago claimed as his own perfectly with each stroke.

“Come on little mama,” he panted. “Takes better if you come with me, need you to fucking come baby, need to feel you fucking come when I make you pregnant.”

You weren’t sure Joel was fully aware of what he was saying but then, you felt like you were moving of your own accord, too, your hips rolling up against his, frantically pawing at him in a desperate attempt to pull him so close that it was like his whole being was inside you.

This orgasm claimed you quickly, going from starting to build to taking over you in a matter of seconds. You barely had a chance to warn Joel before it hit you.

"I'm gonna come," you managed just half a second before your channel started to fluffer around him. "Fuck, I'm coming! I'm coming!"

"Fuck, that's it," he said fucking into you with two more deep, devastating strokes before you could feel his cock throbbing heavily inside, the warm spread of his spend in your most intimate place drawing your orgasm out. "That's it, fuck, come while I put my baby in you."

His cock gave one final, heavy pulse before he collapsed on you, panting for breath as you went limp below him. Even as he lay there, damn near exhausted, he still managed to fuck his cock into you a few more times, driving his come even deeper.

When he was satisfied, he sat up from you and watched between your legs as he slowly, gently pulled his softening length from your aching, swollen sex.

“So damn pretty like this,” he said almost reverently. You felt the comforting warmth of his come drip out of you and then Joel’s finger was there, scooping it up and gently pushing it back inside your spent hole as it struggled to close after being opened by his thick cock for so long. “Gotta keep me deep inside her baby, s’where I belong.”

You just whimpered a little, still not positive you could form words as Joel lay beside you, his hand skimming slowly over your stomach down to the place that had grown your first daughter with Joel.

“Think our baby’s in there?” He asked softly, thumb brushing your skin in a gentle rhythm.

“I hope so,” you smiled at him.

“Don’t sound like you’re sure,” he smirked a little back. “Might just need to leave more of me in you, just to be sure.”

Your smile grew as his hand slipped lower.

“Just to be sure.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic #breeding kink fic #husband!joel miller

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eternally-racing · 3 months ago

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can i have this dance? | lando norris

pairing: lando x wife!reader (and their teenage daughter!)

genre: fluff

wc: 2k

summary: When your daughter goes on her very first date, it's time for you and Lando to accept that your little girl is growing up - especially when a familiar face shows up at your door.

this can be read as a standalone fic or part of the racer girl series!

---

“I’m going to need to have a stern talking with him when he gets here, you know.” Lando stands in the doorway of your daughter’s bedroom as he watches her double check her makeup in the mirror for what feels like the 20th time.

All Lando can think about is how fast his little girl Piper is growing up as she looks so grown up getting ready for her first date.

“It’s not even a real date, he just asked me out to prom” is what Piper said as she tried to break the news to you both gently. She knew that you wouldn’t be a problem, that you enjoyed hearing about all the dating drama that had been going on in her class. In fact, she had come to you first for advice on how to tell Lando about it, but you would never admit that to him. The two of you girls had a bit of a master plan to break it to him - it started with cooking Lando’s favorite meal for him, watching your favorite movie with him together as a family, and then finally breaking the news gently over dinner.

Lando chokes on his food slightly when the topic comes up, trying to chalk it up to the spice you’ve put in the pasta even though you and your daughter can see right through the lie. He simply nods at the dinner table and doesn’t say another word on the topic - instead choosing to shift to discussing some upcoming vacation plans.

While his blatant lack of reaction was a pleasant surprise to Piper, you knew there was something else under the surface.

“That’s what I was waiting for” quickly spills out of your mouth once you see Lando start pacing around your bedroom when you’re getting ready for bed.

“Can you believe this? She’s dating now?” Lando exclaims with his hands in the air. The British man is pacing back and forth as he keeps muttering under his breath in disbelief.

You, on the other hand, are the complete opposite. You’re starfished out on your bed, Kindle in hand as you look like the epitome of being relaxed. It was actually a stark change for you to be the one that’s so calm and collected, and it was usually Lando who had the job of trying to comfort you.

“It’s prom - it’s normal that she has a prom date! Hell, you were my prom date.” you exclaim.

“True, but I’m me - and she won’t even tell me who this guy is. What if he’s one of those kids that just been repeating high school over and over again so he’s actually just in his 20s and super creepy.”

“First off, no, he’s a regular high schooler, I promise you that. I actually think you’d like the kid.”

Lando looks at you with an air of suspicions as his eyes narrow and he stops in his tracks. “Wait, how do you know who it is?”

The guilty look permeates on your face as Lando keeps pressing you for answers. He’s made it from being across the room to now being chest to chest with you in seconds, prodding you in the side for answers. He’s relentless as usual, as you give into his charms all too easily.

“Okay, okay. I don’t know anything for sure so I don’t want to give you false information which is why I didn’t say anything. But me and some of the PTA moms were talking and we have our theories.”

It’s no surprise Lando finds your answer unsatisfactory as he begs for you to tell him more.

“Nope! My lips are sealed” you say with the gesture. “Prom is literally in just a couple of weeks, Lan. You’ll find out soon enough.”

- - - – - - - -

Those weeks fly by and before you know it the special day is here. Lando has been on the quieter side all day, but your house stays as noisy as always as Piper’s excitement fills the place.

The knock on the door is gentle but you can still hear it from upstairs in Piper’s bedroom. You’re helping your daughter with the finishing touches on her hair and are about to walk away to answer when you hear that Lando has beaten you to the chase. Piper’s eyes widen along with yours when you both start to regret your decision to not camp out by the door to soften the blow.

There’s an audible gasp from your husband as you hear him open the door.

“Samuel Sainz?” Lando stands in disbelief in the doorway as the words fall out of his mouth.

The younger boy is a spitting image of his father. He’s clutching what looks like a bouquet of handpicked flowers in his shaking hands as he looks up at your husband. He was only a couple months older than your own daughter, having grown up just a few doors down from your family when you all used to live in Monaco. There weren't that many schools to choose from when they were younger, so naturally you had come to see Samuel and his parents quite often throughout the year. It was of course only helped by the fact that both of their dads were best friends.

“It is good to see you, Mr. Norris. I’m just here to pick up Y/N, if that’s okay?”

It’s an adorable sight really - even from the top step of the stairs you can tell how nervous the boy is by the way that he uncomfortably shifts his weight between both legs. You wince knowing that him phrasing it as a question is giving Lando the opportunity to launch into his “protective dad” talk, which you had heard more than a couple of times from him in the shower over the last week.

“Why don’t we grab a seat and chat before Piper comes down, Samuel?” Lando sounds extra official as he guides the younger boy to your couch.

As you watch from the top of the stairs, you can see Lando put on his intense stare as he leans forward to intimidate the younger boy.

“So, what are your intentions with my little girl, Samuel?”

Samuel has an equally fiery glint in his eye as he says something along the lines of “my dad warned me this was going to happen”, before launching into his eloquent answer about how he wants to take Piper to prom and make sure she has a great night and that he’ll make sure that she’s safe and home on time.

It’s not enough for Lando, you’re not sure anyone ever will be, as he continues to dissect every single word that comes out of the younger boy’s mouth. You can’t bear to watch the scene in front of you any longer as you cut to say that Piper is almost done getting ready so Samuel could wait by the base of the stairs for her. The younger boy gives you a look that you know means “thank you” as he bolts off the couch at the first opportunity to do so.

Lando’s poker face facade falls once he sees his daughter at the top of the stairs. That’s his little girl all grown up - and for a moment he forgets about all his worries for the evening. He catches your gaze at the top of the stairs and can instantly spot the similar look of pride on your face.

“Dad, don’t get too emotional on me now.” Piper jokes as she gives her dad a hug once she makes her way down to the main floor..

Now that she’s getting older, special moments like this are more and more treasured by both of them.

Lando knows that it’s just for the rest of the evening, but Lando feels his heart starting to squeeze in his chest as he watches Samuel and Piper talk to each other. You’re right by his side as you rub comforting circles onto his back.

“Not a minute later than curfew, young man, remember that.” Lando sticks to his stern demeanor as you roll your eyes. He really is the grumpy to your sunshine in this moment as you drape an arm around his shoulders.

“What he means to say is have fun, you two.” you smile as you take one last picture of the two of them before sending them on their way.

Piper mouths a “thank you” to you as your grip on Lando’s wrist stops him from following the two kids out to the car.

—-

Less than 15 minutes later, luckily once the shock has started to wear off of Lando, there’s another knock on the door.

“Well if it isn’t the devil himself.” Lando mutters as he comes face to face with his old teammate and his wife.

“Before you give me that look, just know that I only found out about this today. Turns out our wives are the true masterminds scheming in the background with our kids now.” Carlos mutters.

You and Rebecca are trying to hide your smiles as you lazily hide behind the excuse that you both needed something to talk to each other about while the men were away at their 6am tee times.

Carlos holds up a larger than life bottle of wine from his collection for the four of you to share.

“Figured you could use some of this tonight too, yknow, to cope with the fact that our kids are probably at second base with each other by now.”

“They’re having sex?!” Lando looks like he’s actually going to pass out as he grabs your hand in fear. You and Rebecca will laugh over this on your own time later, but for now you comfortingly rub Lando on the back while Carlos also tries to calm Lando down from his spiral by pouring a heavy helping of wine into a glass for him.

The night from then on actually stays pretty uneventful. There’s a couple of rounds of board games played while you order some takeout for you all from your favorite Italian place.

“I think I see some gray hairs in there, mate, you’re getting old.” Carlos tugs at Lando’s curls to try and find one to pull out. For a minute the two of them argue like little kids, almost finding themselves in a full cat fight while you lean back and watch it all happen.

“It’s a Friday night and we’re playing Catan and drinking fancy wine while we wait for our kids to get back from a school dance, Carlos - safe to say we’re not in the days of closing down the club and buying everyone free tequila shots.” Lando muses

“AND some of these hairs are brand new thanks to your son, mate, don’t forget that.” Lando rolls his eyes as he quips back at the Spanish man.

The Sainz make sure to leave before their son can come back, as you all had come to the conclusion to stay out of your kid’s romance as much as possible. With the promise to hang out again under less surprising circumstances, Carlos and Rebecca give you both one last hug before they’re out the door.

In less than the time it takes for you to finish clearing away your takeout boxes, you hear Samuel’s car pull up in the driveway one minute before curfew. You know that of course, because Lando is waiting by the front door with a timer on his phone.

There’s a ghost of Piper’s lipstick on Samuel’s cheek when he walks her back to the front door, but you opt to say nothing to Lando.

He’s instead focused on how happy his daughter looks - he can feel the giddy feeling radiating off of Piper as she has a little pep in her step going up the stairs.

“Oh my god she’s in love.” Lando says in awe as he stares at the now empty staircase.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Lan. It was just prom.” you chuckle as you go back to clearing away empty dishes from your dining table.

“No, I’m sure.”

“That sure?”. Lando’s certainty makes you feel extra puzzled as you pause at the dining table.

“Seriously, I’m sure Y/N.”

You walk towards him and interlace your fingers with his as you rest your head into his chest.

“What makes you so sure Lando?”

Lando gives you a sweet smile before kissing you on the forehead.

“Because that’s exactly how I looked when I came home from my first date with you.”

------

author's note: it has been far too long since i've posted something, so i hope you all liked this piece! Until next time! - Em 🩷

#formula 1 #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 fic #ln4 #mclaren formula 1 #lando norris one shot #lando norris imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff #formula one #Lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic

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littleslaywrites · 4 days ago

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i will be your preacher, teacher | aaron hotchner x reader

nsfw, mdni

summary: based on father figure by george michael. hotch can no longer resist his feelings toward his younger subordinate when you knock on his hotel room door.

word count: 2.8k

cw: smut, age gap, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, fingering, corruption, slight size kink, p in v, brief dom!hotch, song lyrics in bold italics

Aaron Hotchner was a smart man. His career showed the proof: law school, accomplished prosecutor, unit chief. But this was stupid. You made him stupid.

He tried to resist, to keep you out of his mind. When the fantasies of you under him infiltrated his thoughts, he’d banish them in the same way he tried to forget the details of haunting cases.

Yet, here you were, standing in the doorway of his hotel room. The sight of you had been driving him crazy all day. You’d worn a tank top to the precinct that day, trying to fight the heat that had met you when you arrived for the investigation. It was more skin that you’d shown before, and Aaron greedily wanted to see even more.

That's all I wanted, something special

He couldn’t though. He was not only your boss, but also 20 years older than you. So he ignored you all day, fighting the urge to even look at you. Even Dave had mentioned his attitude, pointing out the obvious frustration he displayed. He brushed it off with some excuse about being stressed about the case, which he was sure was an obvious lie.

The second he opened the door, he regretted it. He should’ve ignored your knocking, because now you were right in front of him, still in that tank top. Even in the hotel lighting, you looked good. Really good. The slight sliver of skin peeking from above your jeans, the bra strap that escaped the cover of your shirt, the hair that falls around your face.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” you said. “Did I do something wrong?”

Your words catch him off guard. Of course you’d noticed his avoidance. His hand balled up into a fist by his side.

“Come in.”

Another mistake. He has no idea why he said that. The last thing he needs is to see you in his room.

“Are you mad at me?”

Something sacred in your eyes

The look you give him has his mind racing, and not one of the thoughts he has is appropriate. He can almost picture you on the bed. He tries to look away from your eyes, but with his height advantage, he can see straight down your low cut top.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“It’s just…” you trail off, suddenly shy from the situation. “You’ve been snappy with me all day.”

You would never admit it, even to your closest friends, but Aaron had been on your mind, too. Ever since you first joined the BAU and introduced yourself, he’d been the last thing you thought of before bed every night. Today he looked especially good, jacket off due to the heat. His shirt was so tight that you thought the buttons could pop off with a single wrong move. When he had refused to look your way, even when you shared your theories with the team, you became paranoid. You feared he profiled the crush you had on him. You’d come to his door for some peace of mind, hoping for an explanation of his behavior.

That's all you wanted, something special, someone sacred in your life

“It’s nothing.” His eyes are drilling into yours. You’re trying to read him, knowing he’s hiding something from you.

A sudden boldness comes over you. You’re annoyed that he’s treated you like this all day, and has nothing to say for himself. “It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

There’s no going back now that you’ve backtalked your boss. You decide to commit, walking closer to him.

Aaron is slightly taken aback by your attitude. He almost laughs at you, humored by your attempt to control the conversation.

“That’s no way to speak to your superior,” he chastises.

It’s a good thing the room is dark, otherwise he’d be able to see the blush invading your face. You feel a wetness between your thighs. When you get back to your room, you’re going to have to take care of yourself. You curse internally, embarrassed that this is how you are affected when your boss yells at you.

Just for one moment, to be warm and naked, at my side

You have no words, but it’s too late to back down. So you stand there, staring. He realizes you’re going to be stubborn, and closes the gap between you. Now that he’s right in front of you, he can see the way your eyes have darkened. A thought flashes in his mind briefly: you might want him, too. He feels blood rush to his cock, and he can only hope that you won’t see.

“Or what?” you finally muster up.

You’ve been locked in a staring contest, but his eyes intensify in a way that automatically makes you look down, reminding you that your bravery was simply an act. Your eyes stop in their path to the floor when you catch a glimpse of Aaron’s crotch. The light is too low to tell for sure, but the question is still there. Is he…

Sometimes I think that you'll never understand me

“Insubordination is a punishable offense.” It’s the most professional thing he can think of, especially when he’s praying you don’t notice the hardness under his suit pants.

His words have another rush of wetness pooling in your underwear. Before you can even calculate the risk you’re taking, you speak up again.

“Punish me, then.”

A heaviness settles in the air in the wake of your words.

“What did you say to me?”

Your eyes are glued to the floor.

“Look at me.” He takes your jaw in his hand and forces your eyes to meet his. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying, little girl.”

You look away again. It’s a nickname you’re not unfamiliar with, the team using it whenever they need to tease you about being the youngest member of the team. This is a different kind of teasing, Aaron’s grip tightening on your jaw.

“I mean what I say,” you reply, looking back up.

He knows he should tell you to leave. He should let go of your jaw and forget all of it. He’s a rule follower, and this goes directly against all the rules he swore to obey when he took his position. It is against everything he says he is, all the moral codes he follows.

But something tells me together we'd be happy

Fuck it.

“Is that what you want?” He lean his forehead is against yours. “Am I what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, overwhelmed by his closeness. You hardly believe this is really happening. You’re sure at any moment he’ll pull back or you’ll wake up from a dream.

“Then strip.”

You obey, walking backwards as his eyes bore into you. You kick off the slippers you’re wearing, then take off your tank top. You can feel him studying you as you remove your jeans, leaving you in just your underwear.

“Keep going.”

You remove your bra slowly, putting on a show for him. When you shimmy out of your panties, you fight the urge to cover yourself up. He’s still fully clothed, emphasizing how exposed you are.

Sensing your shyness, he walks up to you again, planting his hands on your waist. His touch is nothing short of explosive, finally feeling his skin against yours. Finally, he kisses you. His lips are softer than you imagined. Your doubt washes away, touch gently guiding you to trust him.

If you ever hunger, hunger for me

When he pulls back, his eyes are still closed, your noses touching. “I’m too old for you.”

“I know,” you say breathlessly.

You unbutton his shirt, tie removed before you knocked on his door. He shrugs it off as you remove his belt, and he’s putty under your hands when you brush against his hard on.

“Is that part of the appeal?” he questions. “Did your own father not treat you right?”

You know his question is rhetorical, so you only answer by unbuttoning his pants.

Whatever you ask for, that's what I'll be

“Get on the bed,” he whispers in your ear. You lay down, watching him take his undershirt off. He’s left only in his boxers when he crawls on top of you.

He cages you under his body, kissing you again. You can feel his hard cock rubbing against your thigh as his tongue pushes between your lips.

Because all I ever wanted, it's in your eyes

You’re wetter than you can ever remember being. Your hips mindlessly wriggle, searching for any possible friction. Sensing your desperation, Aaron slides a finger inside you. You cry out, a reaction that would seem exaggerated if he didn’t feel how soaked you are.

“Aaron, I–” It almost feels forbidden to use his first name, but you can’t imagine calling him anything else, not with him touching you like he is.

“Yes?” he asks, finger stroking the inside of your walls.

“I’ve never…” You trail off, blushing at your admission. You lower your voice to a whisper. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Shh,” he hushes, planting a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll take care of you.”

And love can't lie, no

He adds another finger, flattening his palm so it’s up against your clit. You’re whimpering, overtaken by the feeling of being touched by another person in this way for the first time. His large fingers are finding places you can't reach yourself.

“Please, Aaron, I can’t take it anymore.” Your words come out slowly, you’re hardly able to form a thought, let alone string together a sentence. “Just fuck me.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. He wanted to get you ready, have you open before he thought of stretching you out.

“Yes,” you whine, hips jerking up to rub your clit against his hand.

He pulls his fingers out of you, removing his underwear. You catch a groan in your throat when he reveals his cock. It’s large enough so that you start to worry.

Seeing the hesitance in your eyes, he kisses you again. Any intimidation he used earlier is gone, replaced by gentleness.

Greet me with the eyes of a child, heaven is a kiss and a smile

“Are you sure you want this?” he says against your lips. He withdraws slightly, mind racing with thoughts again. He can’t be the one to take your virginity. You’re half his age, vulnerable beneath him. “You should find someone your own age.”

“I need you. I need it to be you. Show me how.”

Your words reassure him, and he can no longer resist his urges. One of his hands reaches for your thigh, hooking it around your waist. Your pussy is pulsing around nothing, needing him inside you.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” he says, running his cock through your wet folds. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Just hold on, and I won't let you go

He guides himself to you, starting by pushing just his tip inside. He exhales shakily, feeling the way you’re already gripping him.

He gets about two-thirds in before you put a hand on his chest to slow him down.

“Are you okay?”

“Just… give me a second.”

He brings a hand down to your clit, softly circling it to chase the tension for your muscles. You grab his hair, and he takes that as the signal to press all the way inside you.

Both of you moan as he bottoms out. He doesn’t move yet, instead grabbing your hand in his large one, squeezing it slightly. The moment has transformed into something completely different than the way it started. It’s not a hate fuck, you’re not mad at each other, he’s not punishing you. It’s intimate, and a hopeful part of you even thinks it’s something akin to love.

I will be your father figure, put your tiny hand in mine

He slowly drags his cock away, and then thrusts back in. You let out a moan, feeling every ridge of his cock along your walls. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. So full, so complete. You wonder how you’ll ever feel whole again when he’s no longer inside you.

“You feel so good,” he groans in your ear as he slowly thrusts, letting you get used to the feeling. “So tight.”

Your mind is blank, thinking only of the way you can feel his tip moving inside you, dragging along the inside of you and hitting your g-spot with each thrust. It doesn’t feel wrong to be fucking your superior, not when you’re looking up at the way the sweat is beading on his forehead.

He starts to speed up, desperate to bring you to your release. Your whimpers spur him on, driven by the pleasure he’s giving you. He wants his cock to be the first one you cum around.

I will be your preacher, teacher, anything you have in mind

The new speed makes you think he might actually split you open. You can’t control the sounds you make, shameless beneath him. You reach the hand that’s not holding his up to grab his back, clinging on to anything you can find.

He can tell you’re close by the way your pussy is fluttering around him. He doesn’t expect you to say anything, as you’re clearly overcome with pleasure by the look on your face. Looking at you under him, he feels his own release nearing. You’re a beautiful mess, a singular trail of mascara running under one of your eyes. Your mouth is open, moans getting louder as you get nearer to your orgasm. Watching the way your lips move, he leans down to kiss you, capturing your noise in his mouth.

I will be your father figure, I have had enough of crime

His kiss is enough to send you over. Breath hitching, you go limp. You can’t help the way your hand curls, nails scratching down his back. Your back arches, hips trying to get as close as possible to his.

No orgasm you’ve given yourself can compare to this feeling. Your legs start to shake, toes pointing. You clench around him so hard that he has to work to keep moving.

You're still lost in the pleasure of your own release when he cums. He stills, holding you close as you feel the warmth shoot deep inside you. Letting his head fall to your neck, he lets out a loud groan, working not to collapse on top of you.

When he rolls over to his back and his cock slips out, you miss the feeling of being full. He pulls you into his arms, the two of you laying on your sides, facing each other. You lay your head on his chest, comforted by the smell of his cologne mixing with sweat.

“How are you feeling?” he says, breaking the silence.

“Good. That felt really good.”

He pulls you closer, running a hand through your hair.

“I’m glad it was you,” you say, realizing that you’re suddenly feeling sentimental toward him.

“I wasn’t mad at you today,” he admits, ashamed of his earlier behavior. “I’ve just wanted you for a long time. I was frustrated.”

You smile into his chest, flushing at the admission. “Me, too”

You fall into stillness again.

Aaron is the one to break the silence again. “I don’t want you to think this is just physical.”

You meet his eyes. There’s a certain vulnerability in them, something you’ve never seen before. He always has his walls up around the team, so this is a new side of him. He doesn’t say he loves you, but his eyes scream it. You say it back with your own gaze.

“I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you into more,” he explains, “I just want you to know it’s… I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t actually like you.”

“Me, neither,” you answer back.

There’s still more to say, more to work out, but these words are enough for tonight. It’d probably be too complicated to be real, but you have him behind closed doors. The team would never understand this, only seeing the age gap. They’d never grasp the way you let each other in. You understand, though. You understand the way he opens himself up to you, the way he lowers his defense in your arms. And he understands how you let him guide you, letting him feel you in the way nobody else has.

I will be the one who loves you 'til the end of time

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner smut #hotch smut #hotch #hotch x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x you

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s1m0nth3swag · 10 months ago

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Francis Mosses x GN!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE; Haven't written in a while, but thanks to Arlo, a friend (Hi Arlo, I know you're reading this), Inspiration about Francis Mosses struck (he bought me That's not my neighbor and then continued to freak out about Francis with me) so I wrote this. I have so many thoughts about Francis, so... tell me if you want more because i will deliver ngl. Enjoy (or don't, I don't dictate your feelings)

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO; Porn with little to no plot, Submissive Francis, a little non-consensual at the start (but not in a super weird way, imo?), Gender neutral reader (no pronouns used, tried to write as GN as possible with the compliments and thoughts about Readers appearance), not proofread nor have I thought about this much, more a drabble than an actual thoughtful story (not apologising because I had such a long break from writing anything and obviously it's gonna suck a little when I come back)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

The first time Francis had realised that he hadn't gotten any touch from another human being was when someone brushed up against him on his way home from work. He had felt like a creep afterwards because he hadn't stopped thinking about what could've happened if the person hadn't moved away and had just stayed pressed against him. That was a week before you started your job as a doorman.

The second time Francis had noticed was when a friend of his had spoken to him on the phone, talking about his new girlfriend. Said friend gave too much intel on their sex life. Francis had wondered if he could have someone the way his friend explained - he quickly brushed the thought off. That was two days before you started working as a doorman.

The third time, he noticed when you had smiled at him. It was your first day, and he was tired from work. You had repeated his name after reading it off of his ID, and he had looked at you for the first time since his eyes kept falling closed, and you smiled so brightly. You had told him his name was nice, and you said it again. Francis swore that the way his name rolled off your tongue was the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. Not even an angel could sound more wonderful. Suddenly, he was a lot more energised. Totally not thanks to the fact that he had immediately grown hard the second he had seen your smile. He had gone to his apartment that night and had jerked off for the first time in probably months. He had always been too tired to previously, but now he couldn't stop thinking about how you'd sound moaning his name. Maybe you were more of a groaner, or you'd whimper and whine. He came as he imagined how you'd look sucking his dick.

Since then, Francis has always looked forward to entry checks. What had normally kept him away from his bed and a good night's sleep was now the best experience of his day. He loved the way you spoke to him even though he was too nervous to respond. Sometimes, he deliberately didn't show his ID at first, just so you'd ask about it, and he could listen to you talk a little more. He felt guilty about it. He knew you had never agreed to feed into this weird little obsession of his. It was awful of him to do this - have you talk to him enough to give him more scenarios to think about that night.

A few weeks after all this had started, Francis had built up the courage to finally ask you out. Just something simple, dinner at his place. He had to cook for himself all the time. Cooking for you as well wouldn't be too different, right?

Francis was wrong. He was anxious that the food wouldn't taste good and kept tasting it just so he could make sure it hadn't mysteriously switched tastes in the last 20 seconds. When you knocked on his door, he took a minute to make sure he didn't look like a mess - though you wouldn't mind either way since he always looked like a mess when he came through during your shifts.

You looked so good when he opened the door. Your hair fell perfectly, your lips looked a little too kissable, and Francis had to stop his train of thought just so he wouldn't embarrass himself by having yet another boner caused by just the way you looked. You were a little shorter than him, smiling up as he let you inside.

"You look good." He mumbled, his cheeks flushing. He seriously had to lay off thinking like a high-schooler. His nervousness and awkwardness were getting really annoying - to him, at least. You grinned, chuckling softly as you took off your shoes. "Thank you. You do as well." His heart for sure burst at that - he knew something else would burst as well if he didn't stop thinking right this second.

Throughout the evening, ignoring his thoughts came easier and easier. The two of you had eaten, you had told him he was a good cook, he had almost excused himself to the bathroom because of it. Now you were sitting on the couch, drinking wine and talking casually.

"You know, when you first walked through, I swore I would die." You giggled, looking at him with a mischievous look. Francis was confused by that statement. "How come?" He asked, tilting his head at you in question. "I was sure you were a doppelganger. You looked too handsome to be real." You cheekily answered, cheeks slightly flushed as you downed your wine. Francis blushed heavily, looked away from you, and thought about your words for a moment. The silence was loud as he wondered what to answer. "..you think I'm handsome?" He questioned while looking at the floor. If he had looked at you, he'd have seen the way you stared at him, your own cheeks coloured a deep red. "Extremely." You muttered. It took him a minute before he could look at you, but when he did, his lips pressed against yours in a desperate kiss.

When you reciprocated, Francis groaned and pulled you closer until you sat on his lap. He was just a tiny bit embarrassed when you gasped and felt his dick press against you. In all honesty, he had held back the entire night, and he was allowed a little selfishness. "Sorry. Can't help it." He muttered between kisses. You just grinned against his lips before grinding against him. A whimper fell from his lips - that was the moment he was actually embarrassed. "That's cute.." You had mumbled, a cheeky grin on your face as you started placing kisses against his jaw and neck. One of your hands trailed down his body to rest right over his crotch, Francis unconsciously bucked his hips up against your hand, whining. He didn't notice anything else as you caught the skin of his neck with your teeth carefully, leaving the softest bite mark on him. He shuddered at the feeling and gasped before realising that you had meanwhile unzipped his pants. A groan slipped from his lips as you ran a finger over his dick, still hidden from sight by his boxers, but god knows he would cum the second you'd touch it without. "Is this okay?" You asked him, and he nodded faster than he even knew he could. "Yes. God, yes. Please, please continue.." he muttered, his breathing heavy as he watched you slide off his lap, settling in front of him and between his legs. His dick twitched at the sight, and he let out a heavy sigh. Minutes later, his pants and boxers were discarded, and the way you looked up at him, his dick so close to your face, made Francis feel the way his orgasm was approaching way too quick. The second you wrapped your hand around him he whined pathetically, bucked up into your hand and knew that he'd definitely cum too soon. Your hand was so soft, cool against his hot flesh, and you worked his dick so good he almost thought you were a professional. He looked down at you through lidded eyes, watched the way you bit your lip, and grinned knowingly. "Such a pretty boy, huh?" You chuckled, and that definitely sealed the deal for Francis. He came, probably ruining his shirt as he dirtied both it and your hand. His heart stopped for a second when you licked your hand while looking up at him. "You didn't give me enough time to taste you properly. Don't look at me like that." You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. "You should probably take off your shirt so you can clean it later." You then winked. He swiftly shed the piece of clothing, entranced by your voice and the way you looked. "Sorry, didn't mean to cum that fast.." he mutters, his voice out of breath. "Jus'.. unused to... this.." he added, clearing his throat awkwardly. You laughed and shook your head. "Don't worry about it. We have all the time in the world to make you last longer. I'm gonna give you a real reason to be tired tomorrow." You winked.

Francis didn't even mind that he was in for a long night.

Your honour I am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #x reader #gn reader #thats not my neighbor #milkman x reader

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keikikait · 2 months ago

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ᴛᴡᴏ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴇᴅ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

this is part two. for part one, click here!

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.4k

summary: rafe gives you an ultimatum, and in the setting sun, you see another

warnings: ANGST!!!!, pining/whipped reader, kook!reader & kook!rafe, suggestive but no outright smut, ultimatums, jj is alive, arguing, not proofread

a note: i'm sorry this is late!

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Were you being punished by your love for him?

You tried to move on, you really did. You tried everything you could think of, bar from ignoring Rafe all together. You had even joined a dating app, where you met a fellow Kook named Alexander, and you went on a few dates with him. He was a great guy, handsome, smart, and charming, but he wasn’t Rafe. Alexander didn’t draw your attention away from your best friend that you were hopelessly still in love with, even after trying to gaslight yourself into believing that you had a crush on him.

You kept Alexander around for a while. He was a fun guy, he paid for your little lunch or coffee shop dates, and he was a good fuck. You had lied and told him that you just weren’t a very vocal girl in bed, but in reality you were biting your tongue to keep from moaning Rafe’s name into his ear. It had been a few weeks, and even after everything, Rafe was still the only person you thought of when you slipped your hands under your panties at night. You eventually started to feel bad about leading him on and tried to break things off amicably. He didn’t take it well, but you didn’t expect him to.

You had tried to distract yourself, going to party after party and club after club, making out with whatever guy you could get your hands on. But nothing worked. You couldn’t stop thinking about your Kook prince, the most feared man on Kildare that had a soft spot in his heart for you.

You had almost hoped that Rafe would’ve ditched you, would’ve kicked you to the side like a dog. At least it would be easier to move on that way, and you wouldn’t be stuck under his thumb, thinking about the ways you could get out of the hold he has on you. He still wanted to see you and be around you, constantly calling and texting like it was normal, like you hadn’t professed your undying love to him only three weeks ago. You felt like a two-headed monster. One head was his best friend, one head was deeply in love with him.

You know he’s fine, but what about you? What do you do?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Even after everything, you still have to show up for your Friday night tradition; sitting on Rafe’s sofa, tucked under his arm, watching a shitty 80s zombie movies while eating a Costco pizza. You shouldn’t have agreed, knowing it would only make things harder, but you would do anything for him. Your poor heart would always surrender to him.

Maybe this time he would start falling for you, too.

You pull into the driveway of his new house, grabbing the pizza from the backseat before heading up to the front door, balancing the giant box with one hand as you knock.

The door swings open a second later, with Rafe standing in the doorway, grinning at the sight of the pizza box in your hands. He steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. “You’ve arrived with the goods, I see.”

You swallow hard. He looks so fucking good, wearing a tight black t-shirt and a pair of dark green sweatpants. You hug him with one arm, burying your face in his shoulder and inhaling deep. Your eyebrows furrow slightly and your free hand clenches around your keys. He smells different. Sweeter. Almost like candy.

Sofia must’ve been here earlier.

You pull away, carrying the pizza box into his living room. “Yup. I got you extra cheese, too.”

He follows behind you, shutting the door behind the two of you. His arm wraps around your shoulder when you reach the sofa, pulling you in tight to his side. “Extra cheese for my girl.” he teases, taking the box from you to set on the coffee table. You’re on the edge while he’s so goddamn polite and composed.

You tense up slightly as you settle into his sofa, grabbing the remote. You turn the TV on, trying to distract yourself from the empty feeling building up inside of you and gnawing at your guts. “Which movie are we watching tonight?”

“Mm…” He stretches out on the sofa, his legs tangling with yours as he looks over your shoulder at the TV. His body is pressed up against yours, and as usual, his proximity starts to stir up feelings deep inside of you. Feelings you thought you had managed to repress. “How about Romero?”

Your eyebrows furrow again. This man was going to give you wrinkles. “I thought we were watching zombie movies. Not ones about a Salvadoran archbishop.”

“No, not Romero like the actual archbishop, I mean like--” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “The man who invented the zombie film genre, dumbass. Do you need me to find a new best friend or something? Because you’re starting to get a little too idiotic for me.”

What the fuck? “Excuse me?”

He snorts, watching you get defensive. “Come on, it was a joke,” he says, nudging you with his knee. “Lighten up, I’m just teasing.”

“It wasn’t funny.” You say.

It’s then that he notices the way your shoulders are tense. Your jaw is clenched, and your eyes focus on the screen in front of the two of you with a bit too much intent. You’re upset. He can feel the agitation radiating off of you, and he hates it. He’s too used to his best friend being comfortable with him, happy around him. He lets out a breath, sitting up straight. “Don’t be like that,” he mutters. “Relax.”

“You don’t get to call me a dumbass, Rafe.” You say, your tone sharp.

Rafe stares at you, his irritation rising bit by bit. He takes in your expression, your sharp tone, the agitation that was practically coming off of you in waves. This was new territory for him. You weren’t just being cold, you were pissed. He’d never seen you this pissed at him. He didn’t like it.

He wanted the old you back, the you he thought you were. His best friend, his confidant, not the girl who’s helplessly in love with him, not the girl who lies awake all night thinking about him. Not the girl who moans his name into her pillow as she cums, hoping one day he would fall in love with her, too. He wanted you to just move on, to give up, to completely wipe your romantic feelings for him clean. He wanted more, while leaving you with less.

“You didn't use to care about this shit,” He says. “Not until you decided you were in love with me or whatever.”

“Decided?” You ask, scoffing. “It isn’t something you just wake up and decide.”

Rafe stares at you, his gaze hard, almost like he’s trying to search for the words that he wants to say. He was never good at this, talking about his feelings. He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I… I don’t know.” He mutters, staring down at the floor. “I just wish things were the way they used to be, okay? I didn’t ask for all this bullshit. I never asked you to feel this way, so why are you making things so difficult?”

“I didn’t ask for this either.” You say.

“Well, you’re the one whose in love.” He says, the words almost bitter on his tongue. “You’re the one who made things difficult. I didn’t ask you to feel this way. I didn’t tell you to go and fall in love with me. So why are you getting pissed because I’m not in love with you too?”

“I’m not pissed, Rafe,” You say, although deep down you truly are. “I knew from the very beginning that I had no chance with you. I wouldn’t love me, either.”

He falls silent, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew that wasn’t true. He knows that you’re beautiful, and sweet, and kind, and funny. He knew that you should have every chance with him. But he just didn’t love you that way. “How many times do we have to go over this?” He asks, his voice soft. “I’ve never loved you like that. You’re my best friend, you know that.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” You say bitterly.

He grits his jaw, frustrated now. He hated how bitter you were when it came to this. He hated that you expected him to be in love with you back when he just didn’t see you that way. He hated that he had to keep explaining this over and over again to you, and he hated the fact that you were just sitting here, pouting like a toddler. Like a girl who was in love.

He was tired of being the bad guy in this. “Then you shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.”

“I wish I never did.” You say.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t know what to say. He just turns to look at the movie, his jaw clenched. He hated that you said that. He hated that you wished you’d never fallen for him. He didn’t want you to wish that. If you didn’t fall for him, how long would it be before you fell for someone else? Someone who wasn’t him? He didn’t want the thought of you with another guy to piss him off so much.

Rafe sighs. “Quit looking at me like I’m the bad guy here.”

“Do you want me to pretend you’re a good guy?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“I am the good guy,” He snaps, his eyes narrowing. What the hell? He knew he wasn’t an angel by any means, but he was a good guy. He took care of his family, protected his friends, and stayed loyal to his girlfriend. “You’re the one who fell in love with me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

You sigh, looking away. This was pointless, even more pointless than the daydreams you filled your mind with when you couldn’t sleep. “Whatever.”

He looks at you for a moment, jaw clenched, his body tense.

“You know, this whole self-pitying, 'woe is me, Rafe is the bad guy' bullshit is starting to piss me off. It’s getting annoying.” He says.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Rafe.” You say.

“Stop acting as if I’ve done something wrong. Like I’ve wronged you,” He says, exasperated. He can’t understand why you’re being like this, and it’s pissing him off even more. “I don’t like you that way. I’ve never liked you that way. Why is that such a hard concept for you to accept?”

“It isn’t,” You say, your voice starting to get thick with emotion. “I know you don’t like me, I know you aren’t attracted to me, I just… it’s just so hard for me to move on, and I don’t know why.”

Rafe is silent for a moment, watching as your face starts to crumble. He can’t help but sigh. He moves closer to you, placing his hand on your thigh. Normally, it was the opposite. Normally it was you comforting him, not him trying to comfort you. “It’ll pass. You’ll get over it eventually.”

It’ll pass.

It will never pass, will it?

You sniffle, one hand reaching up to wipe the corners of your eyes. “I should go.”

He catches your wrist, tugging you back down on the sofa. “Sit down,” he says, his voice firm. “You’re not going anywhere yet. We need to talk about something.”

“About what?” You ask, not looking at him.

He lets go of your wrist, crossing his arms over his chest. “This,” He says simply, gesturing towards your face. “This…depression, sadness, self-pity bullshit. I hate seeing you the way you are right now, like you’ve just been kicked down. It’s pathetic. It’s not you.”

You don’t reply, finally looking over at him, eyes red rimmed with tears.

He stares back, his expression unchanging. You think he would’ve softened up at the sight of you, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to see you like this anymore. You’re supposed to be his best friend, the person he confides in and takes comfort in. “You’re supposed to be the person I come to when I’m upset. Not the other way around. This pity party you have going on needs to end. You’re better than that.”

You look back down at your lap, starting to pick at the skin around your thumbnails. “What do you want me to do?”

“Move on,” Rafe says, his tone harsher than he intended. “Move the fuck on. I want my best friend again, not this whiney, insecure brat. I don’t have any romantic feelings for you, and I’m tired of treating you with kid gloves because you can’t handle the truth. Get a grip and get over it. You either move on, and things go back to normal, or we stop being friends.”

You feel your stomach drop, your throat constricting, air getting caught in your windpipe. You don’t look at him, continuing to dig your fingernails into your skin. He watches you for a moment, noticing the way your chest shakes as you try to keep back the tears. He knew your habits by now, and he noticed the way your hands started to fiddle and pick. You did that when you were trying to distract yourself. You did that when you were upset, hurt.

“Stop that,” He mumbles, reaching out and grabbing your hand.

You pull your hand away and stand up, fists clenching as your chest shakes. You couldn’t break down. Not here, not in front of him. “I should go.”

Rafe reaches out, grabbing your wrist again. He stands up too, using his grip to tug you back towards him. “We need to talk about this. Sit down.”

You pull away again, taking a step back, a soft squeak tumbling out of your mouth as you start to cry.

The squeak causes his stomach to twist. His face falls. “Don’t pull away from me.” He pleads softly, his hand reaching out for you again.

You retreat again, shaking your head as more tears start to fall. Your legs shake, your hands coming up to cover your face.

He grabs your wrist again, gently pulling you into his arms. “Stop it,” he says firmly, pulling you in close to his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around your trembling frame. “Stop.”

You sob into his chest, your hands still covering your face, shoulders shaking violently as you try and take a deep breath.

He stays quiet, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you firmly against him. His other hand comes up to tangle in your hair, playing with the roots of it as his chin rests on the top of your head. “Stop crying,” He repeats, his voice a bit gentler. “I’m not worth it.”

“Yes you are.” You mumble, wiping your tears with your fingers, palms still pressed against your face, mascara smearing across your cheeks.

“No, I’m not,” He says firmly, his breath fanning over the crown of your head. His fingers tighten slightly in your hair, rubbing slow circles into your scalp. Not to offer comfort. No, he knew that wouldn’t work. But to just keep you where you were, firmly held against his chest. “I’m a disaster. Even after everything, after trying to change, I’m still a disaster.”

“You're not a disaster.” You say, pulling back to look at him.

He stares down at you, his expression hard to read. He has his usual, guarded look on, but the way his hand reaches up to gently wipe away one of your tears gives away the fact that he’s affected. “I am,” He repeats, his voice quiet. “And I won’t ever be the man you think I am.”

You hesitate. “I want the Rafe I’m looking at. Not the picture of you in my head.”

He lets a huff of air out through his nose, his expression softening for the briefest of moments as he looks down at you. You were so beautiful, even when you were crying and on the edge of a breakdown. But he couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in it again, like in high school. He had moved on. At least, in his mind. “You’ll never be satisfied with that. I’m no saint, and I’ll never be the romantic, fairy tale guy you want me to be.”

“I just want--” You try to correct yourself, although you meant the former. “I just wanted to be yours.”

He stiffens for a second, his gaze hardening again as he studies your face. “No,” he mutters, a tinge of something you can’t place in his voice. “You can’t be mine. I’m not yours, and I’ll never be yours. You’re not mine to keep, you’re not the one I want, you’re not the one I’m in love with.”

You sigh, your voice soft. “I know.”

He lets out a breath, the expression on his face pained. He cupped your face, wiping away some of the smeared mascara. “I don’t want to keep hurting you,” He says softly. “I don’t want to keep making you cry. I don’t want to keep disappointing you.”

“I’m hurting myself,” You say. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who just can’t move on.”

“You’re not the one at fault,” Rafe says, his thumb still wiping at the tear stains on your cheek. “I’m the one who can’t love you the way you want to be loved. And I’ll never be able to. You deserve someone who can, and I want you to find that person.”

You did find that person, the one holding your face and looking at you like you’re his saving light in eternal darkness. You had ignored so many bad omens, hoping that the universe was wrong, that they made a mistake, that your red strings of fate were intertwined in the stars.

But they weren’t.

You swallow hard. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. To get over you.”

“Good.” He says, his thumb brushing under your eye one last time, wiping away a tear. His thumb brushes across your cheek, pressing down slightly to feel the softness of your skin. He moves his other hand to your jaw, moving his thumb side to side on your neck, feeling your pulse.

His eyes meet yours before his gaze travels over your face, soaking in every detail of you. They linger on your lips, just for a second too long, and much to his dismay, you notice it. His eyes move back up to look into yours.

Your breath hitches ever so slightly, your lips parting. Rafe purses his lips together slightly, rubbing them together, his eyes looking back down at your mouth. He mumbles your name quietly, his voice soft.

“What?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer.

His eyes are still looking at your mouth. He watches your lips move as you speak, watches how your tongue peeks out of the corner of your mouth ever so slightly.

He can’t think straight. He can’t think at all. His mind has gone fuzzy, and every cell of his body is telling him something he knows he shouldn’t do.

His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, and he pulls you in closer.

He places a kiss to your forehead, his eyes closing.

Your eye twitches, your stomach churning, your face getting hot with shame and embarrassment.

He pulls away, looking down at you. “I’m sorry, alright? Can we just… can we just chill and watch a movie?”

You should say no. You should scream at him, yell at him for manipulating you, for looking at you like that and acting like he was going to kiss you.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to hate him, even after this.

You swallow hard, blinking a few times as you look at the long forgotten pizza box on the coffee table. “Yeah. We can watch a movie.”

He feels relieved. That’s good.

He gives you a small smile, placing a hand on the small of your back and ushering you towards the sofa. He turns you towards the sofa, gesturing for you to sit down, his hand still lingering on your back, the feel of your skin under your sweater making his heart race.

His eyes linger on you for a moment, before he turns to grab the remote off of the coffee table. He sits down next to you, trying to keep a normal distance between the two of you, instead of pressing himself up against your side. He opens the pizza box as he opens Hulu, handing you a slice.

You take it, your fingers and hands numb and tingling as you try to suppress the bile in your throat.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The Outer Banks is truly paradise on Earth.

Although The Boneyard isn’t the nicest beach on the island, it has a few secluded spots that still manage to take your breath away. You find your favourite spot easily, a small sandbank by the entrance to a long-forgotten cove. It was once filled with rumours of pirates and treasures, but now it’s full of seaweed.

You settle into the sand, holding your sandals in your hands, arms draped over your knees. You watch the sunset pink and orange streaking across the sky, listening to the soft crashing of the waves and the distant call of a seagull. The wind gently pulls through your hair, and you push some behind your ears, closing your eyes as you feel the sun on your face.

It’s peaceful.

Another soft breeze brushes over you, carrying with it the scent of weed, an uncommon occurrence for this particular spot. Not a lot of other people on the island knew of your spot, mainly just Rafe and Sarah.

You turn your gaze to your left, finding a familiar figure sitting about a yard away from you.

JJ smiles, head tilted to the side, a lit joint between his fingers. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You say, smiling softly. You had always had a little soft spot for JJ, considering him to be one of the few Pogues you could actually stand, maybe other than Kiara.

JJ takes a hit of the joint, looking out over the ocean, the sun starting to descend towards the horizon. He sighs contently before turning to look at you again, raising his eyebrows as he studies you. “What’re doing out here all alone?”

“Just watching the sunset.” You say. You pat the sand next to you, inviting him to take a seat.

“Yeah? Me too,” He says, moving closer to take a seat next to you. He stretches out his legs, leaning back onto his hands and resting his head against the sand. He takes another hit from the joint, sighing out the smoke before offering it to you. “Want a hit?”

You nod, taking it between your thumb and pointer finger. You take a deep hit, sucking in the smoke and blowing it out in a thick white cloud. You hold it out towards him. “Thanks.”

He takes it from you, his fingers brushing against yours. “Anytime,” He says, leaning back. He watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face. The sun is setting in front of you, casting a warm, orange glow illuminating you that catches on your hair. He can’t help but admire the way the sunset looks against your figure, casting a glowing haze around you. His gaze softens in the presence of your soft glow. “You look pretty tonight.”

You smile softly, feeling your face get warm. “Thanks, JJ. So do you.”

He smiles back, his eyes locking with yours. It’s just the two of you out here, and JJ likes it that way. Just you and him sitting alone on the beach, watching the sunset. “Just pretty?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Handsome.” You add.

He’s silent for a moment, staring back at you. He lets out a breath through his nose, trying to hide the grin on his face as his cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink, but it’s still clear on his face. “Damn right, I am.” He mutters. The two of you just stare at each other for a minute, the quiet sounds of the ocean in front of you and the distant sound of a fish jumping, trying to catch a bug flying across the water.

You smile at him again, looking back over the water.

JJ studies your profile for a moment, taking a hit off of his joint before passing it back to you, still staring at you. His eyes linger on your eyes, before slowly dropping down to your lips. He watches you, the soft expression on your face and how your hair blows in the wind. He’s always liked the way you look when you’re relaxed. You always look pretty, but you really look beautiful when you’re relaxed, when there’s no stress or worry in your mind.

He studies your face, committing every detail to memory. He sits up straighter, placing the joint back in his mouth. He hesitates before throwing one arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. You oblige, slotting yourself against him, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He smiles to himself, feeling you move closer. His arm tightens around you, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles into your shoulder. He watches the sun over the ocean, noticing how the light dances over the rippling water. He takes the joint from his mouth once again, taking a hit. He holds it in his lungs for a second, before leaning forward slightly, his gaze shifting down to your cheek. He lets out a cloud of smoke from his mouth, the smoke hovering in the air between the two of you.

You take the joint from him and take a hit before handing it back, holding it in your lungs before exhaling slowly. You look up at him, watching as he puts the joint in his mouth as he shifts in the sand. You smile softly again, admiring the way his eyes shine in the pink and orange hues of the setting sun.

Sometimes the one you want is not the one you need.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part three is here!

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @teenwolfbitches28, @dasia21, @drewsphswife, @gilwm, @watchmerora, @odairtrqsh, @wearemadeofstardust0, @rafesbabygirlx, @slumnit, @babygirlwilly, @rafeyswife, @evermorx89, @ivy-34, @marlenee3e, @koibleufish, @user381963, @monkey-d-juliana, @ursogorgeous1313, @drewstarkeysstuff, @ts1mp0ne, @kayreblogs, @rafeycameronsgf, @lulbabes, @karmasloverrr, @greyswaren, @tini5, @witchmoon10, @xcinnamonmalfoyx, @arivh, @devils-blackrose, @goldsainz, @vonhoe, @exhaustedbutelated, @enjoymyloves, @rinasauruss, @danikasthings, @danicl25, @outlawedmando, @lucifersie, @wtfisastiles, @maybankslover (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

join my permanent obx taglist here!

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beardysuits · 3 months ago

Text

Closer to Dad pt 2

Part 1 found here

I can’t believe it, I’m uncle Rob! I was still getting used to being a solid 50 pounds heavier, probably even more to be honest. When I dressed up as Rob, I had chosen one of his older football jerseys to feel his stomach pressed against his beefy belly. Each step I took I could feel the fabric stretch to accommodate my new form. I patted it, feeling the jiggle ripple through the rest of my abdomen. This was going to be a fun day.

Normally it would have taken me about 15 minutes to get from Rob’s house back to mine, but with my new longer legs, and the amount of excitement built in, I made it in half the time. Stepping up to the front door, my heart was racing in anticipation. I haven’t spent real quality time with my dad in what felt likes years. To go from being the scrawny son he essentially ignored, to becoming his best friend and brother, was a dramatic shift. However, I let out a long breath of air and pounded on the door with my strong fist.

Dad, I guess I should refer to him by his first name now, Mike, opened the door and looked at me inquisitively. He wasn’t even wearing his usual jersey, just a green t shirt and jeans, his hair messy, with the locks shining in the golden sunlight.

“Rob? What are you doing knocking on the door? You haven’t done anything but stroll in like a bastard for years”. Shit, of course I should have just walked in. Rob’s been coming over to our place for years now to hang out with my dad. I chuckled to try and cover.

“What and not take you up on opening the door for me? Fat chance,” I told him with my best uncle Rob impersonation. He rolled his eyes and ushered me in. I think I can still play this off. Coming into my home as Rob made it feel like a brand new experience, like I was stepping foot for the first time. Though that may just be because I’m about a foot taller and my perception has greatly shifted at this new height.

“You want a beer?” Mike asked, closing the door behind me.

“It can’t even be 8 am,” I told him without a second thought. His eyebrow raised again.

“What took you so long to ask?” I asked him back. He scoffed and wandered off to the kitchen. My heart would not slow down. I can make a couple of recoveries, but what am I supposed to do when he actually starts talking about football? Mike came back, and tossed me an unopened can. I popped the tab and took a swing, almost spitting it right back out. Fuck me, that’s what beer tastes like? At the tender age of 20, I was just shy of getting myself any alcohol of my own. Though also, at the tender heart, I was too chicken to sneak one of my dad’s to try before today.

Thankfully Mike had his back turned to me, otherwise he surely would have seen me grimace from the taste.

“So, game’s not for another hour,” he said, coming back from the kitchen again, this time holding the entire box full of beers. Oh god do I have to drink all of those? I can’t even stomach one.

“How about you make your lazy ass of some use and help me stock the fridge? Especially since you didn’t bring any of your own,” he continued. Was I supposed to bring something? I’m clearly an awful guest. I followed him downstairs to his man cave, one which I rarely stepped foot in.

It was what one would expect of a middle aged man who was obsessed with football. A once plush couch now worn out from years of ass being met with it, a small beer fridge along the side, massive flat screen tv along the back wall. If you pick up a copy of “Man Caves for Dummies”, you’d find this on chapter one. Mike shoved the box of beers at me and I waddled off to the fridge to stock up. Not like there was much space anyways, he always kept it pretty filled.

As I was finishing up the bottom level of the fridge, I felt a hard smack against my ass, almost causing me to shove my whole head into the fridge.

“Hurry up slowpoke, I wanna get these chilled before the game starts,” Mike said, pulling another beer out of the top shelf. He already finished the first one? I was too distracted to even drink mine, now so aroused at my ass getting smacked, and being ordered around by my dad. Don’t get me wrong, I was used to him ordering me around before, but this time it was playful. It didn’t help that my new cock was pressed against the silky material of my jockstrap, hidden under Rob’s set of Wranglers. I was chubbed up since I came in his body earlier today, but the touch of Mike, and the material sliding against it, made me rock hard.

I adjusted my pants to help try and mitigate how much of my cock showed and closed the fridge door behind me.

“Just giving you time to remember how I got the good ass genes from dad,” I told him. I turned and shook my ass at him, smacking it myself. Fuck Rob’s butt really kept up some perk since his old military days.

“Please, the only thing you got from dad was a bad back and a receding hairline,” he said, chuckling to himself. He took a swig out of his beer and I decided to mirror him. This time, I knew what to expect and choked down the ale with less effort. This actually wasn’t too bad after a while. He reclined back on the couch and kicked his feet up on the corner L of the sofa. He was wearing his basketball shorts and his calves were showing. I never looked at my father in a suggestive way from the implication alone, but I wasn’t me right now. Even as his brother it felt like I was somebody entirely different.

I could admire how strong his legs looked, especially when he stretched one of them out to pop his knee. The shorts rode up and a brief glimpse of his thigh bared itself to me. This didn’t help my need to hide my raging boner at all. He turned his attention from the TV and looked at me.

“What are you waiting for? Permission?” He asked. I sat on the opposite end of the couch from him. We had an hour until the game, and I immensely regretted not doing more research before I took over Rob. Mike tried to engage with me about the team, sports, players, and I did my best to rebut against them with jokes and more general comments. He definitely knew something was up though. I drank through the whole thing, feeling my new belly slosh as it contained nothing but beer. The jersey I was wearing started to feel even tighter as I felt my stomach expand to accommodate.

“Jeez Rob are you okay?” He asked me, minutes before the game began. My consciousness was starting to fade some, the alcohol finally starting to kick in. I had to have been 6 beers in by this point, only taking so long due to Rob’s large build.

“What do you mean?” I asked him, blinking slowly to orient myself. He finished his last bit of his drink and threw it into the closest trash can.

“You aren’t yourself. No idea what I’m talking about, stumbling through any conversation, it’s like I’m talking to…” he shrugged, “well, Timmy”. That made me snap into focus. The original plan when I took over Rob was to talk to my dad about anything but football, and hopefully, make him actually like the real me.

“What about Tim?” I asked him. He cracked open a new beer.

“Well you know, he’s a good kid, but I just don’t get him. Always up in his room all day, toying around with those little figures of his.” My figures I paint as a hobby. Something about bringing those little guys to life brought me a lot of calm. I didn’t even think my dad knew they existed.

“Have you tried connecting with him about what he likes?” I asked him. I knew the answer, but wanted to hear him admit it.

“Yeah,” he said. Liar. “I mean, kind of. I just don’t get it. You known when we were growing up we were outside, running around the woods, getting dirty. Tim he just, I don’t know, is just a shut in. We didn’t grow up like that, he actually did things. Like when we kidnapped the Connors’ dog and posted a ransom to buy snacks in the summer. I mean you know, we did a LOT together. Tried new things, grew closer. He doesn’t do anything, just toys away and plays on that damn computer”.

Ouch. Can’t say I’m surprised though, it’s about what I expected him to feel.

“But I wanna connect with him, you know. I want to be his dad, not just his father. I taught him to ride a bike, hit a baseball, how football works. Then he became a teenager and just dropped all of it and became a different kid.” I was about to open another beer, but wanted to be as much of myself as possible.

“You know Mike, I think he may have always been like this,” I told him. He raised an eyebrow in response. “I think, he just wanted to be the person you wanted him to be so you’d love him. But, he found out that he wasn’t happy doing those things, so he just decided to be himself, and hope you’d love him anyway.”

Mike was silent for a long time, not even taking another drink.

“That is, at least my theory,” I said. He shrugged and pondered.

“I mean I do love him, no matter what he does,” he finally said. “He’s my son. He can be a pro athlete or build and sell a computer for a living. I just figured since we had so much fun together and have great memories, that’s how he should do it too. But, maybe I should try and see how we can do what he likes more.”

I could feel the tears well in my eyes. Fuck Dad, why couldn’t you just tell me that.

“Thanks Rob for just letting me- are you crying?” He asked. I wiped the tears away and hid my face from him.

“No no, just, fuck it,” I said, looking for a new beer.

“You fucking softie,” he said, a hearty laugh escaping him. “Here, for you listening to my bitching.” He leaned over the armrest of the sofa for a little while and finally pulled out a new can. He tossed it to me. Raising his own, he opened the tab. I did the same, only to be met with a flare of foam dousing me. He cackled and slapped his knee.

“Fucker!” I yelled at him, already becoming inhibited from all the drinks. “Gotta change this fucking shirt now,” I told him. I could feel the words slurring as the alcohol came on harder. I stood up, stepping back to try and regain my balance. I grabbed the bottom of my jersey with both hands and yanked it up, my head stuck in the hole before finally tugging it off and slamming it to he ground.

I looked down, once again admiring Rob’s hairy chest and beautiful pecs. The years of service he did performed wonders on his body, which he didn’t give up on as he reached middle age.

“Give me a shirt,” I told him, trying to make it to the staircase.

“Rob fucking sit down, you’re fine,” he called out to me. “Let that shit dry and just be half naked for a bit you puss.” I walked back and fell back on the sofa. My cheeks were flaring up and I could feel my heart pounding from the exertion. I put my hand on my chest to feel the heart rate, and couldn’t help but squeeze a little, feeling the pec succumb to my own touch. I chuckled and looked over to my father, who was looking at me intently. I chuckled to him.

“What?” I asked, losing sight in trying to pretend to be Rob at this point. He smirked.

“Nothing, just, all this talk about our childhoods is making me just remember the good old times. You know know, the Connors dog, the woods, the…. late night talks. Ones about girls, and who was hot in my grade, who was hot in yours. How we’d-“ he pulled his own shirt off and threw it on top of mine. “Try to figure out what would make them feel good”.

I admired Mike’s body, not as toned as mine, but certainly he took care of himself as he aged. He own chest displayed a gorgeous set of fur. How did I miss out on just how beautiful he was? How did I not get these genes and looked more like my mother? How is he looking at me so… sexually? He slid down the L of the sofa, laying his head against the back cushion, throwing an arm behind his head to rest it. His armpit was shadowed in a dark bush, which I can only imagine smelled of a strong musk.

Wait what the fuck? This is my dad, or my brother? He’s family, but I did jerk off my own uncle just hours before. He’s my dad, but he’s also not making this weird. He’s.. he’s.. fuck he’s sexy!

“Game’s about to start,” I told him finally, not taking my eyes off his physique.

“They’re playing the Buccaneers, I know how it’ll go,” he said. He got on all fours and crawled to me. Judging from the look in his eyes, the beers had taken their toll on him as well. We were now face to face, mere inches from one another. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned in and planted his lips on mine. I pushed back a bit, but he wouldn’t let me break away. His tongue slithered forward and traced it along my new one. I gave in and wrestled his with my own, my lips moving in sync with his. He placed a hand on my chest and squeezed at my pec, the warm touch juxtaposing with the shivers which shot through me.

I took my hand and placed it on the back of his head, brushing my fingers through his salt and pepper hair. As I gripped at it, he became more aggressive and reached for my throat. He wasn’t rough with it, but placed his thumb just below my Adams apple, pressing firmly. My breath was ragged from his force, and my pants had grown so incredibly tight in futile attempts to restrain my cock. My other hand went on the lower end of his back, guiding him to press into me, the fur on our chests entangling.

He slipped his mouth away from my lips, running them down my neck, kissing me as he lowered himself further down this stolen body. When he got to my belly, he took extra time to take both hands and rub them across it. He worshipped my stomach, kissing at it, gripping, and without a single word, making me know it was his. His hands ran down my stomach to zipper off my hands, toying with it. I spoke back to him with my dick, flexing it to tell him it needed to be released.

He looked up at me and smirked, lowering his head down again to lick at my bulge. It was torture, I needed to produce it to him and have it slide down his throat. I reached my hand down to get to my pants, but he immediately snapped and grasped my wrists.

“Uh uh,” he hushed. “Remember, I’m making you the girl here. And a good girl, lets the man do what he wants.” He released my wrists and finally got his hands back on my zipper. He zipped it down, before finally finishing with a flourish and pulling the Wranglers down to my ankles. He worked to get them kicked off my feet, before being met a silky pink jockstrap, which could snap at a moments notice. It was absolutely soaked in precum, and my dick had pushed it to its limits.

“What the fuck Rob? You sporting these now?” He asked me. I smirked at him.

“Was just remembering the good times,” I told him with a wink. He seemed to hesitate, almost snapping back to reality. However, the lust must have taken over, as he proceeded to take his tongue and lick up the precum which topped off the jock. Just feeling the tip of his tongue hit my cock made me groan involuntarily.

“Shut up, Tim might be home,” he told me. I wouldn’t worry about that, I wanted to tell him, but no words could form at this point. He proceeded to lap at my bulge, seeming to suck off any of the pre which had accumulated. Just as it seemed he was about to pull my jock off, he backed away. Fuck, was something wrong? I looked up and saw him working on getting his own pants off. He was struggling, barely able to move at all.

I assisted him, leaning forward and not taking the same slow care he had given me. I yanked the pants off and discovered two thing about my dad. One, he liked to go commando. Two, he had an impressive cock. Veiny, hard as a rock, and long enough that I knew he could rub out a prostate without even going halfway in. If he was the surprisingly soft and sultry type, I was the ravenous one. I had never actually sucked a dick before, but had watched plenty of films to emulate what others had done. I gripped the base of his shaft, which despite how large my new hands were, still was an intimidating beast.

I licked at the head of his cock, tasing the musky aroma come to life as the sensation of manhood trickled down my throat. He tasted amazing, his own precum starting to mix with the sweat he had built through the day. I licked my lips, lubing them up as I began to take his entire cock into my mouth. The years of study had prepared me somewhat for what it took to take him, but practice made perfect. At first I almost gagged and vomited the half dozen beers which still waved in my stomach, but as I got into a rhythm, it became easier. He leaned his head back and didn’t say a word, but moans were suppressed from his closed mouth.

He raised both arms up, showing off his pits. The smell permeated through the air, filling my nostrils. He must have not showered in the past couple of days, as I could smell the usual scent of my father embody the room. It motivated me to work harder, pushing my lips to the base of his balls and holding them in place. He grabbed the sides of my head and thrust his cock back and forth, skull fucking me as a growls began to erupt from him.

I thought he was about to coat my throat with his cum, but just as he was about to finish, he threw my head back and pushed me to the other side of the sofa. I looked up to find him jerking himself off and staring at me seductively.

“Turn around and show your big brother that hole of yours,” he commanded, sitting up on his knees. I did as he was told, getting on all fours and facing away from him. I felt the couch move below him as he crawled to me. He spit, and the sensation of his saliva against my hole made me shake. With one hand, he spread my ass cheek to the side, and with the other, I felt him guide the tip of his cock. Pressing against my hole, I gripped at the fabric in the couch, my knuckles turning white.

“Easy,” he told me. “Remember, just like we used to practice.” He pushed the tip and my hole reluctantly allowed him in. It was a shock of pain which made me scream. His hand quickly shot to my mouth and covered it, muffling my howls.

“I told you to shut up,” He said. He kept pushing his cock further in, still holding my mouth closed. He inch which slid its way in made me try to yell louder in and louder, but his calloused hand pressed harder against my lips. There was a sensation, a pop. Immediately I stopped yelling and groaned again, this time in ecstasy.

“There you go lil bro,” he told me. “Just like riding a bike”. He pulled out some and pushed his way back in. Fuuuuuuck. Fuck he was so god damn big! He pumped, his cock rubbing against my prostate. Each thrust sent electricity coursing through my body and out the tip of my cock. I hadn’t touched it in ages and wanted to pump in unison with him, but too much of me was just holding on to the couch for dear life. His thrust began to increase in speed, with no room in between for rest.

“Fuck daddy’s gonna cum!” He yelled out, clearly not worried about the noise anymore. He put a hand on each of my shoulder to steady himself.

“Cum in me dad, cum in me!” I yelled out, my lips free from his grasp.

“FUCK!” He yelled out, pushing his balls deep against my bare ass. I felt his cock twitch with his pulse as wave after wave of his cum shot deep into my colon. I counted it out, each pulse getting weaker and weaker, before finally all I could feel was my dad’s stomach resting on my back as he caught his breath. He slid out and fell back on the couch, his legs spread, and while now limp, he cock rested beautifully on his thigh.

I laid on my own back and marveled at him, so gorgeous even just lit by the TV glow. For a second I was worried in his post nut clarity, he would realize what had happened. Instead, I could hear him snoring, somehow already passed out from the exertion. I took the opportunity to finally whip off the jock strap and pump my cock, which had been lathered up in a concoction of my precum and dad’s saliva.

I felt his cum begin to leak out of my hole, running into the couch. I grabbed a small handful and rubbed it between my fingers. It was thick and a stark white, prime for breeding. Prime for lathering up my cock further and… lathering… That, gave me an idea. Releasing my cock, I stepped to my pants he had discarded on the floor. I fumbled with the pockets until I found it, another vial.

Inside was the lotion I had made to slip myself into Rob. I was worried it would wear off while I was here, making me be ejected. So, I brought an extra container in case I had to sip back inside. But, what if I went a step further? Both of us were already naked, so I took the opportunity to pour the contents all over Rob’s body, just as I had done in my real body.

It was a miracle there was enough, as Rob was twice the size as my original body. However, I finally stood in front of my father, silk, lathered up, and ready to experiment. I was just as careful as I was when I took over Rob’s body. Fingering my dad’s hole and enlarging it. Making it able to take one finger, then two, three, until finally my whole hand was inside of him. I think all of the drinking had sedated him, as he wasn’t moving a muscle from all of the activity.

I pushed further, finding the process to be much more difficult than last time. Previously, I was going from a short, lanky form, barely 150 pounds into a man twice my size. This time, while my father was hardly a small man, had less room available to take in Rob’s body. I worked carefully, pushing both arms inside, before taking a deep breath and plunging my head inside. This sensation was the same at least. Pitch darkness, a tight sensation, the beating of his heart echoing around me. The issue was, Rob’s chest was so fucking massive, I had to really push to get inside.

I could still feel my feet outside, so I used them to prop myself up and force myself in further. I could only imagine what it looked like out there. The towering form of Rob, chest deep inside of my dad’s hole as he tried to slam his entire body into him. However, with each thrust, I could feel my body being encapsulated by my father. Eventually I found my whole upper body inside, and I worked to stretch myself out. It was like I was trying to slide into a latex suit that was two sizes too small. Every crevice of mine was suppressed and pushed inward.

It was constricting, my father’s form could barely contain the man who had at least 40 pounds of muscle on him. But surely, I found a way to get both legs inside and curl my feet in too. I felt the hole close and Rob’s body completely be closed in. Having done this once already, I had an idea of what to do next, but the size difference made it all too difficult. I did learn however from last time to adjust my cock first and not cause a panic. With both arms still not in position with my dad’s, I took my cock and slide it into his like a sheath.

Before I aligned them though, I experimented and pulled back and pushed in again. I did this a few times, feeling like I was fucking the inside of my father. It was too good, but I had to push on, the constriction was getting to me. I aligned both feet and legs, arms, hands, and finally head. I slithered my tongue into my father, and pushed the top of my head into his. With one final force, I pushed my cock into the tip of his and felt the transformation complete.

I opened my eyes and surveyed the room, my head groggy as I felt the alcohol trying to hold me still. The glow of the TV still reflected off the walls, but more noticeable than that was the smell of my father’s musk right next to me. I looked to my left and found his armpit right next to my face. I inhaled deeply, now aware that I was my dad! I liked at his bicep, knowing all the while this tongue just moments ago was worshipping me. I sat up, trying to orientate myself.

Everything was the exact same, though now I could see just under me was a pool of the lotion and cum which soaked into the seats. I rubbed my dad’s hole, and found that some of his cum was still leaking out from me. I brought it to my face and lapped it up. It was salty, tinged with the potency worthy of breeding.

I took another scoopful of his, I guess, MY own cum and lathered up my new dick. As I never did actually finish while I was just Rob, I still had a sizable load to get out. I pumped my dad’s cock which had sprung to life once more. I smelled at this pits as I did so, lapping at his biceps and worshipping my new body.

NSFW version found here

From the excitement of today, it didn’t take long before I could feel the eruption coming.

“Fuck I”m gonna cum!!” I yelled in my dad’s voice, before finally letting out the build up of cum spray all over me. Despite getting off just earlier today, it was a cascade as I coated chest. The fur absorbing every drop and sinking into my chest. My cock was bright red, pulsing as each drip soared into the air. But it was over all too soon, and I was left with just myself, the smell of cum, musk, and the football announcers quietly speaking.

I looked down at myself, proud of the mess I had made. Though, I did wonder what this meant. Was I stuck as my father, with Rob gone forever? Would I get ejected as Rob? As myself? The lotion had lasted this long already, I wonder how much longer I had. If it wasn’t long, I wanted to make the most of it. Slowly, I raised myself up and stood, looking to dress myself up. There I found the jockstrap I had Rob wear, still damp. I stepped in and shimmied it up my legs.

It was cool at this point, and made me shiver, but it was so good to be reunited with it. I rubbed my hands over my body, coaxing the cum further into my hair and admired the nice bulge my dad gave the jockstrap. Maybe if I can keep this up for a bit, I’ll have to have dad pick up some new clothes…Something with leather perhaps.

--------------------------------

A bit of a longer story, but hopefully that makes you all enjoy it even further! Would love to hear from all of you as to what you'd like to see more of as I try to get back more into my writing.

Thank you all!

#male bodypossession #male possession #body possession #male takeover #father and son #dad takeover #male transformation #possesion #male bodysuit #uncle and dad

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twinklelilstarkey · 3 months ago

Text

Tutor: Unveil

Words: 9k+ Summary: Here comes another party organized by Rose, meaning you cannot have your parents near people who threaten your peace. You can't even go to the bathroom, for goodness sake! Warnings: Female!Reader. Mentions of secret relationships and hiding things from friends and family (and finally, their consequences). SMUT (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! Very quick, literally a quickie, because I am so rusty at smut now. It will include some rough manhandling and clawing at the skin, but nothing too bad). Insults. Slut shaming. A/N.: I'm back!! Please know that I want to keep writing, I really do. But my professors absolutely hate me, because I have so much to do. This is like no other semester. Hope you enjoy this!

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I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

With your hands constantly smoothing down your silk dress, you can’t take your eyes off your reflection. You have touched up your make-up maybe three times since you’ve ‘finished’ getting ready and adjusted the more than adjusted dress for the, hopefully, last time.

You have no idea what it is. You feel weird. You feel nervous. Or maybe just anxious. There is something about going to a party with your parents after everything that has happened that makes you want to crawl into bed and only come out when everything has already happened.

Another sole reason your blood pressure has been sky high lately has to do with the conversation you’ve had with your mother in the car about planning something with ‘the girls’. For the last few days, she always remembered it at the worst moments. You have always found a good enough reason for her to not reach out to Kristy or her mother for said plans, but you’re not so sure that today will be possible to do it, given that they will see each other in person. Your mom and her mom have always been friendly to each other and have always liked each other’s company. They will surely plan something like an evening altogether. That is, of course, if her mother hasn’t heard anything about you yet. She too has never been too enthusiastic with Cameron & Co.

A knock on your bedroom door makes you look over your shoulder, and your father walks in. He gives you a sweet smile once he sees you by the mirror and holds his hand in your direction.

“Got to go. Mom is getting impatient.” He says while you take his hand.

You grab your purse on your way out of the bedroom, reaching for it at the last second as you can already hear your mother pacing around the house. You check the time before reaching her, making sure you are not the reason why she is like that, but, as expected, the scheduled time isn't for another 20 minutes. Therefore, you will get there before everyone else.

Your mother is still pacing when you reach her. She has a cream-colored dress, make-up, and hair done with way too much precision, but the look on her face would be enough to make you run to a mirror again.

“Finally!” she says, waving her arms in the air with a sigh.

Her eyes make sure to look you up and down, and her lack of criticism almost makes you cheer out loud. You know you won’t get a compliment with her bubbling with so much stress, so the fact that she has nothing bad to say about you is enough to let out a breath.

After your mother does her last walk around the house to make sure everything is in her purse and everything is locked, you all start to walk out to get into the car. You reach for your phone when you take your seat at the back of the car, and your father begins to back out of the driveway. The car is in complete silence, just as it usually is.

Now that you are officially done with classes, the graduation ceremony is just days away. Meaning, that not only will you soon be far, far away from certain people without school forcing you to be in their presence, but you also have been bombarded with texts from Patty and Topper, who have shared with you all sorts of ideas for the parties that they will be attending. All those texts are in the weird group chat that you have been added to, but Rafe, much to his confusion, was not.

You smile down at some of the messages and make sure to not leave them on read for too long before answering them quickly. These moments of calmness and smiles don't last too long, given that you get a message from Kristy, making you put down your phone to hopefully not let it mess up with your mood again. But, yet again, you were too late.

The trip to the location of the party is a little over 15 minutes, and you try not to pay any mind to any anxious thoughts after that. Because, maybe, just maybe, there is nothing to worry about. Nothing to be scared of, and no reason to want to lock your parents in a room for the entirety of the night.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. You got this under control.

After some time, and a little traffic, the car finally comes to a stop. Your dad helps you out of the car, and as soon as you all stand outside, you can tell that you were some of the firsts to get there. There are almost no cars in the parking lot, and that would be with counting the workers’ cars too.

Before you can even walk all the way to the front door of the building, Rose has already pushed the door open and smiled to greet you. Rose and your mother exchange the classic two kisses on their cheeks – or better, the air close to their cheeks. A handshake with your father. Yet when she reaches you, she pulls you into a hug. Your mother didn’t seem to be able to look away.

“I am so happy that you could make it,” Rose says to you when you two pull away from the hug. “Seriously, it was so hard making all these teenagers want to go to an event with their families.” She turns to your mother to include her in the conversation with a quick roll of her eyes, but she simply smiles dryly at her. “Anything that just doesn’t include alcohol makes everyone want to stay home, these days.”

“Oh,” your mom exclaims, surprised. “Yes, that is true. Youth, these days. But I do not believe that it would be my little girl’s” and, while still talking, she puts her arm around you in a side hug that is so out of character that it feels nearly comical, “style to do anything like that. These types of events are so much better.”

You offer her a small smile in return, and Rose doesn’t seem to notice how tense everything just seemed to get.

The two women begin a conversation in front of you not too long after. They talk about how good you did in your finals and even how Wheezie was so good in hers. All due to your hard work, of course. They talked and talked, and your mother’s arm did, eventually, come down back to her side. You walk over to stand by your dad as they continue their discussion, all while everyone still stands by the door.

“Is your whole family here, already?” Your mother asks her, making your ears perk up.

“Except for Ward, yes. He had to leave to get something at home. But the kids are all here. Well, except for Rafe, of course,” she chuckles dryly, “He’ll get here in his own time.” Rose says with a shrug before turning back to you and offering you a smile, “And I do believe some of your friends from school have gotten here as well.”

Great.

You fake a smile of excitement, and Rose takes that as her ticket to take you all inside the building. The warm breeze from outside is quickly substituted by the cold AC as soon as you get in, and, only after a few hallways, do you step into the massive room of tonight’s event. One with a tall ceiling and a wall made of windows, all of them facing the sea not too far from the building’s garden in the back. One of the windows is open and some people stand outside, some of them smoking, while others just enjoy the view while talking.

Even so, the room is quite empty. The ones inside stand on the sides and corners of the room, but, due to its size, the room feels empty still.

Your eyes scan the room, looking at each person carefully, trying to see how much damage could be made in the first few minutes already.

A little polite conversation later, Rose steps away with a soft ‘talk to you later’. Having looked around enough, relief washes over you when you notice that the friends that she had mentioned had only been one of the girls and some somewhat known faces from school. Nothing like Kristy, or the rest of the group. You know they won't do a thing when alone, that is, of course, if they aren't Kristy.

Your parents walk over to the table with the drinks, and you follow them, only listening to their conversations to keep you entertained.

The room is indeed fabulously decorated. The walls are decorated with amazing and grand pieces of art. Certainly replicas of sorts, expensive looking, nonetheless. Rose, as she tends to do, filled the room with all sorts of flowers and large tables with white tablecloths and glass dishware. At some tables, there are all sorts of mocktails, juices, and fancy herbal and fruitful waters. Other tables have food with all sorts of snacks, which the younger family members seem to have no shame in already having their fill.

You can see the people out in the garden from the drinks table. You can see Wheezie out with her friends, as well as Sarah being annoyed by Topper, who is beginning to be pulled away by one of her friends. They all are dressed formally. Wheezie in soft pink and Sarah in yellow. You look over to check on Rose which is in a light purple. What kind of color would they make Rafe wear?

You smile down at your own thoughts and hide it by looking around, purposefully ignoring a stare from a family that you do not want to interact with – the only girl and her parents, who might as well just call you a devil from where they stand in the room, given the distaste in their faces.

By the time an hour passes, you notice how slowly time goes by. You sure are in for a night.

(…)

It has been three hours, and you've finally decided that you need to walk away from your parents. You have shaken so many hands of coworkers and possible business partners of both your parents, that your mind has begun to blur their faces into one ever since you’ve met the seventh person. Their conversations have been about business and sales, and you swear that if you hear any sort of vocabulary from their field again, you will begin to rip your hair out in chunks.

So, a walk it is.

Your heels click on the tiled floors as you look for a bathroom. No one is in the hallways, most people just stay in the main room or the outside, where younger socialization is seemingly kept. None which you’ll be able to make today, for the looks of it.

You have thought about talking to someone other than your parents, but the possibility of it upsetting them, given your new crowd, always made you take a step back. There aren’t many people you could speak to. Rafe’s friends, who have naturally become yours too, have all gotten here in the last hour. Most who noticed gave you a simple wave, which you could only nod to because you knew you couldn’t be caught waving at Topper Thorthon by your own mother. You might as well just walk right back into the room nude, and you’ll get the same reaction - in other words, complete horror. Patty, on the other hand, had walked over to you to greet you as she normally would, with a hug, and that sparked the curiosity of your mother a bit too much. That is, of course, because she has no idea who she is.

Other sorts of company, also known as your past best friends, have also gotten here, and each time you notice them walking in the room, you would simply spark a conversation with your parents so they wouldn’t look at the newcomer. But you know it, you’re running out of things to talk about. Especially since some of the girls haven’t gone outside and are still standing by their parents, talking amongst themselves. One is easy to hide from your parents, but a group, not so much. The idea of them already talking to them is making chills run down your spine.

Truly, the only thing keeping you sane is the fact that Kristy hasn't arrived. Therefore, there is nothing that can truly hurt you while she isn't here... right?

You walk through the hallways, letting out a sigh, still looking for a more distant bathroom that doesn’t have a line of women you could possibly very well know at the door.

After looking at many lines, you decide to try upstairs instead, because, realistically, you will need at least five minutes of silence in that room to get back into the right mentality to handle the rest of the night, and you will not be able to do that with a group of women ready to break down a door and run in to pee.

You begin to walk towards the front of the building, where you spot even more people who have begun to arrive at the party and are following Rose as she continues to be her pleasant self to her guests. You spot the two big staircases at the front, and you grab onto the railing before beginning to go up.

Suddenly, a whistle echoes down the hallways and up your staircase and you freeze.

“The party is down here, miss.” The voice says.

If only you hadn’t recognized it, you would’ve actually listened to the observation and made your way down the staircase, hiding your embarrassment and complete horror of being caught. But the fact that you did recognize it only made you want to throw a shoe at your boyfriend for scaring you the way he did.

“What am I, a dog, for you to be whistling at?” You say while turning around to face him, while he stands by the front door, meters away from you and down a few steps.

Rafe tilts his head up at you, and you know the comment is eating at him. You're teasing him. You smile as you see him peek into the hallway Rose disappeared into, and you can’t help but let out a shriek when he starts running up the steps to grab you.

Rose must already be on her way back to the door to welcome the new family coming inside, and you have her stepson ready to tackle you to the ground, so you have double the motivation to grab onto your dress and the railing and try to get away from your man.

You laugh your way up the stairs, but you don’t even get to the last step before he’s able to grab onto you. Now, do you think it was a fair fight? With you in heels and a long dress? Absolutely not, and you make sure to let him know that as he casually puts you over his shoulder and gets you both off the stairs - all while basically making you think you’re going to die for being upside down on the last step. You have screamed twice since he's gotten here. Rose would kill you if she knew.

“Please put me down.” You say, defeated and seriously out of breath from both running and laughing.

You know that Rose must have heard the both of you, you just hope she doesn’t know it is you who was just laughing hysterically. You’re sure she heard the damned loud whistle and rolled her eyes to the back of her head in response, knowing very well whose it was – the only son that is almost 4 hours late to a party his own family is organizing. And now that same man is kidnapping a girl into the upper floor, how nice. You wouldn't blame her if she stopped inviting him. Not at all.

Halfway through a hallway and during your millionth plea, Rafe finally puts you down, making your hair fall in all sorts of directions over your face, getting a genuine laugh out of him. Your hands begin to try and smooth down the strands back into their original place, but Rafe continues to smile down at you.

“Don’t you look beautiful today, baby?” He says in a dramatic tone, making your hands stop working through your mess of hair and giving him a glare, which in his eyes seems more like a pout.

Taking pity on you, Rafe helps you with your hair to the best of his ability, and you begin to look around for a bathroom.

Leaving Rafe behind and knowing fully well that he will follow you without hesitation, you walk over to a door that, thankfully, is unlocked, and the room is empty. Rafe walks in with you, and you only let out a breath when you hear close the door behind him.

Rafe watches you through the reflection as you fix your hair further and then check on your makeup. It takes quite a few moments of silence before you turn and lean back on the counter. With your back to the mirror, and the temperature of the cold stone going through the fabric of your dress, Rafe steps in front of you, and the warmth of his hands on your hips adds a nice contrast.

You look up at him, analyzing his face, but you notice how he leans in for a kiss, making you turn your head at the last second, forcing him to lay a kiss on the corner of your mouth instead.

“I have lipstick on.” You whisper at him, “Don’t you dare ruin it.”

“I would never.” He whispers back but kisses your cheek again instead and then continues to go down your jaw, neck, and then shoulder.

You fight the urge to close your eyes to the feeling of his lips and look at him while he moves, you haven’t taken a good look at him yet. He looks good, like he always does, in a dark blue suit with no tie and a pristine white dress shirt underneath, his hand has his usual gold ring, and his buzzcut looks just made.

“We’re matching.” You tell him, a smile more than evident in your voice, making him raise his head up to look at you. “Why blue?”

“Ask Sarah, she was the one that chose my suit.” He says, creating a slightly bigger distance between your faces.

You lay your hands over his shoulders, but they eventually find their way to his cheeks. Your thumbs caress his skin, and he continues to stare down at your face.

“You look really handsome tonight.” You whisper to him again.

“I do?” He asks, and you nod, making him lean into you again, threatening to ruin your lipstick yet again.

“And incredibly needy too.”

Even Rafe couldn’t hold in his chuckle at your observation.

“Someone ignored my texts for-”

“We texted this morning, Rafe!” You say a little louder this time, with a smile that almost made Rafe’s heart jump out of his chest. “Since when did you become such a sappy boyfriend?”

Rafe did not even have to say a single word, the expression on his face of complete repulse for your choice of adjective is enough to make you smile widely at him. He sends you a glare as a response which only makes you laugh harder. Your hands come down to his shoulders again, and you give him a kiss on his cheek before leaning away from the counter.

“I have to go back down soon.” You tell him.

Rafe leans in closer to you, his hands forcing your body glued to his, making you lose all idea of cold from before. You are warm all over. “Why?”

“My parents are here, can’t have them talk to a certain someone just yet.”

Rafe doesn’t answer out loud, he just continues to look through your face, deep in thought. You watch him as he does it, memorizing every inch of his skin in return. Rafe had noticed your mood while watching you walk the hallway downstairs. You are deep in thought and visibly buzzing with anxiety. Knowing now that the root of all your problems is just a floor down from yours, makes a lot more sense than whatever he had thought of.

“They’re here?” You only nod, kissing his jaw and pulling back to look him in the eyes, “Have they said anything?”

“Not a single thing, only stared for a while.” Rafe pulls you impossibly closer to him, and you let him. “They might already be doing it right now.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I was driving myself insane. Had to talk to way too many people, and I can’t even remember a single name.” Rafe grins at your words, but you sigh before continuing, “I want to go home already.”

“But the party just started.”

You roll your eyes at him and his audacity, and he smiles down at you. Your lips crack a small grin too, and you feel one of his warm hands move from your back to your hip, squeezing it through the thin fabric and holding onto you tightly. Your entire body sizzles at his touch, and you lean closer, completely forgetting your own promise to not smudge your lipstick.

“We shouldn’t.” You whisper against his mouth.

“We really shouldn’t,” Rafe emphasizes with a shake of his head and a big smile, but that is just before he closes the gap between the two of you. Your lips touch, and your hands smooth over to his head, smoothing over his short hair.

Rafe lifts you up to the counter and pulls your dress upwards to your waist to help him stand between your legs with the slit of the fabric. You sigh against his lips at his touch over your smooth thighs, and, under the dress, Rafe grips onto your skin and pulls you directly into his hips, making you moan against his mouth.

His hands look for a certain piece of fabric, your panties, under your dress as he pulls you against him, but all he feels is skin. He brings his hand up and grips your face with the same force as he did your hips, thumb digging into your cheek as he held your jaw.

He pulls you back, noticing just a slight smudge of your lipstick, and you smile maliciously at him, knowing exactly why he’s behaving the way he is. He lets out a dry laugh, not finding any sort of humor like you did, and kisses you a single time before whispering directly into your lips, “You’re such a—”

“Panty lines, Rafe, panty lines!” You interrupt him without being able to contain your smile.

Your lips melt into a kiss again, more aggressive this time due to Rafe’s discovery, and you can’t help but continue to smile into the kiss, moving your shoulders until you feel the dress’ strap slide down your skin. Rafe’s hands slide from your jaw to your neck, and your hands slide down his torso all the way to his belt, currently almost glued to you too because of how tightly Rafe holds you to him.

You pull his belt to get him closer to you and finally pull at the buckle to undo it. Rafe’s hands let you go for a second, he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt, only separating your lips for those seconds and coming back to you.

You finish undoing his belt and move onto the button and zipper, while Rafe’s hands move back to hold your hips. Rafe groans against your mouth, and you grab onto his boxers, dragging your nail over the elastic band. You smile at the way he responds, pulling you roughly towards him and grabbing onto your skin as if it’s his lifeline.

Your hands pull his clothing down, and Rafe is quick to lift a hand and push yours away from him. Your lips don’t separate through it all, and Rafe brings his hand in between your legs. His touch immediately rips a reaction out of you, making you moan louder against his lips while your back stretches with pleasure.

Rafe’s fingers drag from your clit to your entrance, not ever stimulating you on purpose, just moving so, so slow that you consider biting him in response. You turn your head to break the kiss, and Rafe just continues kissing down your jaw and neck, as if unphased. Your breathing is heavy, and your heart is beginning to seem to want to beat out of your chest, but your lips are only able to whisper a single plea, “Rafe, please, we have to be quick.”

“Please, what?” He teases like he always does.

You groan, naturally, and he smiles, “Please, Rafe, just fuck me”

In response to your words, Rafe did not hold back. He glues back your lips to his, and the finger over your clit pulls away, leaving you cold and waiting. His hand goes back to your hip to hold you in the exact position he wants you in, and, right after pulling his hand away again, you just feel his dick lining up with your entrance and sliding into you.

The sensation almost feels like too much, making you pull away from the kiss and bring your hands to his shoulders. Your hands hold onto his skin, underneath the opened suit, and Rafe groans at the feeling of your nails on his skin. He doesn’t move, once he’s able to slide entirely into you, and all you hear for those seconds of no movement is both of your elaborate breathings.

Rafe breaks the silence, “Fuck, you feel so good.” making you chuckle and pull him into a kiss.

As soon as he begins to move, you almost feel as if your body is not your own. The pleasure is too much, and you can’t help but pull Rafe closer to you. His movements are steady and slow at first, but, at this moment, it almost feels like enough. Something about being worried and anxious throughout the night made you feel as if your body is now overly sensitive to everything that Rafe touches.

Your moans aren’t words, just whimpers and sounds of pleasure, never too loud and even sometimes a whisper. Rafe looks down at you, as one of his hands moves to wrap his arm around your back to support your body close to his. Your hair looks perfect again, and your lips only have a slight smudge at a corner, almost unnoticeable. One of your dress’ straps has slid off your shoulder, making his half-closed eyes stare at your jiggling flesh. He pulls you in closer and speeds up ever so slightly, letting the sound of skin slapping and your wet pussy fill his ears and consume him.

You lean your forehead on his shoulder, as one of your hands slides out of his suit and wraps around his bicep. His cock, moving back and forth, his tight hold on your body, your naked chest now glued to his, it seems like too much for you to even open your eyes. It is as if flames consume your body, from your legs to your head, centering around your stomach. It burns at your insides, and all you can think of is how good it feels.

You know you have to be quick about it. Your biggest worries are just a few steps away, so possibly able to find you and what you’re doing, bringing to absolute ruin. But, now, you can't bring yourself to care. And especially not when Rafe moves to grab onto your face and brings your lips to his, making your mind go fuzzy, and your heart flip with love and pleasure for this man.

The kiss starts with form, but it loses it within seconds with some of your moans and Rafe’s groans. Both of you are lost, and getting worse with each stroke and each kiss. You have obviously gotten wetter, you both can hear it, and Rafe can’t help but reach underneath your dress to touch you.

You let out a gasp, which turns into a moan when he touches your clit, and he simply holds your face in place, unwrapping his arm from your body. Your hands reach to hold onto the counter of the bathroom, and the cold stone bites at your skin once you touch it.

Rafe kisses you slowly one last time and lets go of your face before he speeds up his thrusts a last time, making his movements fast and rough, but sloppy. Yet you swear that you have never felt better. His cock reaches deep into you and with each stroke, it touches where it should. His finger slides with ease over your swollen clit, and your pussy squeezes him in response to all of it.

Rafe’s fist closes with all its might as he keeps going and you moan his name, close to his ear. Both of you are beginning to break your first sweat as the peak of your pleasure gets closer and closer. You can almost taste it. Rafe pulls you back to him, maybe a bit too forcefully, but you couldn't care less. You moan into his skin as he gets you closer and closer to your orgasm, and your hands claw at his skin for it.

He leans in close to your ear and whispers, “Come on, baby, come for me.”

After just another two thrusts, you sob out a moan into his neck and Rafe puts your mouth to his in a kiss. Your hands reach for his face, even while still reacting to your too-powerful orgasm, and he follows you right after, pounding into you with a force you know will leave you sore, but for a cost that you could accept any day.

As both your heart rates slow down and your breathing calms, your mouths go back into a normal kiss, your usual slow and loving. Rafe wraps both of his arms around you, pulling your flesh impossibly closer to his, and you relax close to him, ignoring what could possibly await downstairs.

(…)

It took you embarrassingly long to fix your makeup before you got down the stairs with Rafe. No one is walking in anymore, which can only mean that it is finally late enough for anyone else to come in fashionably late.

Your heels click as you walk a little too fast due to your anxiety, Rafe stays a little behind, letting you in the room before he does. You push the door open, and the sound of all the conversations around the room hits you all at once. You look over at Rafe before you walk in, and he nods at you to go.

You walk through a few groups of people and look over at where you left your parents, only to find them in the same place - your father just a few steps behind. You fight the urge to smile a bit and begin to walk towards them, but your legs stop moving when noticing Kristy with her arm crossed with your mother, as her mother stands right next to her too.

All three of them are in a deep conversation, but smiles are all around, which only soothes your soul a slight bit.

Kristy’s mother, Natasha, is another type of woman entirely. In all the years of your friendship, you had only seen her a few times, always out in business. She is a hauntingly beautiful woman. And, yes, even after so many years, you too are scared of her, while your mother never seems to get enough of her.

“Oh, there you are!” Your mother says, noticing you right away. You walk closer to them, trying to hide how stiff your body feels due to the adrenaline coursing through you, “Are you feeling alright? You were gone for a bit.”

“Yeah, just a stomachache, I think.” You tell her, “But I’m feeling much better now.”

“Do you think it’s something you could’ve eaten?” She asks, and your eyes move over to Kristy who is obviously staring at you, hard.

“Maybe.” You shrug at your mom, ready to change the topic of conversation.

“I told you to put the leftovers in the fridge yesterday, but, no, you just had to do it when you felt like it, right, missy?” She teases, looking over at Natasha to make her join in on the motherly teasing session.

But, when you look over at her, you would have to be blind to not notice the way she is looking at you. Different from the way she used to, which could only mean one thing.

“Oh,” She plays along, hiding her staring slightly better, this time. “Kristy is just the same, you know? Always does things on her own time, no matter what I tell her.”

Kristy would’ve rolled her eyes at her mother’s words if she wasn’t occupied staring at someone in the distance. Her silence was so out of character that you weren’t the only one to notice her distraction, because your mother looked faster, and her mouth followed at light speed.

“How can a son arrive so late to an event organized by his own family? A shame, really.” You tense further as she shakes her head.

Kristy tenses too at her words, quickly looking away and down at her feet for a few seconds in shame. Having had enough of her shit, you can't help but continue to glare at her.

Your mother, oblivious, does not notice the tension building up, but you’re thankful for that as she keeps herself busy by bad-mouthing your boyfriend instead.

“No surprise that Rose doesn’t bring him to so many of her parties,” She says, “I would do the same.”

“What a disgrace of a boy...” Natasha says but while directly facing you, almost as if trying to talk to you about him. “Do you know him?”

“What?” You ask her, trying to hold back your defensive tone.

“Rafe Cameron,” She reminds you, “Do you know him?”

Your mother looks at you, intrigued by the conversation. “Oh, no, not at all.” She answers for you.

“Are you sure?” Natasha asks you with a dip of her chin, making Kristy turn her head to her in shock. “He’s not too far from your age.”

“A year.” You tell her, and she nods, beginning to grin at your response. Your mother looks at you in interest but, of course, nothing malicious is crossing her mind, “I’ve talked to him before, yes.”

You can come to very much regret saying such a thing in a few seconds but, at the end of the day, if you ever want your mom to know of your relationship, she better start warming up to the idea that you at least know the guy.

“You have?” Your mother’s interest could not have been more peaked.

“Yeah,” You nod, noticing that Kristy’s shocked eyes have now come to face you too, “Not as bad as everyone says.” You shrug.

“Really?” Natasha asks, humor thick in her voice, but you ignore it and simply nod. “Oh, I’ve heard the opposite, that he and his friends are an absolute horror to talk to. Very rude, weren’t they, Kristy?”

Kristy’s eyes almost pop out of her head once her mother mentions her name and her experiences.

“Oh-oh, uhm…” She hesitates, making your mom almost want to shake her to spit it out. “I didn’t have the greatest conversations, no.”

“How come?” Your mom pressures her, pulling at their crossed arms, urging her to tell all, but Kristy is nowhere near ready to let it out.

“Just some parties, you know.” She shrugs, “He must have been drunk a few of those times, so he wasn’t the nicest.”

“What kind of things did he say to you?” Your mom asks.

“Oh, not to me. But my friends, for example… One day, they were looking for someone.” You fight the urge to punch her, this time, “And asked him- because he is… friends... with her.” She takes a deep breath, “They asked him about her, but he just told them to ‘f’ off and all that.”

“Who were they looking for again, sweetheart? His girlfriend, was it?” Her mother asks, only looking at her daughter in fake curiosity.

Your mother could not even contain her shock, letting out a gasp so loud that some people around you turned to look at her. You, on the other hand, feel as if someone had just thrown you into an iced lake. “He has a girlfriend?!”

“Oh, yes, he does.” Natasha says, “Quite a shock to me too when I heard.”

“Do you happen to know who it is?” She says, leaning in as if to know a secret.

You physically butt in by putting your hand in between them, stopping Natasha from opening her mouth any further and making the two of them look at you.

“It’s his private life, we shouldn’t talk about it.” You say, with a tone so serious that it made your mom notice some of the attention you all were gathering around you.

She smiles at the people, who turn away right after, and, with a lower tone of voice, she says, “Oh, honey, please. That boy has never been private a day in his life.” Your mother insists, “It’s nice of you to try and be civil but with Rafe Cameron?”

“You’re not being fair, mom.” You tell her, letting her continue to think of you as just a nice person trying not to dirty her pure and innocent ears with gossip. “You don’t know him.” You look at the other two women.

Kristy listens to your words and notices her mother’s silence. She did not expect her mother to try and provoke you as much as she did, but Kristy can only blame herself for that. She shouldn’t have told her everything she knew, but it had been a bad day, and she thought she could trust her mother to stay quiet. After all, she had always seemed to like you. Yet, there was something about your words just now that sounded like they were meant for her too.

After all, you were defending Rafe from her. Again.

“You know him that well?” Kristy asks you, after the seconds of silence – and delusion from you, since you thought it had been enough to calm down the conversation and delay it for another time.

You look at her with eyes that could only mean two things to any onlooker, either that you were offended by her words or the complete opposite, that you were pleading with her to just stop whatever she and her mother were doing.

“I wouldn’t say that well.” You say, slowly, trying to measure your every word, so it wouldn’t lead to any misunderstandings. “But I have talked to him and seen him a lot of times. I’m at his home for a lot of hours, remember?”

“That’s right, you tutor the Wheezie girl.” Your mother suddenly remembers, “But, the rumors about him can’t be all that big of a lie. So many people tell them. A new one each week.”

“But... Like you just heard, he just got himself a girlfriend. Even you were surprised.” She nods, not understanding where you’re going with this. “If he can get himself a girl to date after all the rumors about him, maybe he’s not that bad.” You shrug.

You continue to look at your mom, in silence, watching as she slowly bites the bait towards a more open-minded and not-so-horrible mental image of Rafe, but you watch it all burn down in front of your eyes, right as Kristy starts to speak.

“That really depends on what type of girl you imagine him dating,” She says with a chuckle as if finding what you said cute or amusing. Deep down she is boiling in anger with the way you dodge every question with ease, like you've been hiding for so long, you already became accustomed to it all. “You’re imagining him with a well-mannered girl, about his age, a great student, and with great friends that can only be a good influence on him—”

“Kristy,” You warn her.

“But the reality is that we don’t know who the girl is.” She continues in a tone that not even a saint would believe to be truthful, “His girlfriend can very much be like any other slut. Someone who can only match his energy, someone who can only ruin herself further than she has already ruined.”

She looks you in the eyes as she says those exact words, fueled with rage after hearing you say all those things about how everyone just misunderstands Rafe.

“That is…” Your mother says and hesitates, not loving the words used to describe the hypothetical girl just now.

“What’s wrong?” Kristy asks you, not even hiding her tone this time, “Stomachache, again?”

Your breathing is uncontrollable, and your heart is beating rapidly. You’re not sure if it’s adrenaline, anger, heartbreak, anxiety, or everything all at once. All of what is being unsaid is being left in the air, like a toxic cloud, which everyone just watches you seem to be the only one in the conversation to be able to breathe it in.

“Something like that.” You say with gritted teeth with a short smile.

Your mother’s face twists with worry and Rafe is quickly forgotten. She turns to you, but you can’t take your eyes off the two women who appear to be practically orgasming with how they are loving to threaten to ruin your life with casual banter.

“We can go ask Rose if she has something for a stomachache, honey, would you like me to do that?” You don’t answer but try to shake your head, which goes unnoticed. “Or maybe in our car, maybe I have something for you to take.”

“I’m fine, mom, really.”

“What’s happening over here?” You hear your father’s worried voice behind you, which makes you turn to face him.

“She’s feeling sick—” Your mom tries to tell him.

“Sick? Did you eat something you shouldn’t?” He asks you, “Was it those leftovers? Honey, we’ve told you that you should put them in the fridge—”

“You should tell them the truth,” A voice interrupts your father, making you look at the two women again, your heart now at your stomach making you even more nauseous.

“What?” Your mother asks with pure confusion over her features, “What are you talking about?”

You look at the two mothers, both looking at each other, one with a know-it-all look, while the other is lost in absolute confusion.

“If it was my Kristy, I would’ve wanted her to tell me everything since day one.” She says, facing me again.

“Shut the fuck up.” You say to her, your volume low so as to not get any attention from anyone outside of this conversation, but your mother’s gasp might have gotten some looks right after, again.

“Apologize!” Your mother says to you, “You cannot speak to her this way, she’s your friend’s—”

“No,” Kristy says, only making your mother’s frown deepen. “Actually, you might not even know but we haven’t been friends for quite a few weeks, isn’t that right?” She smiles at you.

“What?” Your father asks, shocked to know that the once inseparable childhood best friends are no more.

“Tell them.” She tells you, making your eyes water, from anger, embarrassment, or complete horror that this is finally happening, but you fight the tears. “They deserve to know.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to hold in your need to gasp for a sob that you are holding in.

“Could either of you two just tell us what is going on, already?” Your father asks, leaning his hand on your back to try and offer you comfort, but his touch only repulses you, given what you are being forced to say.

Your panic rises as you’re unable to scream hysterically at the women in front of you to just disappear and mind their own business due to how many people surround you. How many of your parents’ friends and coworkers surround you, and how you would just embarrass them if you even dared to say half of what this woman and her daughter deserve to hear.

“Maybe we should go home,” You tell your dad, “I’m not feeling good.”

Your mother can’t even help but look at the two women in front of you sideways. She has known the women for years and has never seen them behave the way that they are behaving. But, again, she also has known you since you were born. You’re half of her. And she hasn’t seen you talk or act the way you are, right now.

“What is it that she’s talking about, honey?” Your mother pulls at you, worried but frightened too with what could be about to come out of your mouth.

“Let’s just go.” You tell your mom, feeling your entire burn in horror. They will know everything after today. There is no other way around it. “I'll tell you at home, please.”

Kristy's mother speaks again. “Just say it.”

She opens her mouth, but you make sure to speak over her, “You don’t know nothing about me or my life, you have no right—”

“Just like I don’t know your boyfriend, right?” She asks, and everything around you goes silent, “There... See? Not so hard.”

“Wha-what? What do you mean by that?” Your mom says, taking a step closer to her, hoping that she had misheard her.

Natasha does a short smile at your mother, and your father, having not been present during the past conversation, simply brushes his hand up and down on your back. He still does not understand a single thing of what they are saying, but he is worried about you.

No one says another word, and Natasha and her daughter walk out of the conversation. You recoil from your father’s touch and take a step back from both of your parents. Your breathing is beginning to sound strange to you, and your skin feels too hot to the touch even though chills run down your body. Your heart is breaking and being ripped out at the same time, and the world has begun to lose its center of gravity because it is suddenly too hard to stand.

Your mother continues to stand a step away from you, not moving, thinking to herself about how she and her own mind can be wrong. How this is not her reality, and how when she turns to face you, she will find you and Kristy, still as best friends, laughing at her face for being so dumb to even believe all of this. But she doesn’t. She turns, and she finds you pulling away from your father and walking away, ready to get out of the building.

She stands there, watching you walk out of the room, and notices that Kristy is following right behind. She can’t move or speak for a few seconds. Her husband stands beside her, asking her what the hell is going on, and in the corner of her eye, she sees him. She turns her head to him and watches him, with his blue suit just like her daughter’s dress and hair cut short. He has a charming smile on his face as he speaks to a group of men with his father on his side. He is acting unbothered and calm like he always does in these events.

As her heart continues to pound, her husband follows her eyes and stares confusingly at Rafe Cameron, trying to decipher what could be going on, but to no avail.

You forcefully clean your tears with your shaking hands and walk quickly down the hall towards the door to the outside. Right next to the door, you notice three people talking, but before you can even get close to them, a voice stops you.

“I didn’t mean for this to be like this,” Kristy says to you, and your blood boils at the sound of her voice,

“Oh, fuck you.” You exhale out the words at her, knowing the people in the room of the event won’t hear a thing, turning to face her. “You and your mother knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I didn’t want it to be today.” She shakes her head, not exactly sure what she should say to you first, “I just thought that your parents deserved the truth.”

“Oh my god, Kristy, shut up! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP with your 'could do no evil' attitude!! No one asked you for anything! I was going to tell my parents when it was safe for me to do so.” You try to hold in your tears, even when you know you have every right to cry, “You bitch, I probably don’t even have a house to live in right now, and all you care about is how you could justify your own stupid actions? Fuck you!” You try to turn to walk away again.

“I—” She tries to walk with you.

“No! Stop!” You tell her, holding out your hand, “You have said and done enough today, Kristy. I do not want to ever see you again. I will never forgive you for anything that you and your mother have done today.” You can’t even hold yourself back from both continuing and letting out some tears, “I am an adult, I have been an adult this entire time. I choose my own relationships, and you have nothing to do with it.”

“You know that is not why I don’t approve…”

“Exactly! Because I don’t need you to approve, Kristy. You are not my mother and you sure as hell aren’t my friend anymore. Your approval means absolutely nothing to me, right now. Maybe before you fucked up, absolutely, that is why I didn’t say anything before, but now?” You run your hands through your hair in frustration as you snicker at your own words, “And you called me a slut, for Christ’s sake. In front of my own fucking mother.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don’t give a shit, Kristy!” You wave your arms in the air for emphasis, “I do not give a single shit about what you meant or even still want to mean. You have officially and royally fucked me for life, and you think you have the right to run after me?” You ask as you angrily wipe away your tears.

Kristy bites down her tongue and looks at you, “I just don’t understand how you think that what I did was so wrong. I get it, I should’ve let you have the conversation with your parents at your own time, but also look at my side. Why did you hide him? If he is so great, as you say, why did you hide him from us? From me?” She pauses, “We were best friends. I only wanted what was best for you. Of course, I wouldn’t like to hear that you were with him, but I would’ve still preferred to have you tell me the truth.” You turn your back to her and start walking again, “That is why I will never understand this relationship.”

“Do you really want to know, Kristy?” You say out loud, turning to face her again, noticing how she hasn’t moved closer, “Because it was fun. In the beginning, all of this was for fun. I had fun with him. I felt like I could do whatever the hell I wanted with my life without anyone judging me or thinking less of me. And it was a secret because it was all there was to it: fun! And, after everything, he was nice to me, and he was gentle with me.” You take a breath, “And since that moment on, I gave him more of me and, even when he royally fucked up too, he made sure to make up for it and stay by me.”

Kristy opens her mouth to twist your words, but you don’t let her.

“And before you even say. I do not give a shit if he drinks or if he fights, or if he does fucking coke every single day in his life, you know why? Because at the end of the day, he will come back to me and love me, and let me love him like he deserves to be loved.” You sniffle, “Rafe has not mistreated me a day in his life. He takes care of me, and he loves me, and that is all I could ever ask of him… And the fact that you couldn’t even try and get to know him- It really shows who I must choose to include in my life from now on.”

You take a breath and hear the door to the event open again, so you decide to end the conversation.

“Goodbye, Kristy.”

You turn again and walk over to the front door. When you walk closer, you notice that the three people who used to stand by the door have stopped talking, pretty sure right after you started screaming. You almost apologize as you walk past them, but you notice that one of them is Rose. You almost freeze once you realize that now she too knew of your relationship with Rafe, but your body is too locked into the idea of getting the hell out of there, so you simply look away and walk right off into the cold night’s breeze.

What the fuck are you going to do now?

I finally did it! I honestly believe that this was the hardest chapter to edit. Everything just felt so cartoonishly evil, I hated it and had to basically rewrite it. I was so stressed, I really wanted it to be good. Hopefully, it was worth the wait!!

If you're wondering where I've been or if I'm okay, I'm more than okay. I'm just really busy with uni since my professors seem to hate me, and I had no inspiration for the entirety of my summer vacation. So, now, when my life is at the peak of stress, I decided to post this (just to add more stress, but anyway).

I really hope you enjoyed this! I am so sorry that it took me this long <3

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