#Best Golf Swing Grip | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xo100 · 19 days

Text

Golf - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: In Portugal, Lando Norris, Max Fewtrell, and Max’s girlfriend Pietra go golfing, with Pietra’s single friend (you) tagging along. You struggle with the game, prompting Lando to offer hands-on lessons.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1298

୨ৎ

The warm Portuguese sun bathed the lush green golf course, casting soft shadows over the rolling hills. The faint scent of freshly cut grass filled the air as the group of four made their way towards the first hole. Lando Norris, Max Fewtrell, his girlfriend Pietra, and Pietra’s friend—a single woman, fresh-faced and smiling despite her clear inexperience with golf—walked together, laughter bubbling up between them as they teased one another.

Pietra nudged Max playfully as he adjusted his glove, “You know you're only here to look pretty while you lose, right?”

Max scoffed. “We’ll see who loses when I sink this birdie.”

Lando laughed, shaking his head as he carried his golf bag. His eyes, however, kept straying to the woman walking beside Pietra—you. You had been quiet at first, observing the banter between the group, but it didn’t take long for you to find your rhythm. Your natural charm had won the guys over quickly, but it was Lando who seemed most intrigued by you.

You were unsure about this whole golfing thing; you’d never played a round in your life. But when Pietra had invited you to join them on this trip, the allure of sunny Portugal and new adventures was impossible to resist. Plus, you weren’t going to lie—spending time around Lando was hardly a bad thing.

After the first few holes, it became obvious that you were, well, not the best golfer. You swung the club a few times, and while your effort was there, the technique... not so much. Your ball either went nowhere, or far off course. Each miss was followed by giggles from Pietra and lighthearted teasing from Max.

“You’ve got this,” Pietra grinned, leaning on Max’s arm, as you tried yet again.

Your swing was way off. The ball barely moved. You cringed, immediately breaking into laughter.

“That’s it,” Lando said with a mischievous smile, stepping forward. “Time for a lesson.” His eyes sparkled with something more than just amusement, his dimpled grin sending a flutter through your stomach.

You raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t stop the smile pulling at your lips. “Oh? You’re going to teach me how to golf?”

“Well, someone’s got to save you from yourself.” He gave you a teasing wink, his accent rolling off his words in a way that made your heart skip. “Max certainly won’t.”

Max snorted, raising his hands. “I’m no teacher. Good luck, mate.”

You shook your head, amused, but when Lando stood next to you, a little closer than necessary, you felt a warmth rise in your cheeks. He placed his hands over yours, adjusting your grip on the club. His touch was firm, but not forceful, guiding rather than instructing.

“First, you need to relax,” Lando said softly, his voice close to your ear. “You’re too tense.”

You swallowed, feeling your pulse quicken at the proximity. His body was warm, his presence so magnetic that you were barely able to focus on his words. You could feel his breath against your skin as he adjusted your arms, moving them into position. He leaned in a little more, close enough that the scent of his cologne filled your senses.

“Like this,” Lando murmured, his hands guiding the motion. He stood behind you, his chest lightly brushing your back, and for a moment, you forgot you were supposed to be learning how to golf.

The rest of the group had quieted, either lost in their own conversation or deliberately giving the two of you space. Pietra, ever the romantic, watched with a knowing smile.

“Okay,” Lando continued, still guiding your movements. “Now, on three, swing. One… two… three.”

Together, you swung, and to your surprise, the ball sailed smoothly across the grass, not far, but far better than any of your previous attempts.

You turned, eyes wide. “I did it!”

Lando grinned down at you, pride in his expression. “See? It’s all in the technique.”

You laughed, a little embarrassed but mostly happy. “I guess I just needed the right teacher.”

He gave you a playful nudge with his elbow. “Or maybe I’m just that good.”

The flirting between you and Lando was subtle, woven into each shared glance and teasing comment. It wasn’t overt, but the tension between you was undeniable. Every time his hand brushed yours as he handed you the club, or when his fingers lingered on your back as he showed you the proper stance, it sent little sparks through your skin.

“Okay, let’s try again,” Lando said, stepping back into position behind you. This time, his touch was more casual, but it still held that underlying tension that made your pulse race.

You swung again, and though the ball didn’t fly as far, it still went in the right direction.

Lando gave a mock sigh. “Guess I’ll have to stick with you for the rest of the day. You’re not ready to be let loose just yet.”

“Is that so?” You shot him a playful look, fully aware of how close he was standing to you. “And here I thought I was getting better.”

“You are,” he said, his voice soft and sincere. “You’re just not ready to leave the pro yet.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his confidence, but something about the way he looked at you made the laughter die on your lips, replaced by a different kind of awareness.

The day went on like that, filled with stolen glances, light touches, and gentle teasing. The others gave you space, Max and Pietra happily absorbed in their own world, but there was a sense that everyone knew something was happening between you and Lando.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden hues over the course, the group decided to call it a day. Max and Pietra walked ahead, leaving you and Lando lingering behind, still chatting quietly.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Lando asked, his eyes catching yours as you strolled beside him, golf clubs slung over your shoulders.

You shrugged, smiling. “Not bad at all. But I don’t think I’ll be challenging you to a game anytime soon.”

“Maybe we could practice again,” he suggested, his tone light, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. “I could give you some more lessons.”

There it was again—the tension, the unspoken something that had been building all day. You felt your heart race, your stomach doing little flips at the idea of spending more time with him. Alone.

“I think I’d like that,” you said, your voice soft as you looked up at him.

Lando’s smile widened, his dimple showing once again. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary.

Neither of you moved for a moment, the world around you seeming to fade as the connection between you intensified. You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, you were standing even closer, the air between you charged with possibility.

“Lando,” you whispered, unsure of what to say next, your heart beating fast in your chest.

But before you could say more, Max’s voice rang out from ahead. “Oi! You two lovebirds coming or what?”

You both jumped back, laughing at the interruption, though the moment wasn’t lost. Lando’s hand found yours for a brief second, giving it a gentle squeeze before he let go, his eyes promising that this wasn’t the end of whatever was brewing between you.

“Yeah, we’re coming,” Lando called back, a grin on his face.

As you made your way back to the group, your heart felt light, your cheeks warm from more than just the sun. Golf might not have been your game, but Lando—Lando was a whole different story.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, I hope y’all enjoyed! Also a BIG thank you for all the love on one of my last story; Lazy mornings!

1K notes · View notes

rafesaddiction · 1 year

Text

Hole Practice (or: Golf Lessons) – Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You want to learn how to golf better. Rafe teaches you a different kind of lesson. Rafe's pov

Warnings: mdni! – heavy smut, sorta toxic relationship, possessiveness, jealousy, spanking, rough sex, fingering, anal (first time), oral (rafe receiving), p in v, cream pie, degrading (reader is called whore by rafe), daddy kink, mean!rafe, bratty!reader, dom!rafe

Word count: 4.3k

“Hey, ain't that your girl, Rafe?”

“What?” Rafe put down the bottle of water he was drinking from and looked at Topper, then his gaze wandered to where Topper was pointing at.

“Over there. The one that is holding up everyone at hole 9.”

“Fucking hell,” Rafe grumbled under his breath when he spotted you. Several hundred yards away, there you stood with a golf club in hand, bending down to place the ball on the ground.

“She got a terrible swing but a real nice ass, real nice.” Kelce snickered and Rafe's head spun round, glaring at him.

Kelce defensively lifted his hands and slowly walked backwards. “Hey dude, chill. I'm just saying those shorts suit her nicely, just paying compliments. Respectfully.”

Rafe tossed the water bottle away, clenching his fists, stomping forward, every muscle in his body tensed up. He was frowning as he felt hot rage coursing through his veins. Rafe was about to beat the living shit out of one of his best friends when a sound made him stop and turn your way again. The wind had carried the sound of your laughter over to him. And Rafe watched you giggle and joke around with some guy, your caddie from the looks of it.

Rafe's hands balled into fists as he watched the two of you talk. That guy had put down the golf bag he was carrying for you and stepped closer. Stepped very close. Too close. He stood behind you, directly behind you, with your ass only covered by those ridiculously tiny shorts pressing against his crotch as his arms wrapped around you, his hands on yours, holding the golf club.

Rafe let out an angry scream that wasn't even a real curse and ran over to the golf cart, got in and started driving over the hilly course towards you.

“Yeah, man, take the fucking cart, so we have to walk!” Topper yelled behind Rafe, but Rafe didn't even bother to turn around. “Fucking unbelievable,” were the last words he heard from Topper, and Kelce's snickering in response. Rafe's hands gripped the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles showing white on his right hand, his other hand coverd by his golf glove.

He drove at full speed, which wasn't that fast with this damn golf cart, but at least faster than running. Racing over the greens, he didn't pay attention whether he was interrupting other people's games. His gaze was fixed on you and that fucking caddie that was practically dry humping you on the golf course.

The cart came to a halt close to you, Rafe jumped off, took a club from the bag at the back and stormed towards you and the caddie, raising the club, fuming with rage.

You and the caddie turned, looking at Rafe stunned and shocked. While you opened your mouth to say something to Rafe, the caddie muttered a curse, his eyes widened as he saw Rafe with the golf club swinging at him. The guy quickly pushed you out of the way, so you fell on the ground, landing on the grass, while he ran, ran as fast as he could with a yelling Rafe chasing him. And Rafe would've gotten him, would have beaten him to death, if it wasn't for your whining noises that made him stop and turn, lower his golf club and walk back to you.

Rafe was towering you, casting his long shadow over you, as you were sitting on the ground, rubbing your ass on which you obviously had fallen, looking up at your tall boyfriend with large eyes.

“I'm hurt,” you mouthed and sniffled.

Rafe grunted, reached down and picked you up. With so much vigor that you practically crashed against his chest. Bracing yourself, your hands touched Rafe's heaving chest, felt those tense muscles underneath the fabric of his expensive polo shirt. You looked up at him with big eyes. He clenched his jaws and his large hands gripped your hips as he held you close. He was still fuming with rage.

“What the hell were you doing?”

You lowered your head, then looked up, with just your eyes.

“I was just practicing holes.”

Rafe's eyebrows raised and he almost choked.

“You what?”

Your eyes went to his chest and your finger was idly drawing circles on Rafe's shirt. You shrugged and innocently explained, “I’m taking some practice lessons. I wanted to get better at golf, so that you would take me with you when you and the boys play.”

You stopped your drawings on Rafe's chest and looked up at him with pouty lips.

“Are you mad at me?”

Instead of answering, Rafe growled and frowned.

You smirked at him, you cocky little brat.

“What are you wearing anyway? Every bastard on this course is staring at your ass.”

“Don't you like my golf outfit, Rafey?” You knew he hated it when you called him that and you did it anyway. His jaws clenched.

You wore a collared blue shirt but instead of a matching skirt or proper golf shorts, you wore the tiniest shorts possible, tightly snugging your curves, barely covering your panties.

“This is no proper outfit for golfing. Those shorts scream ‘fuck me'.”

Rafe's right hand slapped hard on your exposed ass cheek, surely leaving his hand print.

You flinched and winced, then pouted, and struggled to free yourself from Rafe’s grip, but he was stronger and pulled you closer and slapped your ass again. His palm tingled, and from the look on your face, your cheek must be burning.

His fingers grabbed your chin to lift your face as he leaned down.

“I’m gonna teach you holes now,” he whispered, darkly, close to your lips.

Your cheeks flushed. He grinned devilishly. With all your bratty behavior and cockiness, Rafe was still able to make you blush. His mouth claimed yours in a hungry kiss, tongue pushing in, he took what was his, as he held your body close.

When he let go, your cheeks were still flushed, your lips swollen and you were slightly out of breath.

“Since you have chased my caddie away, you will have to carry my golf bag,” you announced and turned to look for your ball.

Rafe grumbled but shouldered the damn golf bag and followed you.

“Where's that damn thing anyway?” He asked when he had caught up with you.

“There,” you pointed at the gorse.

Rafe exhaled. “We're not getting it out of there. Just take a new one.”

“No, that would be cheating, I'm gonna get it.”

“Y/n, fucking don't!”

But you ignored his words and stomped onwards, right into the gorse – and with every step you took, your ass was bouncing invitingly.

“Fuck's sake,” Rafe grumbled and followed you.

He found you bent over, legs straight, head down, ass up, hands touching the high grass, looking for your ball.

Rafe's own balls tightened at the sight. That perky ass, those tiny shorts hardly covering anything, that red mark on your bare skin – he had been correct, his hand print was showing.

His growl made you turn your head at him, but not lift your upper body.

“I think I've found it, but it's stuck.”

Rafe grumbled, walked closer. Walking with his dick getting harder was damn uncomfortable.

“Fuck's sake,” he repeated.

“What?” You asked innocently, wriggling your fine ass.

“Enough,” Rafe barked and you flinched at his harsh tone.

Before you could get up, he grabbed you, threw you over his shoulder. You squealed and his hand smacked your ass several times, making you mewl. Rafe carried you out of the gorse, over the greens to the golf cart.

“Ouch,” you mouthed and pulled a face as you were seated on your ass, sore from his spanking.

He got in the cart, sat behind the steering wheel and shot you a sideways glance. His eyes narrowed.

“Stop complaining, that was nothing yet.”

“Where are we going?” You sniffled.

“To the club,” he stated tersely. He knew he wouldn't make it back home to Tanny Hill, with his dick already achingly hard. A room at the club would do, and he knew there would always be one available – the perks of being a premium member.

“But what about my lessons?” You looked at Rafe, sulking.

“Oh, your lessons ain't over yet.”

He could see you nibbling at your bottom lip, something you did when you were nervous or excited or both.

While he was driving across the course, he tried to look where he was going, but you kept on wriggling in your seat, which was fucking irritating.

“Stop that!” He faced you briefly and lifted his hand, a warning gesture.

“Sorry, daddy,” you said sweetly, leaned forward, and your mouth covered Rafe's finger. Sucking on it, you looked at him with large eyes, your lips closed tightly around the digit, your tongue swirling around it.

“Jesusfuckingchrist!” Rafe almost ran over some gaffer – not that he would've cared.

Rafe tried to get back on track while his cock was pulsing. You took his hand, guided it between your legs, rubbing over your thighs as you spread them. His hand touched the fabric of those damn shorts, and Rafe could feel that you were already soaking wet, those layers of clothing couldn't even hide that.

You began moaning as you were rubbing his hand against your core.

He pulled it away, raised it, finger pointing, and glared at you angrily.

“Don't!”

You pouted, crossed your arms in front of your chest and looked away. But Rafe grabbed your jaw forcefully, turning your face to look at him, pressing harder than necessary, which made you wince and gaze at him.

“You don't touch yourself unless I allow you. You know the rules.”

He kept his eyes on you while still driving.

“You hear me?” His voice loud and intimidating.

You cast your eyes down and mumbled, “Yes, daddy.”

His cock twitched in his pants, which were getting too damn tight by now.

When he let go, you added, hardly audible, “But I didn't touch myself, it was your hand…”

You probably thought that he didn't hear that as he didn't react to it right away, but he did hear it, and it drove him fucking insane. And you would experience soon enough how mad he was because of you.

Rafe parked the golf cart close to entrance of the main building, got out, grabbed your arm, so hard he would leave bruises, and dragged you along with him. You could hardly keep up, he was walking so quickly, and with his tall legs, he was able to make longer strides.

At the reception no one questioned why Rafe was holding you in such a tight grip while you were obviously struggling to escape. He asked for the key card to a room and he got it and on top of that, the receptionist wished him a pleasant day. Rafe growled in response.

He shoved you towards the elevator and got inside with you. It cost him a lot not to ravish you the moment the doors closed. The grip around your arm was iron. When the doors opened, he pushed you out, along the corridor to the room. After opening it with the key card, he forcefully pushed you inside. You stumbled and almost fell, but caught yourself on the edge of the king-size bed.

Right after he had let go off you, he started to undress himself, pulled his shirt over his head and kicked off his shoes.

“Take off those goddamn shorts and get on the bed. Now.” His commanding voice left you no choice but to obey. You looked at him, eyes wandering over his naked body as you undressed yourself, taking the shorts together with the panties off last. He frowned at you, but your eyes were on his rock hard cock that he was stroking, while glaring at you.

You climbed onto the bed. Impatiently, he walked over and grabbed you, moved you around as he wanted to have you, flipping you over, then pulling your body up, so you were on all fours now, while he kneeled behind your spread legs.

Rafe leaned over your body, his chest touching your back, his hand grabbed your throat, forcing your head up, a restrained sound coming from your opened mouth.

“You gonna be a good whore, right?” He cooed into your ear.

With his free hand, he guided his hard length between your legs, rubbing it along your dripping wet slit, covering it nicely in your juices. You mewled and started wriggling.

“Please,” you moaned, already so needy.

He turned your face to shut those desperate moans with his greedy kiss, while his cock was replaced by his fingers, which where rubbing along your slit, parting your folds, but never quite entering and never touching your clit. You were so incredibly wet, his fingers were practically dripping as he pulled them away and sat up behind you, letting go off your throat, leaving you with a confused look on your face.

“I still need to teach you a lesson.”

You opened your mouth, trying to say something, but Rafe continued, a sardonic grin on his face.

“The lesson is: If you wear such tiny shorts, hardly covering your ass, but showing it off, inviting everyone to fuck it, you get fucked up the ass, like the whore you are.”

“But –” you started to complain, but a slap of his hand on your ass made you cry out instead.

Despite it being such a fine piece of flesh, Rafe had never fucked your ass before, only put a finger or two inside your tight hole once or twice. You didn't have proper training yet, but you needed to learn that your teasing had consequences.

He spat on his already wet fingers and stroked between your ass cheeks. You whined, but he knew that it was a sound you made when you were impatient. You wouldn't have to wait long – though it wasn't what you actually waited for, he knew that. Rafe gripped you by the hip, as his fingers pushed against your back entrance. Your muscle was tense and instead of opening up for him, it closed. Rafe growled and he felt your body shudder. His grip got firmer, preventing you from retreating as his index finger pushed inside, stretching your tight ring.

“It hurts, daddy,” you whined and craned your neck to look back at Rafe.

He slowly moved his finger back and forth inside you. Your breathing hitched as he curled that finger in your tight hole. Your muscle was clenching so hard around his digit, it almost made it impossible to move it.

He let go off your hip to hit your ass cheek.

“Relax! Or it'll just hurt more.”

Your answer was a whining sound and you let your head hang between your shoulders.

Rafe pushed your legs further apart to get better access, pressed on your lower back and you obeyed by arching your back nicely. He grinned at the sight. You were completely exposed to him and at his mercy.

He pulled his finger out, only to push back in two fingers, thrusting deep and hard.

You let out a scream and started begging.

“Daddy, daddy, please,” you whined.

His fingers fucking your ass, he let his hard cock teasingly brush along your pussy, never applying too much pressure, just enough to tease you. When he pulled back, his cock was covered in your wetness.

“So wet for me. Such a needy whore you are.”

His fingers left your hole, the tight muscle pulsing invitingly. He rubbed some more spit on it and felt you shiver under his touch.

He took his cock in his hand, guiding it, stroking your round ass cheeks with it, before pressing the wet tip against your throbbing little hole.

“You gonna take it like the good whore you are, hm? Your my little whore, right?”

You mewled and panted.

He waited.

“Daddy, daddy,” you whined.

Then he heard you inhale and exhale deeply, pushing your ass up, that little hole twitched and opened up, inviting him in, and he pushed in.

You cried out as his cock's thick head stretched your tender muscle. He needed both his hands now to grip your hip, fingers digging into your flesh, holding you in place, as he greedily watched his thick cock slowly pushing into your fine ass.

Your screaming turned into an irregular whimpering as the thick head was practically sucked into your ass.

“So, good,” Rafe praised you, his own breathing heavy. “You're doing so good, baby, taking me so good. Such a good whore.”

His thumb caressed your hip, he felt you relax just the tiniest bit. He tensed up, tightened his grip again and thrust his hip forward, making your body almost jump forward by the force, if he hadn't held you that firmly.

He growled as your walls clenched around his cock, but he pushed deeper. Pulling back, he gasped as your sensitive muscle was clamping so hard around his thick cock.

“So good, baby,” he said under heavy breathing.

He pushed in, watching with greedy fascination how his too big cock vanished inch by inch into your perfect ass, stretching your too tight hole mercilessly.

“Daddy! I can't!” You cried out, sobbing now.

“You can and you will.”

He began moving in a steady rhythm, fucking your tight ass good and hard. He didn't push too hard though, knowing well what you could take. You were sobbing and crying and whining, but he didn't stop, he knew your body better than you did, and he knew that you could do this. Your little protests, your screams and moans and whimpers made him only go harder.

He couldn't get it all in though, you were too tight and not trained, and he was too big. Part of him got angry about that, but you felt so damn good, he could use you so damn well that it seemed enough.

Then he saw your hand move between your legs, you were desperately trying to touch yourself. But Rafe didn't let you.

He angrily growled, slapped your ass hard, making you flinch. Then he grabbed your hand by the wrist, twisting your arm behind your back and holding it there.

You cried out in pain.

“I told you not to do that!” He growled between clenched teeth. You were driving him mad, so fucking mad.

Your body shook and trembled under his hard thrusts as he took what was his, took you without mercy. Pounding you harder, his growing anger made him lose all restraint.

You were so tight, the friction was so intense, the sounds you made were so hot, Rafe felt his climax approaching and he didn't hold back. He felt his every muscle tense up, then let go, gasping for air, as he reached his orgasm, shooting his cum into you. His whole body electrified and in that post orgasmic bliss, he pushed again into your well-used hole, once, twice, driving his load deeper into you, before pulling out. When he let go off you, you just face down collapsed onto the bed, breathing hard, a fucking mess. He grinned at the sight of you.

“My whore,” he whispered into your ear, leaning down, kissing your damp hair, before he got up. His own breathing slowing down eventually.

Watching you lie there, and wriggle and pant, he knew you hadn't reached your climax yet.

“Don't you dare move”, his voice a dark command.

He waited for a moment. And this time it seemed you were actually listening, probably fearing the consequences. Had you learned your lesson after all? He doubted that, you were such a brat and would always be. Since you didn't move, just lay there panting, Rafe went into the adjoining bathroom to clean himself.

When he came back, you were lying in the same position on the bed, on your stomach, arms away from your body, legs apart, your body raising and falling from your exhausted breathing, cum dripping out of your hole between your reddened cheeks. Rafe grinned at the sight of the mess he had turned you into.

He sat down on the bed, still naked, back resting against the headboard, his legs on the bed, he was sitting next to you, not touching you, but you could definitely feel the bed tilt from his weight, feel his proximity, as he felt the heat radiating from your body.

You lifted your head, turned your face to gaze at him with teary eyes.

“You're such a mess,” he grinned at you, his hand caressing your face.

“Did you cum?” He asked, but already knew the answer.

You shook your head.

“You wanna cum?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Then you know what to do,” he simply said.

You got up on your knees next to him, sat down on your heels, flinching as they poked into your sore ass cheeks.

“Please daddy can I cum?” You looked at him with pleading eyes.

“And how do you wanna cum?” It wasn't a real question, more of a test.

Still, you seemed to contemplate the answer, biting your bottom lip. Your gaze turned to his cock, though not hard, still impressive. Then your eyes moved to his hands. Those hands that knew how to hold you, to touch you. Then your look was on his face. Yours was a beautiful mess. Your lips swollen, your cheeks flushed, your eyes teary and bloodshot, tears and sweat had ruined your makeup and smeared mascara all over your face. God, you were so beautiful.

“With your cock inside me.”

The way you said those words, with such sincerity and almost solemn honesty, it made his cock twitch in response.

But words weren't enough.

“Then work for it.”

In an inviting, almost generous gesture, he pointed at his crotch.

You very willingly accepted the invitation, moved closer, bent over, and Rafe hissed as your greedy little mouth took in his thick cock, sucking hard at it, tongue swirling along the tip. One hand clasping the thick shaft, you steadied yourself with the other hand on his thigh. You gazed sideways up at him, when you began bobbing your head.

Rafe's breathing quickened, as he felt his cock growing in your mouth. His hands clutched the expensive bedsheets, stopping himself from forcing your head down further. You were already gagging on his length, not nearly half of it in your mouth.

Your efforts did some good, but he wasn't ready yet.

He grabbed you by the hair to pull you up, made you whimper, spit dripping from your swollen lips, as you were gazing at him.

“Ride it.”

His command made you freeze and visibly shudder, but you hurried to follow his order. As he let go off your hair, you straddled him, mewling when his thick length pressed against your sensitive core, too long neglected, it seemed.

He gripped your jaws hard, made you focus on him. His piercing eyes glaring at you.

“Don't you dare cum before I’m inside of you. Understood?”

You tried to nod, which was hard with his tight grip at your jaws, but your pleading eyes told him, you had understood him.

“Good.” He leaned forward to kiss you hard, before letting go and leaning back in the pillows.

Your hands ran over his muscular torso. You bit your lips, looking at his hard abs, as you began rocking your hips against him, your tits bouncing nicely. He grabbed them, kneaded them with both his hands, felt how you flinched and tensed up, as you felt his greedy hunger. His cock pulsing under you.

You closed your eyes, as if you would focus on the slick sounds your pussy made when slapping against his hard dick.

“Turn around.” Rafe's voice made your eyes flutter open. “Let me see that ass that you want the whole golf club to fuck. Let me see that ass that only belongs to me.”

Rafe added an encouraging slap on your ass to stress his command. He even helped you to turn, sit down, astride with your back to him, while you did nothing more than make those small needy sounds that drove him insane with lust.

His hand pushed on your upper back, making you bent down a bit, holding onto his legs.

He had the perfect view of your ass and pussy. His cum dripping from your ass mixing with your own wetness dripping from your pussy.

Two fingers dipped into your cunt, making you squirm and mewl and beg.

“Daddy…”

You clenched around his digits and he slapped your ass.

Pulling out his fingers, he lifted you up, pushed you into position, guiding his now rock hard cock to your pussy and pushed in. Rafe grabbed your hair to get you into an upright position again. His hands on your hips, guiding your movements as his hips rocked hard against yours, pushing his whole length into you as you sank down onto him.

“Rafe, Daddy, fuck,” you stammered, your whole body shuddered and you were completely undone, cumming all over his cock just from his first thrust into you.

And he fucked you through your high, not stopping when you were all spent. Using you over and over again.

You were such a good whore for him. And all your holes were his.

a/n: writing this was a lot of fun. i don't know shit about golf. thanks for reading. i hope you enjoyed it. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated, and likes too! i've only been doing this for 2 weeks now and i'm kinda overwhelmed that my first x reader smut fic got over 1k notes! thank you all so much! i got ideas for many more fics. let me know what you'd like to read! p.s. happy kinktober!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #obx fic #outerbanks rafe #rafe x you #rafe x reader #toxic relationship #smut fic #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #dom rafe cameron

4K notes · View notes

rafesgfs · 2 months

Text

golf lesson

you distract rafe during a golf lesson.

"How important is winning this bet with your brother for you?" Rafe asked, watching as you hit the ball right into the lake, the ball nearly hitting a duck.

You glance at him, biting your lip. "Am I that bad?"

He turned to look back at the holes on the grass where you had hit your club, the iron kicking up the freshly mown grass rather than the ball on the tee. The blond bites back his smile, turning back at you, shrugging. "No, you're doing great, baby."

Groaning, you lean against your golf club, annoyed and frustrated. "Ugh, how am I so bad at a game old men play? This is humiliating."

Rafe had spent the whole afternoon trying to teach you how to golf after making a bet with your brother you could win a round with him. The prize: a few weeks in Greece that your parents would fully fund. And you wanted to play your Mamma Mia fantasies this summer, even if you had to listen to your boyfriend teach you all the mechanics of the most boring sport ever.

However, it did have some pros, one of them watching how Rafe's arms flexed when he swung the club, the way his white polo shirt fit him, the way he drove the golf club. It was a wonder how you were able to focus on his presence so close to you.

Rafe chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist. He presses a kiss on your shoulder, his chin resting on it. "It's a stupid sport, don't get discouraged. And with me as a coach, you'll be the best."

You turn to glare at him, annoyed at how he babied you, knowing full well there was little to no hope with your golf skills. "You're mocking me."

"No, no, I would never." he smiles softly, a smile tugging at his lips. "We just need to practice a little more. You're good at everything, I'm sure you'll be good at this, too."

Rolling your eyes, you huff, thinking about all the balls you had lost in the past hour alone. Rafe had to go back to the country club multiple times to grab another pack of golf balls, a smirk slapped on his face every time he came back with a new pack.

"This is hopeless." you groaned dramatically, throwing Rafe another glare as he laughed.

He wraps his arms around you, setting you up for another swing. "Here, let me teach you the proper technique and posture so you hit the ball where you want it to go, yeah?"

"Fine," you grumbled, biting back a smirk as Rafe's hands traveled down your body, hands gripping your waist.

"Make sure your body is turned to face the ball." Rafe murmurs in your ear, positioning your hips. His fingers trail softly up your body, your tennis dress riding up slightly at the movement. "Yeah, just like that."

You giggle softly as arch your back, shifting your legs slightly to grind your ass up against Rafe's crotch, smug at how quickly he froze. "Am I doing it right, Rafey?"

Despite how you hated the stupid nickname, you'd use it whenever you wanted something from him, something he couldn't help give you every time you asked. You'd also use it when you teased him with it, almost like a secret word to hint you wanted him without others knowing.

"Yeah, yeah. Doing great, baby. Grip the club here and here." Rafe cleared his throat. He positions your hands on the club, fingers brushing briefly against the Darry ring he had gotten you for your first week anniversary.

"Hmm, this feels right." you grin smugly, feeling his cock hardening against your ass. Gripping the club, you do a little swing, twisting your hips. "Does that look good?"

"Fuck." Rafe groans, hands tightening against your hips, pulling you up against him, his cock pressed up against your cock. His fingers play with the hem of your dress, his chin resting on your shoulder. "You always look so goddamn good."

You giggle, eyes drifting towards the group of old men a hole away from you, near enough for them to see you and Rafe, but far enough to not see how you were grinding against him. "Help me hit the ball?"

"Of course," replied Rafe, hands engulfing your own. He leads you through the motion of a swing before guiding you to hit the golf ball. With a straight swing, the club hit the ball, flying in the air for a few seconds before rolling towards the flagged hole. "Good job, baby."

With a victorious smile, you turn to look at him, dropping the club on the ground. You wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you so much, Rafey. You're such a good coach."

"If I was a good coach, I wouldn't have spent half an hour searching the lake for the balls you hit in there." he teased, an arm encircling your waist. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "But I'll take the compliment."

You give him a pout, puckering up your glossed lips. "You're so mean to me, always teasing me."

"I'm sorry, baby." Rafe smirks, not sorry at all. Blue yes filled with mirth, he tilts your chin up with a finger. "Let me make up for it."

He brings his lips to yours, tongue-seeking entrance as you kiss him back. Teasingly, you bit his bottom lip gently, drawing out a soft gasp from the blond. Smiling against his lips, your hand drifts down his chest, down towards his hardening cock.

"Someone's excited." you kiss along his jaw, drawing out another small gasp from your boyfriend. Despite dating for a year, he still had the same reaction to your kisses, almost as if he was surprised you wanted to kiss him.

You squeeze his cock through his shorts, pressing your body against his, hiding the action from every golfer near you. Fingers trailing up and down the length of his cock, in a stroking motion, you bring your lips back to his, allowing Rafe's hand to grab your ass.

Rafe's hands wandered up beneath your dress and you pulled away, laughing as he dramatically groaned. You give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "No more kisses for you. I know you bet against me, fucker."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #drew starkey #outer banks

478 notes · View notes

itsjusthockey · 7 months

Text

A Hughes Affair - Jack Hughes

This might be my favorite and cutest shit I’ve wrote ever. Enjoy.

I’m bribing you. If I get lots of engagement (reblogs, comments, love in general) I’ll get nuts and do something crazy.

w.c: 4,541 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

On a rare day off that you and Jack get to spend together, you’d think he would want to spend it latched together somewhere private, away from his daily chaos. You would be wrong. Instead, he insists you spend the day at your least favorite place, doing your least favorite activity. The fucking golf course.

You’re two drinks in, lounging uncomfortably on the golf cart as you watch Jack take a swing, the ball immediately flying off the green toward the tree line. You can’t help but let out a loud snort, which earns a nasty glare from your boyfriend.

“Huh? What was that?” He starts walking toward you with the club handle outstretched toward you. “Think you can do any better?”

You gently bat the handle away from you when he gets close enough. “Why do you think I’m in the cart, J?”

He gives you a small smile, bends down to capture your lips in a quick kiss, and then strides away again.

“That’s what I thought.”

You narrow your eyes, then let out the most dramatic sigh you can muster.

“I’m just saying, J, if you’re gonna insist we go golfing, you better perform.”

He rolls his eyes at you, walking back toward the cart, and sits down next to you, pointing toward the direction of the ball.

“(Y/N), my love, will you please take me toward the ball so I may prove I’m worthy of you?”

You smack his knee but put the cart in motion anyway, speeding toward the ball as fast as the golf cart will carry you. You hit a couple of bumps on the way, satisfied when Jack grips his side handle and looks a little scared at your driving ability.

When you finally park next to the ball, he gets out, settles into his form, and swings away again, the ball going toward the correct direction.

“That was better,” you call out. “Not good, but better.”

He rolls his eyes again, and you throw him a wink, going to grab another shooter that you’d bought earlier. If he’s going to force you to watch him golf, you’re going to be a bit tipsy, and he’s going to have to take care of you later.

After your shot, you settle back into your regular system. You taunt him, he retaliates, you kiss and makeup, then the cycle begins again. It’s a good system; you genuinely love it, but when the sun starts to dip below the horizon, and you’ve run out of alcohol, you know it’s time to leave.

Jack must’ve sensed this, too, because he returns to the cart, places his club back into the bag, and sits down somewhat hard next to you.

“You may be slightly right. Today wasn’t my best showing.” He sighs. “But I’m on the rise.”

You laugh, grab his face, and pull it toward you, planting a giant kiss on his cheek, hoping to dull the pain of his inadequacy at golf.

After your kiss, you take that as your cue to finally escape this green hell, and you start driving toward the insanely nice country club main house to check back in your gold cart.

As you get closer to the building, you and back share a look. It’s decorated to the nines, and nicely dressed people are out and about, drinks in hand and mingling.

“It must be a wedding?” Jack questions, raising his eyebrow.

You hum in agreement and start making your way toward the drop-off point. You drop the cart, handing back the keys to the uninterested-looking teenage girl. You offer her your best smile and go to walk out before she calls after you.

“By the way, if you’re with the wedding party, the dance starts in half an hour.”

You move to say you’re not before Jack squeezes your hand and answers for you.

“Perfect timing then, thanks.”

You throw him a confused glance as you head through the door. A slight smirk is playing on his lips, and you don’t like the mischievous glint you see settling into his eyes. Once you clear the space, you head toward his Range, but before reaching for the door handle, he leans against the passenger seat, blocking you.

“How do you feel about crashing a wedding?”

You widen your eyes at the boy in front of you. Never in a million years would you expect him to say that.

“What?”

He shrugs his shoulders and points toward the trunk of a bag you have in there.

“I mean, it’s kinda fate. You still have that dress from Brunch, and I have an extra suit.”

You honestly think he’s joking, but his look is serious.

“What if we get caught? I would die.”

He shakes his head at your question, opening the back and pulling out your bag and the suit.

“We won’t,” he seems so sure of himself. “And if we do, we’ll handle it.”

He thrusts the bag toward you and opens the back door, gesturing you inside to change. You throw him one last questioning look but decide it’s much easier just to follow his lead.

It takes you a few minutes to change in his back seat, but it wouldn’t be the first time, and you highly doubt the last. Once you’re finished, you hop out and motion to the back of the dress so the zipper you couldn’t reach. Jack is quick to move your hair to the side and grab the zipper, pulling it up. Once he does, he gently kisses your shoulder and moves behind you to get dressed.

You stand watch as more and more people pour into the wedding. Your heart is thumping, and the nerves of what you’re about to do are getting to you. You feel slightly relieved when you see many couples your age walking in, but it also sets you even more on edge, knowing your age group will be a factor.

Almost in record time, Jack hops out of the vehicle and stands before you, spinning around and giving you a 360 view.

“How do I look?”

You smile at him. “Very handsome.”

He does, actually, for someone who just changed into a backup suit in the back of a Range Rover. He steps toward you, and you smooth down his lapels and straighten the tie to be perfect. Once you finish that, he helps you step into some heels you’d worn earlier, and once they’re on, you do a quick little spin for his approval.

“Look okay?”

He gently grabs one of your hands, pulling it to his mouth and kissing it softly.

“Beautiful as always.”

Once you’re both settled, you make your way to the doors and pray that you get in. Your heart is thumping out of your chest, and Jack's hand gently rubs over your thumb to help your nerves. As you get close, another couple beats you to the door, and you both wait as they talk to the two women standing next to a greeting table out front. They say something you can’t hear, and the ladies offer a bright smile and ushers them inside. You’re up next, and as soon as the other couple steps through, Jack pulls you toward the table.

“Hello!” One lady says brightly. “Bride or groom?”

You weren’t expecting the question, and your face falls slightly, but your overconfident boyfriend doesn’t miss a beat.

“Both, actually.”

The ladies smile again brightly and hand over a little brochure.

“That’s both the bride and groom's signature cocktails and the dance should be starting soon.”

The one closest to the door gestures to you both inside, and Jack leads you in, gently squeezing your hand again.

The inside looks beautiful. Lights are strung everywhere, and the decorations are tasteful. You bask in the essence of it, and you genuinely love weddings. You see a couple of signs as you walk, and you catch sight of pictures of the happy couple.

“Kevin and Stacy. We should probably remember that.”

You snort at your boyfriend, but you do make a mentor note. It would be rather apparent of your wedding crashing if you didn’t know the names.

Jack leads you to the main ballroom, where everything is stunningly assembled. Most of the chairs have been cleared, and a dance floor in the middle waits for people to hit it.

You follow Jack to the table toward the side, which holds hundreds of pictures of the bride and groom throughout their life. You see that when they seemingly meet one another, it mirrors very similar to your relationship. You smile big as you see pictures of them doing almost everything together. They spent their summers boating their winters by a fireplace, and there is even a photo of Stacy hugging her man after a hockey game. You jab Jack in the ribs as you see it, noting that he’s donning a University of Michigan club hockey jersey. Once he sees the photo you’re looking at, he pulls you closer and laughs at the small connection to his family's favorite place.

Someone clears their throat behind you, and you freeze. You both turn slowly to see a woman standing there, two drinks in hand.

“You two look like you need a drink while staring at these photos.”

She hands you and Jack each a cocktail, and your heart starts beating faster.

“I’m not sure I know either of you.” She pauses, a puzzled look crossing her features. “But you also seem so familiar.”

You take a deep breath, ready to be caught, and accept your fate.

“I know Kev from hockey at Umich. Back when he played club.”

You want to die as your boyfriend lies through his teeth, but as soon as he speaks, the girl laughs.

“Oh my god, that makes sense. It’s nice to meet you..?” She pauses.

“Jack.” Jack extends his hand to hers, and then she turns to you.

“(Y/N).”

She shakes your hand as well. You’re thankful she gets called away moments later, and she sends you one last smile and walks toward the group of women who called her.

“That was close.” You breathe out, then turn to Jack. “Since when did you get good at lying?”

He chuckles a bit and shrugs his shoulders. “I’m a middle child. I’ve always been good.”

He retakes your hand and leads you away from the picture table to look more around the venue. You kill as much time as possible, and finally, the dance begins to start.

You and Jack sit far away from the dance floor in the back of the crowd. Like everyone else, you both coo as you see the happy couple for the first time, having their first dance on the floor. You watch as they sway back and forth in their little world, ignoring everyone else and focusing on one another. It’s a sweet moment you’re witnessing, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty.

“I feel terrible, J I think we should go. I wouldn’t want to ruin their night if they knew a few strangers were here.”

Jack listens intently to your plea, and he knows by the look on your face that you’re already on edge and staying here won’t help.

“Okay, let’s go. I have to run to the bathroom. Are you good here for a minute?”

You nod your head, and he gets up. You watch as he goes and then force yourself to stare at the floor, which is now crowded with many attendees from the wedding. You smile at the people dancing again and count down the seconds until Jack gets back.

As you sit there anxiously, Jack goes as fast as he can to the nearest bathroom. It’s nicely decorated as well, and it seems to be empty except for one another man. Jack keeps his head down, does his business, and tries to go as slow as possible. Nevertheless, the other man takes his sweet time, and Jack meets him at the sink area.

Jack offers a small, tight-lipped smile as he washes his hands, and so does the other dude. He goes back to drying his hands when he catches the other man doing a double take, and a brief look of realization crosses both of their features and a sudden pit forms in his stomach.

“Holy fuck,” The man says. “Are you Jack Hughes?”

Shit.

Jack swallows and then slowly nods his head and swallows hard. “Yep. That’s me. I assume you’re Kevin? The groom?”

Jack half expects the man to get pissed, and he prepares for the worst.

“What’re you doing here?” A crazy smile cracks across Kevin’s face.

Jack thinks he could lie, but at this point, there is no use. So, for the first time all night, he tells the truth.

“Honestly, me and my girlfriend saw your wedding while golfing, and I convinced her to come and crash it.”

Jack explains the situation quickly, but as he speaks, a look of disbelief flashes across Kevin’s face.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, man, I’m sorry. We’ll leave now, and I can pay you for the drinks and whatever else.”

Kevin suddenly busts out laughing, shaking his head.

“Why would you leave? The old people are finally going home, and the real parties are about to start.”

Jack's mouth drops open, and he can’t believe it.

“Are you sure we can stay?” He gapes.

Kevin nods his head and gently clasps him on the shoulder.

“You could crash my honeymoon night and I wouldn’t mind. I’m a huge fan, and this is the craziest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Out of all the ways Jack ran through with what would happen if they got caught, this wasn’t one of them at all. They spend the next few minutes talking, and it feels like they’re old buddies.

“Just let me tell Stac, she’ll go nuts for you two.”

They leave the bathroom, and Jack makes a beeline to where you’re sitting. As he closes the furnace, he can see your worry etched across your face, and you look as though you want to die. When you finally see him coming, your eyes narrow a bit.

“Jesus, Jack, what took you so long.” You hiss.

He takes your hand. “You’re never gonna believe who I ran into.”

He quickly explains the bathroom story to you, and you’re hanging onto every word. Your mouth drops open as he finishes, and he sees the wave of relief practically roll over you.

“So now we’re invited?” You ask.

“We’re invited.”

You lean over him and throw your arms around his neck, planting a small kiss on his cheek.

“Who knew that being you would have so many weird perks.”

————————————————————————

Kevin wasn’t lying, and the minute the older folks left, the real party began. Drinks are flowing, and everyone in the wedding party is dancing their asses off. The mix being played is heavy on the 2000s hits and club music, and you’re loving every second. The minute you drag Jack to the dance floor, he knows his night is going to be wild.

Usher is bumping in the background as you settle your hips on Jack. You spend that way for half a song, and you love every second of feeling his arms wrapped around you. You’re genuinely on cloud nine, and nothing could be better now—only maybe one thing.

“I need some water.” You yell over the music.

Jack nods his head toward the bar. “You want me to grab you some?”

You shake your head no and pry his arms off of you. You quickly give him a peck and a swat to the ass as you walk toward the bar. You patiently place yourself in line when a tap on your shoulder takes you out of your daze.

“I take it you’re one-half of the wedding crashers?” You flush red and widen your eyes as you see the woman of the night.

Her evening dress is gorgeous, and her hair and makeup are perfect. You finally meet her stare dead on, and you think for a moment that she might be upset, but much to your surprise, she loops an arm through yours and pulls you close to her.

“I’m so happy you guys are here.” She whispers in your ear. “You made my husband’s life tonight. He’s told almost every guest that Jack Hughes came to his wedding. He’s never going to let this go.”

You giggle at the woman beside you, and soon enough, the line clears, and you’re at the front. You politely ask for water, and the bride behind you interrupts you.

“We will also have two shots.” She leans over your shoulder and shoots you a wicked smile.

As soon as the bartender delivers your drink. She grabs the two shots, hands you one, and loops your arm again to take a twisted shot together.

“Bottoms up.” She winks at you.

You toss the shot back, and the hard liquor burns down your throat. You laugh as a little bit slides down your face, and you wipe it away as Stacy suddenly drags you away, Introducing you to the wedding party.

Everyone is lovely, and you finally make it to the maid of honor, who you recognize immediately as the woman from earlier who gave you your first drinks. As soon as you properly introduce yourself, she throws your arms around you in a hug.

“You look like a killer on the dance floor; let’s go.”

Like that, you’re magically accepted into these strangers' lives, and you make your way to the dance floor with the rest of the bridesmaids and the bride herself.

More shots flow and terrible dance moves are danced. When you enter the floor with your new crew, you spot Jack in a circle with the groom. You mentally laugh at the humor of the situation, and you can’t help but love how the night has panned out.

Almost an hour later, you’re beyond drunk and still dancing with the bridal party. You’ve become fast friends, and by now, you’ve already promised to set two bridesmaids up with the single devil players you know.

It isn’t until the DJ gives everyone a little dance break with a slow song that you suddenly miss your boyfriend very much. He’s nowhere in your eyesight, but you nearly jump when someone grabs you into their arms and places a kiss on your neck.

“You look like you are having fun,” Jack whispers in your ear, pulling you in even closer.

You snuggle into his hold and find yourself melting. You love being in his arms; it’s your favorite place. Especially when you’re drunk, they feel like the safest place in the world.

With the slow song playing in the background, Jack turns you to face him. He’s got that smitten look on his face, but he doesn’t look as glazed as you thought he would.

“Have you been drinking?” You question, running your hands at the nape of his neck.

He shakes his head no. “Stopped a while ago. Someone has to drive us home, and I saw you take two shots with the bride thirty minutes ago.”

He chuckles and squeezes your sides, and you yelp away from him.

“You don’t have to stop,” you complain. “We can Uber.”

He smiles again, and a soft look crosses his face.

“Nah, I wanna be the one taking you home.” he cups your face in his hands and gives you a soft kiss.

The slow song continues, and you place your head on Jack's shoulder, savoring being there. You’re letting him lead, and he’s gently swaying with you on the floor. Many other couples surround you, but you couldn’t care less about anyone else in the room. If he’s near you, he’s the only person on the planet.

As soon as the song ends, he sits you down at the edge of the dance floor and goes to get you a glass of water. You sit at the table, drunkenly overlooking the crowd, and smile at the wedding around you. You love weddings, and you often think about yours. You don’t know how far out it will be, but you can’t care less as long as Jack is the one who asks. Though you’d never tell him, you’re ready whenever he is. You knew a year in that he was it for you, that he was your everything. But alas, you have school, and he has hockey, and you know he’ll pop the question when he’s ready.

At the same time you’re daydreaming, Jack is grabbing the water from the bartender and having one last talk with the groom, who also was getting water for his new wife.

“How long have you two been together,” Kevin asks Jack, nodding toward you at the table.

“Over two years,” Jack answers. “So a while.”

Kevin whistles at the answer, and a smirk plays on his lips.

“Yeah, a long while.” He nods toward you again. “Two years was when I popped the question. Knew I waited long enough, and she was the one.”

Jack snorts at the man beside him, and Kevin counters again.

“Is she the one?”

Jack watches you from across the way as you’re watching everyone else. He smiles as he sees you eyeing the various couples, flowers, and lights surrounding you. He genuinely believes you’ve never looked more beautiful underneath the dim light and the essence of love and joy radiating through the air.

“Yeah, she’s the one,” Jack says firmly, meaning every word.

“Then what’re you waiting for?”

The question is fair. You’ve talked about marriage, but it’s always been on the back burner behind your school and his hockey. You both have discussed how you’re both so young, and you have nothing but time to waste together.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m waiting for her. I don’t know if she’s ready.”

Kevin suddenly starts to laugh, almost uncontrollably, and Jack shoots him a confused look.

“Man, I’ve been watching how she looks at you all night. I don’t think I’ve seen any woman that ready.”

Jack eyes him. “Really?”

“Really.”

Jack and Kevin talk for another minute, saying their goodbyes and making promises to gold together soon when Jack makes his way back to your table. You are sitting sleepily and messing with the edges of the cloth table. When he gets close enough, he calls your name and hands you the water.

“You ready to call it a night?” He asks.

You nod your head, and he pulls you to your feet and takes you on your rounds to say your final goodbyes to the gracious couple who let you crash their wedding and all the new friends you’ve made in a singular, memorable night.

As you both leave the venue, Jack takes your hand, intertwining your fingers as you walk together. The cool night air feels refreshing against your skin after the warmth of the crowded dance floor. You lean into Jack's side, feeling content and happy to have spent such an unexpected but enjoyable evening together.

As you approach the Range, Jack opens the door, gesturing for you to get in first. Once you're settled in the passenger seat, he closes the door gently before going to the driver's side. Before starting the engine, he turns to you, a soft smile on his lips.

“You know, deciding to crash that wedding with you was one of the best decisions I've ever made," he says, his eyes meeting yours with warmth and affection.

You let out your millionth laugh of the night, feeling a rush of love for this man beside you.

“I agree. Way better than golfing earlier.”

With a soft chuckle, Jack leans in to kiss your lips tenderly, the moment feeling incredibly intimate and memorable with the surrounding setting. As you pull away, you meet each other's gaze, and nothing but love is shown on both of your faces.

“Come on, let’s get your cute ass home,” Jack says softly, his hand finding yours again as he starts the car.

As Jack begins the drive home, you lean back in your seat, feeling the warmth of the evening still lingering in your heart. You glance over at Jack, his focused expression softened by the glow of the dashboard lights. Moments like these make you realize how lucky you are to have him by your side.

The drive is quiet but comfortable, and you can’t help but stare at him. You, indeed, are in love with this man.

As you approach home, Jack pulls into the driveway and turns off the engine. The night air feels crisp against your skin as you step out of the car, Jack following closely behind, grabbing your things. Together, you make your way to the front door, the warmth of home beckoning you inside.

Once inside, Jack makes quick work of jumping into caretaker mode, and he takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, where he helps you remove your makeup with a tenderness that never fails to make your heart swell. He fetches everything you need for bed, your inevitable hangover, and anything else you request.

Finally, once you’re all settled, he tucks you into bed with gentle kisses and whispered words of affection. As you drift off to sleep, Jack lingers for a moment and watches how peaceful you are. With one final kiss on the forehead, he remembers Kevin’s earlier words.

Quietly slipping out of the room, Jack heads to the closet where most of his summer hockey gear sits. There, underneath many stacks of old hockey clothes where you’d never look, he retrieves the secret wedding ring that no one in the world knows about. He bought the ring after only six months of dating when he learned that you were it for him. That you were then and were always going to be his everything. He’s been holding onto the ring now for almost a year and a half, waiting for you.

Holding it in his hand, he turns it over and reflects on the depth of his love for you and the certainty that you're the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. In this quiet moment alone, Jack makes a silent promise to himself to ask you to marry him very soon. He doesn’t want to wait, and he wants to start forever as soon as he can.

He gently places the ring in its hiding spot and returns to the room. You’re still knocked out. He smiles as he sees you’re dead to the world, and he tucks himself next to you under the covers. He almost dies of adoration when, like a magnet, you fold yourself into his side. You fit perfectly there, and he’s half tempted to wake you up and pop the question now.

He doesn’t, though; instead, he pulls you impossibly closer and lets himself think about how he’s going to ask you to marry him, and then eventually, he lets himself fall asleep, dreaming of the life you're going to have together.

767 notes · View notes

scoonsalicious · 4 months

Text

9.3 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, violence toward inanimate objects, real talk.

Word Count: 2.2k

Previously On...: You're Bucky's guide on his first trip to a rage room.

A/N: Early today. Ugh, my professional life is trash atm, lol. Please enjoy this foray into fantasyland that keeps me sane.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so much. Or, rather, he supposed, he couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed himself so much when it didn’t involve having sex with Major.

There was something so absolutely freeing about being allowed to smash shit to smithereens without having to worry about the repercussions of it, and Bucky was feeling liberated. He had to wonder if there wasn’t a secret part of Bruce that actually enjoyed it when “Hulk smash!”

Once they’d donned their safety gear, Major had let them into the room, where a pounding rock track was blasting. The space was filled with… stuff. Everything from old televisions to china to fake walls.

Along the wall by the door they’d just entered was an array of tools under a painted sign that read “Choose Your Weapon.” There were baseball bats, sledgehammers, crowbars, axes– even a couple of golf club drivers.

Nat had immediately gone for one of the axes, swinging it around and testing the balance in her grip. “This one’s mine,” she had announced delightedly.

Bucky, meanwhile, opted for a sledgehammer, and Major picked up a wooden baseball bat. On her count, they set off to release any pent up rage.

Bucky immediately headed for one of the fake walls and began smashing away. The three shouted jokes and taunts at each other over the music as they went, and the hour that made up their appointment flew by in no time.

Bucky watched as Major went to town on an old computer monitor, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. He couldn’t imagine how Lily could ever have a problem with him dating her, not when he watched her laugh and tease Nat over something the redhead had said. He gripped his sledgehammer tighter, anger at his best friend rising in his mind.

She didn’t even know Major, he thought as he brought the hammer down onto a ceramic bust, shattering it. Where did she get off calling Major a bitch and a slut? He moved over to an old couch and began whacking on it. What gave Lily the right to say those things about someone she didn’t even know, just because he had feelings for her? Who did she think she was?

“Bucky!” Nat called out, but he didn’t hear her, his anger at Lily sending the blood pounding in his ears. He kept raising his sledgehammer over and over again, taking out his frustrations on the helpless piece of furniture.

“BARNES!” Natasaha shouted, and that permeated the fog,finally getting his attention.

“What?!” he snapped, unable to reign in his anger immediately, but instantly regretting it when he realized it was Nat who was speaking to him, and not Lily, like he had immediately imagined.

“That couch do something to personally offend you?” she asked.

Bucky looked down. The couch before him was reduced to nothing more than splinters and stuffing. “Shit,” he laughed nervously. “I guess I let myself get a little carried away.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ll say.”

Bucky sheepishly turned to Major, offering her an apologetic smile, but she was staring at the pile of debris before him, baseball bat hanging limply from her hand.

“Sugar?” he asked, but she didn’t seem to hear him, transfixed as she was on the destruction he had left in his wake. He took a step toward her, reaching out and putting his hand on her arm. At the contact, Major let out a gasp and pulled back, startled.

“Sorry.” She blinked, seeming to come out of a trance. “I just… what did you say, Bucky?”

He frowned, not liking the expression on her face. “You alright, doll?”

“Yeah,” she told him, a smile coming to her lips a little too late. “I’m good.” Her hesitation left a pit in the center of Bucky’s stomach.

A beeping sounded throughout the room, indicating that their session had come to an end.

“Alright,” Major said, looking around, her tone full of false cheer. “Let’s put our stuff back on the wall, and vacate the space so my staff can get it ready for the next group.” Without looking at either Bucky or Nat, she returned her baseball bat to its resting place on the wall. She opened the door and held it, waiting for them to follow.

Nat hung up her axe. “I’m going to run to the bathroom before we head down,” she told them both. She squeezed Major’s arm on her way out the door, leaving her and Bucky alone.

“Is everything alright, doll?” he asked her.

She sighed and looked up at him. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess I just didn’t realize how… strong you really were?” She inclined her head toward the demolished couch. “That… um… that was something.”

Her words concerned him. God, had he frightened her? He didn’t think he could live with himself if he had scared her. He dropped his head. “Oh,” was all he could manage to say.

“Hey,” Major said gently, taking a step toward him and reaching out a hand to touch his elbow. “It just took me by surprise, that’s all. I mean, I knew you had super strength, but actually seeing it was something else.”

“It didn’t scare you?” he asked her with some trepidation. He wasn’t sure he wanted to really know, if he could stand the way she might look at him if she, too, thought him a monster.

“Scare me?” Major laughed, but when she noticed the expression on his face, she grew serious. “You seriously think you scare me? Bucky, no.” She made a point of taking his metal hand in both of hers, bringing it to her lips, and then up to cup her cheek. “You could never scare me.”

Bucky closed his eyes and released a breath. “I’m used to people seeing me as a murderer, a monster,” he told her. “I’ve gotten to the point where it doesn’t bother me if it comes from strangers, but if it came from you…” He left his thoughts hanging, the words unsaid.

“You have nothing to worry about,” she told him, putting a hand on each of his cheeks. “I see you, Bucky Barnes. Not some monster. I never could. Don’t ever think that. I admit, I was startled, but that’s all, I promise.” She leaned up and kissed him lightly. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Not about anything, and most definitely not about that.”

“Thank you, doll.” Her words to him were a balm on a wound he thought he’d long healed, but apparently was capable of being reopened at any moment.

“Of course, honey,” she replied, tucking her arm under his and ushering him out the door and into the hallway where Nat was waiting by the elevators.

Bucky loved the feeling of Major pressed against him as they rode the elevator back down to the lobby, and though she told him he hadn’t scared her, he couldn’t shake the look she’d had on her face at his display of aggression. He never wanted to see a look like that cross her countenance again.

The lobby was bustling with people waiting to be taken to their rage rooms when the three of them exited the elevator.

“I’m glad business is doing good,” Nat said, looking around the crowded lobby with a smile. “You deserve the success, Major.”

Major buried her face into Bucky’s shoulder, pleased. “Thanks, Nat,” she replied. “It still seems weird to think that we’re not operating in the red.”

“Was it difficult?” Bucky asked her, suddenly curious about what it had been like for Major at the beginning of her business.

“Ugh, that’s a story for another time,” Major said. “When I’ve had a few drinks in me.”

“Hey, Major!” Zadie called once she had gotten the new group of people all checked in. “Package came for you while you were upstairs. I left it on your desk.”

Major let out a dejected sigh. “Well,” she said, turning to look up at Bucky with a forlorn expression, “I guess this means I have to get back to work. We’re still on for dinner tonight, though, right Bucky?”

He smiled down at her; as if he could have forgotten. “Of course, sugar. How ‘bout I meet you back here at five thirty, and we can figure out where to go?”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said, standing up on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss while Nat looked on with a knowing smile. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, doll,” he replied. With a final farewell to Nat, Major turned and made her way back to her office, leaving him and the former assassin to make their exit.

“Don’t you dare hurt her,” Nat warned as they made their way into the lobby.

Bucky turned to face her, halting in his steps. “What?” he spluttered. “Nat, I–I would never–”

“I know you don’t think you’d do it on purpose,” Natasha replied, “but your former girlfriends have a habit of getting their hearts broken and ending up miserable because of you. I’m telling you not to do that with Major. She’s a good person, and my friend. If you think that, once again, you’re going to let someone else call the shots on your relationship with her, you should let her go now, before she gets in too deep. She’s been hurt enough.”

“Nat,” he said, grabbing her arm and forcing her to look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sincerely didn’t. Who else would be calling the shots on any of his relationships if it wasn’t him? Yeah, it was true that his past relationships had ended messily, that the girls had been hurt, but… well, that wasn’t entirely Bucky’s fault, was it? Things just hadn’t worked out, for one reason or another.

But with Major? Well, things were different with her. Bucky could feel it.

Nat gave him an appraising look, studying him as if she could read his mind through his facial expressions. “You really don’t, do you?” she mused. “It’s not my place to tell you her business, but Barnes–” she gave him a serious look– “if you let her get hurt because you can’t figure out where to draw a boundary, you and I are going to have a problem."

She gently pulled free of his grasp and made her way to the door of the building. Bucky paused for a moment, contemplating all that she had said, and wondering just what she had meant by any of it. Though, knowing Natasha, if she didn’t feel the need to explain it to him, there was no way he could get her to elaborate.

As he was about to follow her out the door, he heard Major shouting for Zadie’s attention. He turned around and saw her angrily waving a thick manilla envelope in the air as she stalked toward the reception desk.

“Where did this come from, Zadie?” she asked in a tone Bucky had never heard her use before.

“Courier dropped it off, why?” Zadie asked. “What is it? Who’s it from?”

“What company was the courier from?” Major continued, ignoring Zadie’s own questions. “Did they have a logo or anything like that?”

“Doll?” Bucky said as he stepped back toward the reception desk, concerned by the previously unseen agitation Major was displaying.

“Bucky!” Major exclaimed, as though surprised to still see him there. “I thought you left already.” She plastered on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and Bucky knew it was performative for his sake.

Bucky frowned. “What’s wrong, sugar? What’s in the envelope?”

Major’s eyes widened a fraction in alarm as she maneuvered to position the envelope behind her back. “It’s nothing, honey. Just… some business stuff. There’s no sender, so I need to figure out where it came from so I can make sure it gets dealt with properly.”

Bucky knew her explanation was bullshit, but he didn’t feel comfortable questioning her in front of her employee, so he let it slide. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No!” she exclaimed, a little too quickly, and then seemed to realize she’d nearly shouted at him. “No,” her voice was softer now, calmer, “but thank you. I appreciate that you want to help, though. That means a lot to me.”

Those words rang true; Bucky could tell that much. He sighed and took a step closer to give her a quick parting kiss. “If you’re sure, doll,” he said.

“I’m sure,” she told him, then leaned in to whisper in his ear: “and if we were still having sex, I’d show you how appreciative I am.” She pulled back and grinned up at him.

“Gonna make me really regret that decision, huh?” he asked. He knew she was changing the subject, putting distance between them and the mysterious envelope, but he was willing to let it go for the time being.

“Oh, most definitely,” she teased him. “At least until you change your mind.”

Bucky smiled at her. If she kept it up, he’d be changing his mind sooner than later. “Alright, I better get going before Nat comes looking for me,” he said, taking a step back from her. “I’ll see you at five thirty, yeah?”

“Don’t be late,” Major called after him. As if he would ever be late for her.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

167 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 20 days

Text

Overtime 11

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss, Mr. Hansen, runs you ragged but you find solace in an unexpected friend.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Jake Jensen.

Author’s Note: This one is dedicated to my dearest @thezombieprostitute

Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

Mr. Hansen is right. Your legs are long. Too long. The short skirt makes you feel gawky and overexposed. The tight halter does little to make up for that and the visor around your head can’t hide your shame.

As he climbs out of the golf cart, you do the same. You cross your arms and stay to the side as he goes to the back of the cart and peruses his bag of clubs. He peers out across the green then back to the collection. He hooks his finger under a hooked foot and slides the club free.

He slips the cover off and turns the club. He looks at you and smirks as he approaches.

“How about a personal lesson, Critter? Give you the what about before you get creamed?” He boasts.

You shrug and drop your arms.

“Sir,” you agree without agreeing.

He grabs a tee and a ball and pokes the former into the grass. He waves you over and you approach reluctantly. He flutters his fingers with impatience and reaches for you. He takes your arm and moves you in front of him.

“Alright, set your feet,” he kicks your shoes and you put your soles flat. “And you wanna push your shoulders back.”

He reaches around you with the club and guides your hands around it. He squeezes his grip over yours. He’s flush to his back, his breath fanning on your shoulder, as he moves your body with his.

“Loosen up a bit, swing with your whole body,” his voice is low and silty, not his usual snarl. He leads you in a swing, “twist,” he raises the club, “and follow through.”

You do your best to let him take control. You’re not exactly listening. You just want this over with. If you give him what he wants, he’ll get bored. That’s the way it is.

You twitch as he presses his pelvis against your butt. Your lips part but you don’t say anything. It’s nothing. You’re sensitive because you’re not used to so much skin. When he’s done you move away with the club.

“Ladies first,” he winks, “all yours.”

He gestures to the ball and you move towards you. You stare down at the dimpled ball, happy he can’t see your face. You don’t care where you hit it. Just hit it.

You reset your feet like he said. You shift your hips as you hold the club on your own, measuring the weight and balance in your hands. He points out the hole, “somewhere over there, sweetheart.”

You ignore the pet name and bite your lip. You pull the club up and back and swing through, twisting with the motion. You keep your feet in place as the club meets the ball and you lose track of it as it goes zooming off into the distance.

Silence. You step back and turn to Mr. Hansen. You hold out the club as he squints into the sky. “Huh.”

“Is it your go, sir?” You ask as you wiggle the club.

“Yeah...” he utters and snatches the club.

He lines up and makes his shot. His ball goes to the left of yours. He tilts his head but doesn’t comment. You’re not sure who’s closer. He spins and shoves the club at you. You take it and put it back in the bag. He’s already behind the wheel of the cart.

You climb in next to him and fall into the seat as he steps on the gas. You jostle next to him, holding the side to keep from sliding completely across the seat. He reaches over with one hand to steady you, clasping down on your knee.

You flinch and look down at his hand. The little dots on his glove are rough. As he keeps his grip on the wheel, his touch slowly works up your thigh. You squeak and latch onto his wrist.

“Mr. Hansen.”

“Making sure you don’t fall out,” he snickers. “I’d say you’re falling out enough.”

He slows as he looks over at you, his eyes aimed at the deep vee of the halter.

“Sir,” your curl your shoulders in.

“Ah, come on,” he slaps your leg, “it’s a day out of the office. You should be fucking ecstatic.” He rolls the wheel and you lean into him without meaning too. “I’m sure you got all the eligible bachelors lined up and ready to take you out shopping, huh?”

“Uh, Mr. Hansen, thanks, but uh--”

“I’m sure Jake loves taking you to the comic store, huh?”

“Sir, I... Jensen is a co-worker--”

“Seems real fucking cozy to me. Critter, I know those beady eyes aren’t blind. The way that man drools at your desk,” he tuts, “I need you focused.” He snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Remember who you work for.”

“Mr. Hansen, I wouldn’t--”

“You wouldn’t do anything I don’t tell you to do. I know that,” he slaps his hand back on your thigh, higher, right at the edge of your skirt. “Not like last night when you walked out on me.”

You squirm as his fingers caress your sensitive skin. You never realised how sensitive that part of your leg is. You lean back against the seat and squeak.

“Sir, please, slow down,” you beg as the car bounces.

“I told you, you should show these off,” he squeezes your leg. “You can’t even take good advice. You come in dressed like some retiree. You got too much ass for that.”

“Sir,” you beg and nudge his arm. “This isn’t professional--”

“What’s not professional,” he slams on the brakes and you lurch forward, his hand slipping up your skirt. You squeal and close your legs around his hand. “Is you fucking flirting with that Big Bang Theory fuck on my pay.”

“But, Mr. Hansen,” you grab onto his forearm, “I didn’t--”

“Heard about your trip to IT this morning. Think I don’t know what the fuck is up,” he pinches you and you whine. “You’re getting uppity, Critter. I see it. I tasted it in my fucking coffee.” He rips his hand away and shoves you off the seat.

You land on the grass with a helpless flail. He gets out and grabs a club from the bag as he rounds the cart. He strides around as he spins it then steadies it, putting it just below your chin.

“Lucky for you, I’m a spit kinda guy. I just usually don’t partake outside the bedroom,” he puts his cleats on your chest as he pins you on your back. “So, critter, let’s get this straight. Where you are right now, in the dirt, that’s where you belong. So, stop fucking with me.”

You stare up at him, horrified as the spikes on his shoes bite through the shirt and your skin.

“Mr. Hansen--”

“And the next time you talk to that jizzhole, I’ll have my nine iron ready to knock his block off. Got it?”

“Ow, please--”

“No, you say it. Say ‘yes, Mr. Hansen.’”

You writhe and dig your heels into the grass as his cleats sink in further and he pushes your chin up with the club.

“Yes, Mr. Hansen,” you whimper.

#overtime #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #jake jensen #dark jake jensen #dark!jake jensen #lloyd hansen x reader #jake hensen x reader #series #drabble #au #the gray man #the losers

113 notes · View notes

sourcherryandsprinkles · 2 years

Note

Can you write something with caddie reader and Rafe going to the country club and booking her as caddie? thankss

Pardon my terrible golf knowledge...

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The written duty of a caddie-girl is to carry the golf bag for the golfer. Although it sounds like an easy job, you are required to have a little golf knowledge…and let your mini skirt do the rest as people who golf at the country club are mostly men.

They won’t mind if you give them the wrong club as long as you giggle when you make a mistake or wear a short enough skirt. It’s pretty degrading and objectifying for women, but rich men give nice tips.

‘’I’m so sorry, Jeff. My alarm didn’t go off and my car wouldn’t start,’’ you explained in a rush to your boss, out of breath from running to the country club. ‘’It won’t happen again, I promise.’’

‘’You’re an hour late, Miss. Y/L/N. Your 9am client is waiting.’’ Jeff raised his eyes from his computer screen, looking at you with disappointment.

Shit. You didn’t think you would have a client so early in the morning.

‘’He specifically requested you for caddie, so save your apologies and excuses for him.’’

It must be Mr. Barclay. You’ve seen him sitting at the country club’s bar two days ago, drinking an old fashioned with a fellow club member. He always requested you as caddie. He said you reminded him of his granddaughter. You didn’t know if you should be flattered or disgusted.

You quickly dropped your personal stuff in your locker and headed to the golf course while rehearsing your apology monologue. It wasn’t in your habits to be late. Hopefully Mr. Barclay will be understanding.

When you got to the course, you searched for a silver fox, but instead you found a tall young man with a snapback and white glove in his right hand.

‘’There you are!’’ he said in exasperation, slinging his golf bag over his shoulder and walking to you.

‘’Rafe?’’

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. ‘’It’s Mr. Cameron for you,’’ he corrected with a shit-eating grin on his stupidly handsome face.

‘’You’re my 9am client?’’

Rafe hummed, his eyes scanning your body and smiling smugly when he saw your small skirt and tight polo. It hugged your curves in all the right places. ‘’Bet you were expecting some rich daddy, uh? I’m sorry to disappoint you.’’ He leaned closer, speaking the next words low enough so only you would hear them. ‘’If you want, you can call me Daddy Rafe.’’

You choked on air. Today was going to be a long day.

‘’Driver, please?’’ Rafe requested, when you arrived at the teeing ground.

You fished the right club from the bag and handed it to Rafe. ‘’Here.’’

‘’Thanks, babydoll.’’ He took the club and moved up to line it with the ball, and swung, his muscles flexing.

You both watched as it flew over a hundred yards in the air. Not bad.

‘’Where’s Topper?’’ you asked. ‘’You usually play with him.’’

‘’Not today. I had other plans.’’ Rafe gave you the club back. ‘’Shall we go find the ball?’’

You spent the next two hours walking along the steep cliffs and hills of the country club's golf course, watching Rafe swinging golf balls and showing off. Unfortunately, you didn’t care much for the sport. You were more interested in staring at Rafe’s muscles flexing and admiring how great his ass looked in those dress shorts.

‘’Want to have a try?’’

‘’Are you sure? I’ve never played golf before.’’

‘’You can do the next tee. I’ll show you how.’’

‘’Golf is more technical than it looks. You don't just swing the ball and hope for the best. There's a lot of factors to think about — the stance, posture, ball placement, and rotation all have to be considered for the perfect swing.’’

‘’First, the grip. Put your left hand at the top of the club and your right hand below the left,’’ Rafe instructed.’’

‘’Good. Now, the position.’’ He situated himself behind you and you tried not to shiver as his hands slowly traveled down your arms until they positioned themselves to cover your own, grasping gently. You could feel goosebumps rise all over your body as you felt his steady breathing on your neck, looking over your shoulder with ease. ‘’Place your feet shoulder width apart and the ball should be inside the line of the big toe of your front foot.’’ He pushed your right heel out with his own foot. ‘’And you gotta bend your upper body from the knees and the knees slightly.’’

So many instructions.

You leaned forward a little while keeping your feet in the right place. ‘’Like that?’’ you asked, not sure if you were positioned correctly.

‘’Bend a bit more.’’ Rafe stepped back with a mischievous smirk, his warmth leaving your back. ‘’More. More.’’ You had a feeling that the position was wrong, but did as told. ‘’Perfect.’’ He swiped his tongue over his lips and hummed, admiring the perfect view of your ass.

‘’And now I swing?’’

‘’Not yet,’’ he said. ‘’I’m enjoying the view.’’

You straightened up immediately, catching what he was doing. ‘’Rafe!’’ you hissed with a glare over your shoulder.

He was laughing smugly. ‘’Can you blame me?’’

‘’Can you guide me again? I lost the position because of you.’’

This time, Rafe won’t make a fool of you. This time, he’ll be the one who gets played.

You took a deep breath as he moved to stand right behind you and resumed the same position he had you in previously. A soft breeze blew and you got a whiff of his expensive cologne. It reminded you of those mornings you had woken up in his bed at Tannyhill, wrapped in his sheets and covered in his scent.

Shaking that thought from your head. Focus.

‘’You’re picking up fast,’’ Rafe encouraged behind you.

‘’Do I?’’ you asked, purposely wiggling your hips against his pelvis.

You heard Rafe inhale sharply in response, his grip on your hands tightening. ‘’If you kept doing stuff like that, I might just have to take you right on the golf field.’’

Please do, you almost let slip.

At the next tee, you ran into Mr. Barclay and one of your co-worker. He was one of the newbies and seemed to be struggling with the golf bag.

‘’Mr. Barclay, hi,’’ you greeted politely. ‘’How’s the course today? We’ve made new additions this year.’’

The older man greeted you back with a smile, then began ranting about how his caddie wasn’t as good as you at the job. ‘’I asked for you at the caddie shack, but I was informed my favorite caddie-girl was already booked.’’

Rafe stepped in, faking an apologetic smile. ‘’That would be because of me. My apology.’’

Mr. Barclay stared you down like you were a piece of meat and then shifted his eyes to Rafe, giving him a ‘lucky you’ kind of look before leaving with his caddie.

‘’Are your other clients all old perverts like him?’’

Most. ‘’He gives me good tips,’’ you said in defense.

Rafe pulled out his wallet, then stared you right in the eyes as he stuffed a crumpled hundred dollar bill inside your bra. ‘’I do too.’’

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx @sweeterheartxamerica @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage @maybankslover

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x you #outer banks #outer banks imagine

1K notes · View notes

buckymorelikefuckme · 2 months

Text

so while sitting at the golf range, i saw a man walk by with his dog—a dilf type of man—and it got me thinking…

ari levinson x fem reader

idk the word count bc i wrote it on here but it’s not too long, i promise! **18+ ONLY** for implied size kink and mentions of praise kink and illusions to filthy thoughts ok thank ♡

you huff and stomp your foot after swinging and missing the ball, yet again. why is golf so hard? and why is the ball so tiny? it hardly seems fair to have a club that long and such a small target to hit.

you try to focus and remember what little you learned before coming to the range, but it’s sweltering out and you’re frustrated, so all you want to do is throw your club as far as possible. at least then you’d get something on the green.

someone clears their throat from behind you.

“what?” you snap as you spin on your heel, the glare you had ready to aim at the person smoothing out quickly once you see them.

it’s a man, tall and broad and tanned and very shirtless, torso glistening with sweat amidst the hair on his chest. his shaggy hair is tied back messily and his cheeks are ruddy beneath his beard from the heat.

“hi,” the man greets with a grin that has your tummy fluttering. “i was walking by,” he continues, waving at the sidewalk several yards away (which is another thing—what’s with golf courses being in the middle of neighborhoods?!) and you feel slight shame at having been caught throwing a fit. “saw you were having some trouble and thought maybe i could offer my help.”

you bite your lip. “that’s kind of embarrassing,” you mumble.

he shrugs. “everyone has to start somewhere.”

and that’s… actually very true and also terribly kind of him to say, so you agree to let him give you some pointers. he tries by just telling you how to fix your stance and your grip, all from a respectable distance, even going as far as showing you by mimicking it and how to follow through on your swings. but after you still keep missing the ball entirely or only hitting it a few feet and veering sharply to the right, he clicks his tongue, pursing his lips in thought.

“would you be okay if i show you in a more, uh, hands on way?” he asks.

you simply shake your head in response, because if you opened your mouth right now you’d probably start begging, and not just for golfing tips.

he approaches calmly, stepping up behind you. his body heat in proximity to yours doesn’t help with the summer sun beating down on both of you, but you can’t find it in you to really complain, especially as you hear him take a breath before he finally wraps his toned arms around you.

“left hand here,” he instructs, voice low in your ear, “right hand below it, yes, there you go. keep this arm straight, okay? like this.”

he does a few fake swings with you, his hands wrapped around yours. it’s damn near impossible to pay attention, but you’re really trying your best. mostly.

“okay, now, keep your eyes on the ball when you swing. don’t look out to where you want it go, just keep looking down at the ball. alright?”

you turn your head, looking up and meeting his eyes and your breath hitches when you exhale. he’s so big, easily dwarfing you with how close he is to you, the smell of his sweat hitting your nose and, instead of finding it gross, you find that it has you wanting to clench your thighs together.

“eyes on the ball,” he repeats, sounding a lot more gruff than before. it’s hard, but you tear your gaze away and do as he says. “good. feet shoulder width apart. that’s perfect.”

you fight a shiver and bite your lip again. this is not the time or place for your praise kink to kick in.

“i’m gonna let go and step back, then you can swing. okay?”

you nod, holding your stance and waiting for the all-clear, and when you get it you take a deep breath and slowly let it out, following what he’s told you and swinging… and you hit it straight down the green! it doesn’t go too far, but it’s the furthest you’ve hit a ball yet, and you let out a shocked, happy laugh.

“oh my god, i did it!” you giggle, bouncing on your toes and spinning to face him, catching his stare snapping up from your ass to your face. you’re suddenly extremely happy you chose some of your tightest athletic shorts.

“that was great,” he praises with a smile.

you let out another giggle, this one a bit higher in pitch from your nerves. “thanks for your help. i really appreciate it.”

“it’s no problem at all, i’m happy it paid off.”

“is there any way i could repay you?” you blurt, not wanting to miss the chance at extending your time with him, also not wanting to come across as too eager and missing by a mile.

he hums teasingly, pretending to think about it, then smirks. “how about we start with lunch?” he suggests, eyes roving down your body and back up. “and then i can give you another tip.”

he winks and you burst into even more giggles at the terrible joke, but you can’t even be mad about it. he looks quite pleased with himself at the sound of your laughter.

(and then, later, he looks smug as fuck at the sounds of your absolute ruin by him.)

…OKAY BYE😬😇😅😂♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fic #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson drabble #ari levinson smut #pls excuse any and all mistakes bc i did not proofread this either #unbeta’d we die like men

145 notes · View notes

jo-speaks · 1 month

Text

golf

in which...

fem! reader takes quinn to play some good-old fashioned mini golf!

seventh date in the alphabet dates series!

note: finally finished uni registration and moved into my dorm! expect a lot more consistency from me going forward (especially with this series) <3

“Twenty dollars, please.”

Quinn took out his wallet, pulling out his card, handing it to the worker and tightening his grip on your hand.

You picked out two golf balls, a purple one for you and a green one for Quinn. He took his card back and took your clubs, guiding you to the first hole.

“You ready to get your ass kicked in mini golf?” Quinn teased, setting his ball down on the green material.

You let him take his first hit, his ball bouncing off the short wall and a few feet from the hole. “Keep dreaming, Quinny. There’s a reason I wanted to come here.”

Pulling your club back, you wiggled your hips for the dramatics before hitting the ball with enough power to have it heading straight towards the hole in the green fabric beneath your feet.

You could almost see Quinn’s initial shock when the golf ball disappeared into the ground, jaw dropping at your effortless accuracy.

“How did-?” Quinn began before you cut him off.

“I told you,” You said, walking over to pick up your ball. “There’s a reason I wanted to come here for date night.”

He made a face, “I thought you wanted to come here to help me get my mind off hockey?”

“There can be two motives.” You grinned, placing a small kiss on his cheek.

After 12 holes, all of different difficulty, you had accumulated a score of 24, while Quinn had a score of 41.

As you planted your feet at the 13th hole, Quinn stopped you before you took your swing by placing a gentle hand on your forearm. You gave him a look of confusion, one that matched the one on his face as he looked down at the sheet of paper where you had been keeping score.

“Are you messing with me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

He shook the paper, “I have almost double your points. Do I suck or are you writing my numbers down wrong?”

As much as you tried to hold it back, you couldn’t hold back the deafening laughter that escaped you. It drew the attention of many people at the surrounding holes, causing Quinn’s cheeks to flush in mild embarrassment.

“Y/N,” He mumbled as you sat down, your body getting weaker the more you laughed. “It wasn’t funny.”

Quinn was right. There was truly nothing funny about what he had said. However, the genuine look of concern on his face was enough to have you sitting on the ground, eyes watering and abs clenching as you tried your best to calm down.

After a few seconds, you relaxed enough to answer his question. “Babe, I’m not cheating and you don’t suck. You just so happen to have a girlfriend who is amazingly gifted at mini golf.”

“But whenever we play actual golf, you aren’t this good.”

You let out a soft snort, “This isn’t actual golf, Q.”. You repositioned yourself taking your swing, not caring where it ended up before you turned back towards Quinn.

“I think you just need to relax, stop thinking, and have fun. No one’s expecting anything from you here.”

Quinn gave you a soft smile before taking your hand in his and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. “I needed that. You’re pretty great, have I told you that?”

A rush of blood rose to your face, the cool, slightly humid weather suddenly feeling warmer as he pulled you closer to him. “Once or twice.” You replied, nuzzling your face into his chest.

Quinn laughed, “Hey, Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“You just got another hole-in-one.”

#nhl hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #vancouver canucks

133 notes · View notes

formulakatya · 1 year

Text

MET YOU AT THE RIGHT TIME | MICK SCHUMACHER

"living in a movie i've watched and funny, cause you couldn't have called it, met you at the right time, this is what it feels like"

not my gif :)

part 1

summary: where your best friend is sick of you thinking your not deserving of love and so she introduces you to a certain someone

pairing: mick schumacher x professional golfer!reader

notes: hi! sorry for the long wait but part 2 of ‘this is what it feels like’ is finally out, thank you for your patience 😭🤍

warnings: a universe where mick is in ferrari and ferrari aren’t idiots

—

“amazing drive, mick!” you smiled, congratulating the german, “congrats on that win!”

“thank you, (y/n),” mick smiled shyly as both of you exited the paddock and walked down the streets of monaco, the sun setting as nighttime came. “so, uhm…how’s golf going? lily says you’re amazing at it.”

chuckling, you shook your head, “i hope she didn’t oversell me to you.” smiling as mick let out a laugh, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh of your own. “well, i just won my first major— the chevron championship— uhm, and i also managed to win the cognizant founders cup after that…before that i won the honda lpga tournament in thailand.”

“your kidding!” mick exclaimed, looking at you.

“oh no, did she oversell me? because if she did—“

“no, no! absolutely not,” mick smiled. “she talks about you a lot and before i met you i already had a good impression of you based off the things she said…and then i met you and you’re really just as much of an angel as she says you are,” he chuckled.

“really?”

“yeah,” he nodded, “and for the record, she never told me you were winning tournaments left and right…when’s your next one?”

“the lotte championship in hawaii,” you replied, “and why are we only talking about me? come on, lily says you have a dog!”

“she told you about angie?” he smiled as he scrolled through his camera roll quickly to find a picture, “she’s an australian shepherd.”

“stop, she’s so cute,” you shook your head, “i wish i had a dog…”

“i’ll let you meet angie one day.”

“please, that’ll be a dream come true.” laughing, you averted your gaze to the sunset as the both of you neared the restaurant.

mick smiled, admiring you for a split second. “am i allowed to say you’re pretty or is that too soon?”

—

you let out a deep breath as you took your driver from your caddy. spectators were crowded as they watched your group since you were the favourite to win. and you weren’t going to let the pressure get to you, absolutely not.

“approaching the tee, (y/n) (l/n)”

looking out into the fairway, you went through your pre shot routine before addressing the ball. drawing your club back, it wasn’t soon until the piercing sound of your metal club against the ball was heard as you looked where the ball went— twirling your club as you did so.

well done, good shot.

the other 2 players making their way to the fairway as soon as you picked up your tee and walked to your caddy, you gave a smile as you followed your fellow players to the fairway. whispering words of encouragement under your breath, you kept yourself calm as you found your ball in no time.

holding back a laugh upon seeing the small formula one car drawing stamped onto your ball, you looked at your caddy who gave you a thumbs up in encouragement before giving a glance into the crowd.

and you could’ve swore you saw someone you knew there.

gripping your club, you let a deep breath out as you repeated the same routine as before. swinging the golf club, the satisfying sound could be heard once again. squinting your eyes as your gaze watched the direction, you crossed your fingers together as it landed onto the green.

“not bad,” you chuckled, shrugging as you passed your club back to your caddy. “also is it just me or are my friends in the crowd?”

“it’s possible,” he shrugged, laughing as you two approached the green, your eyes glancing around the crowds before returning your focus back to the green as you did a quick analysis.

from where you were it would be a left to right, fast downhill putt. if you were able to find the right line and speed, you’d birdie the hole. and despite not knowing what your score was at the time, it was clear that it would be a putt that would decide your fate as a winner or the first of losers. marking your ball, you took another deep breath before stepping away, watching as your competitor run through her routine before making her putt.

the air grew tense as you wiped the sweat off your head, patiently waiting for your turn.

time seemed to slow down as you set up, your eyes focused on the ball as you concentrated on your putt. the soft sound of the metal hitting the ball could be heard as you watched the small golf ball roll down the green.

“go, go, go,” you mumbled under your breath, watching nervously as the ball slowed down as it approached the hole. “YES!”

smiling as you gave a hug to your caddy, thanking him for his congratulations as you quickly searched the bustling crowd with your, shaking hands with your competitors before you went on the search— confident that you’d find someone you knew in the crowd.

“(y/n)!” the familiar voice of lily could be heard as she squeezed her way to the front of the crowd, “that was amazing! oh my gosh! congratulations!”

“thank you so much, lily,” you smiled as you hugged her before pulling away only to see alex and a familiar blonde stood behind. “mick?”

“hi,” he smiled, giving a shy chuckle as he waved his hand. “lily said you’d be playing so i decided to come. congrats!”

“thanks, mick,” you smiled, a light blush forming on your cheeks as he pulled you into a tight hug, “it means a lot.”

“do you wanna go out to celebrate? dinner’s on me.”

“but you payed last time!” you exclaimed, “let me pay!”

“then take it as a date,” he shrugged. “and let me pay, my love.”

—

“i’m still mad you didn’t let me pay.”

“well…” he chuckled, “that prize money isn’t spending itself and i much rather spend it on a girl like you.”

“and no one else?” you asked playfully, resting your head on your palm as you looked outside the window.

“only a fool wouldn’t choose you,” he paused, “and based off my results in school, i count myself a genius.”

471 notes · View notes

macrogolf12 · 4 days

Text

Mastering Your Game with the Claw Grip Putter: The Ultimate Tool for Precision and Performance

Golf is a sport that requires an extraordinary blend of precision, mental focus, and physical skill. Among the many facets of the game, putting remains one of the most critical and challenging aspects. A few strokes on the green can often make the difference between victory and defeat. That’s why choosing the right putter can have a tremendous impact on a player’s performance. Over the years, the Claw Grip Putter has gained significant attention for its ability to enhance control, improve accuracy, and provide an ergonomic advantage that has helped golfers across all skill levels.

What is the Claw Grip Putter?

The Claw Grip Putter refers to putters that are specially designed to work in tandem with this grip style. These putters often feature characteristics like a wider grip, more forgiving face designs, and enhanced balance, making it easier for golfers to optimize their performance when using the claw grip. This style has been especially popular among professional golfers who seek better control over short putts and difficult greens.

How the Claw Grip Putter Elevates Your Game

One of the primary benefits of using a Claw Grip Putter is the dramatic improvement it offers in consistency and accuracy. By adopting the claw grip, players can significantly reduce the influence of wrist movement, which is often the root cause of inconsistent putting. The right hand’s claw-like position eliminates the temptation to hinge the wrist during the stroke, resulting in smoother and more consistent rolls on the ball.

The Science Behind the Claw Grip Putter

From a technical standpoint, the Claw Grip Putter represents a marriage of biomechanics and advanced putter design. By limiting wrist action, the putter ensures that the movement comes from the larger muscles of the arms and shoulders, resulting in a pendulum-like motion that enhances stability. This mechanism allows golfers to create a more repeatable stroke, which is key to consistent putting.

Versatility Across Skill Levels

What makes the Claw Grip Putter truly special is its versatility. While it has become increasingly popular among professional golfers, the benefits extend to players of all levels. Beginners, in particular, can reap the rewards of using a Claw Grip Putter, as it minimizes some of the technical difficulties that often accompany learning how to putt. By simplifying the motion and reducing the risk of errant wrist movement, new golfers can quickly build confidence in their putting stroke, leading to faster improvement and enjoyment of the game.

The Claw Grip Putter represents an exciting advancement in golf technology, offering players the chance to improve their putting consistency, accuracy, and control. By reducing wrist movement, enhancing stability, and providing a more ergonomic grip, the Claw Grip Putter allows for a smooth, repeatable stroke, making it an essential tool for anyone looking to lower their scores and elevate their game.

#Claw Grip Putter #Powerstroke Golf #Macro Golf #Square Stroke Golf #One Plane Grip #Ergonomic Golf #Reverse Golf Grip #Split Hands Putter #Oversized Putter Grip #Best Golf Swing Grip #Long Putter

0 notes

misshoneyimhome · 6 months

Note

William silently cursed as he saw you. "She has a great ass, but she got an awful swing." With a chuckle from his friend. Willam's head turned to give him a furious look. With a defensive gesture, his friend raised his hands and backed away. "Hey man, relax. I'm just complimenting her". Willy is the type to admire his girl and try to "teach" her some golfing lessons.

😍😍😍 I swear my cooch skipped a beat just by the mere thought of this 🙈 Almost got jealous of my own fic... not cause it was so well written, but just by imagining the scenario 🤍

I mean, Willy teaching you to golf, AND possesive!boyfriend Willy? Sign me up 🥴 I hope you enjoy it 🤍

Word count; 1.7K

➼��ﾟ

Swing It Like It’s Hot | William Nylander ✿☀︎

The Swedish summer sun cast a golden hue over the lush greenery of the golf course as William guided you to the first tee. It was the off-season, a break from the demands of professional hockey, and he had promised to give you a golf lesson. Or perhaps more suggested for you to join, since he really wanted to play with his friends.

It wasn’t a secret that you weren’t a great golfer. Well, in fact you’d never really tried in before, so when William said that you were coming along you naturally demanded that he’d teach you. And he happily obliged.

Standing in front of him, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness as you held the club tightly. Meanwhile Pablo and Banksy, bounded ahead with wagging tails, eagerly exploring, accompanied by William's best friend Rasmus Sandin, one of his best friends, and brother Alex Nylander, as well as his new flirt.

Taking in the scene, the laughter and camaraderie were infectious, and despite your nerves, you couldn't help but smile as you prepared for your first swing.

With a patient smile, William walked you through the basics, demonstrating the proper stance and grip. His body was firmly pressed against yours as his arms wrapped around your smaller figure guided the movement, before encouraging you to give it a try. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you prepared to strike the ball.

It was needless to say; you didn’t even know where the ball landed. Your swing wasn’t great, and you knew it.

As you stood at the next tee, determined to make a better shot, William's encouraging presence bolstered your resolve. His arm on your waist was both comforting and motivating, reminding you that all you needed was some practice at this sport.

"It's alright, älskling," William's calm voice reached your ears, his Swedish endearment melting away some of the frustration that had built up inside you. "You're doing fine. Just relax and enjoy it."

His words were soothing to your frazzled nerves, and you couldn't help but offer a grateful smile in return. You knew you had nothing to prove as it was all fun and games, yet you also wanted to show your boyfriend that you made an effort to join him in his interests. And despite the challenges, finding comfort in the simple joy of being with him amidst the stunning Swedish countryside lifted your spirits. You then focused intensely on recalling William's guidance, determined to make this attempt a success.

Observing you from a small distance, William and Rasmus provided silent encouragement as you readied yourself for another swing. Despite any earlier frustration, there was a tenderness in William's gaze as he watched you, silently acknowledging your effort.

Taking a deep breath, you blocked out all distractions, focusing solely on the ball, and with determination pulsing through you, you swung the club with all you might.

The result was a little bit better this time, however what caught William off guard, was when Rasmus’ friend suddenly made a comment. "She has a great ass, but she got an awful swing," he remarked with a playful smirk in their native language.

Immediately, William's head snapped towards him, his blue eyes narrowing with a mix of irritation and protectiveness. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck tensing as he gave his friend a stern glare. "Watch it," he warned, his voice low and tinged with annoyance.

Sensing the tension, the mare raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture, stepping back. "Hey man, relax. I'm just complimenting her," he said defensively, trying to defuse the situation.

Though William's glare softened a bit, the tension hung heavy in the air. He knew his friend meant no harm, but his protective instincts flared at any perceived slight toward you. With a sigh, he turned back to you, silently resolving to help you with your swing while also making a mental note to speak to Rasmus later.

And with the playful comment, William remained steadfast in his commitment to coach you through the game. Throughout the day, he consciously tried to push aside Rasmus's remark and focused solely on helping you enhance your golfing abilities. However, despite his initial determination to stay composed, there was a noticeable change in his demeanour.

His touches became more frequent, his guidance more intimate, as he enveloped you in his arms each time you prepared to swing. With each embrace, you could feel the warmth of his body against yours, his closeness serving as both solace and encouragement.

“It’s okay, Willy. I’ve got this,” you chucked, indicating that you were feeling more confident about your game. But William didn’t let you wander too much in your own. Instead, he stayed close, upscaling his flirting behaviour a little with every move.

“I know baby, but you just look so good golfing… can’t take my hands off you,” he chuckled with a mischievous grin by the next tee, placing a kiss just behind your ear before gently biting your earlobe.

“Willy… there are other people here,” you tried to inform him with a soft sigh, yet you couldn’t deny that it was a little fun to have your boyfriend’s hands on you. He always knew how to make you feel good, and when his lips gently placed a few more kisses on your neck before withdrawing, you had to shake your head to get back to reality.

Then as you continued your way, amidst playful banter and shared laughter, William teased you about your progress, his jests accompanied by whispered promises of what awaited you later if you managed to refine your swing.

"You're doing so great, baby," he murmured against your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Just wait until we get back home, and you’ll get your prize."

His words stirred a rush of excitement within you, igniting a fierce desire simmering just beneath the surface. Beyond the playful banter, his gaze held an undeniable intensity, a hunger that spoke volumes of his longing for you.

“Maybe… I’ll show you how well I can handle your club,” you teasingly remarked in return with a dash of confidence, flashing a smirk and a wink at your boyfriend before strutting to pick up your next ball.

William had to adjust his junk as he filled the blood rush through his body by your behaviour and the thoughts of the two of you alone later.

As the day drew to a close and the sun dipped below the horizon, you all concluded the game; William taking the lead followed closely by Sandin. Surprisingly, you managed to outscore Alex by two points, with Rasmus's friend trailing behind, and finally Alex's current girlfriend finishing last.

It had been a day filled with nothing but laughter and enjoyment. However, amidst the fun, you couldn't help but notice William's possessiveness. While you understood your boyfriend's inclination to be protective, his behaviour seemed a bit excessive, especially considering you were simply among friends, including Alex, who was technically family but also William's best friend.

And as you drove along the highway towards Stockholm, your attention turned to William, whose gaze remained fixed on the road ahead.

"Willy, take it easy, there's no need to speed," you tried to lighten the mood with a soft chuckle, but he didn't respond to your comment, his focus solely on the road. "Babe, what's the rush?"

William briefly turned his glare towards you, his mind seemingly elsewhere, before easing off the accelerator slightly. "Oh... nothing," he replied tersely, but you knew him too well to leave it at that and decided to probe further.

"We both know that's not true..." you raised an eyebrow, knowing he could sense your tone and see your expression out of the corner of his eye. "Come on, you didn't even want to join the others for dinner."

"Well, no," he admitted with a heavy sigh. "I just want to get home."

"I understand that, but I'm struggling to understand why... we had such a great day, didn't we?" You attempted to offer him a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah... I mean, yes, absolutely... it's just," William murmured softly, searching for the right words to express his thoughts.

"Are you upset because I didn't do well?" you asked gently, prompting William to glance at you with a surprised expression.

"What? No, not at all. Baby, you did amazing! I'm seriously impressed."

"Then what's bothering you? Willy, I can't help if you don't tell me what's going on..." Frustration started to bubble up within you as your patience wore thin.

And finally releasing a deep sigh, William mustered the courage to speak. "Rasmus's friend made a comment about you, and it got under my skin."

"Oh..." You felt a bit puzzled. Didn’t William's friends like you? Were you just seen as the annoying girlfriend tagging along? The thought crossed your mind. "Well, I'm sorry if I was intruding on your guy time..." you apologised softly.

"What? No, babe, that's not what I meant!" William quickly clarified, not wanting you to think for a moment that you were unwelcome. After all, he was the one who invited you along. "No, what I meant was that he made a comment about your ass... and I don't want him to look anywhere near your ass! Especially not right in front of me!"

As you listened to William, you struggled to form a coherent response. Was he genuinely jealous over some comment about your ass?

As William eased off the highway, his demeanour gradually relaxed. His gaze briefly met yours while waiting for the traffic lights to change.

"What?" he asked, surprised by your calm expression, expecting you to be offended by the sexual remark.

"Are you serious?" you chuckled softly. "Willy, did you really get jealous because Rasmus's friend complimented my ass? Because, of course, I have a nice ass... we both know that," you said, trying to flash a confident smirk. "Besides, it's an ass you get to enjoy, one that he doesn't, and one you'll get to see in all its glory when you give me my prize, as promised."

William couldn't help but feel a twinge of arousal at your words. Why was he even so worked up over this? You were his, and he knew it. Plus, he loved the fact that others admired you too, especially knowing he had you all to himself.

Then slowly forming a smirk of his own, he turned to you once more. "Oh babe, you deserve far more than just a prize."

And to your great surprise, you received four prizes that night. And then two more in the morning.

#my asks #wn88 imagine #william nylander imagine #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine

109 notes · View notes

bonesandchalamet · 1 year

Text

a golf outing - h.styles

masterlist

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

warnings: my former apology for not knowing too much about golf but enough to write this!

he’s four strokes up on the back nine, and he’s grumbling. it’s no fun to play with him, he takes it too seriously and it doesn’t help that a crowd has grown around the course.

“the winds fine, love, just putt already.” it’s your turn to grumble, taking a seat in the golf cart. he’s spent the past three minutes adjusting his grip on the club and waiting for the so called wind to die down.

he mumbles some words you can’t hear. the sounds of the giggles from fans gathering around were growing louder. you know he’ll blame them, the wind, or you for his lack of skill this afternoon.

you’d dressed a little too skimpy for the cold weather. in your white golf skirt and tightly knit wool woven pink sweater, it’s all his mind can think about. fuck the ball he’s been trying to tap into the hole, he’s too preoccupied.

finally getting it in, the crowd around you erupts in a cheer. he just gives his fans a little wave before picking up the ball and returning to the golf cart where you’re sat, “you’re the worst to play with.” you scoff moving to the passenger seat, allowing him to drive.

you’d been golfing since you were a little girl, you’d known how to play a good round on some of the worst and best courses. harry was still an amateur, despite his many rounds he gets in during tour, you wouldn’t ever invite him to Augusta with your father.

“one day I’ll get that invite.” he looks over at you before stopping at the next hole, you just laugh. your dads competitiveness would scare the singer off, and Harry’s hyper fixation with checking the wind would send the whole trip down the drain.

“focus on this next hole, would you? you’ll need a different club. knowing you, you’ll end up in the sand.” you toss him the club he’ll need before he scopes out the next hole. it’s different than the last, it’ll take an average of five strokes, but at Harry’s rate it’ll take him at an average ten.

“you go first, my lady.” he moves out of your way. you bend over placing your ball on the green before adjusting for the swing.

he’s watching you, green eyes glued to your stance, the way your hands grip the club, eyes close and shut before you lift the golf club up and swing at the ball. a perfect shot.

his mouth opens slightly, fans run towards the flag where you indeed just hit a hole in one. girls scream and cheer you on, while harry stands star struck.

you turn around to face with a big grin. he sighs, setting his ball on the green where you stand, “I’m never getting that invite to Augusta.” he turns to you, lips quickly pecking your cheek in congratulations.

“you’re cute to think you’d ever be invited in the first place.”

590 notes · View notes

softguarnere · 1 year

Text

2 am

Joe Liebgott x reader

A/N: (this is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) This fic idea has been banging around in my head for a solid year now, but for some reason I'm only just now writing it. Oops. The title comes from "2am" by Foals. Thanks for reading, and I hope that you enjoy! Warnings: alcohol, mentions of the Holocaust, language (one f-bomb and that's it)

For the middle of summer, the night air is cool against your warm cheeks when you stumble out of the hotel lobby, arms slung around the necks of your friends as the three of you lean into each other for support and guidance as you make your way to the curb. The three of you are still laughing at some joke that Luz made back inside when the cab pulls up.

“Here you go.” Careful not to lose his grip on you, Luz opens the back door of the cab and guides you towards the back seat.

You really should be getting back to your hotel, but you don’t want this night to end. And who would, after all the fun you’ve been having with your old friends? It’s nice to see them again, to catch up with them, like you’re finally getting to know them without the constant threat of German artillery fire looming over your heads.

“I’ll take the next one,” you protest.

This makes Babe laugh. “Nope. Drunkest person needs to get home first. We gotta make sure you get in the cab before you pass out.”

You fix your old friend with the best intimidating look that you can manage in your current condition. “You drank way more than me, Heffron.”

Babe chuckles. “But I can actually hold my liquor.”

Well, touché. You can’t argue with that one.

“Can you make it home okay?” Luz asks.

“I’ll be fine,” you promise. After all, you’re not nearly as drunk as they seem to think that you are . . . At least, you don’t think you are.

As if he can see your thought process, Luz laughs. “I’ll swing by tomorrow morning to make sure that you’re still alive.”

Your friends close the door of the cab then. Babe taps the glass of the window twice to signal to the driver that you’re ready to go. On cue, the car pulls forward, slowly pulling out of the hotel’s drive. Only when it nears the exit of the parking lot does your driver finally ask his question.

“Where to?” A voice with a familiar raspy quality wants to know.

The sound is enough to make you freeze, your breath stuck in your throat. Maybe you are drunk. Yes, that must be it – the alcohol making you hear what you want to hear, using some wild manifestation of your subconscious desires. Because you haven’t heard that voice in years. You haven’t seen its owner in just as many. And you certainly didn’t expect to run into him here, of all places.

Your eyes jump to the rear-view mirror. A lump the size of a golf ball appears in your throat. Because even in the faded light of the late summer night, there can be no mistake as to who is staring back at you, waiting expectantly for your answer. Even after all these years, even though you can only see his eyes, you would recognize him anywhere.

“Joe?” Somehow, the words manage to push past the lump in your throat, echoing through the car in the silence that has fallen.

Click-click, click-click. The turn signal methodically keeps time, a metronome as your fellow paratrooper waits for a reply. Though you still haven’t said anything, he takes a right out of the parking lot and eases onto the road.

“Guy behind us was looking impatient,” he says by way of explanation.

It’s Joe Liebgott, you can tell. From the voice, the eyes, the way he tensed when you said his name. Would he have reacted that way if anyone else had said it? Or is it only because of you and the things that happened between the two of you so long ago?

The car is moving and you probably shouldn’t, but you can’t stop yourself from leaning forward, trying to get a better look at him. He’s so close – closer than you ever thought he would be – but he seems unreal and worlds away, like a dream that you can almost, but not quite, reach.

“Is it really you?” You whisper.

Joe sighs, a familiar sound. “Yeah, (Y/N). It’s me.”

“San Fransisco,” you remember aloud, some far away memory of some offhand comment that he once made to someone filtering into your memory. “You always said that you would come back here.”

He only nods. Your heart thuds in your chest. There’s so much to say, to ask, yet it feels like you’re running out of time for it all.

“And now you’re here,” Joe finally says. “With . . . them.”

It takes your brain a second to work out that he means Luz and Babe. Two of the many members of Easy Company who came to the reunion this year. Unlike some people.

“You didn’t come to the reunion.”

“No.” He makes a noise that might be a laugh. “Kind of defeats the purpose when you’re trying to leave the war behind you.”

Leave the war behind you. A slap in the face would have hurt less. Is that why he stopped calling you? Stopped answering your letters? You met during the war, during boot camp, and made it through the whole thing together – from Georgia to the Eagle’s Nest. You had been under the impression that you could make it back to the States . . . Well, at least now you know that Joe had different ideas.

“Then why are you here?” You ask. It’s a fair enough question; Easy Company reunions always generate a lot of attention. Joe happening to be outside of the hotel that was hosting this year’s reunion can’t be a coincidence, can it?

His silence is all the answer that you need.

“You showed up, but you didn’t come inside. Why?” Before he can answer, you add, “And don’t say the thing about leaving it all behind you again. I got that part, okay?”

You can hear Joe’s mouth shut with a click. You hadn’t meant to snap the last part at him. But seeing him here . . . All the anger, the sadness, anything you ever felt about or towards Joe Liebgott that you’ve spent years repressing is now rising to the surface.

“I think you know why,” Joe mutters.

No! You want to snap. No, I don’t understand how you could have left me hanging like that, after all that we went through together, all that we meant to each other.

“I – “ He clears his throat, shakes his head. “I was only hoping to see you. Just . . . I don’t know. I thought that would be enough, if I saw you. I never expected you to get into my cab.”

“And now I’m here.”

“Now you’re here.”

Thankfully the darkness of the night hides your faces from each other. In the solitude it provides, you can feel warmth bubbling and spilling over your eyelids, leaving glossy trails down your cheeks that shimmer gold in the passing streetlights. When it was clear that Joe was done with you, you had decided to leave him and your affections towards him behind. Clearly a part of you never quite let go. That much is clear to you now, as tears escape you without your permission.

Still driving, Joe glances up at the rear-view mirror, catching your eye. Your teary eyes. You can hear the frown in his voice.

“(Y/N)?”

“You left me behind,” you whisper.

For a moment, more silence. Then, “I know. And you know what? It was the stupidest decision that I ever made.”

Yes, it was. For a while, having loved him, having trusted him, felt like the stupidest decision that you ever made. It seems so terribly silly and childish to be sitting behind the man you once loved wholeheartedly – the man who broke your heart – and to wish for nothing more than for the two of you to go back to the way that you once were.

Second times the charm? Or should you follow a policy of “fool me once”?

“I want to go home,” you say. “Can you take me home? Please?”

Joe nods. “Where to?”

You give him the name of the hotel that you’re staying in. The cab fills with the rhythmic click-click, click-click of the blinker as Joe changes lanes, easing the car onto the exit and then navigating onto the quickest route like a master. There are several times when you hear him draw a breath as if to speak, but he never says anything. You keep quiet, allowing him the silence to concentrate on his driving.

Say something! Part of your brain – or is it your heart? – demands. You never expected to see him again, and now the chance is here. The destination is fast approaching, and then what will you do? If only you don’t squander it, this could be your chance to say all the things that have plagued you for years.

The cab slows as Joe sidles up to the hotel. Warm light from the lobby spills out the door and into the back of the cab, beckoning you into its safety. However, something stronger in the front of the cab keeps you firmly in place.

“I can’t sleep alone. Not again.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you’ve even had the chance to register them in your mind.

For the first time since you got into the cab, Joe turns to face you so that you can look at each other head-on. He frowns.

You rush on. “Do you remember Austria? After we liberated that camp, I never thought that I would sleep again. I only got rest because you were willing to flaunt the fraternization policy to come hold me, keep me safe.”

“I remember.”

“I think about that, sometimes,” you admit. You probably shouldn’t have told him that, given him that power over you. But who doesn’t regret the things they say at 2 a.m.?

Joe pushes a sigh, long and hard, through his nose. “Fuck.” He adjusts his position so that he’s leaning further back into the cab, closer to you. Through the darkness, you can see the conflict so clearly on his face, with his wrinkled brow, his frown. It’s so familiar.

“I’m sorry,” Joe says. “I really . . . I was stupid. You deserved better than that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought that I was sparing you.”

“From what?”

“All my pain. My anger.”

“You don’t think I have that, too?”

Joe blinks, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. When your boyfriend should have been helping you through those things, you had to rely on your old friends from the company instead. You would have helped him through his struggle, if he had only let you.

Then again, Joe Liebgott always had trouble asking for and admitting when he needed help.

“Park the car, Joe,” you say. “No, not here. In one of the parking spots.”

“Why?” Joe asks, even though he’s already pulling into a parking spot – he gets it perfect on the first try, effortlessly.

“Because,” you say. “You’re done driving for the night. You’re coming up to my hotel room and we’re finally going to talk.”

Joe kills the engine, but he doesn’t move from his seat. For a moment he stares at you, like he isn’t sure if this is real, or if he should. He must make up his mind because he nods, gets out of the car, and comes around to open your door for you. In the old days, he would have smirked at you, given you some pick-up line to hear you laugh. Now, he watches you with reserve.

Maybe this is a mistake. But if either of you really feels that what happened was a mistake, then there’s the possibility that it can be fixed, even after all these years. Not in one night, but it will be a start. Tonight, you can do something for Joe that people so often forget that he needs – show him some understanding, some compassion. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to reignite the light that once existed between you again.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #joseph liebgott #joseph liebgott x reader #my writing #hbo war fanfic #hbo war

176 notes · View notes