#Golf Clubs Wedges

[untilthenexttee]

Club Champion Adds Five New Brands to Robust Demo Offerings

Club fitter brings new grips, clubs, and shafts into the mix Willowbrook, IL – Club Champion, the globe’s top custom golf club fitter and builder, announced that they have added six new brands to their already extensive brand matrix: Nineteenth Golf Grips, Vice Golf Clubs, Aretera Shafts, JP Wedges, Newton Shafts, and Axis1. Nineteenth Golf engineers grips that pair expertise in golf technology…

[clarksam923]

Improve Your Game and Save Money: The Benefits of Buying Second-Hand Golf Clubs

As a golfer, having the right set of clubs can make all the difference in your game. However, buying new clubs can be expensive, which is why many golfers turn to second-hand clubs. In this article, we will discuss the benefits of buying second hand golf hybrids, wedges, Mizuno golf clubs, and drivers.

Second hand golf hybrids are a great option for golfers who are looking to improve their game without breaking the bank. Hybrids are known for their versatility, and they can be used in a variety of situations, from the fairway to the rough. When buying second-hand hybrids, it's important to check the clubface for wear and tear, as this can affect the performance of the club. Look for a hybrid with a well-maintained clubface and a shaft that is in good condition. With a second-hand hybrid, you can improve your game without having to spend a lot of money on a new club.

Next on our list are second hand golf wedges. Wedges are essential for getting the ball out of bunkers and hitting accurate approach shots. Buying a second-hand wedge can be a great way to save money while still getting a high-quality club. When shopping for a second-hand wedge, look for one that has a well-maintained grooved clubface. Grooves are essential for creating spin on the ball, so make sure they are in good condition. Additionally, check the shaft for any signs of damage or wear. With a second-hand wedge, you can improve your short game without having to spend a fortune.

If you're a fan of Mizuno golf clubs, buying second-hand can be a great way to get the clubs you want at a fraction of the price. Mizuno is known for their high-quality irons, and buying a second-hand set can be a great way to save money without sacrificing performance. When shopping for second-hand Mizuno clubs, check the club heads for any signs of wear and tear, as this can affect the performance of the club. Additionally, make sure the shafts are in good condition and that the grips are not worn down. With a second-hand set of Mizuno clubs, you can enjoy the performance of a high-quality set of clubs without having to pay full price.

Finally, let's talk about second hand Mizuno drivers. Drivers are an essential club for any golfer, and buying second-hand can be a great way to save money while still getting a high-quality club. When shopping for a second-hand Mizuno driver, look for one that has a well-maintained clubface and a shaft that is in good condition. The clubface is essential for creating distance off the tee, so make sure it is not worn down or damaged. Additionally, check the shaft for any signs of damage or wear. With a second hand Mizuno driver, you can improve your tee shots without having to spend a lot of money on a new club.

Conclusion:

Buying second-hand golf clubs can be a great way to save money while still getting high-quality clubs. When shopping for second-hand clubs, it's important to check the clubface, shaft, and grip for any signs of wear and tear. With a little bit of research and some careful shopping, you can find the perfect set of second-hand clubs to take your game to the next level. So whether you're looking for hybrids, wedges, Mizuno golf clubs, or drivers, consider buying second-hand to save money and improve your game.

Find more information relating to second hand golf hybrids and second hand golf wedges  here.

[nextnewgolf]

Mechanics of hitting the ball using the best used taylormade golf clubs

When you play a draw or a fade, shaping the shot is crucial as a Pro Golfer. Adjusting the club head path corresponding to the face angle, the player gains maximum distance and better control in striking the ball at the sweet spot. When you are missing the sweet spot then the energy shift is lesser or minimal from the bat to the ball. This could be the reason that the ball would not go the distance. 

Comfort and power gained

So, apart from the power that you apply at that point, if you are comfortable using the club, then it allows you to connect better. Most probably you can time it well to hit on the sweet spot in that case. But your comfort is largely determined by the type of equipment that you use. Fitness is another criterion too. The ease with what you are going to handle in the club will facilitate you to strike with the right timing sense. 

To find suitable equipment of that kind try to browse through the options at the best place to buy used golf clubs. This is because you are about to find the matching equipment for your kind of swing, stand and strength. Once you found the right combination that would work in your favor, then you can perform to your fullest potential 9 out of 10 times unless any other external factor comes in to play spoilsport. Look at the specifications, reviews and diagrams of the clubs at the best place to buy second hand golf clubs.

Vintage and contemporary models

You would get ideas. Test a few of those used tailor-made golf clubs. It is not only the beginners but also the intermediate-level players, the club players, the pros and even the title winners who are sometimes looking to find some unconventional clubs. 

Some vintage designs in the used taylormade golf clubs give you hints about certain features that you can take advantage of. So, the hub becomes your best gallery where you have the liberty to explore many brands, models, designs, materials, and shapes of the old and new kinds. It is a passionate hobby for many golf fans to explore the variety of second hand taylormade golf clubs from the dedicated websites. They find the time spent on this best place to buy used golf clubs to be extremely useful for multiple reasons.  

Wrong clubs and the misses

When you use the wrong clubs and miss the timing on the shot, then the mechanical energy transferred from the club face to the right spot on the ball is minimal. The residual energy is triggering the spin action on the ball instead. It means the golf ball doesn’t travel the full distance but spins more. The travel curve of the ball is steeper and higher rather than being a parabolic trajectory.

So, the professional golfer would consider these meticulous aspects of mechanics involved in the ball striking action. If he or she grabs the idea totally, then they would find a way out to extract the maximum out of every other single strike. Learning is important for a golfer not only for performing well but also to select the right items that could give them an edge. Second hand taylormade golf clubs can also give you that advantage many a time.

[crushpunky]

rafe gets protective of kook!reader

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

Y/n sat on the patio of Tanneyhill, the dull bass of the music vibrating through her bones. The yard was littered with a few drunken teenagers and young adults, but much less crowded than the inside. Hoping for a moment of reprise from the constant social overload, she found herself sitting outside on one of the sun loungers. Topper and Kelce were somewhere inside, probably getting drunk with whatever girls graced their presence. Rafe had been talking with somebody he knew from the country club when y/n told him she was going to step outside. He had offered to go with her, not liking her being alone in the chaos of a party, but she insisted he continue his apparently very interesting conversation about golf.

“Do you mind if I join you, princess?” Y/n looked up at JJ Maybank, a wide (likely drunken) grin on his face. She wasn’t surprised to see him here, he was a friend of Sarah’s after all. Sure, JJ wasn’t exactly her friend, but the two of them were acquaintances. She had bought weed from him numerous times (not that Rafe knew that) and had gotten to know him through spending time with Sarah or running into him at parties.

“Knock yourself out.” Y/n gestured to the lounger next to her. JJ stumbled forward, instead opting to sit on the foot of her own lounger. Y/n closed her eyes, rolling her shoulders, and trying her best to drown out the echoing music.

“So… where are your buddies?” JJ asked, gesturing with his red solo cup. Y/n sighed, a bit of annoyance creeping up on her before she quickly pushed it down, biting her tongue as she opened her eyes.

“Inside.” Y/n nodded, swirling her own cup mindlessly. JJ nodded, his fingers beginning to fiddle with the laces of y/n’s shoes. Y/n’s brows furrowed at the action but didn’t question it. Even though she didn’t know JJ that well, she knew he was a very fidgety-touchy guy… him and Rafe were very much alike in that sense.

“They left you out here?” JJ asked, looking up from y/n’s shoes, his hand still resting lightly on her ankle.

“No, no, no.” Y/n shook her head quickly. “I just needed a little break.”

“Ahhh,” JJ said, tapping his cup against his head, “and I’m bothering you during said break.”

Y/n shrugged, a small smile forming on her lips. At least he was self aware.

“Well, maybe I can make it up to you,” JJ reached behind his ear before dramatically presenting her a tightly rolled joint. Y/n felt her mood pick up, straightening in the lounger.

“Perhaps you can.” Y/n smiled, taking the joint from him and sticking it between her lips. JJ pulled a lighter from his back pocket, y/n stretching out her hand to take it. JJ tutted before leaning forward, his hand trailing up to rest on her knee.

“Allow me, princess.” JJ whispered, his face close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. He lifted his hand, cupping the side of her face as he flicked the lighter. Y/n watched as he bit his lip in concentration, the precise blue of his eyes flickering with each spark of the lighter; a blue that seemed so similar to—

“What the fuck are you doing?” Y/n’s gaze shot up at Rafe’s voice, the joint nearly falling from her lips. JJ jumped at the sudden intrusion, catching himself just before rolling off the lounger, his body practically on top of y/n’s. Y/n pushed him to sit up instinctually, the joint still dangling between her lips.

“Oh, hey Rafe. Always a pleasure—” JJ scrambled, pushing his hair out of his face haphazardly. Rafe took a harsh step forward before yanking the joint out of y/n’s lips and tossing it into the nearby pool.

“Man, do you know how much that fucking cost—” JJ groaned before Rafe grabbed his shoulder, yanking him to his feet.

“Rafe, quit it!” Y/n quickly jumped up, trying her best to wedge herself between the two hotheads before the fists started to fly.

“I don’t give a fuck how much it cost, pogue,” Rafe spat, his grip still strong on the front of JJ’s shirt. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing touching her like that? Huh?”

“Well, she said it was perfectly fine.” JJ shrugged, a shiteating grin on his face as y/n stared daggers at him. Rafe took a seething step forward, his fists clenched.

“I’ll fucking kill you, you piece of shit—” Rafe roared.

“Oh here he is! Big, bad Rafe fuckin Cameron—” JJ shot back, closing in on Rafe, further sandwiching y/n between them.

“Both of you fucking stop!” Y/n shouted, pushing with all her strength and sending the two of them stumbling apart. Had either of them been sober, or god forbid high, she knew there would be no way in hell she’d have been able to stop the two of them once they started at eachother like this.

“Rafe, he wasn’t fucking doing anything. We were just talking and smoking. That’s it.” Y/n snapped, turning to Rafe with a point. Rafe’s jaw clenched, his gaze still darting between y/n and JJ.

“See, Cameron, I told you—” JJ started before y/n turned to face him, her eyes ablaze.

“JJ, I don’t need you encouraging him and I definitely don’t need you fucking helping me.” Y/n said pointedly, JJ’s eyes widening by her intensity. The three of them stood in a shocked silence, y/n putting her hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry, JJ, but I think you should go.” Y/n sighed. JJ scoffed, shaking his head as he picked up his drink.

“Sure thing, princess.” JJ said with a small salute. “I had a good time tonight. We should do it again.”

“You motherfu—” Rafe seethed, moving towards JJ until y/n pushed him back once more.

“Get out of here, JJ. Now.” Y/n said, her tone serious as she held onto a fistful of Rafe’s shirt. With a roll of his eyes, JJ finally walked away, leaving just the two of them on the patio. Y/n let go of Rafe, wiping her hands on her shorts as she shook her head.

“So you’re just taking weed from anyone now, huh?” Rafe said, lowering himself to meet y/n’s eyes. Y/n scoffed, turning to sink back into her lounger with a sip of her drink.

“Do you have any idea how fucking dangerous that is? Who knows what kind of shit that pogue put in there? Huh? W- what if he fuckin drugged you?” Rafe followed her, sitting on the foot of the lounger.

“I saw what he was doing,” Rafe scoffed. “Touching you like that, trying to get you high out here by yourself so he could take advantage of you—-”

“Jesus, Rafe!” Y/n shouted, throwing her hands up exasperatedly. “We were just fucking talking! Not every guy is trying to ‘take advantage’ of me! Do you hear yourself right now?”

“He’s a fucking pogue, y/n. I think I sound perfectly rational.” Rafe said shortly, causing y/n to roll her eyes.

“Why do you always do this shit?” Y/n snapped. “Everytime a guy so much as looks at me, you freak the fuck out and make a huge scene.”

Rafe scoffed, laughing to himself as he shook his head.

“Yes, you do, Cameron.” Y/n pointed a finger against Rafe’s chest. “You know I’m right.”

“Sorry that I fuckin care about you, a’ight? Me. Fuckin me. I care about you.” Rafe snapped, grabbing her hand and pushing it further against his chest. Y/n eyes refused to leave his, her gaze firm.

“It’s not fair, Rafe, and you know it.” Y/n’s said, her voice barely a whisper. She could see Rafe’s body soften slightly, his grip allowing their hands to fall into his lap.

“I– I…” Rafe stuttered, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he ran a hand through his hair. Y/n swallowed harshly, Rafe’s hand still firm in her own as he searched for the words.

“Look, I’m sorry, I just…” Rafe sighed, “when I see them… looking at you like that it just does something to me and I can’t fucking stop it. I wish I could just let it go and pretend that it doesn’t bother me but… it does.”

Y/n felt her stomach drop, the weight of Rafe’s words heavy in the air.

“Y/n, I care about you a lot… maybe even more than a friend should and I can’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt to see you with someone else like...” Rafe said quietly, his eyes locked on their entwined hands in his lap.

“Like what, Rafe?” Y/n whispered, Rafe finally lifting his gaze to meet her own.

“Like the way I want to be with you. The way I’ve always wanted to be with you.” Rafe said lowly, the words lifting the weight of years and years of hiding off his shoulders.

“Rafe…” Y/n started, but was cut off as Rafe shook his head harshly.

“No, you don’t… you don’t have to say anything.” Rafe sighed, rubbing a hand along the curve of his jaw.

“But I want to, Rafe.” Y/n whispered, squeezing Rafe’s hand gently, her thumb trailing along his knuckles lightly.

“I… I hate seeing you with anyone like that too, Rafe.” Y/n swallowed harshly. “Everytime I had to just… stand there and act like I didn’t care I was dying inside.”

Rafe’s face softened, his hand moving to cup her jaw. Y/n felt her heart skip a beat as she gazed deeply into the deep, stormy blue of his eyes. He was so close she could feel the warmth radiating off his skin and smell the soft smokiness of his cologne.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Rafe whispered, his lips only centimeters away from her own.

“I didn’t want you to think I was just a stupid girl who had fallen for her best friend.” Y/n said. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was just a stupid boy who had fallen for his best friend.” Rafe said, his lips ghosting her own.

“Well I guess that just makes us two idiots.” Y/n whispered as their lips finally met in an explosive culmination of years and years of longing.

[wileys-russo]

“Awe bubba, you’re the best little golfer I know babe”, Leah Williamson

in the same universe as legacy l.williamson II little golfer

"can i come out yet?" you yelled out with a sigh, banished to the bedroom while leah and mila got up to god knows what. with there being no games this weekend leah had decreed sunday was family day and that she would organise everything, so you had no idea what the three of you would be doing.

"yes!"

you huffed in relief at the sound of your wifes voice, pulling yourself off the bed and opening the door. "oh my god." you exhaled, suddenly getting a sneaky suspicion you could work out what it was leah had planned for the day.

"i look like mummy!" mila cheered bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet as leah grinned proudly, hands on her hips clearly pleased with herself. "aw bubba, you're the best little golfer i know babe." your wife cooed encouragingly, fixing the cap on your daughters head slightly.

"when on earth did you buy her those?" you sighed, your now four year old daughter dressed up exactly like your wife was, wearing matching plaid pants, white button up and bowlers cap as your wife, clearly dressed up for a day on the green.

"when you were away with aunty steffy!" mila answered, which was a few weeks ago now. "you took her to the club with you? leah she's four!" you shook your head in disbelief.

"i've been gettin lessons! got my own clubs too." mila puffed her chest out proudly as leah's grin grew even wider. "of course you do. so is that what this grand family day out is then? an excuse to drag me to the golf club?" you deadpanned, leah shooing mila off to grab her backpack from her room.

"baby." leah started toward you with a charming smile as you shook your head, arms crossed and staring her down. "come on. you know you love it when she dresses up like a little adult, and she's got a good swing on her! is it so wrong of me to want to pass on my golfing prowess to my little legacy?" your wife reasoned, arriving in front of you with a pout.

"no. but why do i have to be dragged into it, lee i love you very much but i hate golf!" you whined throwing your head back with a groan. "for the sake of our marriage i'm going to pretend i didn't hear that." leah tutted with a shake of her head.

"theres an outfit all laid out for you in the spare room. the sun is shining, mila slept through the entire night in her own bed, we're going to have a perfect little family day out my girl. you'll see!"

only, you didn't see.

you sat with a frown etched into your features, sulking heavily as you watched on as leah would take the long drives, allowing your daughter to swing once you got a little closer to the hole.

you thought that the silver lining might be driving the golf cart, but your wife wouldn't even allow that insisting on being the chauffeur for the day as well.

"stop bein so stroppy. you're a bad influence!" leah chuckled as you scoffed, your retort cut off by her soft lips pressing against yours.

"yuck! no kissin!" a tiny body wedged themselves between you, pushing on leahs legs and sending her backward as mila climbed up and onto your lap.

"my mama, no kissin her!" mila warned your wife, wagging a finger at her and brightening your mood at the shock written across leah's face.

"your mama? kid thats my wife! she was that before you were born." leah poked at mila who stuck her tongue out and shrugged, arms latched tightly around your neck.

"she loves me more." mila grinned cheekily as leah gasped and dropped her golf club, falling to her knees. "oh my god...you've done it. mila you've broke my heart, oh it hurts!" leah wailed dramatically rolling about in the grass as you rolled your eyes and mila giggled.

"no being silly on the golf course!" mila lectured echoing leah's own words back as you snickered and covered your laugh with your hand. "don't you even care you broke my heart! thats not silly!" leah cried out, falling to her back again with a yell of pain.

"your wife is silly." mila sighed, patting your cheek with her small hand as you made no attempt to hide your laughter this time. "mila!" leah huffed, getting up to her feet and brushing the dirt off her.

"right fine then tiger woods. if i'm so silly watch this!" leah picked her driver back up, striding over and teeing up her ball, readying her stance. "don't miss!" you yelled right as she wound up to swung, indeed resulting in an air swing and mila's giggles.

"no noise in the crowd please, course etiquette." leah warned but you grinned at the clench in her jaw. "air swing!" you yelled again at the same time, leah just clipping the ball and only sending it about fifty meters forward as she exhaled.

"shit!" she swore, kicking the grass and pausing for a moment, mila thankfully too preoccupied chasing a bird to notice. "leah! language." you hissed nodding behind you as the blonde waved you off, stomping back to the cart.

"lets go." leah scooped your daughter up, mila squealing and kicking her legs happily as leah carried her over by the back of her top, dropping her in your lap.

"air swing. i'll show you an air swing." leah muttered under her breath, cheeks flushed red as you smiled, holding your daughter tightly as leah raced forward in the car and mila cheered.

"hey, lee babe calm down. this is a family day, not your regular nine holes with the lads." you let mila race off after another bird and stopped leah from leaving.

"stop winding me up then!" the blonde whined with a scowl, an apology mumbled against her lips for a second which seemed to calm her as she pulled away and took a deep breath.

"okay. come on mila, your turn!" leah called out, your daughter gasping happily and sprinting back over as leah helped her pick out her club.

"now remember. legs planted, feet outward, eye on the ball." leah coached helping the girl get into position and teeing up a ball for her. "go baby!" you cheered happily, clapping for her as leah took a step back and gestured for your daughter to go.

only after three air swings did you really get a glimpse into your wifes little legacy.

"shit!" mila swore as she missed again, kicking the grass and throwing her club down with a huff, crossing her arms and furrowing her eyebrows, a near mirror to your wifes own poor losing behaviour.

leah's eyes met yours in both worry and shock, though seeing the slight amusement on your face and no real trace of anger she relaxed a little. "hey, come here you." the blonde tugged on the back of your daughters top and squatted down.

"you're doing so so good bubba, way better than any other four year old i know. but we have to learn how to lose gracefully, mummy is still learning that too okay?" leah spoke softly as mila hugged her tightly with a nod.

"hey! are you giggling?" leah gasped as mila pulled away and grinned. "only joking! just being like you." mila wiggled happily, leah watching on stunned as the four year old marched back off and picked up her club, swinging and collecting the ball easily sending it off with a cheer, sprinting off after it with her club in hand as leah looked at you in disbelief and you smirked.

"well congratulations are in order babe, she's exactly like you."

[mysunshinetemptress]

HAPPY GILMORE

Leah Williamson x Reader

Leah thinks it will be a cute date idea to bring you to a driving range. To show you how to swing a golf club.

She’s seen videos of couples doing it on Tik Tok and it’s better than sitting in a restaurant or a cinema.

“Alright pretty girl ready.” You smile happily grabbing her hand as you both walk into the driving range, “Definitely Le.”

Leah smiles at the boy on reception “Do you need me to come down and show you how to set it up.” Leah shakes her head “Nah mate you’re all good I know how to do.” She winks at you afterwards getting cocky at the amount of time she’s spent here.

Setting up in your bay Leah puts the clubs down “Alright so I’ve got the driver the pitching wedge and a seven iron.” You nod smiling happily as she taps away at the screen.

“We’ve got a hundred balls to hit so that should be enough to get you to hit a nice long one.” You don’t respond instead turning to look at the yard markers.

“Ok baby let’s start you off small.” You grab the pitching wedge, Leah comes up behind you placing her hands on your hips kicking your feet further apart before putting her hands on top of yours.

“No baby don’t interlock your fingers relax I’ve got you.” You smile not that she can see as you unlock your fingers and relax into her hold.

You let her guide you as she helps swing your arms back and forth. “Ok baby I’m going to let you try yourself don’t worry if you don’t get it.”

You top the ball as it spins mere inches away from you. “It’s ok darling let’s try it again.”

You nod setting your self up again, this time you hit the ball but send it left, then again right and they don’t get the yards that a pitching wedge should but still Leah remains encouraging.

You stand back after you’ve hit the majority of balls “you go baby I’m just waisting the balls.” Leah tries to shush your woos but nevertheless takes the seven iron hitting them decently enough before moving on to the driver.

“I can do a Happy Gilmore.” Leah says cockily “oh yeah.” You say in a challenging tone. “Bet on it, if I hit the ball further than you with my happy Gilmore swing you wear my England jersey.”

You gasp hand clutching your chest “That is blasphemy, I will not be caught dead in that.” Leah laughs after watching you swing the last little while there is no way she loses.

“Scared baby.” Leah says eyebrows raised in mockery. You shake your head “ok Le you have yourself a deal, you hit your Happy Gilmore swing and if I get it further then you..” you pause thinking “I get to be top.” Leah sticks out her hand immediately, there’s no way she’s loosing you can’t hit it past the 55 yard sign.

Leah lines up stepping back “Good-luck pretty girl.” Leah rolls her eyes “I don’t need it darlin I’m just that good.”

Leah steps forward, swinging back and hitting the golf bar as hard as she can, putting her hand on her head she watch’s it sore it’s way to 150 yards.

Passing the golf club to you she leans in for a kiss “all yours princess.” You laugh taking the club and situating yourself in front of the ball.

You look back at Leah smiling before looking back at the ball. You swing hard and fast following through perfectly as the ball sores past Leah’s ball and over the 200 yard sign.

Leah stands mouth a-gap, “you…you know how to play golf.” You laugh pulling her into another kiss.

“I’ve been playing since I was four, my Grandad bought me my first clubs that Christmas, of course I know how to play golf Le.”

Leah shakes her head “good thing that bet was just a joke then.” You through your head back laughing “oh no baby that bet was serious so so serious.”

[harrywavycurly]

Loving a Killer: A Subtle Reminder

Masterlist: Here

CW: Harry is a killer, mentions of a few ways to kill people, brief mention of blood, one singular threat of physical violence.

A/N: I never thought I’d do a holiday themed update for this series but the idea popped into my head so here we are!✨

Tag List: @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview

Summary: Your office has a holiday party and Harry runs into someone he isn’t happy to see, enjoy some fluff and some typical Harry behavior🎄✨

Harry hates attending your office parties, he despises having to fake a smile for an entire evening while talking with people he has absolutely no interest in getting to know better and he loathes the way people attempt to use small talk as a way to ask invasive questions to try to get a better look at how your marriage is really going. But of course being the husband that he is, he never lets you in on how truly miserable he is during these events because he knows how much you enjoy them. You thrive in just about any social setting so it’s no surprise that the moment you got the invite for your office holiday party you went ahead and sent back the rsvp slip and checked the plus one box and scribbled his name on the line next to it, marking the date on the calendar the two of you have hanging in the kitchen with a big red star around it so he couldn’t miss it. So that’s how Harry wound up here, at the bar of a restaurant downtown that your office rented out for the evening face to face with a man he can’t be bothered to remember the name of, all for the sake of making you happy.

While Harry is internally groaning as the man begins explaining the difference between his favorite putting wedges he uses on his country club’s golf course, on the outside his mouth is turned slightly upward into a smile that obviously fools the man into thinking he’s interested in hearing more about his golf clubs because he just returns the smile and even reaches over and gives Harry a small nudge on the shoulder as he lifts his drink up to him. He lets his eyes lower to the drink in the man’s hand, it’s a thin looking glass that’s half way full of whiskey and has two ice cubes floating in it and all of a sudden Harry’s mind is swirling with ideas.

“I could break the glass and use a shard to cut his throat and he’d have no choice but to stop talking.” He thinks to himself as he looks back at the man’s face and just nods as if he’s actually listening to what he’s saying instead of silently plotting his death. “Too bloody for a party it would be easier to just snap his neck with a quick twist of-” Harry’s thoughts are interrupted when someone else walks up to the bar, he doesn’t have to turn to face them to know who it is, his blue eyes scan over Harry’s outfit making Harry bring his free hand up and adjust his glasses, pushing them a bit further up the bridge of his nose before he tilts his head to the side and meets Niall’s gaze.

"Oh fuck it's you." Niall mumbles as he tries his hardest to look away from Harry as quickly as possible but Harry just raises a brow at him as the man that was talking to Harry about golf clubs takes this as his moment to excuse himself and walks away and for a moment Harry is grateful for Niall. "Not like it's a bad thing I just didn't-know uhm I didn't know it was you." He explains as he gestures towards Harry with the hand that's not holding a beer bottle. "I thought you were someone-"

"It's the glasses right?" Your voice causes Niall to end his rambling, Harry smiles when he feels your hand on his lower back as you come to stand next to him. "Something about them with the suit makes him look like a sexy salesman doesn't it?" Niall's cheeks go pink as Harry playfully rolls his eyes while your hand travels up his back to rest on top of his shoulder.

"What exactly do I look like I sell?" Harry asks with a grin as he looks down at you as your other hand comes to rest on his chest. Niall takes a few steps forward towards the bar and places his beer down so he can turn to look at the crowded room in an attempt to give the two of you a moment but you’re not having it, and Harry can tell by the smirk that slowly makes an appearance on your face that you’re in a very playful mood tonight.

“I don’t know? Niall-” You look away from Harry and over to your flustered coworker who just quirks a brow at you when he hears you call his name. “What do you think he looks like he sells? Life insurance maybe?” Harry has to hold back his laugh as he places his free hand on your hip so he can pull you closer into his side making you giggle when he gives your hip a squeeze.

“Uh yeah yeah-insurance for sure.” Niall rushes to agree with you in hopes it’ll make the conversation end quicker making you just nod and smile as you look up at Harry who is already looking at you, he watches your cheeks get a light dusting of pink when he shoots you a wink before leaning down to place a kiss to the top of your head.

“I don’t know how I feel about the fact I look as if I sell insurance.” Harry mumbles as he brings his drink up to his lips to take a sip. You give his chest a small pat as you reach up and place a kiss to his cheek.

“I’d let you sell me your most expensive plan and all the little extra bits that I probably don’t even really need.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that sweetheart?”

“Because you’re the sexy insurance salesman who told me I need to be protected and deserve the best so of course I’m going to do what you say.” Harry tries to ignore the way your eyes travel from his face down to where your hand is resting on his chest as your fingers begin to mess with the cross pendant hanging from his necklace that’s visible due to the first few buttons of his dress shirt being undone.

“Well you do deserve the best.” He states making you smile as he rubs at the soft material of your dress over your hip. “Enjoying yourself love?” Harry asks as he notices in his peripheral that Niall has made a swift escape from the two of you now that your attention is fully on Harry.

“I am.” You answer as you let Harry’s pendant fall from your hand so you can bring it up and run your hand through his hair, pushing a few stray pieces up and out of his face. “What about you? Are you having fun?” You question as Harry brings his glass up to his lips while your hand goes back to resting on his chest.

“Loads.” He says with a nod after taking a sip of his drink and he knows in that moment you’re thinking something along the lines of how glad you are that he’s enjoying himself because the smile you give him is one of pure delight, because you’re just so happy that he’s also having fun at a party that’s full of people you work with.

Harry doesn’t take his eyes off you as you turn your head so you can take a look at the around the crowded room, he watches as your eyes scan the little groups of people seeing if there’s anyone you want to go talk to. When you rub your lips together and your hand that’s on his shoulder slides it way down his arm he knows you’ve spotted someone that you’ve deemed worthy of your company, so he gives your hip a gentle squeeze as a way to get your attention. He smiles when your head automatically turns to look up at him at the gesture, you return the smile as he leans down to place a kiss to your cheek.

“It’s okay baby you can go.” He reassures you as his hand moves from your hip to your lower back. “It’s your office party after all so go have fun with your nosey-”

“They aren’t all nosey.” You say in your coworkers defense but Harry just gives you a look that makes you roll your eyes and let out a huff. “Okay maybe they are but they’re lovely people once you get to know them.” You explain as his hand begins to run up and down your back.

“Oh I’m sure they are.” You glare at him as his tone comes out more teasing than he intended but he just chuckles when you playfully swat at his chest. “I’ll be out on the patio if you need me okay?” He informs you as he reaches over and places his now empty glass on the bar, you just nod and drop your hand from his arm.

“Okay.” Before you can say anything else Harry has both hands gently cupping your face making you look up at him, the grin he gives you mixed with the sparkle in his eye makes butterflies go off in your tummy. “These new glasses really do look so good on you.” You declare with a dreamy sigh as you place your other hand on his chest and pull him closer to you by his suit jacket, Harry just laughs as he leans down and places a kiss to your forehead.

“Behave yourself.” He warns as one of his hands slides down to the side of your neck. “I’m a married man.” He states as you lean into his hand that’s still on your face.

“She’s a lucky woman.” You smile as Harry shakes his head in disagreement because you already know what he’s going to say.

“Oh no. I’m the lucky one.” He says with a smile and you can’t help but pull him down to you so you can place your lips on his for a kiss.

“I love you.” You mumble between little kisses before you finally allow Harry to pull away from you.

“I love you too now go and have fun. You know where I’ll be.”

“Okay don’t miss me too much.” You joke as Harry lets his hands fall from your face and neck and you release your hold on his suit jacket. He watches with a smile on his face as you turn around and take a few steps towards a small group is women he knows works in the admin department because he met one of them, Sally during one of his random visits to your office for lunch. He raises an eyebrow when you pause and turn on your heel just enough so you can look at him with a playful little smile on your face.

“Or actually do miss me too much because you know I like it when you’re a little clingy.” Harry just chuckles and shakes his head before adjusting his glasses as you turn back in the direction of the group of ladies and begin walking again.

It’s an hour later and Harry is standing off to the side of the patio trapped in a conversation about indoor plants with a man named Jackson who he has come to learn is the head of the Human Resources department. Harry brings a hand up and rubs at the back of his neck as Jackson dives into the definition of a succulent and why they make the best type of office plant. An argument that Harry may have accidentally started at the brief mentioning of how he’s had an ivy at his desk for years and can’t seem to kill the thing even if he wanted to so he gives one to all the new people who start at his work as a welcome to the team gift, an obvious lie but only to those who truly know Harry and what he does for a living.

“How easy would it be to use his tie and strangle him?” Harry pounders to himself as the sound of Jackson’s voice begins to sound like nails on a chalkboard. “I could use the toothpicks from his olives and stab him in the ear drum.” He thinks to himself as his eyes land on the martini in the man’s hand, he knows it’s wrong to be thinking of ways to end the person’s life that’s currently talking to him but he can’t help it, Harry just really hates small talk.

“Oh Todd!” Harry’s hand falls to his side as Jackson looks over Harry’s shoulder and motions for the man he just called for to come over. “Have you met Todd? He’s-”

“Hey Jackson how’s it going man? Who’ve you got trapped over-” Todd’s words get caught in his throat as his eyes land on Harry, who doesn’t acknowledge him and continues to keep his eyes on Jackson.

“This is Harry St-”

“You know what? I’ve gotta go get a drink real quick uh excuse me.” Jackson’s brows pinch together as Todd quickly turns and walks away in a kind of way that’s very abrupt but not abrupt and rushed enough to cause a scene of any kind.

“Well that’s Todd he’s the old manager of your wife’s department. But he’s recently gotten promoted and-”

“You’ll have to excuse me Jackson I’m sorry but I see my wife looking for me inside.” Harry gives the man an apologetic smile as he reaches over and gives his arm a pat. “It was nice chatting with you though.” Not bothering to wait for a response, Harry turns around and heads in the direction he knows Todd went in.

Harry had a feeling he would see Todd here, he knows that he couldn’t avoid him forever especially since he still works at the same company as you but something about how cheerful he sounds walking around mingling with other coworkers doesn’t sit right with Harry. It doesn’t take him long when Harry steps back inside the main restaurant to spot him at the bar, his back is to the room and a shot glass in his hand. Harry quickly begins to make his way towards him, adjusting his glasses and offering small tight lipped smiles to people along the way before he’s finally standing next to him.

“I hear you got a promotion.” Todd jumps at the sound of Harry’s voice coming from next to him, Harry leans his back against the bar and crosses his arms over his chest as he scans the room, looking for you.

“Uh yeah-yeah I did so I’m not even on her floor anymore man so I don’t see her just like you wanted.” Harry just nods but he still can’t help but feel a strong sense of hatred for the man standing next to him.

“Interesting that you get a promotion while my wife can’t even get her own fucking office.” He says coldly as he finally finds you standing with Niall, the two of you laughing and smiling with drinks in your hands. “How’s the jaw?” He asks making Todd physically shudder as the memory of the last time he saw Harry three months ago replays in his head.

“Still hurts a bit but it’s healed for-for the most-most part.” Todd answers and Harry just turns so he’s resting his elbow on the bar and facing Todd who refuses to look at him for fear of what Harry might do if he gives him any unwanted eye contact.

“You have one week to get her into her own office or next time you see me I won’t just break your jaw.” Harry leans in a little closer to Todd’s ear so no one can hear what he says next. “I’ll rip it off.” He threatens before he stands back up and gives Todd a forceful pat on the back making him flinch. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

With that Harry leaves Todd standing at the bar too stunned or probably too scared to turn to watch Harry walk away, and he knows he’s going to have to tell Mitch about his little meeting and the threat. But Harry has a good feeling that Todd won’t need another visit from him and that before the end of the week you’ll come home all giddy telling him all about how you finally scored an office that’s just for you so no more sharing a cubical with Niall. Harry smiles when you catch sight of him and give him a wave with the hand that’s not holding a wine glass, and it’s that moment when you grin at him that he knows he will threaten your shitty old manager as many times as he has to if it means you’re happy because at the end of the day Harry will deal with a bit of blood on his hands if it keeps a smile on your face.

[steddieas-shegoes]

swindled for the hole

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘hole’

wc: 404 | rated m | cw: sexual innuendo, implied sexual content | tags: modern au, established relationship, date night, Steve is actually very good at top golf but lies about it to win a bet

⛳️⛳️⛳️⛳️⛳️⛳️⛳️⛳️⛳️⛳️⛳️⛳️

“And that’s…nothing.” Steve sighed. “How are we both so bad at this?”

“Well, I’ve never been good at sports. Not sure why you thought taking me to Top Golf would be the start of my shining golf career,” Eddie mumbled, chewing on a fried macaroni and cheese bite. “Food’s good, though.”

“But I’m usually good at this stuff!” Steve huffed.

“When have you ever golfed?” Eddie sipped his beer.

“Not golf necessarily! Getting balls in a hole!”

Eddie snorted so hard, beer came out of his nose. “Sweetheart, you have to know how that sounds.”

Steve clearly didn’t, the redness on his cheeks spreading rapidly down his neck.

“I do now.” Steve sighed, setting his club back in the compartment. “I have 4 points. And I don’t even think they’re supposed to be mine.”

“Well it’s better than my 0.”

Steve took a sip of his Long Island iced tea, then another, then drank the rest.

“Let’s make this interesting.”

Eddie glanced up from his mozzarella sticks and smirked. “Yeah?”

“Yep. I get one ball in the middle circle of any hole and I win. I win, I get in another hole.” Steve winked. “You win, you get the same.”

“You got a deal.”

Eddie chugged the rest of his beer and stood up to take his next turn.

He randomly chose the driver, figured maybe if it was bigger, he’d have a better chance of getting the ball further.

On the first swing, it did actually manage to go far, but it landed in the grass and got stopped by another ball.

He could feel Steve’s eyes on his back, but didn’t turn around, didn’t want to be distracted from winning.

He had two holes to get into.

His second swing was slightly better, and he managed to get the ball into one of the outer rings.

His third and final swing was terrible. His confidence was gone.

Steve brushed past him with a mozzarella stick in his mouth, smirk on his face.

“Wedge? Or nine iron?”

“You don’t even know what that means.” Eddie rolled his eyes.

Steve raised his brows in a challenge before grabbing one that looked smaller than the driver, but bigger than the first one Eddie used.

Steve swung.

The ball flew through the air.

It landed directly in the center of the middle circle.

He turned to Eddie with a smile.

“One hole down, one to go.”

[luvpookie02]

He's into YOU || Sano Manjiro x Reader || SMUT || YANDERE || 18+

005: Blood and Betrayal

You shook your head while your hand blocked Mikey's face from kissing you. "NO, MIKEY, PLEASE, DON'T DO IT!"

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he removed your hand and placed it back on top of you. Anxiety flooded through your veins as the horrifying thought of him impregnating you crept into your mind.

You gathered your strength and brought your leg up to kick Mikey off. The kick was hard enough for him to fall onto the bed. Seizing this chance, you bolted away from the bed.

As you slowly ran towards the door, your eyes caught a glimpse of a golf bag. Without thinking, you grabbed it and took some wedges before flinging open the door.

Meanwhile, Mikey stood up, searching for you on the bed. When his sight didn't catch yours, he began to curse angrily and stormed outside the room.

But what Mikey didn't know was that you were still outside the room, waiting for an opportunity to hit him on the head to knock him out.

And you did. As soon as Mikey opened the door, you swung the golf club and hit the back of his head, causing it to bleed profusely. Blood streamed down his neck, soaking his shirt until it started to turn red.

"Fuck!" he cursed, leaning against the wall before passing out in front of you.

You were scared. Even though he had hurt you, you still had precious memories of him that you couldn't shake from your mind. He was your first love, after all. You stared at his body as tears began to form in your eyes. "I... I'm sorry."

You broke down, crying, but stopped when you saw Mikey's hand move. "He's alive!"

A whirlwind of emotions surged through you: happiness that he was still alive, mixed with fear of what he would do next. You quickly stood up and ran away from him.

Feeling the cold breeze against your skin, you stopped and looked at yourself; you were only wearing your undies. Your eyes scanned your surroundings, and you noticed a familiar backdrop with different rooms. "Wait, I'm in a hotel?"

You continued to walk around, finding a stairwell. You couldn't help but notice that the hotel floor was an empty suite floor. "Mikey really is very successful now, huh?"

You flinched after hearing a bunch of voices coming from a nearby man. You quickly hid behind a hotel cart, hoping they wouldn't see you, especially since you were only in your undies.

"That fucker Sanzu really spilled on my hand!"

You gasped upon hearing the familiar name. "Sa... Sanzu?"

A husky laugh erupted from a white-haired man. "Well, he's high after all."

"He's always high," Kakucho giggled.

The two men exchanged laughter before Kokonoi revealed a card that seemed to be a room key.

Entering a room, Kokonoi gaped at Kakucho. "What are you doing?"

Kakucho shook his head before closing the door. "Nothing; I just feel like we're being watched."

Confusion crossed Kokonoi's face, and he wanted to ask a question, but Kakucho cut him off, saying, "It's nothing; maybe I'm just imagining things."

You took a deep breath when the two men entered the room. You stood up and started to look for stairs, knowing that there was a high risk of being caught by Mikey's men if you used the elevator. The stairs were your only safe option.

Stepping down three floors away from Mikey's room, you knocked on a random door. A male around your age opened it, surprised by your appearance.

The guy blushed hard as he looked at your angelic face. "Wh... who are you?"

Pushing your way inside, you fell on the floor, trembling with fear. "Please... please help me!" you cried.

Without hesitation, the man quickly ran to his drawer and handed you a loose hoodie and pajama set. "Wear this; I'll call the front desk."

You smiled at him and headed towards the restroom while he dialed a number on the telephone.

After five minutes, you came out and faced the man to thank him. He couldn't stop blushing at the sight of you. "Thank you."

You sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the floor while tears streamed down your face. "I'm sorry, but can I ask what happened? Who did this to you?"

You struggled to form words due to the trauma. You still felt terrible about what you did to Mikey, even though you were sure he was alive. Your conscience nagged at you to check on him.

"It... it was my e-... ex. He kidnapped me and tried to rape me." The man gasped, unable to believe what he was hearing. He clenched his fists and stood up.

"How can someone do that? That's horrible!" He turned his gaze to you and continued, "Don't worry; you're safe now. I already called the front desk, and they said they would send someone here."

You formed a smile, grateful for his help, and continued to tell him what happened after you got kidnapped while waiting for the hotel staff.

"Do you want to call someone? A family member, perhaps?" he suggested. You nodded in response. The man quickly stood up and handed you the phone.

You decided to call your friend. After three rings, she picked up, but you could clearly hear loud moaning coming from the line. "Shhh! Shut up; you're too loud! I'm talking to someone!"

You rolled your eyes before shouting her name. "YORU!!!"

"Y/N, is this you? Where are you? Why are you using a different number?"

"I need help!!! My ex kidnapped me!"

"What?"

"I said my ex kidnapped me! Can you go to my house and ask anyone to locate me? My brothers can't help s—"

"Huh? Did you just say that your ex kidnapped you?"

"Yes! So please help—"

"Look, Y/N, it's just your ex. Just do whatever he wants, and he'll release you. Stop acting like you haven't slept with him..."

"But—"

"Stop being a bitch and just sleep with the man! Trust me, that's what I do, and it works. Man, these days are really horny, y'know."

"YORU, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! HE'S A PSYCHO! HE WILL KILL ME, EVEN YOU!"

"That's just a threat to scare you; he won't really do that! Just f**k him! Anyway, I'm gonna hang up now; I'm busy."

"No, Yoru—"

You couldn't finish your sentence when Yoru suddenly hung up, leaving you dumbfounded. Tears began to form in your eyes as you thought about the fact that your so-called friend avoided helping you.

You knew that Mikey's organization was as big as your family's organization, so calling the front desk, security, or police wouldn't help. Your only chance of escape was through your own family.

But your hope crashed after hearing Yoru's refusal to help. "If only my brothers weren't out of the country," you thought.

Your two older brothers were the most wanted criminals across France. Even though they were Japanese, they managed to grow the organization significantly. Just a single call, and there would be a hundred men or more in front of you.

But that wasn't going to happen since there was no way to connect with them.

The man stared at you, gently caressing your back to help calm you down from your intense crying. "Shhh, it's gonna be okay. Help is on the way."

Both of you flinched when the doorbell rang.

"That must be them. Stay here; I'll open the door," the man volunteered.

You forced a fake smile, but it quickly faded away after hearing a gunshot from the door. You peeked gradually and saw the man who helped you covered in his own blood.

Your gaze shifted to the doorway, and you gasped upon seeing Mikey holding a gun, flanked by Ran, Rindou, and Sanzu. They blocked the entrance.

"Yahoo, Y/N! It's been a while," Sanzu said, waving his hand.

You averted your gaze and quickly ran to the edge of the room. You tried to hide your body, but it was useless since Mikey had already seen you.

He slowly walked towards you, still holding the gun in his hand.

His dark irises bore into yours as he gripped your throat, blocking your airway and making it hard to breathe. "You have the nerve to run away from me, Y/N."

"You better make sure you have strong stamina because I'm gonna f**king rail you until you're unable to walk." His emotionless eyes didn't leave yours until he gestured for Rindou to come forward and handed him a syringe.

"Remember this, Y/N. There's no escape," he said before injecting the syringe into your thigh.

Suddenly, you felt dizzy, and you closed your eyes, succumbing to the darkness creeping in.

(A/N) lmk if you want to get tagged!

tagged: @itsruki @reiners-milkbiddies @emilymikado @strawberrycheescake3 @theblueslytherin @dolledupformanjiro

[sunlightmurdock]

for thots night

i feel like older bf bradley would be rlly big on doing things u like - like seeing ur fav singer together, watching what kind of movies u like, etc. his love language is quality time/physical touch & u wanna reciprocate that so u decided to go golfing w/ him one morning & u quickly learned why u guys always do things u like (i feel like bradley is fun & all but his taste in hobbies & food & stuff is just bland/vanilla) but he looks so happy so u hold in ur boredom 😭

stop 🥹😭 you know he would try so hard to be interested in the things you’re interested in. From music and tv shows to your career and hobbies — he can name your least favourite coworker just as easily as he can name your favourite song. He knows you like the back of his hand.

And it’s not effortless either. He got it wrong — a lot in the beginning — but he never stopped trying. It took him three months to learn what your hobby involves, but he would always listen to you talk about it anyway. There are times he doesn’t understand. Times he’s had a long day himself. Times he really just doesn’t want to watch that movie. But you do, so he always will.

So, finally, you force yourself along to one of his hobbies. He’s thrilled to have you joining him for Saturday morning golf, beaming the entire drive there and telling you that you’re going to be a natural at it.

You’re not so convinced. When he sits at home and watches golf, you’ve never been particularly interested. But — he has promised to let you drive the cart. You’re trying not to kick your feet as you both head to the first hole. It’s early and this is going to take all morning. It would be wrong to be bored after all the effort he makes for you, but you just can’t help it.

“I’ll go first. Watch what I do. But I can help you if you want, too.” Bradley smiles, setting his ball on the tee. You lean back and give him a convincing enough smile and nod, propping yourself against the cart.

Bradley wraps both of his palms around the end of the club. He turns his head and stared down the green. Then, he pulls the club back into a high swing. His arms flex against the black fabric of his polo, his hat twisted backwards and his caravans set on the bridge of his nose.

Torso twisted, the club is only mid-air for just a second. It gives you just enough time to see the way his thick back strains against the fabric of his shirt before he swings hard and sends the ball flying along the course.

All too quickly, he turns toward you and smiles. “Your turn, honey!”

But, there’s already a cunning grin toying on your lips as you walk over and reach for the driver in his hand. You’re sharing his until he can convince you to join him more often. Bradley hands it to you pliantly.

“Could you help me?” You ask him, sweetness pouring from your tongue, disguising your motives. Bradley nods his head and positions himself behind you.

“Alright, so your hands need to be like this,” Bradley explains, his big hands wrapping over the top of yours and guiding them along the end of the club. “And then your feet kinda like…”

He wedges his foot between yours and gently kicks your ankles further apart. Really, he’s asking for you to mess with him. So, you do. You bend pliantly at the waist and wiggle your hips back against him, “Like this?”

And it turns out that maybe golf isn’t the hobby that the two of you will enjoy together — because there’s no way that Bradley can get through eighteen holes with a boner.

[clarksam923]

Improve Your Game and Save Money: The Benefits of Buying Second-Hand Golf Clubs

As a golfer, having the right set of clubs can make all the difference in your game. However, buying new clubs can be expensive, which is why many golfers turn to second-hand clubs. In this article, we will discuss the benefits of buying second hand golf hybrids, wedges, Mizuno golf clubs, and drivers.

Second hand golf hybrids are a great option for golfers who are looking to improve their game without breaking the bank. Hybrids are known for their versatility, and they can be used in a variety of situations, from the fairway to the rough. When buying second-hand hybrids, it's important to check the clubface for wear and tear, as this can affect the performance of the club. Look for a hybrid with a well-maintained clubface and a shaft that is in good condition. With a second-hand hybrid, you can improve your game without having to spend a lot of money on a new club.

Next on our list are second hand golf wedges. Wedges are essential for getting the ball out of bunkers and hitting accurate approach shots. Buying a second-hand wedge can be a great way to save money while still getting a high-quality club. When shopping for a second-hand wedge, look for one that has a well-maintained grooved clubface. Grooves are essential for creating spin on the ball, so make sure they are in good condition. Additionally, check the shaft for any signs of damage or wear. With a second-hand wedge, you can improve your short game without having to spend a fortune.

If you're a fan of Mizuno golf clubs, buying second-hand can be a great way to get the clubs you want at a fraction of the price. Mizuno is known for their high-quality irons, and buying a second-hand set can be a great way to save money without sacrificing performance. When shopping for second-hand Mizuno clubs, check the club heads for any signs of wear and tear, as this can affect the performance of the club. Additionally, make sure the shafts are in good condition and that the grips are not worn down. With a second-hand set of Mizuno clubs, you can enjoy the performance of a high-quality set of clubs without having to pay full price.

Finally, let's talk about second hand Mizuno drivers. Drivers are an essential club for any golfer, and buying second-hand can be a great way to save money while still getting a high-quality club. When shopping for a second-hand Mizuno driver, look for one that has a well-maintained clubface and a shaft that is in good condition. The clubface is essential for creating distance off the tee, so make sure it is not worn down or damaged. Additionally, check the shaft for any signs of damage or wear. With a second hand Mizuno driver, you can improve your tee shots without having to spend a lot of money on a new club.

Conclusion:

Buying second-hand golf clubs can be a great way to save money while still getting high-quality clubs. When shopping for second-hand clubs, it's important to check the clubface, shaft, and grip for any signs of wear and tear. With a little bit of research and some careful shopping, you can find the perfect set of second-hand clubs to take your game to the next level. So whether you're looking for hybrids, wedges, Mizuno golf clubs, or drivers, consider buying second-hand to save money and improve your game.

[nextnewgolf]

Guide to choose the right second hand golf drivers

The longest club with the lowest loft in your bag would just be the driver. The design of the driver is such that you can use it to hit the longest shots. It is a must for all levels of players whether an amateur or a pro. If you can choose a driver that is good enough to for you to hit distances, accurately in the direction you wanted, then that is your best driver. When hitting long distances, it is difficult to get accuracy if you are not finding suitable drivers. So, take time to find the best drivers from the online gallery where there are multiple options for you to pick your kind of driver.

How to buy the best drivers?

The loft can be the lowest but the iron can be harder for a better driver. Along with that if you are also finding the design to be sleek then that could be the best pick. Second hand golf wedges are also available on the dedicated sites where you may search for varied golf clubs. The second hand golf driverswould not be costlier compared to the brand new ones, so you can use it for practicing rigorously without minding much about the cost factor.

Where to find the best drivers?

The used golf driversin general are available in different brands, and models. You can choose the clubs not based on the brand repute alone, but by paying attention to meticulous details of the clubs like weight, material, specifications, loft size, and overall design. Usually, the pros browsing the online gallery come to search for their favorite kind of second hand titleist golf clubs. It is impressive in standards even after a few years of use provided if it is properly maintained by the first user. Maintenance is one of the most crucial factors that determine the life of the clubs of any kind whether it is a top branded item or not.

What is the size range of the best driver?

Again it depends on the purpose and the individual's comfort most of the time. Your skill levels and the way you are trained in the game, your gaming style, your fitness and many other parameters would come into play here. Yes, the same size driver can be giving different results for two different professional golfers with different styles of game.

However, on average, 10.5-degree drivers are suitable for the majority of the pros. the loft largely depends on the speed of the swing and the attack angle. So, if your swing speed is less than 95 miles per hour, then the above-mentioned 10.5-degree drivers would be suitable. Some of the pioneers in the game, who are adept in their skill sets, would like to go for something in the range of 9-10 degrees. These players are found to have superior control over their drives, though. To hit long distances they use drivers in this range. If they get the used golf drivers in these specifications then perhaps, they would not mind grabbing a couple of them at once.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

7 Psychopaths: Lee Know

x Summary: You are X, a seasoned assassin, and your boss has just assigned you an unusual task. You have two weeks to gather six men for a top-secret mission that requires their unique brand of psychopathy. The trick is, you've got romantic history with all of them.

A detail that might make this a walk in the park or the fight of your life. Time to find out...

x Pairing: assassin!lee know x assassin!chubby!fem!reader

x Genre: angst/crime au/smut

x Word Count: 1.8k-ish

x Warnings: blood, violence, fighting, knives, guns, disposable mob goon deaths, unprotected sex, fingering, mirror sex, hair pulling, lino is a lil obsessed with you, the strongest of language

x A/N: This is #2 in a series of 6 stories featuring two members from TXT, two from ATEEZ, and two from Stray Kids. They all follow the same theme and can be read chronologically or you can jump around. I support the chaos.

Previous Psychopath: Yeonjun | Next Psychopath: Wooyoung

Downstairs in the lobby of the Hotel Artemis the Innkeeper sits behind the check-in desk face down in a pool of his own blood. If someone were to lift his head up, the mangled flesh swimming around might resemble crushed raspberries. Their daily serving of fruit courtesy of you. But no one will lift his head up. They’ll all mind their business because that’s what you do here. You step around his body and grab your fucking key before you end up just like him or worse. He’ll wake up eventually. Probably.

Stepping into the surprisingly well-kept elevator, you press the button for the top floor, adjusting the garter belt beneath your dress as the doors close on the empty lobby. This is no time to admire architecture but you can’t help yourself. The Romanesque style interior is breathtaking, much nicer than the deathtraps you’ve found yourself in trying to track down the Black Cat. Some might call it lucky that Minho’s petty streak led him to the penthouse suite of the Artemis, right down the street from where your hotel is.

Watching the numbers light up one after the other as the elevator ascends, you’re shocked when it comes to a stop at the 6th floor, 14 floors short of your destination. You step back, wedging yourself in a corner, and fish your headphones out of your purse. Your music’s on before the bell dings, doors sliding open to let half a dozen goons file in. Italian mob. Dressed in all black. Cocky. Faces still healing from their last brawl. Half of them smile at you, nodding, politely admiring the way your dress hugs your curves, gawking at your flawlessly applied makeup.

You smile back and they turn away, eliminating you as a threat. Stealthy glances around the elevator reveal the guns tucked into their waistbands. The Big One, twice your size in every way, has a set of brass knuckles on his callused hands. Gold plated. Fancy. “Excuse me, gentlemen” you sing, maneuvering through them with the grace of a proper lady. They part the sea for you, unknowingly clearing a path to the control panel. “Getting off already, beautiful?” “Mmm'' you sigh, a manicured nail hovering near the bright red EMERGENCY STOP button, “Not yet.” Your fist slams down on the button, bringing 6,000 pounds of metal to a screeching halt. 

Minho studies the 16th-century Turkish vase on display in the lavish, and utterly destroyed, penthouse of the Golden Child, a pretty boy whose mob boss daddy provides him with enough money to blow on all the cocaine, strippers, and obnoxiously expensive art he can get his hands on. “Don’t you touch it!” the Golden Child screams, spitting loose teeth and blood onto his bear skin rug. Minho pops open the glass display case that houses the vase and an assortment of other highly fragile artifacts. “Don’t touch what?” he asks, winding up the scarlet splattered golf club he used to lay ruin to the apartment and its inhabitant, “This?”

“I said no!” Minho chews at the inside of his lip, pretending to be unsure of his next move when he knows exactly what he’s about to do. The head of the club shatters the priceless vase into a thousand pieces, shards of ceramics and glass flying through the air as he dishes out swing after spiteful swing to those poor, innocent historical treasures. The Golden Child grabs onto the arm of his white leather couch, attempting to push himself up but broken ribs send him tumbling back down. “You’re out of your fucking mind!” he curses, “All because I spilled a drink on you? I said, ‘My bad!”

Winded, Minho tosses the golf club across the room, grinning to himself as he notices a leaking cut on his hand. “My bad?” he laughs, “My bad?” It disgusts him, the smugness of people who think they can run around doing anything they want to anyone they want. Poor manners, that is. His parents should’ve taught him better but that’s what Minho’s here for. Charging across the room, he grabs the Golden child by the collar of his soft cotton robe and hammers his head onto the floor. “My bad is not ‘Sorry!’”

Minho bashes his fist into the man’s jaw, the brute force of the blow knocking another molar loose, “Say sorry!” “Eat shit.” “What?” Minho snaps, positive his ears are deceiving him. The Golden Child smiles up at him, arrogant and entitled even in his battered state, “Eat shit. My dad keeps tabs on me 24/7. He’s probably sending some guys up here right now and when they get here? You're dead.” Grabbing the belt barely hanging onto the man’s robe, Minho twists it around his neck, depriving him of air.

“I guess I’ll see you on the other side then, huh?” Minho doesn’t blink, not even once, as the color drains from the Golden Child’s eyes, bone splintering, his windpipe crumbling just as easily as his precious vases. Saying sorry really couldn’t have been that hard. 

“There’s nowhere to run, little one” taunts the Big One, trying and failing not to trip over the corpses of his friends. Your chest hurts like hell. The others were easy, so shit with their aim that only one bullet in 20 clips had even managed to skim your thigh. But this one? He won’t go down. Squared up against him, the knife from your torn garter clenched in your fist, you know you can’t let him hit you again. Another blow to the chest and you’re done for. “Who’s running, big boy? Let’s get it.” Tapping the EMERGENCY STOP button again, the elevator whirls back into action.

The Big One charges at you, swinging wildly. You duck, rolling through the bodies and slicing open the back of his left leg. The bell dings on every floor like the start of a boxing match. The Big One punches one of the walls, denting the metal. So much for pristine architecture. As he reels from the hit, you jump on his back, jabbing the knife into his chest from behind. The bell dings for a final time on the 20th floor. Biting down on your arm, he flips you over his shoulder, slamming you down onto the floor, knocking the air out of you.

The doors creak open as he raises his foot to stomp a steel toe boot down on your chest. Bang! A bullet barrels through his skull. The titan stumbles, his brain quite literally scrambled. Bang! Bang! Two more shots and he’s slumped on the ground with his friends where he belongs. Reunited at last. “Who’s your new boyfriend?” Minho teases from the hallway, tossing the gun to the ground. “You’re welcome!” you groan, flipping him off. He hops onto the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby. “Thank you,” he says, sweetly, grateful for your help and your presence.

Taking you into his arms, he props you up in the corner, checking you for injuries. “What is this?” You flinch when he brushes a tender spot on your head, “You tell me. You’re the one with the mob after you.” “No, I mean, what are you doing here?” “Oh, uh, boss sent me to get you” you stutter, the entire reason for your arrival in Rome having shifted to the back of your mind until now.

“We need you.”

“Where?”

“Berlin.”

“When?”

“Next week.”

“Okay, if…”

You whine when he caresses your thigh, checking the severity of the bullet wound. “If what?” “If you let me take care of you” he winks. “Take care of me? Why’d you say it like that?” Minho rips a long strip of material from the shirt of a nameless corpse and secures it around your thigh to stop the bleeding. He kisses your thigh, suckling softly at the tender flesh to distract you from the pain. Ding! First floor. The doors open to the lobby and he takes you by the hand, “Let me show you.” 

Taking care of you. When you say that in this line of business, it’s never a good thing but Minho had no intentions of cutting your life short. The only thing on his mind was carrying you back to your hotel, running you a nice bath, and dressing your wounds. “All better?” he asks, his breath tickling your neck as he plays with your clit. This was a part of the plan too, getting you in his lap, his naked body reunited with yours after months apart. From this position on the edge of the bed, you can see your reflection clearly. Your plush breast bounces in one of his hands while the fingers of the other spread your lips wide enough to fully expose your clit.

With your legs dangling across his, follow your cream as it trickles down the base of his cock. There’s nothing fast or rough about the way he lifts his hips to fill you. The slight curve of his cock makes you stutter each time he disappears into your pulsing warmth. “All---ah---b-b-better.” “B-b-better?” he mocks, his fingers working faster against your clit. You reach back to cup his face, scratching him the slightest bit as punishment for being a smartass. The pain only makes him want you more. His cock is as hard and smooth as polished marble, leaking precum into your needy pussy.

Minho watches you in the mirror, admiring your reflection, entranced by how the beauty of your face and the plumpness of your figure could make him put a bullet through the skull of a man who even dared to look at you wrong. “Take over for me” he whispers, guiding your hand between your legs, his fingers moving on top of yours to splash in the audible wetness of your pussy. You pick up a rhythm together, one that has your breath growing ragged and your stomach in a frenzy. With his hand now free, he brushes your hair out of your face, tilting your head to the side to kiss you.

His tongue ventures as far down your throat as it can go, devouring your moans. Bouncing you in his lap at a quicker pace, still careful not to hurt you, he caresses your body, greedy to claim you as his like you were meant to be from the start. The argument that broke you up. That stupid fucking argument. He doesn’t even remember what it was about anymore and he doesn’t care. Because you’re in his lap, your back arching against his chest, sloppily playing with your own aching bud, biting on his lip while you whimper his name. Your pulse races, your hand reaching back to grip his hair for stability.

“Mmhmm, pull my fucking hair and cum for me” he urges, “Cum for me angel.” Your tongue lashes at his, his words making you burst. “Minho! Aah, baby!” you cry, pulling his hair harder as your orgasm deepens. Minho rests his head on your shoulder. Watching you cum is like performance art. “I don’t care about anyone else. Just promise you’ll never leave me again.” Your glossy eyes meet his in the mirror, “I promise.” “You mean it?” “I mean it.”

And you do mean it. You have to. Because, with the hell that awaits you in Germany, sweet reunions like this might end up being your last.

[mortimermcmirestinks]

"no, but you don't understand!" the tumblr user said, "this is the good kind of bullying!"

"you attacked someone relentlessly for being disabled. in what sense is that good?"

"well," the tumblr user smiled beatifically, "you see, friend, they had the evil disability. it was the disability that makes you bad."

"well, I don't have that, but I do have a psychiatric condition that makes me beat shitheads over the head with a golf club when they say stupid shit, so, driver or sand wedge? you pick."

[randomfoggytiger]

Dreamland II: Golf Clubs, Diana Fowley, and Mulder's Father

(Courtesy of: @theparadigmshifts)

Dedicated to @goodshipsmulder~

I started out this post trying to draw parallels between Mulder's golf clubs and his past relationship with Diana. Yet, nothing about the Fowl One screamed "golf" or even upper-class country club to me; not enough, at least, for Mulder to spend money on and continually reuse a pair of clubs at her insistence.

However, I stumbled into another entirely other theory-- one that connects directly back to the late Bill Mulder.

Here we go~

DIANA FOWLEY, GOLF CLUBS, AND ORIGINAL THEORIES

Diana Fowley and golfing don't seem to fit in the same sentence: ease and relaxed calculation doesn't quite jive with bold and determined manipulation.

She's career driven: her work ethic caught the eye of the Consortium either before or after she and Mulder discovered the X-Files; and she took trips back and forth from Europe to Tunisia weekly to report her findings. Not to mention, she and Mulder were partners during his first couple months to first year on the files (if my timeline is accurate), and she's shown to fix his singular focus more firmly to "the work" in service of her own end goals. Diana's compliments and wheedling in The End imply she's not slackened her pace years later, and that she believes she can pick right up where Scully left off and do more and do it better.

Perhaps she and Phoebe Green were sporty types, more inclined to low cardio workouts to keep active and in shape. This would be an interesting juxtaposition to Scully (a tomboy Navy brat who had better things to do than hit horsehide with a stick) who might've lacked the sporty inclination of Mulder's previous exes.

Or, perhaps, the golf clubs are another manifestation of Mulder's fleeting interests after moving back stateside. Perhaps he took it up briefly, memories of his blueblood years leading him to that low impact sport first before he switched to swimming (maybe golfing was too mind numbing or it wasn't mind-numbing enough with other people interrupting his focus.)

Perhaps he took it up because Diana suggested it; or maybe he was trying to "find himself" in the wake of Phoebe cheating or Diana leaving.

However, speculations with maximum Fowley influence don't quite fit into the timeline suggested by the room's "design."

WHAT WE KNOW

(Courtesy of: @amplifyme)

What we do know is: the bed had to be the first neglected item in this room, surrounded as it is by piles of boxes, knickknacks, and junk. The golf clubs were a more recent addition-- more to the front of the line-- and look older and used. There are also upturned plastic totes, old boxes separate from the neat storage boxes in the back, a basketball hoop, a punching bag, a bowling pin-- all a bit used-- and Cougar's sports memorabilia, as well as fuzzy dice, a flat bat or rowing paddle, and newer magazines and file folders.

The bedframe is blocked in by boxes and junk on three of its sides, meaning it was the first item placed into this room. Next to it are boxes stacked professionally, and high. It's unlikely that Mulder would have done so neat a job. And the overturned totes, sports gear, and assorted mess are more recent additions-- hastily packed or thrown together, toppling and spilling out easily with one swing of the door: in other words, Mulder's work.

Thus, the stages are revealed.

The bedframe was placed first; at an undisclosed time later, the boxes were professionally placed around it; and at an undisclosed time after that, Mulder chucked in at least two totes, a lamp (he wedged into the second layer of boxes), fuzzy dice, and sports gear on top of a pullout or loveseat or fabric chair. The golf clubs fall into that addition. And lastly but also undisclosed (and likely on-going), he stuffed in light, assorted papers or shirts or whathaveyou he was too lazy to put away properly in the moment.

Let's break this down in layers.

EXAMINING THE EVIDENCE: BEDFRAME, BOXES, AND TIMELINES

The bedframe and boxes must be tackled first.

His bedframe is empty (though intact) and neatly set aside in the corner of the room. That seems to be stage one of unpacking and rearranging-- meaning, in my opinion, Mulder crammed the boxes in right after his and Diana's relationship ended. Mulder chooses smaller spaces to sleep (the couch, the bed he bought after Monday); and he also tends to collect but never unpack his hoarded loot. Those boxes can't be casefiles from the FBI since they'd never let him keep them longer than required for a case; and his most treasured valuables are kept in the basement, anyway. Leaving one to believe they're his belongings: things he brought over from Oxford (if he did) or things he bought after moving out of the dorms.

And when was Mulder no longer living in dorm rooms? Post his education, likely around the time he and Diana were dating.

Two theories present themselves: Mulder's things were moved from Diana's apartment after she left, and he never unpacked them; or Mulder himself recently moved into this apartment after Diana left.

The latter would have to mean he had somewhere else to live for the five years he and she were together. However, there are a few canonical points that negate this theory, broadly pointing to a close or working relationship that spanned two apartments rather than one house:

Mulder tells Scully in Home that if he could "settle down" it'd be "in a place like this." Settling down, in his case, meant the home as well as the environment-- living in that location with those people in that kind of a house was still a fantasy without any tempered reality. Mulder would have lived in his parents' home on the Vineyard then in dorms in Oxford and back in other dorms in the States. Afterwards, the commute to the FBI would have excluded a house if in included his focus; and both he and Diana were very focused on work back then. To Mulder, owning a house was still a fantasy, not yet a practical reality, something he associated fondly with better days and better dreams for the future.

On top of that, Mulder is out of place in houses or suburbia, neither fitting in nor feeling in his own skin when prancing about in Arcadia. Yes, he was proving a point to the neighbors (and to Scully); but he wasn't comfortable there: it was too much, too spacious, too empty; and he found corners to wedge himself into-- hopping up on cabinets, hedging himself in with pillows, cramming in a chair up close to the door instead of other manners of surveillance, etc. (That's an entirely other meta post.) Mulder displayed discomfort above and beyond "proving a point": he wasn't used to the "stereotypical American life"-- he was weirded out by the austere space of it.

Mulder is further unsettled by suburbia in Amor Fati: in that case, he has command of his actions (to an extent), doesn't have to play to "the rules", has his sister, and is (seemingly) largely in charge of his life. And yet, it's "too perfect", leaving him to wonder why he's there. Mulder wasn't surprised to see Diana sweep in and seduce him (post here)-- he was shocked when she not only embraced a slower-paced life but wanted to also further domesticate it.

In Mulder's mind, settling down included a home and kids-- whether it was he and his sister riding bikes and eating bologna sandwiches or a distorted view of Diana wanting his babies and raising his sons-- and a rest from constantly running. Permanence. He looked upon it whimsically, not cynically or longingly like he would if he'd tried his best at that vision and failed (i.e. bought a home, had a "life", and lost it to work.)

In evidence of this, Mulder is shocked when Diana returns-- but not hardened against nor drawn back into a life with her. There are no ties beyond the past; and those ties weren't definitive enough for him to have closure or even completely sever, a classic Mulder move. There were five years between them; but nothing that would jeopardize or taint the idealistic world Mulder is trying to bring to fruition by recovering his sister and restoring that happy home life lost to her abduction.

So, what does that mean for the bed and boxes? When Diana left, she probably emptied her apartment and sent over his share of the belongings-- assets of a partial but incomplete merger. Those stayed stored and cluttered around his bed while Mulder philosophically took the couch. They're not enough clutter to have filled a house, but more than enough to spill over into two apartments.

EXAMINING THE EVIDENCE: ASSORTED AND SPORTING ITEMS

That leaves the clubs, the bowling pin, the basketball hoop, the punching bag, the rest of the et ceteras, and the totes stacked (read: jammed) frontside.

Compared to the Cougars jersey, the golf clubs, bowling pin, punching bag, basketball hoop, etc., appear older, used, and worn.

Turns out, the Cougars are a Houston football team jersey-- and where were Mulder and Scully recently during the opening events of Fight the Future? Despite not attending yet another football game together, it would be like him to pick up memorabilia that had special significance to him about them. If that be the case, Mulder, it would seem, associates Scully with football. Perhaps she prefers it to other sports (until baseball ranked higher up her list after The Unnatural, that is)-- in fact, that would make sense: part and parcel of the stereotypical, all-American Navy family raised on Thanksgiving meals and afternoon football.

Meanwhile, the golf clubs and other sports gear couldn't have been a recent Mulder purchase-- not only because of their wear and tear, but also because of the extent of their wear and tear in contrast to the general lack of time Mulder has to devote to sports other than a morning swim, a once-in-a-while basketball game, and the sports tv he ingests come rain or shine. We've seen him shoot hoops (Paper Hearts, later Two Fathers), we've even seen him sink a bowling ball dead center (Elegy), but we've never seen him take up golf or boxing.

So, if they aren't recent purchases... what are they?

THE REMNANTS OF CHILDHOOD

Bill Mulder was murdered in Anasazi and buried in The Blessing Way; but his house had to have been cleaned out and sold sometime after his death.

Tena Mulder always avoided peering into the past, veering away entirely whenever her son pressed her for memories (and, ultimately, burning her children's photos in Sein und Zeit to protect its secrets.) That leaves Mulder to pack up and sell or hire to have the house packed up and sold.

I believe the sports equipment were from his childhood. It would explain the wear and tear on the basketball hoop (referred to in a deleted Two Fathers scene here) and the bowling pin, as well as the presence of the unidentified sporting stick and fuzzy dice. (It would also explain why he stuck them with his new papers and magazines.)

But most importantly, I believe the golf clubs were his father's.

Golf requires a particular set of skills: silent calculation, strategic aim, and the ability to reposition oneself if the original swing goes wrong. While Mulder destresses through aggressive play (whether swimming alone or working alongside others he trusts will have his back) and Gibson Praise out-predicts his competitor's next move and CSM plays by the blind hand of luck, Bill Mulder retires away from stress, decisions, and consequences, preferring to keep to himself (post here and here.) Preferring not to compete.

Perhaps the punching bag was Bill Mulder's, too: a solitary way to release his pent-up feelings of helplessness and rage.

CONCLUSION: A SEQUENCE OF EVENTS

Diana moves to Europe; and Mulder either moves out of her apartment with the bedframe (minus mattress) and boxes or moves her boxes into his bedroom (and sells the mattress he might not have liked to begin with.)

Years later, his father dies. Mulder, a packrat at heart, can't let go of the happier times he connects with his childhood gear. Tena likely wouldn't want it cluttering up her already cluttered basement; so, he shoves it into his unused bedroom, stuffing them all to the left. In the tote closest to the door, he put his easily retrievable items (i.e. magazines, rumpled shirts, fuzzy dice, a few assorted bats, and miscellaneous filing folders) that he retrieves at will.

After Mulder's return from Houston, he opens the door and chucks in the jersey. However, it disturbs the balance of his haphazard system, beginning an avalanche that he quickly closes the door against. With the door in place, disaster is avoided, for now.

A few months after that, Morris Fletcher flings the door open and watches in appalled indignation as Mulder's junk spills onto the floor.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[sin-sidejob]

JR totes you along to his country club for the weekend, walking you along on his arm the whole time from the golf course to the bar and later to dinner. He manages to get you on one of the tennis courts, not expecting the change into your little outfit. He’s been eying you up ever since you got changed after brunch. You notice how his gaze lingers over the expanse of your thighs and how he always glances between your face and down to your legs, barely covered by the tiny tennis skirt. He nearly regrets taking you out to the country club with him until he finally sees an opening.

After lofting the ball back and forth, taking it easy on you at first until you get the upper hand and surprise him once again with your unlimited skill, JR catches the sweat beading on your brow and neck, soaking beneath the trim little collar of your shirt. He sends the ball out of bounds with a lofty hit from his racket, the monogrammed emblem glinting in the sunshine. His offhand toss leads to you retrieving it as you bend over the bench, ass high in the air as you struggle to find the tennis ball that was wedged between the bench and the high wall court. JR wastes no time in pretending briefly to help you look before he takes the opportunity before him to flip your skirt up, feigning concern as he openly gazes at the curve of your spine before swatting your ass with a solid pat of his palm. He squeezes at the fat of your ass cheek and watches it shift and wriggle as you make a noise of surprise before humming, deciding that you like the attention and let him continue, the tennis ball long forgotten by the time he’s got a finger hooked around your panties and is pulling them to the side, straining them around the swell of your ass cheek until the seams of the fabric threaten to tear.

JR whistles lowly at the glint of the sun on your glistening folds and the way you clench, ass jiggling with the shift as he molds your ass cheeks in his palms. Telling you how pretty y’are, all spread and ready for him, as he grinds against you on the private court, khakis about to stain from your already-soaked pussy before he fumbles with his belt, yanking himself free from his fly and boxers to slide between your thighs, slipping between your pussy lips. JR’s got a hand at your waist as it lifts the skirt, leaving your ass wholly exposed while he thumbs the rim of your puckered hole, already toying with your pussy as his cockhead catches at your clit, sending you whining as you prop yourself up on your elbows upon the bench.

Bowing your head down as if in prayer, you rock your hips back onto him, planting your sneakers firm onto the tennis court while grinding back as he moans your name approvingly, affectionately patting your side. “That’s it, keep being good for me peach, then we can play,” JR promises, nudging his cock at your cunt until it breaches just the slightest bit, making a wet smacking sound as his dick smears in your slick. Humming, you preen, lips glossed already and now beaming in a dazed smile as you fuck yourself back onto him, letting him bottom out slowly, inch by inch until you feel his hips and the fabric of his pants brush against your backside. You press your forehead to the cool steel of the bench, arching your spine as you feel him thrust back and forth, smacking his hips against your ass until his pace quickens, the sound drowned out by the surrounding tennis courts in play, hidden all behind the tall walls of the individual courts.

Due to how you both didn't have to hide much, if anything at all due to his reputation and shiny platinum card, you moaned his name freely. You are rewarded with JR's hand snaking down from your waist to your clit, rubbing it in pressured circles while he sends your thighs shaking as he mutters praise, stringing your name along his sentences like holy prayer. With your head bowed and frame bent over, it nearly looks like prayer, except your ass is hanging out and there's precome drooling down your thighs.

It's sticky in the summer heat, feeling the sweat gather at your spine and smear between your thighs as they slide against JR's, head foggy with the combination of sun and sex paired with being out in the open with limited risk. Barely making out what he's even saying, you catch bits and pieces of his praise, practically tasting the sweetness in the dulcet tones as he spoonfeeds you affection while bullying his cock into your cunt. The smacks of his hips to your ass quicken and you mewl, cheek pressed to the bench as you curl your hands around the edge, locking your knees back to bounce back onto him when he pulls back in his thrusts.

JR groans approvingly, voice growing louder and bearing less strength, brain failing him as he tries to speak. "Doing so well for me, ah, f-fuck, pretty little cunts j-just taking me — fuckin' made for me," he stumbles over his words, gritting his teeth as he tries to last a little longer, pressing harder against your clit, making you whine high, "gonna' cum for me, peach? Can you do that for me?"

You nod, bleary and dazed and warm all over, feeling like you've been dipped in a sugary glaze, and rock your hips back once, twice, and then you're gone. Absolutely fading while he putters his thrusts a few more times, drawn in by the clenching of your cunt and lured into orgasm along with you. He leans over top of you, hands shifting to hold onto your own as they white knuckle at the edge of the bench, feeling his stomach rest atop your spine before you shift, groaning as you lean back only to fuck yourself deeper onto his half-hard cock, feeling the cum thats dripped down his length smear against your clit as its coated his balls.

After a moment or two, you groan as you rise, nudging him back into a standing position that he reluctantly takes, not wanting to let go just yet. He does help you back into your panties that've been shifted to the side, letting the elastic band snap into place as you yelp then swat at him as he giggles, entirely amused with himself. You rise, the skirt falling back down to cover your ass as you stretch your back and knees, feeling the tenseness appear now while JR tucks himself back into his boxers and khakis, buckling his belt while he grimaces, still half-hard and feeling the strain. You attempt to hide your smirk, unable to not be amused with how he's fucked as you shift around him to grab your racket and crack open the can of tennis balls, walking backward to your side of the court, waving the racket at him mockingly.

"Oh c'mon sweetheart," you croon sardonically, tapping the tennis ball against the court in a dribble with your racket before catching it, rolling it in your palm as JR watches with his lips pursed "I was good f'you, wonderful even. Now it's time we play."