#Green Golf Towel

[rafeandonlyrafe]

favorite girl to see

words: 700

warnings: implied sex, cart girl!reader, soft!rafe, fluffy

“hey boys.” you grin as you greet them all, but your eye is on one boy in particular.

“there's my favorite girl to see.” rafe smiles, quickly putting his putter back in his golf bag.

you roll your eyes despite your cheeks blushing. “you just like me because i bring you drinks.”

“nope.” rafe shakes his head, walking closer to you as you stay sat in the cart, worried your knees would buckle if you tried to stand up with his full attention on you. “otherwise id say that to all the cart girls.”

“mmm, and you don't?” you raise your eyebrows.

“absolutely not.” rafe scoffs like it's a ridiculous notion.

“what'll it be for you today?” you ask rafe, standing carefully and rounding the golf cart to the drinks area, opening up the cooler, expecting to grab him a high noon or white claw like usual.

“just a water, actually.” rafe turns to look at his friend he's golfing with. you don't even glance away from rafes perfectly chiseled features. “anything for you top?”

“im good.”

“one water it is.” you dig out a bottle from the melting ice, taking a towel and drying off the sides so you don't have a wet drink to rafe.

“so kind.” he coos, reaching into his wallet.

“rafe-” you sigh, already knowing what is coming as he pulls out a hundred dollar bill.

“nope.” rafe says, stuffing the bill into your hand. “take it. a tip for my favorite girl to see.”

“the water is like five bucks, this is a ridiculous tip.” you state, always trying to argue against the way rafe tips you, knowing you'll end up conceding and taking it. 

“well, if it makes you feel better about it, there is something else you can do for me.”

“hm?” you question as rafe pulls out his phone, taps a few buttons, and then hands it to you.

“put your number in.”

-- 6 months later --

you look around the golf course, having taken a later shift instead of the early one you're used to. you're getting out on the green much later than normal, trying to spot your regulars, one in particular.

you put your cart into drive the moment you see him, skipping by any other groups who may be trying to buy something. you'll loop back later to get their orders, but your sole focus is on one man.

“rafe.” you hop out your cart, giving a quick look around before jumping into his open arms, knowing while employee member relationships are technically against the rules, rafe could pull a few strings if anyone ever tattled on you.

“my girl.” rafes smile is infectious, especially as his hands drop down to squeeze your ass over your skirt, pulling your hips right up against his. “you're here late.”

“let's just say someone kept me up late last night.” you giggle, pressing a kiss to rafes lips, knowing he's the reason you had to switch shifts this morning.

rafe deepens the kiss, one hand coming to the back of your neck to keep you close as his mouth covers yours, lips and tongue gliding against each other.

“babe-” you sigh, pulling away.

“yeah, i know.” rafe steps away, knowing you only allow so much pda when you're at work.

it's one of the reasons rafe tried to convince you to quit many times, insisting you didn't need to work now that you had him, but you like picking up a few hours every week.

“what can i get you?” you ask, taking his hand in yours and tugging him towards the cart.

“another kiss.” rafe smiles. you roll your eyes and press a quick peck to his lips.

“and to drink?”

“gatorade, i guess.” rafe shrugs. “im also kinda tired from last night.”

you don't miss the wink that he gives you as you fish out his drink.

rafe grabs his wallet from his back pocket as you let out a groan, knowing what is to come, his tipping habits not changing one bit despite being together.

“what?” rafe says, handing you the large bill, knowing he'll take you shopping later to spend it. “i want to make sure you give better service to me than any of these old bastards.”

“speaking of service-” you get on your tiptoes and whisper into rafes ear. “meet me in the employee break room in 30?”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry

[cherry-leclerc]

needy ☆ cl16

genre: humor, fluff, jealous/possessive!charles, smut, established relationship

word count: 2.3k

A certain dislike bubbles deep inside of the Monegasque when you attend your first race and continue praising his teammate.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, doggy position, m!receiving, blowjob, elevator sexxxx, choking

req!...aghhh i wish men existedddd

You’re smiling wide, face flustered with genuine happiness as you beam up at the podium from afar. The lights, fireworks, music, and environment fill you with pure adrenaline, and suddenly, you get it. Why a lot of people enjoy the sport, you mean. It was an exciting thing to witness.

But from the garage, where your boyfriend is getting weighed after a tiring race, Charles glares at you and then at Carlos who he can’t quite see but can hear the applause for as they announce his name. He can see the way you clap, the way your eyes crinkle up at his teammate. 

It should’ve been him. 

“You were amazing, baby!” you cheer as you skip towards him, arms flying over his broad shoulders. He grimaces. I’m sweaty, he protests as he lightly nudges you away. “Oh.” You take a wary step back at his odd behavior that had never taken place before. “I- um…Carlos and Rebecca invited us out for dinner to celebrate. Do you want to go?”

He could tell you wanted to and he hates how much it bothered him. The way it tugged at his heart like a painful needle. “I’m sweaty,” he simply states again. 

“You can shower first, I’m sure they won’t mind if we’re a bit late-”

“Or you can go without me.”

You frown, shoulders drooping. “But I don’t want to go without you…”

He blinks. Just as he’s able to speak again, Carlos proudly makes his way over with a shiteating grin. “Charles! Great race, man, I’ve missed driving like that.” They share a fierce hug before the Monegasque sheepishly smiles.

“Yeah, I did too.” A beat. “We’ll probably be a bit late to your dinner.”

The Spaniard waves him off. “That’s alright, as long as you make it. I want to celebrate something like this with my team. Especially since this is our last season together.”

Charles can feel a wave of annoyance towards himself for envying the 29 year old. He did enjoy the race, he was extremely happy for his friend, but it didn’t quite click why it nicked him how you wore a bright smile. He nods, a lazy arm pulling you in towards him. Your brows pinch with confusion. “We’ll be there.”

-

“I’m glad I was able to make it,” you ponder as you reapply with a fresh coat of lipstick. Charles dries his brown locks with a white towel as he stands close by. Me too. You hum, eyes trained on your reflection. “It didn’t seem like it.” 

His stomach churns at your sad tone. “I swear I am. Why would you say that?”

A tint of red colors your cheeks as you purse your lips. “For starters, you wouldn’t even let me get close to you. You pushed me away, remember?” He winces at the reminder. 

“I d-didn’t want to cover you with my gross sweat,” he tries as you shake your head.

“Like that’s ever been an issue. You’ve played soccer and kissed me. You’ve had a round of basketball and hugged me after an hour of attempting to make a hoop. Or when you played golf under the blazing sun and kept me close no matter what.” You grab your purse as you make your way towards the door. “Don’t make up some stupid excuse, Charles.”

Guilt slithers all around the green eyed boy as he watches you converse with the Scottish model. He feels like an old grump around the most colorful flower, and he’s ruining it. He was determined to make it up to you. “I’m glad you were here to witness my first podium of the season considering it’s your first time attending a race. That way you remember me as your boyfriend's best teammate,” Carlos gloats as you laugh.

“Oh, for sure.”

Jealousy pangs Charles once again as you continue. “I don’t know how you did it…it was a close one. But definitely a great race, you live up to your last name,” you salute as he winks as a thank you. Rebecca agrees besides her boyfriend. “You got me though because - no offense - I thought Charles had it in the bag.”

You’re getting back at him now. He can hear it in your voice as his eye slightly twitches. The Spaniard chuckles. I thought so too. Placing a warm hand over the Monegasque, you swiftly kiss his stubble. “But you were great nonetheless, Cha. My favorite driver without a doubt. My number one…Ooops. Four.”

“Ah, shit,” Lando hisses from down the table as he nibbles on a piece of cake. 

Charles fumes. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing, amour? Thank you, thank you very much.” 

You giggle. “No problem.”

Coughing awkwardly, Carlos diverts the conversation from the sudden tension as a new topic comes up. You simply jump in with ease as the Monegasque keeps to himself.

He could’ve gotten a podium if it weren’t for his front brake locking. He could’ve been the one celebrating right now with all his friends. He was simply better.

“I’m really going to miss this,” a deep voice rips him away from his thoughts. Carlos sighs. “It’s a struggle, but I will miss it when I’m gone. Especially you,” he says as he points to his teammate. “A sore loser, but you gotta love him.”

Charles scoffs. “I am not a sore loser.”

“He’s right,” you muse. “But trust me, it's incurable. For God's sake, he pouted when I beat his time on the stimulator.”

Pierre gapes. “She beat you? As in her?” Kika laughs, pulling him back by his linen shirt. “That’s actually pretty impressive.”

The Monegasque blushes. “It happened one time. It was probably broken that day.”

“Ahh,” Daniel says as he clicks his tongue. “I totally see it.”

“Would you stop it?” Charles deadpans as the table laughs at his defensive behavior. “I’m honestly happy for Carlos. I am.” 

The Spaniard wiggles his dark brows in a teasing manner. “You hate me a little bit though, no?”

He squints his eyes before aiming a napkin at the brown haired driver. “In the very moment, yeah. Maybe a little.” Carlos raises his hands up before smiling. As the night grows older, the more you lean into your boyfriend's touch, eyes fluttering tiredly. “Wanna leave?”

“Not yet,” you murmur against his chest. “One more round of drinks.”

He snickers. “I think you’ve had enough. Here.” He hands you a glass of water. “Drink it all.” Rolling your eyes, you oblige before it actually sobers you up enough to call it a night. 

“Congrats again, Carlos!” you chirp as your boyfriend drags you away, swinging Charles’ hand like a glass of champagne. “Here’s to more podiums!”

“More podiums, my ass,” he growls as tugs you out. “You’re such a flirt.”

“Only with you,” you hum as you sloppily kiss his lips. “You look so pretty, Cha, you know? Your eyes, your lips, your hair.” You lean in closer to his ear, whispering. “Your cock.”

“Pretty?” he retorts, trying his best to hide his hard on. You giggle. You’re also so fucking hot when you get territorial. It’s sickening, but I love it. His breath hitches.

“Oh, that was fast,” you cutely muse when his car rolls in by the valet. “Ready?”

“Y-yeah.”

As soon as you step foot inside the wide room, you jump onto him, lips clinging onto his neck, hands rushing through his hair frantically. I’m sorry for all I said. I love you, you’re my favorite driver, my number one. You’re-

“Oh,” you sigh as he kneels down in front of you, kissing your legs all the way from bottom to top, worshiping you until his head is beneath your dress, nose brushing against your panties. You shudder. He nips as you leap up in surprise. His teeth wrap around the thin material before sliding down and looking up at you like a dog. 

“Go to the bed. On all fours. Your favorite number, isn’t that right?” 

It’s a lame joke, but it still strikes you with shock as you carefully make your way over, following his clear instruction. And you think he’s going to fuck you, the way you were waiting for, but instead unzips his jeans and takes his boxers off, and stands in front of you. Open. “I thought we were-”

“Well you thought wrong, now open,” he grunts, hands grabbing your chin as he forces your mouth wide. Following along, you stick your tongue out eagerly. Like a dog. You should be ashamed, but can’t find the strength when he slips down your throat. You gag as he groans. “That's it, baby. Work your jaw f’me.”

Deepthroating him, you hum around his length as you take him all. He growls when your teeth graze his skin for a second, harshly pushing you back. “And you’re still being mean to me?” He tsks. “What did I do to you today for you to ignore me?”

Your brows arch. “I wasn’t ignoring you. You were ignoring me.” Fixing your dress, you climb off the bed, but not before he grabs your hand, dark eyes staring back at you. Where are you going? “Far away from you.” He fixes himself before marching after you. Just as the elevator is about to close, he manages to slip in. “I’m not talking to you,” you promise, arms crossed.

“Great.” The elevator comes to a halt. “Because this doesn’t require talking.”

Pushing you against the glass, he kisses you hungrily, greedy hands squeezing your ass as you squeal, attempting to push him off. This only makes him take a step back, rubbing his jaw. Seriously? You debate with yourself for a while before biting down on your lip and pulling him back towards you. 

There’s no sound other than moans and groans as he fucks your against the elevator. The angle causes his tip to hit your g-spot at a mindblowing pace as your head rolls back with pleasure. He’s the first to break the silence as he places a hand next to your head and the other secure around your waist as he pounds into you, loopy eyes admiring the way your breasts bounce. 

“I want you to know that despite my attitude, I’m happy for him, I am.” You don’t need to ask to know who he’s referring to as you hastily nod. I know, Charles. Leaning down to kiss him, you pout when he turns his head, leaving you to peck his jawline. “But you’re mine, all mine.” He sucks on your breasts that spill out in front of him as you whimper. “Repeat it back to me.”

“I’m all y-yours, you doofus,” you grin, tangled hair flying into your mouth as you squirm. “I didn’t even think I’d have to say it.” Squealing in shock, you hurry to grab the metal bar as he places you down and spins you around, leaving you mushed up against the tinted glass. “Oh shit.”

“Pretty view, no?” he quietly questions behind you, lustful eyes laser focused on the way you take him like no other. He grunts, head rolling back, messy hair following along. There’s no room to worry about the possibility that there could be a camera in the tiny space, or that help may be on the way despite the red button being pushed on purpose. And then he wraps his large hand around your throat and your breath hitches, tiny hole enveloping around him even harder. “S-so good, chérie.” He kisses you shoulder sloppily, mouth hanging a tad bit open as he tries to push back his fierce sense to come inside of you. 

I think it’s stuck, a familiar voice clarifies from outside. 

It is, you dimwit, another retorts as a group of mumbles follow with agreement. 

“Oh shit,” Charles whispers as he rapidly pulls out of you, fixing you dress and hair to the best of his ability before focusing on his equally fucked out appearance. A soft wail escapes your lips at the sensitivity that remains in between your legs as Charles apologetically pecks your temple and the door finally slides open.

“Charles?” Pierre squeaks as soon as he spots his friend. “Holy shit, are you guys okay?”

“Completely fine!”

“It was so scary,” you add, shivering with theatrical fear to emphasize your words. “Thank God they were able to help us,” you say as you signal to the hotel staff members who stand by with a skeptical smile. “I don’t know what we would have done.”

“I have a theory,” Lando whispers to Carlos as they snicker, taking in your sweaty state. The way your zipper isn’t all the way up, showing off a bit of humid skin. The way the Mongasque keeps his hands adamantly in front of his hard on. It’d be stupid not to know what had been taking place prior seconds.

“Well thank God you guys are okay,” Pierre breathes, already making his way to hug you and the 26 year old. Kika grimaces while you two cringe at the fact that the Frenchman was getting a good look and feel of the forbidden afterglow. Patting his shoulder away awkwardly, Charles hums enthusiastically.

“It’s been quite an eventful day... Charles?”

Dark brows fly up before nodding hastily. “Yeah! We should go to sleep…Take care guys! Au revoir!” 

Pierre smiles happily as he watches you two scurry away, Charles almost tripping as you grab onto his shoulder to level him up. “That’s actually really scary, I think I would cry if I were in their situation,” he admits, wide eyes blinking towards his friend group.

“Oh, honey,” Kika sighs, leaning up to pat her boyfriend's chest with empathy for his naiveness. What? Wouldn’t you? 

Lando can’t help but let out a loud laugh, clapping his hands with amusement. 

“Open up your eyes, Pierre. Those two totally fucked.”

taglist: @urfavnoirette @lpab @d3kstar @namgification @myownwritings

*feel free to let me know if you would like to be included in the general taglist!!

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

NATIONAL ANTHEM- P.B PARKER

Pairing- Rich! Peter x Country Club! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: You work at the local country club as a barcart girl and you run into your crush, aka the son of the richest man in town-Peter Parker. Simple flirting becomes something... more.

Warnings: Making out, suggestive sexual content, dry humping, teasing, swearing, drinking :)

i'm your national anthem, god, you're so handsome- take me to the hamptons, bugatti veyron... he loves to romance 'em, reckless abandon, holding me for ransom, upper echelon -national anthem, lana del rey

Money is the anthem, of success- so before we go out- what’s your address? You hummed along to the sweet melody as it trickled out of the old stereo from your cart, speakers crackling slightly.

It was a hot summers day, you felt a little bead of sweat drip down the back of your neck as you breathed in the fresh air, smelling of fresh cut grass and fancy colone. It was days like this when you were most busy on the golf course, barley able to squeeze in a lunch break before someone came up to you, begging for a whisky sour.

But today you had tucked yourself away in a little hidden spot, a perfect view of scenery, the green hills stretching on for miles.

Sipping on a sweet ice tea from your straw you fiddled with, you watched as Peter Parker braced himself before swinging, club hitting the ball with a clean wack! before thudding down near the hole.

The wind rustled the flag and the fabric of his polo shirt, hair ruffled under his baseball cap.

You tried not to stare but it was impossible.

The way he smiled was intoxicating, and the way he laughed at his friends jokes… god you hoped to make him laugh like that someday.

Though he was almost four years older, the two of you had met during your freshman year of university. You weren’t close, but you werent strangers either. The odd hello was said, a smile and a passing glance in the library from his books.

Now you were practically about to graduate and he was working on his masters, his school out of state. He was home for the summer though, which was nice.

It just meant you could possibly serve him, which also made you anxious beyond belief because that meant you had to talk to him again. You took a bigger sip until you heard the straw suck up the bottom of the glass and the melting ice to ease your butterflies.

Wind in my hair, hand on the back of my neck- I said can we party later on he said yes, yes, yes!

Another deep breath.

He walked in your general direction, but you doubted he could see you. You prayed the low hanging branches covered you, or at least your face. You tried to look out at the rolling hills in the distance, admiring the scenery.

It was very out of your element, but you couldn’t deny the fact it was beautiful here. The ever so fancy country club estate glimmered in the sun, tall hedges trimmed to perfection with roses blooming in the gardens.

You could just see the tall fountain spilling water down, next to the tennis court. Sometimes you worked the bar there, or handed out water and towels, but you preferred being a cart girl.

It made your life much more interesting, to drive around and to see more people. Today you got to see your favourite person.

And apparently he got to see you.

The branches rustled and got pulled to the side, a buff, 6’4 man staring down at you. “Hey sorry, am I bothering you?”

You almost choked on your straw as you bite down on it. “No, no sorry I was just on my break. But how can I help you?”

“Oh shit my bad, I’ll leave you to it-“ He went to turn away, then stopped. Whipped back around.

“Wait- Y/N? Is that you?” Your heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah hey Peter.” you smiled.

“Jeez it’s been a while! I missed seeing you around. How’s life been?”

He missed you?! No, he missed seeing you. That’s different. Get a fucking grip woman.

“I missed you too! Or- wait erm… It’s been good! How’s life at Warner?”

His eyes brightened as you stumbled over your words, pleased you remembered where he was.

“It’s good. Super good. Lots of sunshine, and I’ve made some friends.”

“Not failing anything I hope?” you teased and he laughed.

“No, no I would never. But it’s good to be home for the summer. How’s your program going?” he asked, taking off his hat to run a hand through his messy hair, slicking it back from falling back into his eyes.

You tried not to stare at his arms but it was deemed impossible. His shirt fit him so well, his biceps strained in the fabric as they curled, and you could see whispers of a tattoo on his one arm. Jesus Christ.

“Super good. Almost finished, actually. Not sure what’s next, but working here has helped pay for most of it.”

“That’s awesome, you should be so proud. You’re a hard worker Y/N, seriously. You’ve always been.”

You almost melted at his praise, sinking deep into your seat as your tennis skirt fanned out across your thighs. There was no way he didn’t know about the effect he had on you. He had to know he drove you crazy.

“Thank you so much Peter. It means a lot coming from you.” You beamed.

“Awh shucks. Well anyways, I just came because I saw a cart over here and was going to snag a drink, but if you’re on break I won’t bother you.”

“No, no don’t be silly. What can I get you?” you scrambled up, popping open your cooler filled with ice and drinks. “You’re sure?” he asked, standing closer to you, to see what you had.

You squirmed, shivering even though there was no breeze. “Of course. I’m practically done it anyways. Happy to help.” you smiled, trying your very best to be professional and not look at him like you wanted to rip his clothes off at this very second.

“Just a Heineken please doll.” The pet name was going to make you spirial. Jesus. “That’s all?”

“That’s all. I’m easy like that.” You grabbed a cup, scooping ice before pouring the chilled beer. “Here. It’s on the house.” you handed it to him, setting down the empty glass. He shook his head, fishing into his pocket.

“Don’t be silly. Here-“ he handed you a hundred and your eyes widened in surprise and shock.

“For your troubles.” he smirked. “Peter- I can’t, I can’t take this.”

“Then take this too.” He pulled out a tiny slip of paper, crumped as if it had been in his pocket for some time. You opened it, revealing his phone number in fancy writing- the cursive that reminded you of your grandmothers. A little smiley face was printed next to it, which you mirrored back.

“Have you just had this in your pocket in case you bump into a girl?” you asked, laughing.

“I found out you worked here and I wrote it down, waiting until I had an excuse to bump into you. Now I have one.” he winked, lifted his glass in a cheers motion before turning around, emerging from the forest to jog up to his friends.

You watched him in disbelief, jaw slack on the ground. You fought to pick it back up, trying to not crumple the paper anymore as you held onto it for dear life. A wave of giddiness washed over you, your body hot to the touch, head spinning. Clutching the paper to your chest, you sighed.

Simply hoping something would actually come out of this.

For once in your life.

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

Something was coming out of this. Key word, was. Lines were blurred, and you weren’t sure if it was currently happening, could’ve happened, or had happened.

It had been a week since the original occurrence, when he had you nearly swooning and begging at his feet. Each day was a little game the two of you played, who could spy on each other first.

It had you picking up extra shifts, just to possibly see him that day, or for longer. The past few days you had worked at the bar by the tennis court, watching the ball bounce back and forth until a familiar face found his way to your bar, despite the fact he was on the opposite side of the property, and had bar carts at his disposal.

It made you feel like a teenage girl again, kicking your feet at the slightest interaction. If he wasn’t at your bar, he had found time to walk past your station (which was always very much out of his way), just to give a little wave, or to check up on you.

A few little texts had been exchanged, nothing more then simple, harmless flirting. That’s what you were telling yourself, and that was the story you were sticking to. Nothing more then that. So whenever he came over to fiddle with the straws, or suck the lemon wedge dry without making a face just to prove he could, you smooshed the feelings of need deep down, as much as you could.

Today was no different.

It was hot, one of the hottest days of the summer. You fanned yourself with a clipboard, thankful for the first time you were working in the bar by the tennis court, where it was air conditioned.

You didn’t understand how people could continue to play as if their life depended on it in the hot, beating sun. It was torturous to watch. You were extremely busy, barley getting a moment to sit down and rest your poor, aching feet- dozens of people swarming the bar for a cool drink.

Ice had to be refilled two times already, and you presumed it would be another two times before your shift was over.

“Busy there eh?” a familiar voice called from across the counter, and for the first time all day you were genuinely happy to serve someone.

“You again! It’s almost like you’re stalking me, or something.” you teased, quickly dropping everything you were doing to go over to see him.

“Something like that. Hey listen, I have a question to ask you.”

“It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it, I swear. The cops have nothing on me.” His eyes widened in mock surpise and his hands went up in surrender.

“Woah. Jeez, I’ll let them know. I have no idea how you found out I was working for them but I guess my disguise is shit.”

“It is shit. I’ve been keeping tabs on you to give you tips on how to be more discreet.” He laughed, swatting you with a straw he grabbed.

“No seriously, my parents are out of town and I was going to throw a party, but I won’t unless you come to it.”

“Well shit, that’s a lot of pressure. You’re basing this whole thing on me going, so if I don’t go everyone will be disappointed at me for cancelling it?” you teased, grabbing the ingredients to make his usual.

“Ha ha. Very funny. You know I don’t mean it like that. But I’d like you to come, it wouldn’t be the same without you there.”

“I don’t really socialize, so I’m sure no one would miss me. Plus, no one knows me.”

“I know you. And I would miss you, and you’re the only person I care about in terms of showing up.”

You smiled softly as his confession, trying to play it cool despite the fact your stomach was currently doing cartwheels. You didn’t even know if you were making his drink right, you prayed muscle memory would save you this time.

“You’d miss me? You just wanna talk to me more, do you like me or something?”

“Or something.” he smirked, smacking a twenty on the table, and you didn’t even bother to give him back his change. He refused to accept it back, you had already tried.

“Thanks for the drink sweetcheeks. It’s on Friday, and if you don’t show I’m gonna call the whole thing off, mid party and then everyone’s gonna be pissed at you.”

“Or at you for making up that stupid rule.” you snarked, sliding him over his glass, and grabbing a clean towel to wipe down your space. You could already feel two peoples eyes on you, waiting for a drink. They could wait a little longer.

“Show up then.” he shrugged. “But wait, I don’t even have your address-“ you called after him as he walked towards the exit, back towards to the heat and blinding sun. He waved his phone, without even looking back.

“Good thing we have these then eh sweets?”

“Smartass.” you grumbled under your breath as his laughed, and you watched the door swing behind him as you were stuck behind the bar.

“What can I get you?” you asked the stranger sitting near you, wishing more then anything it was Peter still there instead.

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

He was massive. Wait no- sorry, his house was massive. (Did you seriously think you’d jump the gun that quickly? Get over yourself).

You stared up at it as you emerged from your car, so out of place in this fancy establishment. He lived not only in a gated community but his property was privately gated as well.

Didn’t shock you.

You knew his family was rich, but jesus you didn’t know this rich. Dozens of cars were parked, all range rovers and catialcs as you locked your simple looking black civic.

Oh well. He invited me after all.

You belonged here. You were allowed to be here, no matter how many second thoughts you had looking at the fancy fountain, the perfectly manicured lawn and ferns, a perfect cone shape as they lead up to the massive pillars and white staircase.

You had dealt with snobby rich people before at your job, and you could do it again. Not that Peter was snobby in any way. If anything, he was one of the only ones you knew who was humble and down to earth. Hopefully his friends would be the same.

You smoothed out your mini dress, attempting to get rid of the wrinkles. Nervous, you figited with the pearls on your neck, listening to your heels clack on the pavement before you found yourself up the stairs.

You heard music, but it wasn’t as loud as you expected. No thumping floors or shaking walls, and you couldn’t see any flashing lights. You weren’t even sure what you expected. But it certainly wasn’t this. This seemed oddly calm. You could still clearly hear the cicadas as they chirped outside under the stars.

You lifted your hand to knock, and the double doors swung open as your hand was mid air, mouth opening in confusion.

“You’re not Peter.”

“So you’re observant too. You’re prettier then he described you. He’s been watching out the window for you like he’s on guard duty.”

“Bucky stop flirting with my girl!” a voice called from the other room, and you watched as Peter emerged from the other room, jogging over to you with a smile.

My girl? You fought a smile, trying to pretend his words meant nothing but you lost. Bad.

“Hi. Sorry I was just-“

“Waiting for me. I heard from your friend here. It’s nice to meet you Bucky.” you nodded, laughing as Peter’s cheeks turned a lighter of light pink.

“Likewise. Go into greater detail next time Parker.”

“No, because then you dicks will try to steal her.”

Bucky laughed, walking back in the direction Peter came from, which you assumed was where the main party was. You looked around, surveying the massive foyer- tall pillars also inside, bright chandeliers glistening over the towering staircase.

It was beautiful. You couldn’t help but admire the mural on the ceiling, mimicking a Renaissance style piece.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming. You look beautiful, by the way. I mean you always do- but you look amazing now. Sorry I’m not sure why I’m rambling, I just smoked a joint and I’m nervous.” he trailed on and you laughed, reaching up to touch his bicep in reassurance.

You weren’t sure where the confidence came from, but you were happy about it. His skin was soft and warm, and he leaned into your touch.

“Don’t be nervous. If anything, I’m nervous. This is your party! And it’s so- wow.” you breathed, looking up again at the fresco.

“Everyone’s so excited to meet you. You’ve already met Bucky, I see.”

You giggled. “Hopefully they all like me. Are they friends from school?”

“Some from school, some from home, some from the country club.”

“Ah I see. So a wide variety.”

“Something like that.” he smirked, placing a hand on your lower back as he guided you towards a mysterious hallway. The hand placement. Oh my god the hand placement. You savoured his touch as he guided you, looking up at him despite wearing heels.

Somehow he still towered over you. It made you feel things.

You heard bustle from the room he was guiding you towards, the sound of music leading you onwards. Dozens of people mingled around what looked like a game room. Some lounged on leather couches with drinks in their hands, others playing a round of pool.

You saw Bucky and some others with a deck of cards, others at the bar top. It was spacious, detailed wood panels across the ceiling, with soft lights mounted on the walls, creating a glow. You admired the dozens of paintings perched on the walls, staring at Peter in amazement.

“It’s beautiful here.”

“Thanks.” he smiled, taking it in with you, as if he didn’t see this every day. It made you like him even more somehow, if that was possible.

“Hey everyone this is Y/N. Party is no longer threatened to get cancelled. You’re welcome.” he called out, and everyone cheered.

“To Y/N” Bucky called out in toast, raising his glass. They didn’t even use solo cups. This shit was fancy as fuck.

You laughed, waving to everyone before Peter pulled you aside, the music picking up its tempo as the chatter resumed. “Can I get you a drink? For once?” he asked, and you nodded- following him over to the bar.

“It’s nice to see you behind the counter for once.” you smirked, giggling as he whipped a towel over his shoulder like a real bartender. “What do you mean for once? I will let you know that I am the most prestigious bartender in France. They don’t even call me a bartender, the call me “tender of the bar” " he drawled.

“Just a cider please. I’m easy like that.”

He sighed in relief. “Thank god. I don’t know how to make anything but a whisky sour.”

“Hey, that's a start!” you smiled, watching as he grabbed a chilled glass and slid ice in it, before pouring your drink from the can. “Madame.”

“Thank you, monsior. Mmmm fantastic. You should work with me!” He snorted, throwing the towel down. “They would fire me before I could pick up a glass. You’re too talented, you'd outshine me. You already do.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“You’re being silly.”

“Silly is my middle name.”

“I thought handsome was your middle name?”

“Alright woah now-“

----------------------------------------------------------------- A few hours had passed, and the night was still young. You were drunk, a little- and your shoes had come off. You didn’t know where they went, or where your phone was, or why you were outside with Peter.

But you were outside with Peter. And it was nice.

The air was chill against your skin, but not cold enough you had goosebumps. It was soft against your flushed skin from the alcohol, and you savoured the breeze as it fluttered your dress. Everyone was still inside, but you needed a breather.

You could see the lights shinning brightly from here, where you were on the pool deck. Because of course he had a pool. He also had a tennis court, a golf course, and an indoor pool. No surprises there.

You heard the sliding glass door open and shut, Peter emerging with glasses of water in hand. “I figured you’d want this.” he said, walking over to you with a grin, and a fluster on his cheeks.

“Thank you so much.” you sighed, the water trickling down your hand as you grabbed the ice cold glass, taking a long chug. It cleared your head as it slithered down your throat, relieving your thirst.

“So, is it okay?”

“Is what okay?”

“Here. This. Me.”

You stared at him, cocking your head in interest, attempting to study him. “It’s more than okay. It’s wonderful. You’re wonderful.”

“You think so?” he asked, a glimmer in his eyes as he stepped closer to you, your chests practically touching as he grabbed your empty glass, setting it down beside you.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand slid up, cupping your cheek- thumb brushing your skin making you shiver. Your nipples hardened under his touch- or the chill, you didn’t know.

All you knew was that his eyes were burning holes into yours with the utmost lust you thought you’d simply combust.

“Is it okay if I touch you here doll?”

You nodded.

“What do you want Y/N? Do you want this?” he asked, voice practically begging. The music from the party thudded off the windows, lyrics slipping through the cracks under the doors to echo into your ears.

I sing the national anthem while I am standing over your body hold you like a python, and you can’t keep your hands off me or your pants on, see whatcha done to me, King of Chevron…

“I want this. I want it all.” you murmured, leaning into his touch.

“Can you swim?” he whispered, inching closer and closer to your lips.

Wait- what?

“Ye-” you let out a scream as you felt the world tilt under your feet, tumbling backwards into the hands of a strong man holding your waist. A splash erupted, the world turning a murky dark blue as the music muffled. The water was surprisingly warm as you gasped for air, frantically reaching out for Peter to hold.

He was even warmer than the water despite the cool air, and he laughed as you clung to him, wrapping your legs around his torso, dress hunched up as it stuck to your body like a second skin.

You became very much aware of how his shirt did the same, except it was white, and you could see the perfect outline of his abs and his arm tats.

“Peter what the fuck?!” you shrieked, cut off as his lips crashed to yours, engulfing you with heat and a tenderness you’ve never felt before.

His lips were like pillows as they caressed yours, hands squeezing your thighs, your ass, your waist as he tugged you closer and closer, until your breaths had merged and you had practically become one.

Hands flew up to his hair, tugging on the wet strands as he begged for more, and more- teeth clashing, tongues begging for entrance before they slipped in.

You couldn’t help but moan, breathing harder as his squeezed your ass hard enough to bruise, unleashing whatever restraint he had been holding. You moaned again and he had to pull away, resting his forehead against yours, breathing hard as he watched your mascara smudge and trickle down your cheeks.

“Y/N fuck- if you keep moaning like that… I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” you asked innocently, shivering.

“I’m trying so hard to be a gentleman and not go past this, but if you keep doing that I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.” he murmured, bringing a hand up to stroke a stray strand of water from your cheek, kissing each one.

“That’s okay.” you smiled, grinding your hips against his, rubbing against him as he moaned.

“Jesus christ baby. Fuck.”

You giggled, feeling his very prominent bulge through his pants. You grabbed his chin, lips melting against his once more, just to get a taste of him. You were addicted- heart thudding in your chest, blood turning to molten lava in your veins.

It was like his lips were coated in honey, so sweet you practically licked them. “You’re just so sweet.” you sighed into his lips, kissing him harder. It wasn’t long before you were interrupted, the sound of a sliding glass door opening.

“You guys almost done out here?” Bucky called out, Peter's head whipping to him in annoyance.

“ What do you want?!” he called out, exasperated. “Steve and I wanna swim. Unless you guys want us to join you, I’m sure there wouldn’t be too many complaints on this end.” Bucky smirked, winking at you.

What a goddamn flirt. You couldn’t help but smile back, even if he had just interrupted the best experience of your entire life.

“We’ll be out in a minute Bucky- calm down.”

“No need!” a voice called from the house, to which Steve ran and cannonballed into the pool, splashing you.

Peter sighed, leaning his forehead back against yours. “I am so sorry about them. This is not as romantic as I had hoped in the slightest.”

“What are you talking about? This is totally romantic. The drenched rat look I’m wearing is what the movies had envisioned.”

He laughed, kissing your forehead with a quick peck, before Bucky jumped in right after. “The most beautiful drenched rat I’ve ever seen. I promise you, we’ll have time for this again.”

“Many times?” you asked flirtatiously, and he nodded.

”Many times.”

“Good. Now, I suppose we should all play mermaids now. What powers do you wanna have?”

[erwinsvow]

you had lived in the house next to tannyhill your entire life. though it was smaller, much less grand and a little older, it was home.

your bedroom faced the opposite side of the street, looking out onto the other neighbors. you occasionally ran into sarah and wheezie on the block or during a stroll on your bike and your dad would sometimes be seen talking to ward in the backyard about the weather or the updates to the golf course at the country club.

but in all the years you had been living here, you had never caught the older cameron's attention—at least until the tree poked through your window during the most recent hurricane.

your bedroom—your most sacred space—was now a litter of broken glass and scratched up floors. it would be easy enough to replace, once your parents found someone reliable enough to do it, and the best solution offered to you was relocating temporarily to the guest bedroom. it faced the other side of the street, looking out over the cameron pool and, unbeknownst to you, rafe's bedroom.

at first you just move some of your things in, knowing your parents wanted you to stop running back to your old room until it was fixed. then more things come in, making yourself more comfortable, until it seems that this might as well be your new bedroom. it's easy enough—decorating walls with photos and posters, dragging in your bookshelf and appreciating the joint bathroom a little too much.

you get very comfortable—though you don't realize the curtains in this room are completely sheer. it faces windows of tannyhill that you've never seen another person in, so you assume they must be empty too.

that's when rafe sees you for the first time—changing in your bedroom through his window. you walk in with a white towel wrapped around your body, drying your hair while you pace around. he feels a little green, staring at pretty exposed skin and wet hair like it's the first time he's ever seen a half-naked girl.

you brush your hair and then get closer to the window, a foot perched on the windowsill while you rub lotion onto your legs, and then your arms. rafe's still staring, and though he's sure he looks like a creep if you glanced up and at him, he doesn't stop. finally you get to your neck, and just when he thinks you've finished, you loosen the towel and let it fall to the floor.

all the blood rushes out of his head—watching your hands massage in lotion to the soft skin of your stomach, your back, finally stopping at your tits before you're out of his eyeshot. when you get back in, you're holding clothes in your hand, slipping into a big t-shirt and a pair of panties. he can even make out their blue color from how hard he's staring.

it's a little late—the sun's gone down but your room is still illuminated with light. he sees you crawl into your bed, getting under the covers and picking up a book from the nightstand. like an idiot, he keep staring until you turn your lamp off and go to bed, and like an idiot, he's still hard.

the next morning—after an entire evening spent trying to resist staring at your sleeping form—he goes downstairs to ask someone about you.

"who's the new neighbor?" rafe tries to ask it but it comes out more like a demand—wheezie looks up at him confused and sarah ignores him.

"huh?" his younger sister questions back, looking up from her breakfast. "what new neighbor?"

"on the pool side. saw a new girl. when did they move in?"

"what are you talking about, rafe?" sarah says. "she's always lived there. how are you this ignorant?"

"well, i've never fuckin' seen her before-" he thinks he's starting to get a little angry—maybe more at himself. how is it that he's never seen you before? how is it that you're dumb enough to leave a window uncovered enough for him to stare at you all night, naked, no less?

"dad said the neighbor's tree fell into a window. that's why he's getting the one by their room cut down, they said it was really bad-"

"that's so horrible. the tree was there first-"

rafe steps away, back up to his bedroom and his view of you. you're not there now, he saw you leave the room earlier. he can't help it—he wonders where you went.

that night, the same thing happens. it's terrible—he even turns the light off in his bedroom so you don't get alarmed. you come in around seven, talking on the phone with someone, juggling ice cream and shopping bags. you hang up the phone a little later, putting on something on your television and eating the ice cream from your bed.

he should've stopped looking the second you lick melting ice cream from your fingers, but he doesn't. he watches you pick up your towel and walk away, coming back wrapped in it just like yesterday. same as then, you put on lotion, taking extra time to blowdry your hair. you don't read tonight—probably too tired, he guesses—and go straight to bed. after he's sure you're asleep, he flicks his light back on.

it goes on for longer than he realizes, longer than he expects. it's fun watching your little routine, how oblivious you are to the fact that he's watching it. and you seem nice—sweet, even, with the way you smile brightly whenever your parents come into your room, the way you swing your feet when you're on the phone.

he does a little more digging—true to what his idiot sisters said, you've lived in this house forever. you've been a few hundred feet away this entire time.

like every night—he flicks off his bedroom light at eight. you bounce in, doing everything you always do, exactly the way you always do it. something seems different though—you don't seem tired, crawling into your yellow sheets a little too early.

rafe stands up so fast when he realizes what you're doing, he almost knocks his chair flat to the ground. one hand snaking into your panties—pink tonight—and the other under your t-shirt, you rock against your hands. your room is only lit up with the light of a faint lamp, but it's enough for him to see everything—the way your face contorts into pleasure, the moan you try to muffle with the back of your hand, when you finally cave and take off your shirt.

he keeps staring, about as hard as he's ever been, watches you give up on your hand and fold a pillow in half instead, mounting it and giving him the show he didn't realize he'd been waiting for. and fuck, it's perfect, exactly how he thought you'd be.

rafe doesn't realize he's doing it, palming himself before giving in and taking out his dick, angry and red already, watching you. his own strokes match your pace against the pillow, and it doesn't take long at all—you cum with your head pressed against your sheets and he cums into his hand, so close to the window his breath fogs up the glass.

he gives in twice more—repeating the events of that night when you touch yourself again. the other times he's content just to watch you, not sure when that become such a pleasure in and of itself.

one night you come home with some shopping bags—nothing new. you strip down and try on a pretty white dress with orange flowers, tight where it needs to be yet nothing you couldn't wear around family. you twirl around your room, and then call someone on the phone.

he doesn't know how the thought gets in—maybe because your window was a little cracked and his was open all the way, sound traveling through the window and the words he hears leads to the idea of you, going on a date with someone else, in that dress, plants itself in his mind.

rafe paces around his room, not even caring if you see. you can't go on a date, not with anyone but himself, and the very idea that you'd do something like that makes him angry. it's irrational, though he hardly cares, all he can think about is how to make sure it doesn't happen.

the next night—saturday—you get dolled up, though rafe's not there to watch this time. you put on makeup and even do your hair all pretty, slipping into the dress and tidying your room before making your way downstairs. your date said he'd swing by around seven to get you—and though he didn't seem the type, he was already ten minutes late.

you wait on your front porch for another ten, before deciding to send a text. it bounces back. you call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. with the bitter realization that you've been stood up almost twenty minutes later, you're about to go back inside with watery eyes, when you hear the sound of footsteps in the distance.

"hi, is that you?" you call out uncertainly into the night. your porch lights are dim, only giving you a little glimpse of a man walking towards your home from the street. but he's not coming from your driveway—he's coming from the side, from the cameron house.

when he gets closer, you see that it's rafe cameron—the boy you've been living next to for years but haven't ever spoken to. even if you didn't know your neighbors and his sisters, you'd still remember him—you only nursed a crush on him for years.

"rafe?"

"hey, kid. what're you doin' out here all alone?"

"i.." you stop yourself short—you don't want to tell him you've been waiting for your date, it feels wrong. "i was just waiting for someone. um, what're you-" rafe doesn't let you finish.

"yeah, he's not comin'. not tonight, not ever."

"what?" nervous, frightened, your knees start to shake, feeling like you need to get far away right now.

"i said he's not coming. neither is anyone else. not goin' on any dates. get inside and get upstairs."

"rafe?" you question again, big eyes staring at your neighbor, fearful and confused.

"are you gonna make me repeat myself?" he asks, and almost automatically, you shake your head, complying, but still don't move. "go to your room."

you dart inside. rafe can hear your feet sprinting up the stairs. he turns off your porch light and walks inside your house, up the stairs, until he's face to face with your door with his hand on the knob. he twists, realizing you left it unlocked.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: another installment of the mini tik tok series! this one was fun and aggressively smutty lol. i’ve been having fun with the tik tok fics and there’s so much more i want to work on this summer (which lol can’t believe it’s august 🙈) enjoy! 🤍

word count: 3.5k

tw: dirty talk, unprotected sex, fingering (f recieving), cum play, semi-tit job, brief oral (m recieving), semi-public sex

summary: mat comes home from golf to find you set up for another tik tok video, much to his surprise and excitement

You tap lazily over to the Find My Friends app, searching for Mat’s little circle on the map. He’s smack in the middle of the green blob that represents the Glen Oaks Club, right next to Bo’s little circle too.

Sharing locations with half the team is wild, but was absolutely a necessity after last year’s summer trip to Italy where half the guys had gotten lost during a vineyard tour, drunkenly singing a bastardized version of ‘New York, New York’ when they’d been found.

Since then, it’s been location sharing city for your little group.

It’s especially useful when Mat’s at the golf course and you want to have an idea of when he’s on his way home. Today, you’re letting him have his time on the course since training camp opens in two days and soon he’ll be in full hockey mode. But you do have a little fun planned, a Tik Tok trend that you’d seen earlier in the summer and have been waiting to test out on Mat. He’s a good sport about joining in your videos - between you and Liana, he’s used to being used as an unwilling participant in your videos and likes making random cameos. And this video is more for his benefit than yours.

It’s a beautiful mid-September day on the Island and the UV is an 8, so you decided to take the setting of your video outside and you’re posted up on a lounge chair with your book and Stanley until Mat comes home.

After polishing off nearly half of your book, you check Mat’s location again and you’re surprised to find that he’s on the move - heading back home. You hadn’t realized so much time had passed.

He’ll be home in ten minutes, according to the app, so you hop off the lounger and get everything set up, adrenaline making your heart skip a beat. You shake out the towel on top of the lounger and straighten it, moving your book and Stanley off to the coffee table. You check the app again and Mat’s down the block, his little circle stopped at the intersection that has a traffic camera, where you’ve both gotten caught more than once.

Once his car turns onto your block, you take the final step and untie the strings of your bikini, stepping out of the bottoms and tossing the scraps of fabric off to the side. You shiver a little, even though it’s not cold at all and sit back down on the lounger, bending your knee and then straightening it out. You scrunch up your face and bend it again - there’s a slight breeze on your bare cunt and you wiggle, unbending your knee again.

“Fuck this is so awkward,” you grumble to yourself, tipping your head back and closing your eyes against the warmth of the sun.

After a few seconds of soaking up the heat, you check your phone again and Mat’s little icon is right on top of your blue dot. He’s home and you grin when you hear his car door slam shut in the driveway. You give an excited little wiggle and open Tik Tok on your phone, thumbing over to start recording.

The back doors are open so you can hear Mat come through the front and kick off his shoes. One hits the wall with a faint thump and you roll your eyes, knowing there’s going to be a little scuff mark on the wall.

Quietly, into the microphone of your phone, you say, “Mat’s home and I’m naked in the backyard. I’m going to call him out to see something and I’m sure he’ll give us all a reaction for the ages.”

From inside, you can hear him call out for you, “Squeaks? Babe, I’m back.”

A giggle bubbles on your chest and makes your voice shake a little when you call back, “I’m outside. Can you come take a look at something for me?”

“I’m not catching another lizard,” he shouts out, footsteps getting closer. “Leave them alone on the deck.”

You roll your eyes to yourself - it was one time, twice tops, but Mat will never let you forget it. “No lizards, just come here,” you call, moving the phone slightly away from your mouth and making sure the back doors are squarely in the frame.

He appears in the doorway a second later, dressed for golf in his shorts and polo, with a brown paper Chipotle bag in his hand. “I picked up lunch and I’ll even sha—“ his sentence stops short when he steps onto the deck and catches sight of you. You grin to yourself and watch as he processes what he’s seeing.

Mat’s eyes are wide and his jaw is slack briefly before a slow smirk stretches his lips. “Squeaks…” he trails off your nickname, his voice suddenly rough.

“Mhm?” You hum, still holding your phone slightly to the side. To your amusement, the front of Mat’s shorts tighten in front of your eyes, the fabric straining over his cock. He so clearly doesn’t know where to look, eyes bouncing from your phone to your face to your tits to your thighs.

To be extra wicked, you sit up and stretch your legs open, feet on either side of the lounger so Mat has the perfect view of your cunt, bare and dripping wet.

His jaw works and he carefully sets the Chipotle bag on the deck table. “I’m not even gonna ask what Tik Tok trend this is, but thank God for it,” he mutters, yanking his polo over his head and sending his hat flying off in the process. His hair is messy around his face, sticking up in all directions and you can’t wait to get your hands in it.

You giggle. “I told you I wanted you to come look at something,” you reply, watching with hungry eyes as he kicks off his shorts, the belt still half buckled, and crosses the grass in a few long strides. He’s standing in front of you in just his boxer-briefs, black and tight over his growing erection.

Mat grips himself roughly over the fabric and you watch the tendons in his wrist flex.

“Yeah,” he huffs a breath out of his nose, “I’m definitely looking at something.” His hand sinks under the fabric of his briefs and you watch his hand move, stretching the fabric obscenely while he pumps his cock once, twice, three times. “And now I’m gonna get my hands on her.”

Your hand falls slightly to the side, still recording on your phone and you have the brief thought that you’re definitely going to have to edit the shit out of this video before Mat’s yanking down his briefs and kneeling at the foot of the lounger, his hands wrapped around the outside of your thighs. He pulls, dragging your body closer to his and you let out a little yelp at the sudden movement.

Your phone goes flying from your hand, landing in the grass next to the chair and you pout at Mat, “my phone! Let me -“

“Nope,” he cuts you off with a little swat to your hip. “We’ll deal with that later. Right now, I have to look at something.”

He leans forward, his cock bobbing up against his stomach and you swallow, arousal dripping down the curve of your ass. You’re very glad you decided to put down a towel.

Mat’s hands are hot on your thighs, trailing up over your sides and splaying out over your ribcage, fingertips brushing the undersides of your breasts. He grins down at you, “looking at these tits, my favorite tits. But I think -“ he cups each one in a hand, flicking his thumbs over your nipples until they’re tight and pebbled, “yeah, they look better like this. Even better with my mouth on them.”

You whine as soon as Mat leans down and wraps his lips around one nipple, tracing a circle around it with his tongue. You can feel his cock - hot, hard, and leaking - on your stomach and you lift your hips subconsciously, trying to relieve some of the ache that’s building between your thighs. His grinds his cock against your stomach lazily and you moan his name, hands flying up to his hair to tug. Mat grunts against your breast the harder you pull and after a particularly hard yank, he bites down. The sting is enough to make you yelp and rake your nails over his scalp.

“That hurt,” you pout and he shakes his head, releasing your tit with a wet pop.

“Did not,” he counters, pupils blown wide and lips slick with saliva.

You grin and tug at his hair a bit more. “Let me bite you and we’ll see who’s right,” you reply breathily, Mat’s hands kneading at your breasts.

He slides his cock against your stomach and you gasp, fresh arousal pooling between your thighs. “Baby, we’ll get to the biting, don’t worry,” he teases, pinching and rolling your nipples until you cry out.

You hum, pulling at his hair to drag his face to yours, desperate for a kiss. Mat obliges, sliding his lips over yours and sucking at your tongue while his hands play with your breasts and his cock grinds against your stomach. It’s hard to catch your breath with all the sensation, the pleasure building steadily in your stomach.

He smells good, a combination of sweat and grass that isn’t masked by his deodorant, and you let your hands drift out of his hair and over his back. The muscles bunch and move as he does, sweat gathering between his shoulder blades.

You nip at his lower lip and Mat smiles against your mouth, pulling back slowly. One of his legs shifts, his knee sliding up and pressing against your cunt. A gasp punches from your lungs, the rub of his leg hair against your clit the friction you’ve been searching for. “Oh my god,” you whine, scratching at his back and rolling your hips against his knee.

“Needy,” Mat clicks his tongue, amused. As if his own hips aren’t moving of their own accord, gliding his cock against your stomach and leaving a trail of precome in its wake.

“You love it,” you murmur, scratching down his back. The longer you grind against Mat’s knee, the closer you come to an orgasm and it’s right there when Mat moves his hands back to your hips and pulls you down, hiking your cunt higher up on his thigh. His hands wrap around your thighs, his thumb subconsciously finding the spot on your upper inner thigh where the tiny ‘mb13’ is tattooed. He looks down and grins at the ink, rubbing it with the pad of his thumb. His cock seems to swell the longer he looks at the tattoo, thick and heavy on your chest.

“Fuck yeah, I do,” he leans in more, pushing his cock over your chest, in between the valley of your breasts. The hot weight of him on your chest makes your breathing shallower and you lose track of your movements, hips stuttering to a stop on his thigh. “You’re distracting me,” he mumbles. “Supposed to be looking at something.”

“What are you looking at now?” You murmur, breathless. Your hips move mindlessly and Mat shifts your legs, pulling them together and straddling them so your thighs are pressed tight and there’s steady pressure on your clit. You whine and wiggle your hips again, pleasure coiling tightly in your stomach.

Mat grins down at you, thrusting his hips forward so the head of his cock bumps against your chin. “Looking at that pretty face of yours,” he replies, hands finding your breasts again and playing with them. “My favorite face, especially when you look all fucked out.”

“Haven’t even fucked me yet,” you whine, darting your tongue out to lick at the tip of Mat’s cock. It jerks, twitching against your chest, and you grin wickedly, licking it again. Your hands find Mat’s thighs, tracing over the thick muscle until you let them slide over his stomach and wrap around the base of his cock.

He groans over you, curling forward when your fingers tighten around him.

“Don’t need to,” his voice is strangled. “You always look like that when I get my dick out.”

You stroke his cock firmly and press your thumb against his leaking tip, craning your neck to lick him again before sucking the tip between your lips. Mat’s chin falls to his chest, a loud grunt vibrating through his body.

“Shh,” you giggle faintly, releasing the head of his cock with a wet pop. “The neighbors are going to hear!” Even as you admonish him, you repeat your actions, gripping him tightly and drooling over his cock.

Mat shifts back, his cock falling out of your grip and slapping against your left breast. There’s sticky precome all over your chest and stomach and Mat drags his fingers through it before shoving them in your mouth. You hum around his fingers, swirling your tongue over them until they’re dripping. He’s further down your legs now, using his other hand to pry your thighs apart slightly, nudging his cock head in between your legs. He taps the leaking head of it against your tattoo, leaving a smear of precome, and then shifts so it’s pressed tightly against your clit. The pressure makes you see stars and you whine loudly, muffled by his fingers.

“Shhh,” he teases, thrusting his hips shallowly. He lets his fingers fall from your lips and you yelp loudly when those same fingers find your clit and pinch it at the same time his cock bumps against it. “Neighbors will hear you.”

“Oh my god, Mat!” Your groan shifts off into a strangled shout when, without warning, Mat’s fingers find your soaked entrance and circle it, fingers spreading you wide so he can thrust the first few inches of his cock into you. The stretch always burns briefly and then he moves, rolling his hips into yours and filling you to the brim, pleasantly full. You chant his name like a prayer, louder and louder every time he batters against your g-spot. Any concern about the neighbors hearing you is out the window with all the rest of your thoughts.

Mat’s got one hand gripping at the top of the lounge chair, his hair flopped over his forehead and sweat trailing down his temple as his hips snap relentlessly. “Look so fucking beautiful taking my cock,” he groans when you clench around him. “Fucking waiting here for me, naked and ready. Goddamn Tik Tok giving you the best ideas.”

Your nails dig it to his asscheeks, dragging him closer, knees bent to open yourself more for him. “Love you, love you, oh my god,” you babble, nearly at the edge. His free hand trails down your body and presses down on your lower stomach, feeling the bulge of his cock from the outside. You shriek at the sensation, rocking your hips and meeting him thrust for thrust.

He snaps his hips again, harder, and you fall, seeing stars as your orgasm rushes through your body. You come hard and wet around his cock, squirting all over his pelvis and lower stomach. Mat’s cock thickens inside of you and he comes a second later, filling you for so long you’re startled that he’s still hard even after his hips have stopped moving and he’s collapsed on top of you. The sweaty weight of his body makes it hard to catch your breath and you can’t help but wiggle underneath him, digging at his thigh with your heel.

“Gimme a sec,” he mutters against your neck, shifting his hips. You gasp, sensitive and overstimulated and still stuffed full of his hard cock.

“How’re you still hard?” You breathe, pushing at his sides, trailing your fingers over his muscles.

Mat finally rolls off of you, wedging your body against his on the lounger meant for one. You cling to him so you don’t fall off. “How is that even a question?” He laughs, trailing a hand over your back and in between your legs. You wiggle against his touch, his cock pressed against your stomach and his fingers rubbing your mixed fluids against your inner thigh. It’s messy and disgusting but you don’t have any desire to move. “I’ve been hard for you from the minute I met you. Squeaks.”

“Perv,” you tease, licking a bead of sweat from his jaw.

His laugh is loud, echoing around the yard. “As if you’re not the one who started this,” he pinches at your inner thigh. “Sitting out here butt ass naked, filming a Tik Tok.”

“Oh my god!” The mention of the social media app sparks in your brain and you remember your phone, in the grass and still recording. You try to scramble over Mat’s lap, but he locks you in place with his arms. “Let go, oh my god. I have to delete that video. It’s hard core porn!!”

“Soft core,” Mat counters, laughing. “It’s just our voices.”

You growl at him, “not helping!” and wriggle in his arms until you’re draped over his side with your ass in the air and your arms stretched out to the grass to reach for your phone. Mat laughs under you, shaking your whole body and making it hard for you to reach your phone. He pats at your ass, a little nonsense rhythm and you kick your foot in the air, knowing it won’t hit him.

“You should send me the video,” he says as soon as you’ve managed to snag your phone. “I like hearing you scream my name.”

“Nope,” you shake your head, blood rushing to your face the longer you stay practically upside down over Mat’s lap. You stop the recording and your thumb hovers over the button to delete the video. A small part of you actually wants to rewatch it and see Mat’s reaction again. The smarter part of you wants to make sure your soft core porn never leaks on the Internet.

Your brain struggles to focus with the way Mat’s kneading at your ass, his voice soothing as he speaks, “download it, it’ll just be for us. Can’t even see anything.”

“Stop trying to be the little devil on my shoulder,” you complain, but your thumb moves away from the delete button and you find yourself canceling the action instead.

Mat laughs again, your favorite sound, and slides his hand in between your legs, playing lazily with your clit. You wiggle and gasp, clenching around nothing. “Put it in a locked folder,” he continues, dragging you slowly to the edge.

You can’t think with lust and arousal fogging your brain and by the time Mat’s fingered you to a second orgasm all thoughts of deleting the video are gone.

“Hey,” Mat says, his chest vibrating under your cheek. You’re slumped over him, legs straddling his hips, completely limp and boneless.

“Hmm?” You hum, wondering briefly if the sting on your ass is from Mat’s hand or the beginnings of a sunburn.

“You have any other Tik Tok videos you want to make?” He teases, playfully gripping your ass. “I like these naked ones best.”

He yelps when you bite down on the muscle of his pec, a little nip, and taps at your cheek with his free hand. “You’re such a gremlin,” he says over your laughter.

You lean your chin on his chest, looking up at him with a wide smile on your face. “Takes one to know one,” you shoot back, kissing his jaw. “Now carry me inside, I want my Chipotle bowl.”

“You mean my Chipotle bowl?” Mat retorts. Still, he sits up and takes you with him, your arms looped around his neck and legs locked around his waist.

“What’s yours is mine,” you giggle, waving a hand in the hair behind his back. “Happy wife, happy life. All that Hallmark-y stuff.”

He stands and you cling tighter, the slip of your sweaty skin against his making your thighs flex around his waist so you don’t fall. “Not a wifey yet, Squeaks,” he teases, locking his hands under your ass and carrying you over to the deck. Your phone’s back on the grass, but you’ll make Mat go get it in a second, along with both of your discarded clothes.

“Less than a year,” you point out, wiggling your left hand in front of his face.

He kisses your finger and in a sappy little move, says, “counting down the seconds until you’re Mrs. Barzal.”

Your entire body turns to mush, so much love for Mat flooding your brain. You press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” you mumble.

“Love you too, my little exhibitionist freak,” Mat laughs, drowning out your outraged gasp.

You can’t be too mad at him though, not when he settles you on the deck chair and hands over his Chipotle bowl, retrieving his golf polo and pulling it over your head so you can eat comfortably and not sunburn.

[ereardon]

The Stranger [Bradley Bradshaw x OC]

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw left an impression — after finding him naked and passed out after a night of drinking in your front yard, he’s anxious to never see you again in his life and relive the embarrassment. But there’s something about him you just can’t let go. He’s a project, and you hate to admit you love a fixer upper. Bradley is hesitant to let you in, but you’re persistent. Is he making a massive mistake?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x OC

A/N: This is a sneak peek of an unfinished WIP!

You were pouring your morning coffee, Cracker Barrel mug in one hand and coffee pot in the other, when you spotted him through the edge of the front window. 

The sun was just beginning to rise, peeling back the darkness from the night before, and you spotted what could only be an arm flung across the green grass of your front lawn. 

Stepping out onto the deck, you squinted. The grass was wet from the rain shower that had hit in the early morning and the street was eerily quiet. You looked around. There were no cars parked nearby. 

And yet, somehow there was a fully nude man lying face down on your lawn. 

You put the cup of coffee down gently, slid off your slippers and tiptoed tentatively down the path and onto the grass, bending down to see if you were about to call the cops with a homicide investigation. And then you watched his chest rise with a breath and you sighed out, hand on your heart. 

“Thank God,” you muttered. You stood back up and took him in. He was tall, or long considering he was just laying there in the grass. Curled brown hair, tanned and incredibly muscular arms, back and legs. And a nice fucking ass if you did say so. Leaning back down, you tapped his shoulder. “Um, hi?” 

The man groaned but remained on his stomach so you circled your fingers around his upper arm and shook harder. 

“Hello? Excuse me.” 

“Shit,” the guy groaned, rolling over and flopping onto his back, giving you a clear view of his package. Your eyes went wide, but you couldn’t tear yourself away. He also had a perfect six pack, but you were staring a bit south of the border. He rubbed his eyes and finally looked up at you. “Who are you?” 

“I’m Caroline,” you said, crossing your arms. “And you’re naked, by the way.” 

“Fuck,” he said, scrambling to cover himself and then wincing in pain, one hand coming up to his head. 

You shook your head and sighed, uncrossing your arms and shrugging off your blue robe. “Here, put this on.” 

He stood and accepted it, tying it around his waist but it was tight. “Thanks.” 

“Come inside,” you said, turning on a heel and heading back toward the walk. “You can take a shower if you want. Call someone to come get you.” 

He followed you, head hung. “Where am I?”

You grabbed the coffee mug you had deserted on the steps and opened the door. “You’re on Miguel Ave. A few blocks from the golf course.” 

He nodded and stepped inside. You pointed up the stairs. “Take a left at the top of the stairs. Guest bath is the third door on the right. There should be towels and a bigger robe if you need it.” 

He stepped onto the stairs and then turned around, giving you a quizzical look. “Why are you being so nice to me? I’m a stranger. I’m a naked stranger.” 

You laughed. “You think I haven’t seen my fair share of drunk idiots? I went to Tulane. I knew what happened to you the minute I saw you.” 

He simply nodded and ascended the stairs. You chuckled and walked into the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, there were cautious footsteps in the hallway beyond the kitchen and you turned around to see the guy from the lawn wearing your ex’s old flannel robe, his dark hair damp but clean. He had a mustache and a uniquely handsome face. You wouldn’t have immediately called him attractive if it wasn’t for how he carried himself. Even hungover and wearing a bathrobe in a stranger’s home, he had a charisma you could sense through his walk alone. 

“Take a seat,” you said, motioning to the dining table and he nodded, sitting down. You slid a cup of water and a cup of juice over, and then a mug of coffee and a plate of bacon. “Do you eat meat?” 

He chuckled and grabbed a slice. “Definitely.” 

“Good,” you said, returning to the stove and pulling off the pan of eggs, dropping some scrambled eggs into a dish and walking over to the table, taking the seat at the end and pushing one bowl of eggs over to him. “So, remember anything yet?”

He lifted a forkful of eggs to his mouth, chewed thoughtfully. “Bits and pieces. I want to say it involved a dare and a bottle of Jack Daniels.” 

You laughed and took a sip of coffee. “God, how old are you?” 

He smiled and you realized just how attractive of a smile it was. “I’m Bradley,” he said. 

You nodded. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” he asked. 

“I told you outside?” 

He shook his head. “Fuck, sorry.” 

“Caroline,” you offered and he smiled. 

“Caroline,” he repeated. “Nice name.” 

You leaned back in the chair. “Do you need to borrow my phone?” He nodded and you unlocked your phone, sliding it across. You didn’t even realize until he stared at the home screen for a moment that it was still a picture of your ex and his dog. 

“Boyfriend?” he asked, lifting the phone into his large hands and scrolling for the dial pad. 

You shook your head. “Not anymore. I keep forgetting to change it.” 

He nodded carefully and hit a few buttons, bringing the phone up to his ear. “Bob, hey, it’s Rooster. Listen, I uh, I need a ride. Yeah, one second.” He pulled the phone away. “What’s your address?” 

“4502 Miguel Ave.”

He repeated the address into the phone. “Oh, and bring me some clothes, please.” You heard laughing on the other end of the line before he hung up. He slid the phone back to you. “Thanks. He should be here in fifteen minutes.” 

“So which is it?” 

He squinted at you. 

“You introduced yourself to me as Bradley, but whoever Bob is, and he has a great laugh by the way, apparently knows you as Rooster.” You slid your eyes over him. “Are you a stripper?”

“What?” he asked aghast and you laughed, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Cool if you are, no judgment here.” 

He shook his head, biting off another piece of bacon. “I’m a pilot. It’s a callsign. A sort of nickname.” 

“Pilot, huh?” 

[ahhnini]

so high school - rafe cameron x afab! reader blurb

warnings - fluff

word count: 278

“truth, dare, spin bottles, you know how to ball I know aristotle”

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

you sat in the golf cart, clutching your book tightly as you watched your boyfriend of one year, rafe, golf with his friends topper and kelce. it was a breezy but warm summer day, and you thanked the heavens that you had worn a skort.

as much as you loved hanging out with rafe, you can’t help but feel boredom looming over you. it was a nice gesture to invite you to golf, but unfortunately you don’t play as much as they do. as the friend group continue throughout the course, the bright green grass and sunny skies provided nice scenery for you to prop open your book and begin reading.

your relationship with rafe was picture perfect, him always surprising and spoiling you with gifts, carrying your bags, and him helping you build your own little library.

he truly was the best.

as you progressed through the book, you felt the driver's seat of the golf cart sink and the engine start, knowing that rafe was done playing for the day. you put a bookmark in between the pages and smiled up at rafe.

"hey, how was golf?" you ask, his forehead has a light sheen of sweat due to the summer heat, and you watched him wipe it off with a towel perched on the driving wheel.

"it was fun, you know, you should really start golfing with me again. I heard it prevents eye strain," he teases. you playfully roll your eyes and rafe lightly chuckles as you quip back, "it's not really my thing, plus, that's what makes us such a good match anyways," you shrug, "you know how to ball, I know aristotle."

divider credits - aqualogia on tumblr

[papasbaseball]

Raphael x Tav (Clubs and Spades: Chapter 1)

Pairing: Raphael x F!Tav

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Alcohol

Summary: Tav finds herself on the bad side of the President of the Fae Run Country Club. She agreed to work there as a favor, but he's determined to make her life a living hell. Will they both make it out of the summer without catching feelings?

Word Count: 2,187

Notes: I changed some of the names to help blend in the characters better with the AU setting. Here is a translation if you would like to know:

Tav - '' "Tav" Baldur

Karlach - Karlie Ackerman

Raphael - Raphael Hope

Mizora - Ms. Zora

Wyll - Will

AO3 Link

If all the stories were true, the president of the Fae Run Country Club was the Devil himself. I’d had the fortune of not running into him all summer, enjoying the close proximity to what otherwise might be considered ‘good people’, as I served drinks, folded towels, and did whatever else my manager had sent me to do. That particular day, I limped after my coworker Karlie — the cooler filled with ice and Evian between us making us as useful as a horse with a lame leg — as we brought the beverages out to the 8th hole of the golf course. The community carts had been forbidden from use, much to the dismay of my shoulder.

A quarrelsome two stood beside the green, too rich to stop their argument for us. The one’s shoulders were cast back, face tilted up as if God was also privy to the conversation he was having with the pink-faced man. I’d seen a dozen of his type infesting the green lawns of Fae Run. What set him apart was how quickly he cut down the man with words I’ll never know, courtesy of the lawnmowers. Weak arms were quickly uncrossed and the WASP wannabe buzzed back to the safety of the clubhouse hive.

“Ha!” Karlie scoffed, setting her end of the cooler down with a hard rustle of ice. “Bob had that one coming for a while.”

There were a half dozen members named Bob, but she came to know every one of them over the 8 years that she’d been working there. I’d barely met any of them and I’d been there for 2 months.

“Is Bob a problem?” I asked, setting my end of the cooler down. The ache of carrying it almost a mile thrummed in my arm, thrilled to have been released.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to be his server at dinner,” Karlie said. Her face fell and quickly she was tucking her polo back into her khaki pants, slicking back the wild fly-aways the walk had earned her.

“Ladies.” The remaining man approached us, his shirt unbuttoned past regulation to show off the tan earned from hours spent by the poolside. “Less chatting more working, yes? I would hate to have to speak to your manager about disciplinary action. I want this golf course as immaculate as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Karlie replied.

“You’re breaking the dress code,” I offered, nodding to the undone button and soft curls of chest hair it guarded. If he wanted everything to be perfect he could start with himself.

He whipped off his sunglasses, mouth disgusted as he gave me a once over. “What is your name, girl?”

“Tav,” I said.

“I doubt that.” He hooked the glasses into his illegal shirt and turned to Karlie. “Ms. Ackerman, does Tav have somewhere to be?”

She stumbled over her words, unable to make eye contact with him.

“I know you are short-staffed,” he cut in, “but I could make much better use of her as my personal caddy for the day.”

“That’s not the job that I applied for,” I said. I had no interest in following some dumbass who only got to his position in life because his daddy foot all his bills and covered up all his mistakes. It was bad enough that I was working here — I owed my friend Will a favor — but I refused to sequester myself to such agonizing mediocrity.

“All employees of the Fae Run Country Club are required to know how to perform any duty they may be called upon at the drop of a hat,” he said. “Clearly you’ve missed training in more than one area.”

I opened my mouth to shoot back a retort when I heard Karlie’s voice tremble.

“Mr. Hope, please.”

She could have poured the chest full of ice over me and it would have been less bone-chilling than those three words. My eyes dart over him, trying to place those features to the portraits of board members that hung in the hallway leading to the main office. Maybe the sunglasses and casual attire had fooled me, but the disappointed frown was unmistakable: I was standing before the Devil.

“Tell your boss to make the necessary shifts,” he said. “I will take care of our darling Tav, here.”

Karlie tucked tail and turned back to the clubhouse. The sun baked a degree hotter with each step of hers, pushing me further into the custody of the Devil of Fae Run. The urge to run after her pressed itself, but I held it back. I couldn’t get myself fired: I still owed Will for lying for me, getting the charges dropped, and scrubbing my record. I just needed to get through this summer free and clean.

“Don’t worry, I will take good care of you,” he said. The words reeked of lies, but I tailed after him anyway. His cologne whipped back with the breeze as I followed him to the golf cart. The sweetness and warmth sent a shiver through me. It must have come from abroad, the undernotes speaking of warm sands and late-night dinners, and probably costing twice my seasonal salary.

I hesitated as I slid into the fine leather seat next to him, not any further than I had to, and watched as he turned the key.

“You really think I am going to bite you?” he said. He pressed the pedal and the cart jerked forward.

I slid further into the seat as I saw the sharp grass zipping by the floorboard more quickly than I would like it to. His chuckle at this was quiet under the whine of the cart. It was going to take more than the threat of turfburn for me to take his treatment lying down. I couldn’t refuse his orders, but I didn’t have to like it.

“You were threatening to fire me and Karlie a few minutes ago.”

“Was I?” he asked. “You’re not very good at listening, Tav.” The corners of his lips pulled back in disgust. “What is your real name? Tav sounds like something you’d call a dog. Although, you would make a pretty picture fetching my golf clubs.” He paused at the thought.

“My friends call me Tav,” I said. Mr. Hope steered the golf cart back onto the path and I almost gripped his leg to steady myself as the cart wobbled back onto its steady charge forward. I tucked my hand quickly under my black golf skort, taking comfort in the weight of my thigh.

“I’m not your friend: I’m your employer.”

“If you want to know it so bad, why don’t you just look it up when we get back to the clubhouse?” I should have bit my tongue, but Mr. Hope was not going to be calling me by my government name if I had anything to say about it.

The cart coasted to a stop, the clubhouse within sight. “If you want me to call you like a dog then you can get out and run after the cart like one.” He nodded for me to step out. “Go on, Tav.”

My legs were still twitching from the hike out to the 8th hole and I was maybe enjoying the custom fans on the cart a little too much. But between that or telling him my full name, I stepped out, cringing as the sun baked my skin once more. It didn’t take long until he was pressing the cart forward. He drove it just fast enough that I was always on his heels, no matter how hard I ran.

As my sneakers thumped the white pavement I imagined they were stomping that stupid handsome face of his. It looked all-natural – there was a small scar on his forehead and plenty of wrinkles that cut from his amber eyes – but the soft curl to his hair and all-linen outfit told the world that he could afford plastic surgery if he wanted to. He could probably afford to buy the plastic surgeon too if the rumors were true.

Mr. Hope parked the golf cart with the herd of others after what felt like a day of running. I heaved heavy breaths in and out, hands on my knees as I considered a nap on the blinding concrete.

“I’m surprised that you made it, Tav. Such a good girl.” Mockery highlighted his voice, but the words caught me off guard. I turned them over in my mind, wondering what other sweet praises the Devil liked to stab with.

“It was a piece of cake,” I lied.

He turned and headed towards the clubhouse, tossing a come-here whistle over his shoulder. I scrunched my face up, swallowing the nasty names I was already starting to come up with for him. I’d share those later with Karlie and Will.

The clubhouse wrapped its welcoming chill around us. I didn’t even mind the goosebumps on my arms, rubbing them only once as I followed him back to the foyer. He pulled out his phone and shot off a quick text before stopping a server carrying a saran-wrapped tray full of chicken salad croissants to the meeting room.

“Have you seen Ms. Zora?” he asked.

“I’m right here.”

Ms. Zora’s white polo and black skort could have gotten her mistaken for club staff if it wasn’t for the glowing pearls that encircled her swan-like neck. She was the secretary for the board and seemed to have a habit, I noticed, of showing up when you least wanted her to.

Raphael waved off the server, not even watching as she scurried away, head down muttering a prayer of thankfulness. He gestured to the walls and ceilings of the foyer.

“Where are all the banners that we ordered?” he asked.

Ms. Zora rolled her eyes, huffing a sigh of exasperation. “Supply chain issues. Don’t worry: I got us a full refund and have contacted that little print shop down the road.” She laughed, “You should have seen how grateful they were that I wanted everything ASAP and at a discount too.”

“I do not care about a discount. I want this foyer decorated now,” he said.

“I’ll give them a call,” Ms. Zora smiled. Her cunning gaze soon fell on me, her smile dropping with it. “Is there a reason why you are here Ms. Baldur?”

“Oh, so she does have a name?” Raphael laughed. “Ms. Baldur is my caddy for the day. I do have to say, I have grown quite accustomed to calling her Tav, though. It has a certain peasant charm to it.”

My clean-cut nails bit into my palms as I balled my fists up. Just get through the day, that’s it. If he used my name any more times I might have to start going by my full name just to get the stink of him off of it.

“I need to go make that call,” Ms. Zora excused herself. He didn’t watch her leave, instead smirking and staring hungrily down at me as if I were the chicken salad sandwiches.

“What are you looking at?” I asked.

“Ms. Baldur,” he said, rolling the r with a flourish. “Such a nice ring to it. Maybe I’ll call you that if you do a good enough job today. Please me and I’ll please you.”

“I-“ He knew he had turned my nickname into an annoyance. I expected him to sprout horns any minute now. “What makes you think that I want you to please me? Can’t I just do my job?”

He turned, heading back out to the golf course. A group of men had managed to gather in the few minutes we’d been inside, chattering and guzzling Bud Lights as if they were college frat boys born again in the heat of the summer.

“Raph!” one of them exclaimed. “What took you so long?”

“I was just making sure everything was ready and attending to a few stray animals.” He looked at me with that remark, before continuing, “Nothing exciting.” He popped his sunglasses back on as the cloud cover retreated. My eyes were drawn once more to the unbuttoned violation. I stared a bit too long as I found his eyes peeking out the peripheral of the shades, waiting for mine to see them. He gave a smile and I went off to his golf cart to sulk in my rosy cheeks.

They chatted and chatted until one of them finally clapped his hands together in anticipation. Beer can after empty beer can clunked into the trash can, and one by one the carts started.

“Out,” he said.

“What?” I said.

“Do you have cotton in your ears? Out. You want to be named like a dog, you’ll run like a dog.”

I got out, folding my arms as I watched him get in. “I thought we were done with all this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are, but I’m not done with your lesson, Tav. If you keep up, I’ll drive you back after the 18th hole.” And with that, he backed the cart out and zipped off after the pack.

[haveyoureadthispoll]

Wells Whitaker was once golf’s hottest rising star, but lately, all he has to show for his “promising” career is a killer hangover, a collection of broken clubs, and one remaining supporter. No matter how bad he plays, the beautiful, sunny redhead is always on the sidelines. He curses, she cheers. He scowls, she smiles. But when Wells quits in a blaze of glory and his fangirl finally goes home, he knows he made the greatest mistake of his life.  Josephine Doyle believed in the gorgeous, grumpy golfer, even when he didn’t believe in himself. Yet after he throws in the towel, she begins to wonder if her faith was misplaced. Then a determined Wells shows up at her door with a wild proposal: be his new caddy, help him turn his game around, and split the prize money. And considering Josephine’s professional and personal life is in shambles, she could really use the cash…  As they travel together, spending days on the green and nights in neighboring hotel rooms, sparks fly. Before long, they’re inseparable, Wells starts winning again, and Josephine is surprised to find a sweet, thoughtful guy underneath his gruff, growly exterior. This hot man wants to brush her hair, feed her snacks, and take bubble baths together? Is this real life? But Wells is technically her boss and an athlete falling for his fangirl would be ridiculous… right? 

[golfgifts4u]

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The Golf-themed Apparel Bundle: Help your parents make a fashion statement on and off the course with this trendy apparel bundle. It includes a stylish golf polo shirt made from breathable fabric, a sleek golf cap to shield them from the sun, and a cozy golf-themed sweater for those cooler days. This bundle is a fantastic way for your parents to showcase their love for golf with every outfit they wear.

The Golf Travel Bundle: If your parents enjoy golfing getaways, this bundle is the perfect companion for their adventures. It features a durable golf travel bag to protect their clubs, a compact golf shoe bag to keep their footwear organized, and a travel-size golf umbrella to shield them from unexpected showers. With this bundle, your parents will be ready to explore new golf courses with ease.

When it comes to celebrating your golf-loving parents, these gift bundles from GolfGifts4U offer a convenient and thoughtful way to express your love and appreciation. Each bundle is carefully curated to cater to their specific needs and interests, ensuring that they receive items they will truly cherish.

So, whether it's their birthdays, anniversaries, or just a surprise gesture to show your gratitude, make their golfing experience even more special with these amazing Mom and Dad Gift Bundles. Let your parents know that their passion for golf is something you wholeheartedly support and celebrate.

[cleoburygolfclub]

Charity Raffle: Let's Raise Some Dough for CoCo and Carers Connect!

We're hosting a raffle, and it's a "par-fect" opportunity to support two amazing charities!

For just £3 per square, you could win one of three "fore-tastic" prizes from this year's Open at Royal Troon. And the best part? You'll be helping us "green" the lives of those in need!

Prizes:

Signed Cap: A rare cap signed by 10 golfing legends - we're talking Dean Burmeister, Rickie Fowler, Padraig Harrington, and Justin Rose! It's like having your own caddie... minus the caddie part.

Pitchfork Repairer/Bottle Opener & Ball Marker: Because who doesn't need a trusty sidekick to help with those pesky pitchforks and bottles? Plus, it's a ball marker, so you'll never lose your spot!

Towel: A high-quality towel to keep you dry on the course - because nobody likes a soggy golfer.

How to Enter:

Mosey on over to the bar and find the raffle grid

Pony up £3 per square (it's for charity, folks!)

Take a swing at winning one of these incredible prizes!

Let's make this raffle a "hole-in-one" for charity!

[readygolfs]

Embrace Style and Comfort with Funny Golf Outfits for Women

When it comes to golf, there's no reason your wardrobe can’t be as fun as the game itself. Funny golf outfits for women are a fantastic way to show off your personality while maintaining comfort and performance on the course.

From quirky designs to playful patterns, fun women’s golf clothes are all about combining fashion and function for the modern lady golfer. Whether you're hitting the greens with friends or competing in a tournament, there are endless options to express your unique sense of style. Here's how you can incorporate fun golf outfits for ladies into your game without sacrificing comfort.

1. Colorful Patterns for a Bold Statement

Why settle for boring when you can wear bright, bold colors and fun patterns? Funny golf outfits for women are perfect for those who love to stand out. Vibrant hues like neon greens, pinks, and oranges are trending, as are playful designs such as polka dots, stripes, and floral prints. These patterns bring an element of fun and energy to your game, helping you feel confident and stylish while you swing.

Pairing a brightly colored top with coordinating bottoms or a patterned skirt is a great way to mix fun with functionality. The key is to keep the outfit balanced—too many bold patterns can overwhelm your look. A single standout piece with neutral accents can make all the difference.

2. Comfort Meets Humor

Who says fun women’s golf clothes can’t be comfortable? Choose materials that are breathable, moisture-wicking, and flexible. Whether you prefer a stretchy skort or a loose, flowing dress, comfort is just as important as the style. Many golf brands now offer performance fabrics that allow for maximum movement, ensuring you’re not only looking good but also playing your best.

Adding humorous elements to your outfit, such as socks with quirky prints or a cap with a funny slogan, can also enhance your look. A witty tee that reads, "This is my tee time" or a cap that says "Fore!" adds a touch of personality while staying golf-appropriate.

3. Accessories That Pop

Accessories are a fun way to elevate your golf outfit without going overboard. Choose fun accessories like patterned visors, colorful golf gloves, or even funky golf shoes. These pieces of flair allow you to express your personal style in a way that’s both playful and functional. A fun, themed golf bag or towel can also add a little humor to your setup.

If you're attending a golf event with friends, consider coordinating your outfits. You could all wear matching fun golf outfits for ladies, complete with custom embroidery or fun sayings on your apparel, creating a cohesive look that stands out while still looking polished.

Conclusion: Make Your Next Round of Golf a Stylish One

Looking great on the golf course should never feel like a chore. With fun golf outfits for ladies, you can mix comfort, performance, and personality into one stylish look. Whether you prefer a bold print, humorous accessories, or a mix of both, there's something for every woman who loves to golf with flair. For the ultimate in stylish and functional golf attire, be sure to check out ReadyGOLF. With their wide range of options, you’ll find the perfect combination of fun and fashion for your next round.

[jenniedesignblog]

Visual Presents – part 3

I chose the Riviera Country Club as the venue for this event. The reason is that this venue offers a private, luxurious, yet relaxed environment for the event. The date I selected is Saturday, June 7, 2025, because it marks the start of summer—it won’t be too cold or too hot, and the grass and trees will be green.

The initial event names I considered were: Summer on the Green with Lululemon, Chill & Swing: Lululemon Golf Launch Event, and Summer Fun Golf Games with Lululemon. But I didn't end up using any of them, haha. The final name I chose is Lululemon Golf Launch Event—I think it's more straightforward, clearly indicating that it’s a Lululemon product launch focused on golf, and it keeps things clean.

I also planned to create merchandise for attendees as giveaways, including golf balls with the Lululemon logo, hats, gloves, water bottles, towels, and tote bags. However, there isn’t quite enough time to make all of these (laugh-cry emoji), I used one week – 11 hours (Oct 21, 23) to research on golf, lululemon and product launch event, decide colors, remake the logo and narrow down what I should design for the event, and used two weeks – 32 hours (Oct 28, 30, Nov 01, 04, 06, 07, 08) to do the actual design, find mockups and do the mockups.

I wasn’t initially planning to redesign the logo, but I saw that other classmates had redesigned theirs, so I started with a spontaneous idea—to add a golf ball and golf tee, since I decided to make this a golf launch event, and it needed some golf elements. I tried replacing the upside-down water drop in the current Lululemon logo with a golf ball and tee. I experimented with a couple of different designs; please see the picture below. For the text in the logo, I kept Lululemon’s bold sans-serif font and added "GOLF" in uppercase with a serif font behind it (I actually got this idea from NIKEGOLF). I then played with different text compositions, but lululemonGOLF looked best.

For the colors, I chose hues from the mood board I made. The overall color scheme in the mood board is blue, green, and cream yellow, so these three became the main colors I used for this project.

For this launch event, I created:

Two golf balls

Two billboards

A couple of invitation cards

Two guest passes

One activities overview map: The map is in 2.5D. I’ve always wanted to try 2.5D, as it’s quite popular in design trends right now but haven’t had the time until now. I thought this was a good opportunity to try it, especially since Lululemon made a 2.5D activities overview map for an event they held in China.

I still have other items to create, like smoother ephemera, stickers, and beer cans, etc. I actually began by looking at mockups first and then used those files to develop the designs. I feel that working this way gives me guidance on what to design and makes it easier for me to maintain a consistent visual style (I have too many ideas and not enough time, haha!).

[aim4birdiesltd]

A Comprehensive Guide to Ladies Golf Gear: Essentials for Performance and Style

Introduction:

Golf has been the sport of skill, strategy, and etiquette for a long time. Traditionally, this is one male-dominated sport, but of late women have not only taken to this sport but are also making their dent with skill and panache. This swing in the interest of women has raised demand for high-quality, performance-oriented, and stylish ladies' golf gear. From clubs designed for the ladies' needs to apparel for comfort and functionality, ladies' golf gear today comes in an impressive array of options. This guide should take a closer look at everything you need to know about ladies' golf gear, from ladies' golf clubs and on-course clothing to shoes and other accessories designed specifically for women. Whether you're a true beginner or a very experienced player, investing in the right gear will go a long way in making a huge difference in your game.

Key Components of Ladies Golf Gear

Women's Golf Clubs

Driver: Generally, ladies' drivers are made a bit lighter and with a higher loft so they can hit longer distances without needing to use so much energy.

Irons and Wedges: Ladies' irons are often fitted with a graphite shaft and of a slightly reduced length so it allows giving more swing control.

Putter: Most putters are made with smaller grips and lengths for better handling and control.

Hybrids: They are favorite for lady golfers, for they can offer versatility the same way as long irons but are fairly much easier to maneuver.

Ladies Golf Bags

Cart Bags: These are heavier and a perfect choice for those golfers who intend to use a golf cart. Cart bags may be availed with voluminous storage and easy access to equipment.

Stand Bags: Stand bags are both light weight and portable, with a feature that makes them favorable to golfers who enjoy walking the course.

Carry Bags: Super lightweight for those players who carry only the bare essentials, they have few pockets for ease of handling.

Ladies' Golf Clothing

Polo Shirts and Sleeveless Tops: Designed for comfort in breathable materials like polyester or cotton blends for fabulous stretch and cool factor.

Golf Skorts and Shorts: The comfort of shorts with the appeal of a skirt in skorts has made them hot favorites amongst golfing women. Shorts and capris are great for hot weather.

Outerwear: Windbreakers, waterproof jackets, and layering pieces provide added comfort on colder months or rainy days. Headwear: Hats and visors are vital for protection from the sun to

keep you in focus for the game.

Women's Golf Shoes

Spiked vs. Spikeless: Spiked shoes assure much better grip on wet or hilly areas, while spikeless shoes will be comfortable and versatile on flatter courses.

Breathability/Waterproofing: A waterproof option would be a decent choice to keep your feet dry during dewy mornings or in rainy conditions.

Arch Support/Cushioning: Proper support is highly imperative in avoiding any signs of fatigue, particularly when you are most likely to walk the course.

The Essentials On-Course Accessories

Golf Gloves: In order to maintain proper grip and avoid any blister formations, women's gloves come in multiple sizes that will fit your hand just right.

Rangefinders: Devices used to measure distances to pins, rangefinders prove quite helpful to establish the accuracy of your shots.

Golf Tees and Balls: Women's golfing balls are usually softer to allow for more spin and control.

Towels and Ball Markers: The towels will keep your clubs clean while the ball markers will help you mark your spot on the green. Umbrella: A good quality golf umbrella will keep you dry from those quick showers.

How to Pick the Ideal Ladies Golf Equipment: Things to Consider

Budget

This will define your quality and quantity of gear that you can purchase. It is better to splurge on high-quality essentials like clubs and shoes and economize on the other less-than-necessary things that can be replaced afterward.

Skill Level

This may mean the beginner devoting more attention to the main tools of the trade, while the intermediate and advanced player seeks special tools that help fine tune certain parts of their game. For each of these three levels of player, there is a set by the likes of both TaylorMade and Callaway.

Personal Comfort

Comfort should be a priority in your gear selection. Break in shoes to ensure adequate support, and check your clubs for just the right grip. Your apparel should permit freedom of movement; breathable fabrics are best, especially for summer rounds.

Course Conditions

If you play lots of hilly or wet courses, then spiked shoes will help provide traction. Waterproofed apparel and bags can help in rainy conditions; in warm, flat courses lighter, breathable clothing and spikeless shoes work nicely.

Style Preferences

To many women golfers, fashionably designed and stylish gear helps to reflect their personalities. Many golf apparel brands realize this and offer designs that integrate style with functionality. Look for items that can make you feel confident on the course.

Brands that Shine in Ladies Golf Gear

A few brands rise to the top in the ladies golf gear market, combining quality and performance with style. Here is a brief summary of some of the notable names:

TaylorMade: Renowned for high-performance clubs and innovation, TaylorMade's women's line includes clubs designed with lighter materials for optimal speed and distance.

Callaway: Popular for forgiving clubs and reliable balls, this brand works well for beginning and intermediate players.

Nike and Adidas: These companies are the leading golf apparel brands providing moisture-wicking clothing, comfortable shoes, and stylish outerwear designed just for women.

FootJoy: This is a well-recognized name in footwear for golfers. FootJoy has spiked and spikeless options with exceptional arch support and comfortable cushioning.

Ping: Ping offers complete sets tailored to women, along with lightweight and durable golf bags that boast ample storage for all accessories.

Women's Golf Equipment FAQs

What should I look for when purchasing lady's golf clubs?

Selection is based on material, length, and weight. Women's clubs are lighter and shorter; the shafts are also more flexible to accommodate the slow swinging speed. A full set of hybrids and putters would be better for beginners because both can lighten the burden of learning.

Are there certain clothing brands that actually address the needs for women's golf apparel?

Yes, several brands are into women's golf attire. These include Nike, Adidas, Callaway, and Puma. These companies have made clothes to provide comfort, flexibility, and style. Most of them contain high-performance fabrics for efficient sweat removal and to keep you cool. Many options provide freedom of movement.

How often should I replace my golf gear, particularly clubs and shoes?

Gear replacement does depend on usage and wear. Most golf clubs will generally last about 3-5 years, but drivers and putters will very well probably outlive the set. Shoes should be changed every 1-2 years, especially if one plays a lot. Always check all your gear for wear and tear, since performance could be affected when using worn-out gear.

What type of golf balls does one recommend for ladies to improve their performance?

They tend to be softer so it allows for more control and greater distances. Titleist, Callaway, and Bridgestone are a few that make women's golf balls designed for slower swing speeds, thus providing even better performance and accuracy.

Is there gear available to enhance my game?

But several accessories will help you take your game to the next level, such as rangefinders for accurately determining distances, gloves for a firmer yet sure grip, and putting mats for training. Even the tiniest accessories like ball markers and divot tools come in pretty handy and also keep your good etiquette going.

Conclusion

It means both comfort and good performance on the course are dependent on the right choice of ladies' equipment in golf. High-quality clubs, durable golf bags, stylish apparel, and supporting footwear are but a few of the choices to be made to meet the needs of women at all skill levels. Remember, along with personal style, one should choose equipment related to the skill level and course conditions. The truth is, quality equipment can make all the difference in the game and will probably heighten your enjoyment of each game. This guide should take a closer look at everything you need to know about ladies' golf gear, from ladies' golf clubs and on-course clothing to shoes and other accessories designed specifically for women.

When you have the right equipment to your name, you will be all so different in stepping onto that green. Be it beating the score, just for enjoyment, or simply hanging out with friends, well-suited gear makes all the difference. So find your equipment match, and let your confidence shine on the course!

[psquilting]

Why Every Golf Course Should Invest in Embroidered Golf Towels

From the lush green grass and the quality of the equipment to every detail, golf cares about it. One of the usually overlooked accessories that can make a big difference to the golfing experience is the towel. Golf towels with embroidery have now become indispensable for courses looking forward to coming at the forefront of their brand image and serving well the satisfaction levels of their players. So here's why it's a smart move for any golf course to invest in custom golf towels. Read more: https://psquiltingg.livejournal.com/489.html

[ereardon]

For the fanfic writer game can you answer 👻🎁🔍?

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

Idk if this is wild BUT I truly believe Jake Seresin goes hard at baking Christmas cookies. Like he's so precise about measuring and makes really elaborate bakes.

🔎 Does anyone beta read or edit your fics?

Nope! I do all of my own editing (I was a journalist/editor for several years before moving to PR) and this is kind of a secret hobby of mine that I just haven't shared publicly with family/friends! Something I do just for myself that makes me happy.

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

I have a Bradley x OC WIP I started but abandoned for the Come Back series. Here's a snippet:

You were pouring your morning coffee, Cracker Barrel mug in one hand and coffee pot in the other, when you spotted him through the edge of the front window. 

The sun was just beginning to rise, peeling back the darkness from the night before, and you spotted what could only be an arm flung across the green grass of your front lawn. 

Stepping out onto the deck, you squinted. The grass was wet from the rain shower that had hit in the early morning and the street was eerily quiet. You looked around. There were no cars parked nearby. 

And yet, somehow there was a fully nude man lying face down on your lawn. 

You put the cup of coffee down gently, slid off your slippers and tiptoed tentatively down the path and onto the grass, bending down to see if you were about to call the cops with a homicide investigation. And then you watched his chest rise with a breath and you sighed out, hand on your heart. 

“Thank God,” you muttered. You stood back up and took him in. He was tall, or long considering he was just laying there in the grass. Curled brown hair, tanned and incredibly muscular arms, back and legs. And a nice fucking ass if you did say so. Leaning back down, you tapped his shoulder. “Um, hi?” 

The man groaned but remained on his stomach so you circled your fingers around his upper arm and shook harder. 

“Hello? Excuse me.” 

“Shit,” the guy groaned, rolling over and flopping onto his back, giving you a clear view of his package. Your eyes went wide, but you couldn’t tear yourself away. He also had a perfect six pack, but you were staring a bit south of the border. He rubbed his eyes and finally looked up at you. “Who are you?” 

“I’m Caroline,” you said, crossing your arms. “And you’re naked, by the way.” 

“Fuck,” he said, scrambling to cover himself and then wincing in pain, one hand coming up to his head. 

You shook your head and sighed, uncrossing your arms and shrugging off your blue robe. “Here, put this on.” 

He stood and accepted it, tying it around his waist but it was tight. “Thanks.” 

“Come inside,” you said, turning on a heel and heading back toward the walk. “You can take a shower if you want. Call someone to come get you.” 

He followed you, head hung. “Where am I?”

You grabbed the coffee mug you had deserted on the steps and opened the door. “You’re on Miguel Ave. A few blocks from the golf course.” 

He nodded and stepped inside. You pointed up the stairs. “Take a left at the top of the stairs. Guest bath is the third door on the right. There should be towels and a bigger robe if you need it.” 

He stepped onto the stairs and then turned around, giving you a quizzical look. “Why are you being so nice to me? I’m a stranger. I’m a naked stranger.”