#billiards chalk

[its-where-the-wild-things-are]

[not-rigel]

Admit Defeat

warnings: smut, facesitting, fingering, bottom! sevika (if you squint), lots of flirting, y'all are in love, sub! sevika (if you squint), yearning, lesbians being lesbians

work count: 4k

You don't remember who made the first move. You don't know what you had done to get Sevika to return your feelings. At some point, the two of you switched from only speaking in work-appropriate conversations to constantly flirting. The switch was far from gradual, a near overnight shift in dynamic. For weeks,  Sevika has been laying the charm on thick and you've been returning the banter. 

Tonight was no different. The two of you inside the near empty Last Drop, chatting over a game of billiards. Billiards isn't yours or Sevika's typical game but watching her bend over the table was too tempting a sight to pass up. 

“I ever tell you about the time I almost bled out?” Sevika says, chalking up her cue. 

“Just one time? That's a little boring, Sevika,” you tease. 

“I'd have to be stabbed to be bleeding, and you know how often that happens.” 

The answer was seldom. Sevika got into plenty of fights, but most ended with her mechanical claws in her opponent's gut. Never the other way around.  

“Go on. Tell me,” you urge. She finishes chalking her cue and sets it down on the edge of the table. Your eyes follow her as she walks around the table, searching for her shot. She studies the eleven ball, considering the difficulty. 

“Eleven, back left pocket,” she calls. She bends down to line up the shot. But instead of taking it, she begins her story. 

“I was at the harbor, the smaller one, on personal business-” 

“You were gambling,” you interrupted, leaning your weight to rest your hip onto the table. You watch Sevika's eyes follow your movement. 

Sevika shakes her head, “It was for personal business. Needed new plating for my arm, one that can withstand higher temperatures. I heard from a trusted source-” 

“At the brothel,” you interrupted again. She still hasn't taken the shot. Still bent over the table, cue lined to hit but her arm hasn't drawn back yet. 

Sevika laughs at your correction, “I heard at the brothel that someone was looking to trade down at the harbor. I went down there with an alright gun. Wanted to be rid of it anyway. I get there looking for the guy and I find he's got four other people with him, fucking bruisers by the looks of it.” 

Sevika takes a break in her story to finally take her shot, the eleven ball gliding across the felt and into the pocket she called prior. She stands, walking over to where you're leaning against the table. She smirks as she draws closer to you, stopping just close enough for you to feel her body heat. You look up at her, gaze dropping to her lips for a moment before moving back up to her eyes. 

“It's your turn again,” you tell her. You tilt your head toward the table, not breaking eye contact. 

“You're standing in front of my shot.” 

“My bad,” you playfully shrug, taking a large enough step back. Sevika immediately fills the space, stepping even closer to you than she was before. Another centimeter and your chests would be touching. 

Up this close, you'd have to crane your neck to make eye contact. But since you can't find it in you to look away from her lips, you don't have to look as far up.  Her tongue creeps from her parted lips and wets her bottom lip, surely to tease you. 

“As I was saying,” Sevika continues, aware you're watching each word, “I don't pay attention to the other guys, figured if I didn't treat them like a threat they weren't gonna fuck with me. And it worked for the most part. I get through the trade with my guy, no issues. I'm thinking it's over so I shake his hand, close the deal and wait for him and his goons to leave, cause I'm not gonna turn my back on them.” 

You nod, trying to follow along with her story but your attention is divided between how her lips quirk up into a smirk every other sentence. You loved this side of Sevika, the side that can't stop talking. The side that loves sharing her time with other people. The side that is heartfelt and open. 

“You still listening?” She says, pulling your thoughts away from her mouth and secret softness.

“Just skip to the good part,” you huff. You're not impatient and you could listen, and watch, her talk for hours. But the attraction between the two of you was a few degrees warmer tonight. You can't afford to overheat, especially since you work together. 

“Right. The good part. They think I'm looking for a fight so they jump me. I handled them fine enough, taking a few punches. Was focused on keeping them off of me. One of ‘em came charging at me with a knife, no fucking clue where he got it from, and aims right at my ribs. I wasn't really thinking, I just pushed his arm down. Fucking slashed my thigh open,” she continued. She bent over the table again and this time you could see her back muscles ripple underneath her shirt. 

You shift your hips slightly, so they brush against her side. 

“Can I see?” You ask. 

She stood up without taking her shot, taking a step to trap you between herself and the table, “I'd have to take off my pants.” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

She chuckles, “Thought you'd let me kiss you before trying to get me undressed.” 

This was the moment one of you would usually chicken out, coughing up a practiced excuse. But tonight was different. Seizing a confidence you've never held in your life before, you close the little distance there is between you. 

“Kiss me, then take your pants off.”

“Thank fuck,” she sighs. 

She reaches her right hand out, cupping your cheek and guides you to her mouth. There is a moment of hesitation from her, when your lips are a hair away. A chance for you to withdraw. But you won't take it. You push up on your tiptoes, smashing your lips into hers. 

Sevika hasn't felt genuine attraction like this in years. Her body feels like it moves on its own accord. Doing the opposite of what she usually does in situations like these. Fingers tracing over skin instead gripping. Tongue feeling the softness of your lips instead of claiming. Heart beating wildly out of her chest instead of being steady. 

Her chemtech arm holds you by your waist. Between her hips pressing into yours, the table behind you and her arm holding you up, you still feel like you'll melt right to the floor. 

Needing more purchase, you wrap your arms around her neck. Her hair tickles your fingertips and you need to feel more of the soft strands. When you tangle your fingers into her hair she shudders, her knees go weak and weight shifts to rest on you.

You take the time to kiss down her neck, feeling her breaths catch in her throat. Feeling her skin vibrate with her moans. When your lips press onto her pulse point you can feel her erratic heartbeat. It almost overwhelms you, how much she softens for you. 

You're surprised when she guides your hands from her hair down to her breast. Without any hesitation, you fondle her breasts, thumbs rubbing over where you know her nipples are. She's letting out moans above you, the sounds deep and throaty. 

She gasps out a ‘wait’ and you pull your hands and face away.  After she catches her breath she asks if you want to go back to her place.

She's staring deep into your eyes and you regret having looked at her mouth so much tonight. She has the prettiest eyes you've even seen, the most enchanting shade of gray you've ever seen. Like a thundercloud full of heavy rain, her eyes always held back a rough storm. Usually she's unreadable, but right now you know exactly what she wants. 

“Mine is probably closer,” you offer. 

At that Sevika nods, muttering out a soft “Take me.” 

You grab her hand and lead her out the Last Drop and in the direction of your apartment. It's far closer than Sevika's, hardly a five minute walk. Three minutes if you were really in a rush. You make it home in two and a half. 

It's a simple studio apartment, small but well within your needs. 

Once you step inside, she grabs you from underneath your ass, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around her torso. Your hands find their way into her hair, fingers dancing on her scalp. You needed her weak for you, and she was falling apart at the seams the more you touched her. She carries you over to the bed, hiding in the corner of your apartment. She sits down on your bed with you sitting on her lap.

Her hands grab at your shirt, shoving the offending fabric over your breasts until you break the kiss to pull your top over your head. You return to the kiss the moment your shirt is discarded behind you, pushing Sevika down into the mattress. She gasps into your mouth as her back thuds against the bed. 

Her hands are flat against your lower back, inching downwards to slip her fingertips beneath the band of your pants. Sevika guides your hips to grind over hers. You rut your hips into her, no rhythm or pace set. 

"You've got such a pretty face," you tell her. "You wouldn't want me to sit on it, would you?" It's something you've been waiting to experience, waiting for the right person. If there was anyone you wanted it with, without hesitation, it's Sevika. 

"I've been waiting for you to say that for so fucking long," Sevika laughs. You laugh with her, finding humor is how long you've spent dancing around each other. 

You roll off of her lap onto your back to shimmy off your pants and underwear. Within seconds, Sevika is sitting up to help you out of your clothes. You lift your hips and she pulls your pants and underwear down on one try. 

Seeing you near fully naked, Sevika admires your body. Every curve is in its perfect place. Every scar is like fine details painted into your skin. Each blemish makes you more and more of a masterpiece. She always thought you were breathtaking but the word felt much more literal now. Breathing was wasted energy, anything other than pouring her full attention into admiring you was useless to her. 

“Sevika… you're staring,” you said under your breath. 

“I- I'm going to die tonight,” she sighs, leaning down to press kisses to your shoulder. She kisses your shoulder until she's grounded herself, no longer lost in passion boiling over in her head. 

“I need you on my face. Now,” she says against your shoulder. 

“Patience.” 

“Fuck that. I need you. I can't wait anymore.” 

She grabs your hips, flipping you over to straddle her waist. She unclasps your bra, pulling the straps off your shoulders. 

“You're still dressed,” you gasped, trying to find an excuse to slow her down. 

“We'll get to that later. Sit on my fucking face.” She grabs at your hips trying to pull you up and shimmy herself down. You admit defeat when she pouts. 

You crawl up her body and place one knee to the left side of her head before swinging the other over her head. You don't sit down on her face yet, shifting your hips back to hover over her shoulders. 

“Fuck, please sit on my face. I can't wait.” her hands grab your thighs, metal and flesh fingers alike digging into you.  

You're ready to give yourself to her, but you're stopped by the look in her eyes. This time she's the one to take your breath away. 

You reach down and stroke her cheek, “You're so pretty.” 

Her hands loosen their grip on your hips, thumbs stroking your skin.

“You're beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful,” she whispered. The moment was so fragile but nothing could break how she felt for you. 

You feel the need to say something in return but the only words that come to mind are about how you're falling for her. And you can't give yourself away just yet. So you shift your hips over her face. Before you take your seat, you notice that you've forgotten a step in your haste. 

“Wait, we need a safe signal.”

“Like I'd fucking tap out,” she rasps, frustrated that you're so close but just out of reach. 

“Still, we need one.” 

“Fine. I'll tap you twice if I need you off. That work?” 

“That works,” you nod, shifting your hips to position right over her mouth. 

“Oh fuck, thank you.” She sighs before you lower your cunt onto her mouth. 

She starts with kisses to your folds, breathing in your scent while she can still breathe. Her lips press kisses everywhere she can reach, mostly over your labia. Her nose nudges right beneath your clit and you drag your hips back to get her right where you need her. Nose now bumping against your clit, your thighs clench from the added simulation. 

You can feel the tension, built up on months of pent up emotions, dissolving with each pass of her tongue. The tension melts down, collecting inside of you and waiting to be released. Her kisses become open-mouthed as your arousal coats her lips. You jerk your hips, moving your clit over her mouth. She licks around the bud, feeling it twitch and beg to be touched. 

Looking down, you can see her eyes are closed, eyes rolled back behind her lips. Her tongue swipes over your clit and you nearly throw your head back to moan, but you can't tear your eyes away from her. She looks too beautiful beneath you. It makes you feel like you're doing more than taking your own pleasure. It makes you feel like you're not on top, you're on your throne. Your insides clench again as she flicks her tongue over your clit. 

Sevika's hips squirm, trying to find some friction to calm the tension inside of her. Everything about you fuels how much she burns for you. She felt warm whenever you were around but with you filling her senses in this moment, she was close to combustion. She could distantly feel a liquid heat drip from her cunt. With each slow drip that leaked from her, her core coiled with excitement. 

Channeling her yearning into eating you out, she works her tongue over your clit. When you start to shift your hips again, she flattens her tongue letting you move wherever you please. 

You grab her by the hair, grinding onto her tongue to chase your orgasm. It's an orgasm you've been chasing everytime you've masterbated thinking about her. A fantasy that has been just out of reach, and even now it mocks you by running away. 

“Sev, I'm so close,” you choked out. 

You ride her tongue, desperation drowning out the aching in your muscles. Your thrusts are messy, but her tongue finds you each time. No matter where you move, Sevika is there. 

Your orgasm is done with being chased. It meets you, just the way you always imagined it would. It breaks the laws of physics, making gravity cease to exist. Your entire body is weightless as you gasp and choke out Sevika's name. Your grip on her hair is the only thing tying you to this world. 

When the world finally rights itself, gravity working as it should, you lift your weight off of her. Her hands pull your hips forward, setting your dripping hole over her mouth. There's so much more of you to be had and Sevika wasn't ready for the moment to end. 

She laps at your opening, groaning with every bit of cum she licks away. Your taste is even sweeter now, or maybe it was psychological. Sevika wouldn't put it past her to think you taste better after coming. You did things to her that she couldn't explain. 

She is pulled from her thoughts when you jerk your hips away and she detaches her lips. You swing a leg over her head and dismount inelegantly.

“Thank you,” she gasps after she catches her breath. When she no longer needs to gasp for air she takes a deep inhale through her nose, catching your lingering scent that coats her face. 

She doesn't have enough time to react before you straddle her hips and push at her top. You're surprised by your surge of energy but you'd be damned if you didn't return the favor. 

“Sev… Fucking strip for me,” you purr. 

She moans your name, hands reaching up to hold your face and bring you down for a kiss. You dodge the kiss, needing her naked for you. 

“Sevika, I want you. Please… you're too beautiful for me not to see.”  

That makes her heart skip a beat. Sevika doesn't accept compliments but you said that word like it's the truth. So she believed you. 

“Okay,” she nodded, her turn to admit defeat tonight. 

You lift off her lap, moving to unbutton her pants. She lifts her hips and you pull down the waist band. Her pants take more force than you expected to pull over her ass but after a couple tries, they slide all the way down to her knees. She begins to kick her pants down to her ankles then toes them off. 

“The scar is pretty obvious,” she says. You're confused for a moment then you remember why the two of you are in your bed in the first place. On her left thigh is a gash, a centimeter thick and 7 centimeters long. It was a deep cut, evident by how raised and pale the scar is. 

“Shit, that's really fucking bad. How'd you survive?” 

“Took two extra doses of shimmer. You'd be surprised by how life saving that shit can be.”

“Huh,” you shrug. She shifts her hips beneath you and you're back in the moment, forgetting her near death experience. Fuck the reason you finally got her into bed, you have her now and nothing else matters.

You are about to tug at her boxers when her chem tech arm reaches down and tears them apart with two tugs. You snort at her impatience. The amusement is soon gone when you see her cunt. Your imagination has failed you, she's prettier than any fantasy you've had. A trail of opaque, white cum leaking from her. 

“You fucking came?” you asked. 

“I can't control myself with you,” was the best explanation she could give. 

“Oh fuck,” you curse. You bend down to press kisses to her torso, trailing down the valley of her muscles. You don't care that you don't have her top off. If you were going to get your way tonight, it will be coming off eventually. But right now you want to feel her. 

You set your pace slow, kissing downwards to her thighs. She opens her legs, making space for you between them and you gladly take it. 

“Sevika, what do you want?” You doubt you could do anything she wouldn't want but it never hurts to be sure. 

Sevika stops to think for a moment. She imagined every single sexual scenario with you. So which one would she choose? A few crossed her mind but one made the coil of excitement return above the rest. The thought of your fingers, more slender and soft than hers, fucking her until she melts into nothing. 

“Finger me,” she pleads. Sevika keeps surprising you, using a desperate tone that goes against her character. 

“Oh shit, I'm going to fuck you so good,” you sighed. 

You get comfortable on your knees, intending to stay there as long as you can. You trail your fingers over her thighs, tracing words into her skin. You can't tell her that you're falling so you write it out. On her left thigh, ‘I love you” is etched. On her right thigh, “Stay with me” is drawn. 

“Stop tickling me, I need you inside me,” she whines. The sound almost kills you, her velvet voice whining for you to enter her. 

You trace your right hand over her thigh and toward her cunt, teasing just a little more. She gasps when you insert your middle finger. Maybe you do too, with how good she feels. You knew she was wet but what makes you lightheaded is how warm she is. 

Her whines no longer shock you, coming out of her with each slow stroke of your finger. Adding a second finger takes her moans up in pitch. Your fingers feel a thousand times better than she dreamed, non-calloused fingers pulling the coil inside her tighter. 

“More,” she pants. You don't want to leave her word up for interpretation so you ask for clarification. 

“More what? Another finger? Faster? Need me to rub your clit? Tell me,” you urged. 

“Faster! Touch my clit!” she gasps out. Sweat begins to coat her forehead. 

Your fingers pick up their speed, curling against her sweet spot. Without removing your fingers, you move over her right thigh, walking up on your knees before settling down. 

In this position you lay at her side, face next to hers and arm reaching down to finger her. Your palm rubs over her clit with each thrust. You dip your head down to attach your lips. She sighs into your mouth, lips parting to let you control the kiss. 

Everytime your lips meet, you find a new favorite way to kiss her. Now, you find you love biting her lip. She pants and moans into your mouth as her pussy squelches from your fingering. She sounds wetter with each thrust, your fingers gliding in with more and more ease. 

“Please,” she pants, “I'll make a mess.” 

It's your turn to groan into her mouth. That sentence was a threat and a promise. She shifts her hips nudging your fingers to the exact right spot. 

You feel her orgasm wet your fingers as she whimpers out your name. Nothing could've prepared you for how magical making Sevika squirt for you would be. Her breaths huffed into your mouth. Her thighs clamped around your hand. Her pussy leaked all over your fingers. 

After thirty seconds pass, her thighs unclench and you remove your hand. You bring it up to your lips but Sevika grabs your wrist before you can taste her. 

“Can we… I want us… I want to be yours.” Sevika says when she catches her breath. 

“As long as I can be yours.” 

She guides your wrist to your mouth and you take your coated fingers into your mouth. Her taste bursts over your tongue, earthy and slightly salty. You lick your fingers clean and commit her taste to memory. Not that you would never taste her again, but it's something you need to remember. Any moment spent not tasting her will be torture from now on. 

Sevika wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in to lay on her chest. You settle in, placing your head over her heart. The two of you hold each other, you're listening to her heartbeat steady itself. 

“Sorry about your sheets,” you hear her say, words rumbling in her chest. 

You sit up to inspect the damage. The image makes you laugh. Between her thighs is a little heart-shaped puddle. 

“I lo-” you stop before the words come out, “I don't care. It'll wash out.” 

You lay back down to cuddle her, “You came in a heart-shaped puddle, by the way.” 

Sevika snorts, not surprised that her body was outing her feelings for you. She presses a kiss to your forehead, settling for gratefulness that she didn't chicken out tonight. 

“Why did it take so long for us to do this?” you ask. 

“I was afraid you'd figure out that I'm in love with you,” she says. She meant to hide the words but they found their way out. Sevika loves the way you soften her, how you break away all the walls to her heart without trying. 

Your voice is a whisper when you speak, “Are you still scared?” 

“I'm terrified.” 

“Me too.” 

“Scared?” Sevika tries to get you to clarify. She needs to know. 

“No. In love with you.” 

[locomoqo]

Heyyy i was wondering if you could write some Gun and Goo x reader fluff together? Your writing is absolutely amazing! 😁

Also, I was wondering if, in the future, you would ever consider writing for olly wang?

sharking

— gun park & goo kim x reader

details: fluff, the relationship between you and them is all up to you!

A/N: billiards is so cool, I applaud ppl who can play it😋 ..me personally i suck ass at billiards and yes! i'll consider writing for olly wang :DD

Gun and Goo were already mid-argument when you joined them at the pool table, both of them dramatically chalking up their cues. You couldn’t help but laugh as Goo pointed his cue at Gun with a grin that was equal parts competitive and smug.

“Just because you look serious doesn’t mean you’re actually good,” Goo taunted, lining up his shot.

Gun raised an eyebrow, giving him that trademark glare. “And you think you’ll hit anything?” His voice was cold but had that familiar dry humor you’d come to expect from him.

Goo gasped in mock offense. Spotting you, he turned to you, “Bet you’d want to be on my team, huh?” a grin on his face.

“Maybe I’ll just stay neutral and watch you two bicker like an old married couple.” You chuckled, eyeing the table.

Gun actually cracked a small, amused smirk. “See? Even they don’t trust you.”

With a wink, Goo pouted, feigning hurt. “Fine, watch and be amazed!” He dramatically aimed his cue, only to completely miss the shot. You burst into laughter as he froze, trying to save face. “That was…intentional. Strategy, see?”

Gun rolled his eyes, then effortlessly sank a ball in the corner pocket with his usual precision. He didn’t gloat, but the smug glance he shot Goo said it all. “That’s how it’s done,” he remarked dryly.

You clapped, teasing, “Looks like you’re on your own, Goo.”

Goo shook his head with an exaggerated sigh, waving his cue. “One day, you’ll see my true talent,” he grumbled. 

As the game went on, you watched the back-and-forth intensify. Goo kept trying to redeem himself, taking increasingly wild shots—some going in and some not, while Gun played with infuriating precision, each shot calculated and clean. You could feel Goo’s frustration building every time Gun effortlessly sank another ball.

Goo nudged you, whispering, “You’re my lucky charm, right? Just… distract him or something.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, and you rolled your eyes.

“Distract Gun? Are you kidding? He’s like a robot,” you whispered back, shooting a glance at Gun, who caught your look and raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing something.

“I can hear you, you know,” Gun said dryly, leaning down to line up his next shot. He didn’t even need to look up to know Goo was scheming.

“Oh, come on, don’t be so uptight,” Goo groaned, crossing his arms. “Let me have just one lucky shot. I’m doing this for us!” He winked at you, clearly pushing you to be his path to winning.

“You’d need more than luck to beat me, Goo,” Gun shot back, actually cracking a small smirk, which was almost as rare as a total eclipse.

Feeling playful, you moved closer to Gun just as he was lining up a shot. “What if I do distract you, though?” you teased softly.

Gun paused, eyes narrowing when he momentarily glanced at you. “You think you could?” his voice steady, but the corner of his mouth hinting at a smile.

You leaned back, grinning, and just as Gun missed his shot, Goo seized the opportunity, taking a shamelessly quick shot. The ball actually went in, and Goo threw his hands up in exaggerated victory. “See! That’s skill!” he declared, beaming at you as if he’d just won a championship.

Gun straightened, giving him a blank stare. “Lucky,” he muttered, but there was an undeniable trace of amusement in his eyes.

You found yourself caught in the middle of their banter, realizing just how much you loved these moments with the two of them, where even Gun’s serious edges softened.

[creepswrites]

Hi! How are you?

First of all I just want to say that I really love your writing style <3

I also have an idea if you might be interested (if you don't want to write about it, that's okay feel free to ignore this request)

May I request for Bo Sinclair and he's teaching a reader how to play billiard? I don't know if you remember the scenes when Bo is in the living room and we can see they have a billiard table there (I wanted to show you pictures but I couldn't send them so I hope this makes sense)

Anyway thanks in advance

Have a nice day/night!

okay so i rewatched the entire movie start to finish for your request to see the table and I THINK IVE GOT AN IDEA OF HOW TO DO THIS, i hope you like it!!

BO SINCLAIR TEACHING GN! READER HOW TO PLAY POOL

"Bo, are you sure I'm gonna get the hang'a this?" You pouted slightly, leaning against the table as Bo set up the game. "It sounds complicated."

"'We'll take it slow. Ain't no rush." He smiled at you as he passed your own cue stick. "So this here's the cue stick. 's got a lil chalk piece on the end there, that's the side yer gon' shoot the balls with."

You frowned as you looked between the sticks. "Yours is longer than mine."

Bo snorted, making you swat him. Perv. "Yer shorter than me, 's to be fair." He ruffled your hair playfully and began organizing the balls in the center of the table inside a triangular rack. "So, I'mma break the rack. Ya use the cueball, the all white one here, an' whatever ball I knock into the pockets is my color."

You watched Bo carefully line up the shot and launch the cue ball into the cluster of balls, stripes and solids scattering about the plane of green. A single yellow ball fell into a side pocket. "Alright, now what?" You asked curiously.

"Well, I'm solids, so you gotta use that lil white ball to knock the striped balls 'round." Bo said, leaning dramatically on his cue stick. "Try 'n get 'em into the pockets 'fore I get the solids in."

Seemed simple enough. "And whoever gets all their balls in wins?"

Bo nodded, a warm smile on his face. While he knew pool wasn't really your thing, he appreciated your efforts to learn for him. "Yep. Get all the balls in, knock the 8 ball in, an' ya win." He gave you a little shrug. "Easy."

You blinked in confusion. "Wait, but, the 8 ball is a solid?"

"Yeah, y'ain't wrong. But we both gotta play for it. 'sides, otherwise the balls're too uneven." Bo hummed, motioning you to come closer. Once you stepped into his space, he pulled you gently against his chest. "Alright, I'mma show ya how to line up a shot."

"You sure this ain't just an attempt to bend me over a table?" You teased him with a playful elbow.

Bo's face was red as he cleared his throat. You made a mental note to touch on that later. "So, use your fingers to rest the cue stick," he said, voice low in your ear as he guided your hands to rest on the table, "An' rest the stick there atop your fingers. Makes it easier to shoot. Now, aim at the cue ball and try to knock it into one'a them striped balls. See if you can get it into the pocket there in the corner."

You bit your lower lip and squeezed one eye closed in concentration. It took a few scratches at the table but eventually you knocked the cue ball against the striped ball. It bumped gently against the side of the table and you blew a raspberry.

"You got it, darlin'. Takes practice 'sall." Bo said, kissing the crown of your head. "Way better at this then Vince, that's for damn sure."

"Bo, I didn't even knock a ball in." You pouted yet again, leaning into his hold.

He nodded, chuckling. "Yep. Still better than Vince."

You poked at him with the cue stick and he barked out a laugh.

[mr-rdark]

A while back I posted a piece including an original homestuck character called Sir Friction, an extension to The Felt, representing the chalk used in Pool/Billiards.

Well this is what lies underneath the hood/bag.

For some extra lore:

Sir Friction is a kernelsprite squared, being a mixture of calsprite from the doomed timeline, and a scratch kernelsprite made from his abandoned jacket. In a sense, this also makes Sir Friction a Caliborn Squared.

Despite this powerful fusion, Sir Friction still holds a lower spot in The Felt than Lord English, only serving as a way to get Lord English back on track if anything was to halt him, or to take over if the impossible were to occur.

Despite this, he still keeps some of Caliborn’s time powers and a few cherub majyyks, along with his own unique felt power: the ability to speed up or the slow down the time of everything around him. This includes fast forwarding something, to more broken stuff like aging or de-aging someone, as well as reversing them.

(And for a little extra in the universe yet to be made, he later abuses the game itself, becoming a semi-Denizen, and then dons the much deserving name, Nyarlathotep)

[3-2-whump]

The New Intern

<prev next>

A shorter chapter, set three months after Escape Attempt Last

Heckin' big shoutout to @whumped-by-glitter for helping me talk out some plot points and develop my OCs' struggles a little better, you're awesome for that!

TW/CW: minor whump, pet whump, physical abuse towards a minor (mentioned)

“So, I come home today,” Thomas began, drinking and playing pool with his underboss, consigliere, and capos late at night. “Exhausted from negotiating with that upstart gang on the East Side, stressing about our loss of gambling revenue from our partners, and generally just on edge, and what do I come home to find?” The billiard balls clattered discordantly across the table, rolling around on their haphazard trajectories. “Khaled, that little shit, had left all the taps on! Every last one! My apartment, flooded!” He threw back another shot as he let Luca have a turn at the pool table. “And after I finished beating him black and blue, the only excuse the boy could give was ‘I was bored!’ Can you believe that? Bored?!” he complained.

The rest of the guys exchanged terse glances between themselves.

“Well,” the Boss snapped, “I know you want to say something, so say it! We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

“Fine then, friend,” Consigliere Michael answered, “You’re an idiot if you didn’t see this coming!”

“I agree,” Jaime chimed as he threw back his shot. “The poor kid has been cooped up in your home, by himself, all day, for the past fifteen months; we’re all honestly surprised something like this hasn’t happen sooner!”

“Nobody would keep a dog in a cage all day,” Michael added, striking the cue ball into his intended targets. Thomas winced at the blunt comparison. He’s not wrong, though, he realized.

“Tom, buddy, we’ve known you your whole life, practically,” Luca appealed. “Some of us even knew you in those years, and we still stuck by you. We know you got him as a sort of penitence exercise, but we think you’re smart enough to know it is not enough for you to just keep him alive.” Meanwhile, Jaime chalked up the tip of his cue, then leaned over to make his shot. “The boy needs to see other people, to have structure, to be surrounded by English-speakers if his language proficiency is ever going to improve!”

Jaime sent the billiard balls clacking across the table. Thomas sighed, realizing (a little too late) that they were completely right. “Well, what do you suppose I do? It’s not like I can just bring him to work with me, right?”

-

“Gentlemen, this is Khal, my new intern. He is going to be working closely with me for the foreseeable future.”

Khaled bristled beside him, feeling uncomfortable in the stiffly pressed black dress shirt and black slacks. Every eye in his master’s conference room was on him. Those that knew who he was arched their brows as they gave their Boss sly smiles of approval. Those that did not know who he was pared him down with their scrutinizing glares. He gave a curt nod, acknowledging the crowd of high-ranking members of the Organization. He replayed the Rules in his head as he tuned out the rest of the meeting. Lucky for me, Master only has a few: one, when invited to sit, sit on the floor, preferably at Master’s feet. He briefly paused his recitation to wonder just how much Rule One would be enforced while at work, with other people watching. Two, speak only when spoken to, especially at work. Three, speak English only. And the new Rules, he remembered, made specifically for their new circumstances: only refer to Master as ‘Boss’ or ‘Sir’ while I’m at work with him, and tell no one what I truly am. As far as they know, I am his intern, I was hired through a temp agency, and that is all they need to know.

“Khal…Khaled!”

He snapped back into the present, only to see Master –Boss, he meant –staring at him expectantly. His heartbeat quickened as he realized he zoned out longer than he intended to. Of course, there was the ever-present unspoken Rule, the Rule above all other Rules:

‘Don’t embarrass me.’

He gulped down the dryness in his throat. “S-sir?”

“Come on, I need to show you the rest of the office,” Boss said. Khaled looked around the conference room; nearly everyone had filed out at this point, leaving him dumbly standing on the far end of the room as the Boss gestured impatiently out the door. Wordlessly, he offered a quick nod and hung his head as he followed him.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter

[lilacmingi]

POOL HALL

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Word count: 2,600

Pairing: Changbin x fem reader

Note: I started writing this when the Racha Log came out because holy moly Changbin 🫠 I just recently started working on it again and was finally able to finish it! This one has a spicyyy makeout sesh so enjoy!

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You sat in the billiard room watching Changbin play pool with Minho and Felix. He was looking exceptionally handsome that day, sporting his natural curls, a pair of black glasses, a black t-shirt, and sweats. It was such a simple look yet it was driving you crazy.

The three were doing a practice round of pool and you couldn't take your eyes off Changbin.

He leaned over the table and prepared for his turn, rearing his arm back, his bicep flexing as he did so, the sight almost making your mouth water. The way that black t-shirt hugged his chest and arms was divine.

How did you get so lucky to be with someone as beautiful as him?

"Y/n?" Felix's voice pulled you from your daze.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you don't want to play?"

"Maybe next round. I'm just observing right now."

"Alright."

It's true, you were observing. You had never really learned to play pool, so you were going to watch the three play a round and then maybe you'd join in. Though, you haven't learned much so far since all you've done is stare at Changbin—and how could you not?

"Ohh Lino come on!" Your boyfriend cheered after Minho had successfully landed one of the spheres into one of six netted pockets on the pool table.

Felix stepped up and took his turn, almost knocking one of the balls into a corner hole, but missing it by a few inches.

Changbin prepared for his turn, positioning the cue stick behind his back in an attempt to be cool and impress you, hitting the white ball along the edge of the table, barely bumping one of the solid-colored balls. His failure made both Minho and Felix chuckle. Changbin's ears were tinted pink as he suppressed a sheepish smile and allowed Felix to take his turn.

In the end, Changbin and Minho pulled out a win despite Felix being the one with the most knowledge on the game of pool. The two were giggling like crazy, dancing around the table to briefly celebrate their victory.

"I want someone on my team this time." Felix stated.

"I'll be on a team with you." Minho volunteered.

"Are you going to join us this round, Y/n?" Changbin asked you, lightly hitting the handle of his cue stick against the carpet as he spoke.

"Sure." You stood up and grabbed a billiard cue of your own.

"You can be on my team." Your boyfriend flashed you the cutest grin before handing you the small cube of blue chalk to put on the end of your cue.

"Oh, this'll be fun." Minho giggled.

"Should we get some drinks before we start the next round?" Felix suggested. "I'm a little thirsty."

"That's a good idea. What does everyone want?" Minho asked.

"Just water." Felix responded.

"Iced tea for me." Changbin piped up.

"Me too." You added.

"Alright. Felix will you come with me?"

"Sure." The blonde laid down his cue and left the room with Minho to get refreshments for everyone.

"I hope I don't make us lose." You voiced with a light chuckle.

"You won't. If I can get the hang of pool by playing one round, you can too." He encouraged. "Here. Let me show you the basics while they're getting drinks."

Changbin moved to stand behind you, taking hold of your billiard cue while guiding you to stand against the pool table.

His body leaned over yours, his muscular arms stretched along your own to help you hold the cue stick, firm chest pressing against your back the entire time. Your eyelids fluttered at the feeling, trying your best to pull your focus back to where it needed to be.

Changbin's hands rested on top of yours, guiding you on how to hold the cue when it was your turn.

"Make sure you aim. You can even move the cue back and forth to gain a little momentum before you actually hit the ball. Do you see what I mean?" His voice sounded deeper than usual and the way his breath fanned against the shell of your ear made you suppress a shiver.

"Mhm." You hummed, afraid to speak as you might not have been able to form a coherent sentence.

"Now, you don't want to sink the 8 ball until the end. You lose if you accidentally knock it into a hole before the end of the game."

You nodded.

"Why don't you practice aiming the cue?"

Changbin's hands moved away from yours only to relocate to your waist, his thumb rubbing gentle circles along your hip. A quiet sigh unintentionally left your lips and you hoped he didn't hear it as you mimicked the action of hitting a ball across the pool table, trying to get a feel for the movement.

"Good job."

About that time, Felix and Minho returned to the room with drinks in hand. Changbin was quick to stand up, his hands dropping from your waist.

"We weren't interrupting anything, were we?" The ever observant Minho questioned with a teasing smirk.

"No." You denied with warm cheeks as you stood upright. "He was just teaching me the basics."

Felix stifled a laugh and handed you and your red-eared boyfriend your iced teas. You took a sip of the refreshing beverage and set it aside on a small table, preparing for the round to begin.

Minho went first, breaking the cluster of spheres that were previously formed in a neat triangle, sending them flying to different areas of the pool table, kicking off the round and simultaneously deciding which patterns were assigned to each team. You and Changbin were solids, Minho and Felix were stripes.

"Y/n, you wanna go next?" Changbin asked.

"Sure."

You decided which approach you would take and made your way over to the opposite side of the table, leaning across it to aim the cue that was held securely in your hands. The end was pointed directly at the center of the white ball and from where you were positioned, if you hit it just right, you could launch three balls across the table, giving you a higher chance of landing one of the solid ones in a hole.

Letting out a breath, you hit the cue ball causing it to knock against some others and send them rolling across the tabletop. All three men in the room were oohing over the power behind your shot. Luck was on your side as one of the solid-colored pool balls dropped into one of the nets at the corner of the table.

Changbin's excited giggles filled the room as he applauded you.

"That's my girl!"

His words made your heart flutter and fueled your confidence. A proud and perhaps slightly haughty smirk painted your features.

"Don't get cocky now, Y/n. The game just started." Felix reminded you with a grin.

"You get to go again since you sank a ball." Changbin informed you.

"Ah. Alright." You made your way around to where the white cue ball had stopped and took a moment to aim before hitting it.

Unfortunately, you didn't sink any of the spheres and your turn came to an end. Felix then approached the table, his watchful gaze scanning the balls scattered about the woolen tabletop. The Aussie seemed to have made up his mind on which ball would be his target and leaned forward to make his move.

One thing you were quick to learn was that Felix was the best at playing pool out of your small group of four. He had more knowledge and experience with the game, so he and Minho were at an advantage.

Felix hit the cue ball towards one of the striped ones and it went rolling to the nearest edge of the table, bouncing off the raised border and knocking one striped ball into a hole. He almost sunk two, but the second sphere was just a few centimeters shy from its intended destination.

The game went on for the next few minutes with no hiccups, except Minho accidentally knocking the cue ball into a hole, which you learned was a "free ball" and that meant you could place it wherever you wanted on the table since you were the player next in line for your turn.

Presently, there were four balls that remained on the table: the white cue ball, the 8 ball, one solid, and one stripe.

"I think we're gonna lose." You muttered to Changbin while taking a moment to have a sip of your tea, winded from rounding the table so many times when it was your turn to play.

"I wouldn't be thinking that way just yet. I know it looks bad, but if we could sink our last solid, the odds could be in our favor."

"We could try to sink the 8 ball after that." You summed up.

Changbin nodded.

"Alright, you two. Enough scheming." Minho ordered. "It's your turn, Bin."

Changbin let out a sigh and shook his shoulders to loosen his muscles before stepping up to take his turn. Your eyes were glued to his massive biceps as he reared back the pool cue stick, knocking the white ball towards the final solid-colored ball on the table. With bated breath, you watched the sphere roll across the table and hit the remaining ball, time seemed to go in slow motion as Changbin successfully sank it.

"Yes!" You cheered.

Felix and Minho audibly sighed, knowing that meant he could attempt to sink the 8 ball and end the game, thus resulting in them losing.

"You got this, Bin." You encouraged as he eyed the black sphere sitting idly on the surface.

He leveled himself with the pool table, positioning his cue stick with the utmost care.

"I'm going to try and sink it in the corner." He declared before taking his shot.

You watched as the 8 ball rolled across the table towards the corner. At first, you thought he would make it but as the ball approached it's intended pocket, you could see it was slightly off. It hit the edge of the table and bounced away, missing its hole. Changbin groaned and stood up, letting Minho step up to take his turn. He sank his final striped ball with ease, your heart dropping with the sphere. Like Changbin, he also came close to getting the 8 ball into the pocket, missing it by just a couple inches. This went back and forth for the next few minutes, each one of you failing to sink the 8 ball. You thought the game would never end until Felix took the shot and made it, successfully ending the game and scoring a victory for Minho and himself.

"Man." You sighed out in defeat.

"We almost had it, baby." Changbin gave you a supportive pat on the back.

"Good game." You commended the two.

"You weren't bad yourself. I was impressed, especially since this was your first time playing pool." Felix said to you.

"You guys up for food?" Minho glanced around the group as he waited for an answer.

"Me and Y/n are gonna stay a little longer." Changbin spoke up.

"Alright. You want us to wait on you? We can go to the arcade room downstairs and kill some time."

"Sure. We won't be long." Changbin assured them with a single nod. "We're just gonna practice a little."

"Cool. We'll be in the game room when you're ready." Minho said, turning to leave.

As soon as the door closed behind the two Changbin's arm hooked around your waist and pulled you to him, that signature smirk of his plastered on his plush and pouty lips. Your heart leapt with excitement at his action, warmth blossoming across your cheeks and in the pit of your stomach.

"I thought we were practicing." You said, placing your cue stick on the pool table.

"I just said that to buy us some time."

"Well, now that they're gone I can finally tell you how sexy you look today." You confessed.

"I though I saw you ogling at me." He grinned haughtily. "Couldn't keep your eyes off me, could you?"

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and shook your head coyly, a rush of heat touching your cheeks.

"I couldn't keep my eyes off you either." He spoke in a breathy voice that had your legs feeling like jelly, his hands creeping lower towards your lower backside. "Every time you leaned over I couldn't help but stare."

The heat in your cheeks now felt like a burning blaze, his brazen comment setting your entire face ablaze.

Changbin brought one of his hands up to rest under your chin, gently guiding you to his lips in a much anticipated kiss. Your eyelids slid closed upon contact and you began to reciprocate his actions, letting out an involuntary sigh of bliss. His plush lips dragged against yours in a desperate manner letting you know he had been holding back.

Your thoughts were confirmed not a moment later as Changbin voiced his feelings.

"Couldn't wait to get you alone." He all but sighed into your mouth. "Just needed to hold you and kiss you like this."

A sigh of his name slipped out of your slightly parted lips.

He backed you up against the pool table, the feeling of the hard sides hitting your lower back not fully registering in your mind, as you were far too engrossed in the moment with Changbin to notice much of anything. Your fingers tangled in his fluffy locks, carding your digits through it while grabbing handfuls every so often, eliciting low groans from Changbin that vibrated against your lips and made butterflies erupt in your stomach. His hands, which had been caressing your sides were now roaming everywhere, cupping the nape of your neck to pull you closer, squeezing your hips, and now they were resting on your back while his strong arms had you locked against him in a firm embrace. He was holding you so tightly that you could feel his chest pressing up against you.

His hands hooked under your legs, lifting you up onto the pool table with ease. Your thighs locked around his waist right away, keeping him as close as possible, your fingers curling around the black fabric of his shirt.

Changbin tilted his head to the side to further slot your mouths together, the feeling making your eyelids flutter. You brought both of your hands to cradle his soft cheeks and encased his full bottom lip between your own a few times, drawing out sighs from him that had a rush of butterflies erupting in your stomach.

As much as you didn't want the moment to end, you had people waiting on you and you most certainly didn't want them to walk in on the both of you.

Changbin frowned when you parted ways.

"We'd better get going before Felix and Minho get suspicious." You murmured dazedly, your mind still clouded from the kiss.

"They know what we're up to, I'm sure."

"Still. We should go." You told him, your thumb gently dragging along his swollen lips that appeared even puffier (and more tempting) due to the heated make out session.

You had to fight off the urge to lean in and kiss him again.

"Fine." He relented with a pout. "We can pick up where we left off once we're back home, right?" There was an eager and hopeful gleam in his eye as he asked.

"Absolutely."

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Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

★ ────────────────── ★

[anantaru]

this is so random but i was playing billiards last night and i just thought of a stupid pick-up line lmao

"are you a pool chalk?" (why) "cause i wanna rub you on my stick"

LIKEEE GJFJFUBTJDIRJ ITS SO RANDOM BUT I CAN SEE BOOTHILL SAYING THAT😭

after boothill dropped this banger on you, he mentally applauds himself due to his unlimited amount of rizz <3 (it didn't work and he could tell your body recoiled when he said it)

[milquetoast27]

"Here are the missing links of a very simple chain: 1. You had chalk between your left finger and thumb when you returned from the club last night. 2. You put chalk there when you play billiards, to steady the cue. 3. You never play billiards except with Thurston. 4. You told me, four weeks ago, that Thurston had an option on some South African property which would expire in a month and which he desired you to share with him. 5. Your checkbook is locked in my drawer and you have not asked for the key. 6. You do not propose to invest your money in this manner."

What does all this reveal? Holmes is obsessively watching and observing every single one of Watson's movements and habits.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Dead Of Night (Rules, Part 2.)

Description: Coming back home was a doozie - it felt like starting anew. Meeting your dad's new best friend, however, turned your life upside down - and it was the two of you who had to set the record straight and figure out how to move on.

Part Summary: The night in the company of two Texan gentlemen is going well - Joel and Tommy are ensuring you're having a blast. Joel even goes up and beyond in this regard. It was too good to be true... Until it fucking wasn't.

Warnings: dad's best friend daddy joel (i don't think there's more to say to that) | age gaps all around, baby - joel being approximately 33 (reader being 8 years his junior), putting sarah around 13 years of age and sam at 18, reader's parents in late forties/early fifties | alcohol consumption | smoking (implied and active) | BILLIARD SHENANIGANS WITH THE MILLER BROTHERS™️ | NSFW activities - oral (f!receiving), sex at the bathroom stalls, inappropriate thoughts | i guess potential sub-con (we are drunk but very consensual) | we love a consensual king joel miller

A/N: The 'I like this song' is Orville's Peck Dead Of Night (name inspo, yay) - yanow, when it's late a party, they play slow and sappy songs to calm people before going down and to let all the lovey-dovey couples suck soul outta each other. And I love that.

Tagging: My sweetest, one and only @missdictatorme.

Word count: 10.1K - I cannot express how sorry I am for the length, but I had too much fun with this and didn't wanna pull out a two-parter with nothing exciting in it. I divided it into sections the best I could for easier reading.

Masterlist: H E R E | Playlist: H E R E

Leaving Joel and his compadre outside, you decided to spend some time playing pool - the elderly gentlemen occupying it were kind enough to let you play a few games. It was fun watching Anne getting tipsy, balancing on her tiptoes as she leaned her entire upper body onto the table, her tongue sticking out of her mouth due to concentration. You've won most of the games (mainly because neither of you knew the billiard or pool or whatever you've been playing), but Anne insisted on calling it a draw. Cheeky little pup, that's what she was. Just as you prepared the cues for the guys who'd landed them for you, a familiar Texan drawl could be heard behind you.

"Howdy, gentlemen." - The nameless guy greeted, nodding at the guys waiting for their pool table to be free. The elderly gentlemen nodded at the newcomers. - "Would y'all mind us havin' a few quick games with the ladies? We'll let you be after, promise. " "'s yours, son. Take ya time." "Yessir." - The guy thanked, walking over to Anne and pointing at the cue. - "May I? You're doin' it wrong, sugar." "'M not. But if you think you're more experienced..." "Been playin' pool with that rascal over there since we were tweens. Trust me on this one." - With that, he carefully tore the cue out of Anne's palm, seizing the cue chalk as well.

"Don't mind him, he's a show-off." - When his husky, melodic voice hit your ears, it almost gave you a heart attack - you were so preoccupied with watching Anne giving the guy a stare of death that you forgot Joel might be around too. You definitely didn't expect him to sneak up on you like that. "'s my technique bad, too?" "Worst I've seen." - He muttered, snickering. - "There's no technique to chalk a cue properly, don't worry. He's just makin' stuff up to be interestin'." - Joel explained, making you snicker too. You've handed him the cue nonetheless, making him put his beer down - he'd been skilled with it, you noticed; the two must've been playing since they were tweens, just as the other guy said.

Soon, you became too preoccupied with Joel's hands to care about some stupid pool - based on the callouses and small scars along his fingers and knuckles, he must've been used to working with his hands. Now that he'd folded the shirt's sleeves up to his elbows, you could see all the prominent veins and other scars, some of which were pretty deep. Without you trying to resist, your mind spiraled into imaginations of these palms taking handfuls of your ass, kneading it like bread. How would it feel to hold his hand? Would he let you entwine your fingers with his? How would it feel if he'd slap you - either teasingly or amidst all the heat and lust, say... Fucking you from the back? How would it feel when his palms would spread your thighs apart, his fingers sliding inside you? How would it... That's when you realized Joel was talking to you, watching you ogling at his forearms for a good minute. Your eyes jumped from his forearms to his face, looking at him dumbfoundedly - Joel scoffed upon seeing your expression.

"Huh?" "Was askin' 'bout your name, cutie, but don't take me wrong - wouldn't mind callin' you names." - Leaning closer, Joel gave you a warm smile. - "Have I interrupted somethin' in that head 'f yours, sweet girl?" - Oh God, he knew - he fucking knew. You were busted, flustered upon hearing his implication. Your brain blanked momentarily as you tried to come up with an answer. "Y/N." - You mumbled, mesmerized with the amused look in his eyes. - "Name's Y/N." "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl, I see."

"You two done with starin' into each other's eyes?" - The nameless guy called out, startling you - Joel remained as cool as a cucumber, his eyes following each move you made. Trying to wave it off, you walked to the table, leaning your palms into the side. "Yup. Bet our cue is chalked up way better than yours." - Cocky tone present in your voice made the nameless guy grin. Following up on the statement, you raised eyebrows in Joel's direction for support. The man didn't let you wait for too long. "Don't ya worry. I'll win it thanks to how you chalked it... And for you." - Joel added silently, brushing his palm on your lower back before he walked straight to the table - the first game was reserved for the two buddies to warm up. Even this quick, seemingly meaningless gesture had you shivering.

"You guys get to it. I'll go for a cig and get you some beer while you two clash it out." - Anne offered, grasping your hand in hers. Then she turned her head toward the elderly gentlemen. - "Y'all good? Want us to bring ya somethin'?" "We're good, sweetheart, thanks for askin'." "You asked them, but don't ask me?" - The nameless guy whined, looking at Anne with a well-portrayed offense. Joel snorted, carefully putting the pool balls into the triangle. "Cut it off, Miss Dramatic. Imma get you both a glass of Jack, 'f course. Do I look like a monster?"

"Thanks, Anne." - Both guys muttered in unison. Joel poked the balls first, having them scattered all over the table. Then he grabbed the chalk, furrowing while thinking about his next step. "You better win, Tommy, or I'm pouring your glass down my throat." - Oh, his name was Tommy. Joel's buddy Tommy. Noted. "And who's bein' dramatic, huh? Go now, you two." - Tommy waved in your direction, laughing while he tried to figure out the approach to his next poke.

After letting Anne have her smoke break, it was time to make your way to the bar. It wasn't easy - people were taking a break from dancing and started ordering their drinks. All the people smoking outside were coming back in, ordering new rounds of cocktails, shots, beers, and what have you. It took a moment, but you got four beers, two Jacks, and two shots of Chupito, carrying the alcohol back to the pool table. Anne started running her mouth again as you approached the pool tables. "You believe me now, or..?" "Believe you what?" "Believe me what I said about Joel? He's fuckin' smitten." "Joel being smitten? Are you deaf or just purposely ignore how Tommy talks to you? Who's smitten here?"

"Ah, I see. Too bad he ain't my type." - Anne sighed, looking at the duo debating over one of the balls' and its position. You had no idea what was wrong with it, but both looked hot debating. - "Suppose Tommy looks like a fun guy overall - nothin' for me, though... Ehhh... Maybe as a friend? That could work out. Anyway, stop deflectin', girl. You and Joel, that's the topic. I can sense the vibes are present, the chemistry is flowin', he can't take his eyes off you, calls you sweet pet names, watches you when you don't pay attention and grins to himself. To add to the evidence, he touched your back even though he had zero reason two, and don't think we missed how he snuck his palm up your waist and prolonged the greetin' for as long as he could... C'mon, I've seen you starin' at him. And he saw it too - and that old bastard was complimented by it." - Well, it was time to stop pretending, you assumed. You couldn't counter everything she just dropped on your ass - Anne and Tommy saw it all anyway.

"Fine, fine. Thing is... I've never felt like this about anyone. I feel like we've clicked right away, not a word needed to be said. Girl, that man's smoking hot - have you seen him? Heard him?" - You whined, watching Joel chalking the cue up again while watching Tommy prepare for his poke. - "It's just... Scary. Bizzare, yannow? This doesn't happen with strangers all the time. Why me? That's the main question. What does he see in me? Is he just pulling my sock? Would it be a hook-up, or would he want to see me again? What if he does this on the reg, just pulls random women in the club, fucks them and goes home?" "You think he wouldn't wanna see you again? That's what's bothering you?" - Anne stopped in her tracks, looking at you with disbelief. - "Even if! Live your life - drag him to the bathroom stalls, fuck the soul outta him, and make him remember this night forever, girl. But, to be fair... Takin' the way he stares at us right now into account, just to make sure we hadn't run away, tells me this guy will definitely wanna see you again. On top of that, the birds chirped that they hadn't seen Joel smitten like this in a long time either." "... Tommy told you that?" "Shush now. Just be hot and live your best life. Joel's fuckin' mesmerized and so are you." - She muttered as you approached the table. Cheerfully, she waved the glasses in her hand, earning applause from the duo. - "How's it goin', you two? Figured out who's the bigger alfa?"

"Kicked his sorry ass, as always." - Joel muttered, letting Tommy set the table for you, putting balls into the triangle, ensuring everything was set right. "You clearly cheated." - Tommy whined, accepting his beer and glass Jack from Anne, the other one landing right into Joel's palm. "Or maybe, you're just ass at pool?" - Anne chimed in, smiling sweetly right into Tommy's face - this earned an earnest chuckle from the gentlemen watching your matches unravel. Just like before, Tommy snickered in disbelief, turning right to Anne animatedly. Before you knew, the two were arguing again.

"She's not being too nice to Tommy. Sorry for that." "Don't worry 'bout him, pretty girl. He likes 'em spicy. 's good for him to let someone deflate his ego now and then." "Mhm, noted." - You and Joel were leaning into an empty table next to the pool, sipping on your beers, standing with aptly distance between you two. As you watched the two bickering (something regarding the balls' placement and Tommy's balls if you hadn't misheard), the question slipped past your lips on its own. Alcohol made you courageous, it always did. - "And what do you like, Texas?" "What?" - Joel asked, ensuring that you've truly dropped the question, that he wasn't imagining it or mishearing. By that point, he was scooping over to you, his shoulder nudging into yours, his other palm finding the small of your back again, nesting there, his fingers playing with the fabric of your shirt. "I asked, what is it that you like?" - His face was close enough for you to feel his breath on the apple of your cheek as you cocked your head to him, innocently taking a sip of beer. He was at a loss for words for a bit, licking his lips as he tried to come up with an answer.

Just as Joel leaned closer to your ear and rubbed his nose in your hair, the grip on your t-shirt growing stonger, Anne turned to you, swinging her palms around in disbelief.

"That can't be right! No! Tommy, I know you're fuckin' with me. Joel, please tell him he's... Oh... Oh, fuck, sorry." - The girl giggled, growing flustered as she realized she'd just ruined your moment. Trying to salvage the situation, Joel cleared his throat, put his beer down, and grabbed the cue. Cool as a cucumber, just like before - except the blush spreading on his cheeks. The blush made you snicker, it was cute. "Ready for another round?" "Betcha ass. Imma blow smoke all up your arse, Y/N!" "I don't think that's what you meant to say, Anne." "Whatever, I sounded Bri'sh 'enough, didn't I?" - She reiterated, snatching the cue right from Tommy's palm, pointing her finger at him. - "If you try to talk into how I'm playin' pool one time..." - Aaand... They were bickering again.

"I know shit about pool and billiard." - You confessed in a whisper, having Joel hum while chalking your cue. - "Won by pure luck each time." "For starters, we're playin' billiard, sweetheart. Want some assistance? I definitely know more than that moron." "... I deadass thought it's a pool table, on my honor. Help? Would be brilliant, thank you." - As you leaned to take the cue, Joel pushed it out of your reach, knitting his eyebrows together. He seemed confused. "Are you really British?" "I won't tell, cowboy. Better if I keep you guessing for a bit. Makes me look more mysterious." - This time, you victoriously grabbed the cue, walking towards the table to offer Anne a handshake of truce and a good sport. You've done it before each game - the elderly gentlemen liked your sportsmanship.

Anne was doing the shot-up - leaning her entire upper body into the table, pushing her tongue out as she assessed the balls with a furrow, tapping her foot to Toto's Hold the Line. The shot-up was good, she even managed to score one, taking the striped balls for herself. Clear balls it was, then. "Damn." - Tommy sighed, nodding to himself. - "Well played." "Don't underestimate my billiard abilities ever again. I'm already playing leagues better than you." "She ain't wrong." - Joel chimed in, leading you closer to the table. Just like he planned, this gave the duo another reason to bicker, ignoring whatever it was you two were doing.

"My goal is to put all the clears into pockets, no?" "Fast learner, I see." "As if..." - Leaning onto the table, you did your best to replicate the finger stance your father taught you. - "Pops used to be a billiard enthusiast when I was little - that was before he fucked up his back. Did his damnest to teach me all about it." "Yeah, can tell it's been a while back time since you last played. Only blind people wouldn't see how bad that finger position is. Keep your hand like that, and it's gonna cramp in no time. C'mere." - As if he'd done it a million before, Joel walked up next to you, leaning over your back - his chest was pressed to your torso, his arms copied yours, and his chin settled on your shoulder. Your heart fluttered so hard you were worried about it jumping out of your chest. You didn't hear a word from whatever Joel tried teaching you, but God bless him for attempting anyway. Completely tuned out, you just nodded along, enjoying how his felt body pressed this close to yours (hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder), fingers of his left palm ghosting over yours, the other caressing the small of your back. God, Joel smelled so good - wood, soil, hints of cologne mixed with his musk? Absolute fucking heaven.

"Can you do that for me?" - The guy asked, turning his head to you, boring his eyes into yours. He was so close, his nose just mere inches away from yours - if you'd lean just in slightly, you could kiss him. "Do what?" - You whispered in an answer, having him snicker - the vibration ran through your body like lightning, igniting the bundle of nerves between your legs. This was when you realized you were fucked, at Joel's mercy. Shuddering and trying to keep a serious face on, Joel brought your attention to the posture of your hand, sweeping his thumb over your upper hand. "Keep your hand like this, pretty girl. It'll work better than whatever you were tryin' to create before." - Leaning away from you to let you play, he squeezed your hip to wish you the best of luck.

The moment he did so, a quiet whimper left your mouth, the cue bumping into the white ball at full speed - letting you score your first pocket. You were absentmindedly staring in front of yourself, your heart jumping right to your throat. Joel heard the whimper. It was written all over his fucking grin. He was also smart enough to put two and two together. If you reacted like that, how would you react once he's balls deep inside you? How would your sweet voice sound whimpering, whining, begging, frantically whispering his name? Joel hoped you'd let him find out.

The rest of the games were uneventful - whenever you and Anne played, the two men were sure to talk your head off, teasing you and pointing out what you did wrong. Tommy and Anne stuck to their bickering, their mutual insults getting more playful and out-of-pocket with each shot they downed. Joel stuck with the physical approach, trying to make you understand what to do and when to do it... Which meant you learned absolute fucking shit, being too busy drooling over him. His palms grew more daring the more comfortable you seemed around him - he stopped drinking in the middle of the third billiard match, saying 'He's had 'nough for the night' - Tommy immediately rebutting 'You sure that's the reason?'. Once, you'd swear his palm patted your ass before you poked, making you hit the black ball into the pocket, letting you win the game. 'Thank me later, cutie', Joel murmured into your ear with a wicked grin.

Whenever the guys were on, seven people commented on their match simultaneously - you, Anne, and the five pops watching you play. Whoever they were, you like these old geezers - they were fun to be around. To avenge you, each of the elderly ensured Tommy and Joel wouldn't come out of the match unscathed. Drunk and satisfied, you left the pool table around eleven, shaking hands with the elderly folk who kept you company most of the night. Everyone except Joel was pissed by the time you rolled around the bar, ordering a shot of vodka each. Hell, you've been mixing so much you were sure you'd end up sleeping through the next day. However, it was easy to get pissed in such good company - Tommy kept on coming up with various jokes (hit-or-miss situation there, really), having Anna cackle at each of them (she was blackout drunk, you were pretty sure).

Joel, while not saying much, hadn't moved away from you since you left the pool table - whatever you did, whoever you talked to, the man was behind you. His eyes observed every gesture and expression with a warm gaze, smiling warmly... But not creepily. It was flattering, having the biggest stunner inside the club watching over you. Made you feel special. Regarding what Tommy said earlier (that Joel hadn't been this smitten with anyone in a long time), he wasn't lying - didn't happen since Joel's late wife Angela, actually. Frankly, he was just as in the dark as you were. It wasn't easy to name what had gotten into him, but all he knew was that you're the fire, and he's the moth. Each time you moved, the magnet within you made him follow. Each word was a syren's call, each look a glance into a paradise. Chemistry was the main reason why you two got along this well, that much Joel realized - however, the longer you'd been around, the more captivated he was becoming. Everything about you made him lose his mind; your mixed accents, tapping of your boot into the rhythm, shaky breaths escaping your mouth whenever his fingers ghosted over any part of your body. Each detail, even the easily missable, got him fascinated. You had him mesmerized, took his breath away, had his head in a chokehold. Just as you were at his mercy, he was at yours.

Anne and Joel stuck to the bar when you finally took the dancefloor by storm - whatever you and Tommy were up to, it didn't bore any similarity to actual dancing. It was nice, seeing you laugh so hard, tiptoeing on Tommy's shoes while he clumsily turned around, holding your frame impossibly close to his body. He wasn't trying to pull you or seduce you - it was just hard to dance for two people. "Yannow..." - Anne mumbled from her drink, still watching as you danced. It was almost midnight - the club was closing soon, so most of the fast, heavy-hitting pop got switched for slower country songs. Songs for heavily intoxicated couples. - "I don't think I've seen her actin' like this 'round anyone. And I've known her for 20 years by this point." "Tommy can be a real charmer when he wants to, you're right." - Joel admitted silently, sipping on his lemonade - the same lemonade you made fun of just five minutes earlier. Instead of a response, Anne snickered and shook her head lightly. "Ain't talkin' 'bout Tommy, and we both know that... Drop the fuckin' act." - The girl muttered, losing her balance for a bit - Joel was there to catch her, carefully helping her back onto the stool. He didn't answer, just hummed for Anne to continue.

"Promise you'll be nice to her. Whether it's for tonight or longer, just... Be nice to her. And if you won't be..." "Lemme guess, kiddo - you'll find me and cut my dick off, won't ya?" - Joel grinned, watching Anne teasingly. She smiled, shaking her head again; she liked Joel's sense of humor and demeanor - he seemed like a solid, trustworthy guy. Albeit selfish, but reliable enough to keep his word. "Somethin' like that but ten times worse. You don't wanna cross Anne Marie Jones." "Yes, ma'am." - Joel nodded, tipping his imaginary hat off while bowing a bit. - "I'll go for a dance. Wanna join?" - She nodded in agreement, reaching for Joel's hand in hopes not to slip and fall flat on her face.

"Almost five hours. 's a good score." "Of what? Five hours of..." "You pretendin' that you don't wanna dance." "Were you countin' this whole time? Strong-minded's what you are, my compliments." "Stop and go get her, tiger. Thomas!" - She shrieked, waving at Joel's younger brother, her face filled with excitement. The said younger brother carefully helped you step off his shoes, thanking you for the dances, even bowing just to amuse you. You needed a break - your tummy hurt from laughter, and you were sweaty and thirsty.

"'s my time to be on the bench, huh?" - You asked as Joel stepped closer to you, putting his hand on your waist. When his other hand joined, your eyes frantically searched for an explanation - the only thing you saw, however, was the warmth of his gaze. - "Thought you don't do dancin'." "Haven't done it in a fairly long time. 's time to switch things up." "You changin' the rules for once?" "Hmhm." - Joel could feel your fingers creeping on his arms - his exposed forearms, up to his shoulders before finally entwining behind his neck. Your nails gently scratched his skin, lightly enough not to leave marks, but intensely enough to leave a trail of tingling sensation behind - each inch of his skin you touched started burning, and his dick started growing hard and pleasantly warm in his pants. - "It's worth breakin' the rules when someone's worth it." "Am I worth it?" "Without a doubt in my mind."

No matter how drunk you were, your mind screamed that something was wrong there, that you should leave Joel at the dancefloor, call for a cab, and never look back - this man was a stunner in his best years, not old enough to have back pains and crackly knees but not young enough to be hot-blooded and wanting to fuck for the fun of it. You've seen the hot-blooded type in London a million times, and Joel was different. His demeanor, compared to theirs, was calm and collected. This man wasn't forcing you into anything that hadn't crossed your mind already - his kind smile and gentle touches made you relaxed, letting you realize how desperate you wanted this. How desperately you wanted him. The question still hadn't been answered - why you? Why not any of the beautiful women in the club? Women his age? There were a lot of them, one prettier than the other. Why was it you who had been blessed with the attention of this Adonis with gentle yet assuring touch, with tender, lazy (and also hot as fuck) smile, and watchful gaze?

"I'm a horrible dancer." - You weren't willing to disrupt the intimacy by asking questions - the answers haunted you more than the question itself. Licking your lips, you stepped closer, securing your arms around his neck. "Doesn't seem to me." "Have you seen how I danced with Tommy? Kicked his shin like twenty times." "'s what he deserves, wouldn't worry about it too much." "Doesn't solve the problem at hand." "I have a solution." - Joel mumbled, halting his moves. You were looking at him with an amused furrow, trying to figure out what he was up to - it didn't work, but at least you could carelessly stare at him, memorize each muscle of his face in case you'd never see him again. "Go to town, cowboy. Tell me."

It wasn't a matter of describing. Instead, Joel pushed a few strands of hair off your forehead and face, his eyes taking each detail in. Even though he had thick fingers, callused hands, and big hands, his touches were feather-light - if he hadn't been holding his other arm around your waist, you'd suspect he wasn't even real. All the couples around were still moving at a lazy, slow pace, cuddling as the slow song progressed, but your world froze for a bit. To let Joel know you trust him and want this, your palms started repeating the movements of his fingers - slowly dragging along his jaw, down his neck, to his chin, cupping the apple of his cheek, thumb dragging along the sweet spot under his eyes, putting his damp curls away from his forehead. "Still wanna lemme show you?" "Stop talking and thinking about it too hard, Joel." - Joel felt your weight shifting as you tiptoed, your breasts clashing with his chest as you pressed your body onto his - one of your elbows leaned into his shoulder, your fingers entangling in the hair at the back of his head.

You've been the one to kiss him - one palm grabbing his shirt, pulling him closer; the other still entangled in his hair pulling him away, giving the kiss the right edge. A mix of desperation, desire, and unsaid worries. While your lips mashed, his hands got to exploring - your shoulders, shoulder blades, your back, the small of it, and then, finally, that sweet, sweet fuckin' ass in the tightest piece of clothing he'd seen. He'd swear you're vibrating under his touch, lust getting the better of you - the kiss got rougher, teeth clashing, tongues entwining, lip biting, whining, and quiet moans escaping without either of you wanting them to...

It wasn't clean, but it definitely was the hottest fucking shit and the best kiss Joel had in the last few years. "How does... What does it have to with dancin'?" - You whispered into his ear after you pulled away, nesting your chin on his shoulder, clinging onto him as if he'd disappear if you'd let him go. Slowly, you started moving in the rhythm again, a pleasant male voice singing some kind of country ballad. It was lovely. "Nothin', little lady. Just a poor excuse to do what I've been waitin' for the whole night, 's all." "You damn rascal." "That a bad thing?" "I'm fond of men who make me laugh." - Your playful tone made Joel chuckle, the vibrations carrying onto your body. He gently pulled you closer, kissing your neck while humming at your smell - he'd remembered the scent of your perfume and shampoo, and it was nice, but mixed with alcohol, Tommy and Anne's cigarette smoke, and your musk was even better. You've smelled like a good night, like a lot of laughter, sinfully beautiful.

"Think it hadn't helped yet... The method 'f yours." "Strange, helps me every damn time." - Joel played along, letting you drop back to your heels just so he could look you in the eyes. Even though the club was humid, hot as all hell and the air smelled of alcohol, cigarette and weed smoke, sweat, and too many perfumes mixed into one, Joel missed the warmth and softness of your body the moment when your heels touched the ground, putting a few inches between your bodies. "Didn't sell me on it, anyway." "My apologies, ma'am. Anythin' I can do to remedy the situation?" "Think you should try it again." - You've had him mesmerized when you ogled at him like that - your expression and gaze were innocent, but your actions hinted at everything you've had on your mind. Your gentle hands slipping into the back pockets of his jeans solidified what you've alluded to and erased every doubt he had had in his mind.

"What if it won't work?" - Joel hummed, already pulling you back into his arms - his head was cocked to his shoulder, a wicked grin gracing his face. The man knew what question he was asking, his confidence boosting yours. "Think I have a thing or two on my mind, Texas." "Oh?" - He whispered, stealing a peck from you. - "Wanna share?" "'s better to show it to you." "Go on, little lady." "... Somewhere private." - You specified, losing focus for a bit. Something had caught your attention, making you smile as you started moving in the rhythm. - "I like this song. Give your method one more try, and then we can test mine?" "Your wish is my command."

Over the last few years, Joel forgot how fun it is to dance with someone - how exciting it feels when you twirl your girl around, to see her crack a smile as she comes back to his arms, kissing her like there was no tomorrow. He hadn't danced with anyone since Angela passed - thirteen fucking years. You, however, were a great choice of partner to break the streak of sitting at the bar, watching other couples snuggle and giggle, unaware of anything beyond their small little bubble. Neither of you were good dancers, per se, but that made it much more enjoyable. Joel was in his small bubble now, devoting his focus to you. Only you. Feeling you sway in the rhythm, clumsily stepping on the tips of his boots while holding to his shirt for your dear life, was the most endearing thing that happened to him recently. Even if you wouldn't meet again, he'd be grateful for this one night you've given him.

By the time the last chords of the song played (honkey-tonk banjo strumming), you'd been just like every other couple on the dancefloor - hastily stealing kisses, pressing your bodies impossibly close, tugging each other's hair, moaning and whining under your breath. You wouldn't expect this gruff cowboy man Joel to be vocal at all, but his groans actually made everything ten times better. "... Tell me it didn't work." - He muttered, roughly kneading your buttcheeks with his fingers, pressing your pelvis on his - you could feel the outline of his dick perfectly, your mouth watering. "Not in the slightest. I'm still a horrible dancer." "Thank fuckin' God." - His palm grasped yours as he turned on his heels, leading you deeper into the establishment. Joel was broad enough to make the way for both of you. He was making sure you were still following as if he couldn't feel your nails digging into his palm - he made sure a million times. His eyes periodically trailed between you and the space in front of him.

Once you entered the bathroom stall, everything got blurry - Joel's palms trailing your curves, his lips drowning in the skin of your neck, your palms holding onto his shoulders as he lowered on his knees. You wished you could take a picture of the view - Joel on his knees, one of his palms carefully lifting the hem of your t-shirt while he looked you in the eyes, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your abdomen while his other hand smoothed a trail on your upper thigh. Just as you expected, his palms were rough, full of calluses, and left a tingling sensation on your skin. Pressing his face to your abdomen and slowly getting back up, he pressed a kiss between your breasts before kissing the sweet spot on your neck again. Your breathing was irregular by the time his fingers curled around your chin.

"Are you sure you want this, little lady?" - He was purring into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and playfully nibbling on it - the reason you were still standing was clearly that he pinned you between the door and his body... Palming your hot, wet sex teasingly, applying just the right amount of pleasure at the place you needed him the most. - "I don't plan on makin' you do somethin' you'd regret later. We clear?" "Joel... Please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up." - That's all you could muster - your body begged to feel his lips, for your hands to explore everything that's been hiding under that neatly tucked shirt and perfectly fitted jeans - you could see the outline of his dick, hard as a rock, but you wanted more. You wished to look at it, have it in your mouth, swallow it whole, or gag on it, whatever he'd like. The arousal building at your center made you forget words. When you tried to kiss him, he tsk-tsked you away, applying more pressure on your clit.

"Just say the words and it's all yours, pretty girl." "Remember how I said you're a rascal?" - You whispered, grinding against his palm gently. - "You're just a... Mhm... Shit... Fucking dick." "Such an eager little thing, aren't ya?" - Joel grinned, kissing the apple of your cheek, leaving his hand in place. You seemed to be horny enough not to need his help with your endeavors - all you needed was his fucking palm.

But Joel wanted more - he needed to hear you also want it. He needed permission before destroying you, fucking your silly little head empty. He could, however, also sense the reason for your hesitancy. What was he? Just a random guy at a club pulling a chick just to fuck her at the stalls and never see her again. Understandable. Because of that, he'd been willing to give you a bit of assurance. - "C'mon, be a good girl. Use your words." "Will you spank me if I misbehave?" "If a good ol' spankin''s whatcha after... We can talk 'bout it on a date." "A date?" - Your eyes lit up, your motions stopping for a bit - to keep you occupied, Joel started applying pressure with his fingers, having you staring at him with your mouth agape. You looked... So damn hot. - "Are you serious, Texas? You want to take me out?" "Mhm, of course, little lady. You'll gimme your phone number, and I'll give you mine. You'll set the date, and I pick out the restaurant. My treat, 'f course. There, you can tell me all you want 'bout spanking that cute ass 'f yours. Sounds good?"

He was... Serious. There was a cocky smile on his lips as he watched you, but he was asking you out. No buts or ifs. No games. It took you a moment to process his proposition - his fingers lazily circling around your clit were making it fucking hard to think. "I'd... I'd love that, cowboy." "Good girl." - Joel cooed, carefully pulling strands of hair out of your eyes with his other palm, leaning his arm to the door behind you. - "What do you want me to do now?" "Everything." - You whispered, stealing a peck from his lips. - "I wanna take everything you're willing to offer. I want this, I want you, wanna feel your lips on me, your dick inside me, fuckin' Christ, I want everything."

That was all Joel needed to hear, the words to set him in motion. His hands gently cupped your head as he kissed you with passion, his mouth devouring each inch he'd kiss, his teeth gently sinking into your skin - just enough to let you feel it, but not enough to hurt you. Not caring about the tent in his jeans, he'd started lowering on his knees again, pulling your t-shirt off your body just so he could hungrily stare at your tits rising and falling with each labored breath. He couldn't but palm them, squeezing them gently. Not wasting more time, he got back to work - worshipping each inch of your skin with his palms, leaving a trail of wet kisses from your chest to your abdomen, stopping above your shorts. He didn't look at what his fingers were doing - Joel simply continued undoing the zipper and button, staring you in the eyes. His right thumb slipped on your clothed clit, having your body react immediately - shuddering, moaning upon the sensation. This wouldn't fly - you could be kicked out if you wouldn't be careful. He wished to listen to those sweet sounds, but...

"Can you somethin' for me?" "Mhm?" - You let out in response, your eyes already darkened with lust. Just a few more beats and Joel would send you heaven, he swore to himself - he started taking his flannel shirt off frantically, handing it over to you. "Bite on it, honey. We don't wanna everyone hearin' how good I make you feel, do we?" "No." - Doing as he asked you, you buried your entire face in his shirt - it smelled just like him, the discovery making you whimper. Lost in the moment, you barely noticed your panties and shorts being removed - before you grasped it, Joel was already filling the newly discovered territory with his face, spreading your thighs far apart.

Under different circumstances, Joel would be delighted to play with you - tease you, let you tiptoe on the edge of paradise before allowing you to drown in all the pleasure, pushing you towards the cliff's edge - you two, sadly, didn't have enough time. You weren't splayed over his bed, your arousal wasn't staining the sheets, and he couldn't let you scream at the top of your lungs before you'd squeeze his head with your thighs. Secondly, he was too fucking horny to hold back. Working you up with his mouth, he untangled your ankle out of your panties, throwing your leg over his shoulder - allowing himself to push as deep as possible in such conditions. His tongue collected each drop of arousal, warm pain setting in his jaw as he did his best to lick your slit clean, just like a plate of his favorite dish.

After he made sure you won't fall down, Joel put his lips to good use (sucking on your clit), and his palm started discovering the valley further below, spreading your folds teasingly. You noticed his finger slowly entering you, digit after digit - his fingers were wider and rougher than yours, filling you up better than yours ever could. Trying to muffle a loud moan, your face disappeared in the fabric of his shirt, your chest heaving as you gasped for air. Joel loved having your fingers tangled in his hair - lost to the moment, you couldn't care less about how violently you're tugging on it, each tug getting a guttural growl out of him. The sounds echoed through you, reaching into all parts of your body, pushing you over the edge.

You couldn't name what precisely caused your orgasm to approach so fucking fast - you were under the impression that usually, it took way longer for you to come. Could be anything - his smell all up your nose, his tongue flickering on your sensitive cluster of nerves at an impressive speed, his palm holding onto your thighs, or two (maybe three) fingers curling inside you. Probably everything combined. The next thing you realized was that you mumbled his name like a prayer, riding through your high on his face, trying to catch your breath as you leaned your head into the door, eyes closed, Joel religiously watching and memorizing how you liked like when you came undone. You were beautiful.

"You good?" - Joel asked after your thighs relaxed and let go of his head. His voice was raspy. It took him a bit to pick himself up (his knees went numb), but soon, he was there to steal a kiss from you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Your flushed, relaxed expression was adorable - he hadn't had a woman looking at him this way in a long time. Your eyes were open lazily (offering him a tender look), your smile hinting at all the bliss circulating in your blood. "Never better, sugar." "Don't think anyone called me that before." "You like it?" - You asked, playing with the hem of his gray t-shirt, caressing his abdomen, his flannel shirt still hanging off your palm. "Gets me all railed up." - With a grin, Joel approached you, picking your leg up to circle it around his waist. The jeans felt cold against your burning and sensitive core, the rough material putting a strange edge into Joel's pelvis grinding against yours at a lazy, teasing pace. - "You want this too, baby? Think you can take it?" "I want everything."

"Okay." - He hummed, trailing his fingers along your shoulders, brushing lips over your jaw and lips. Before you knew it, his palm crept back between your thighs, his fingers sliding inside you, working you up to relax you and get the arousal going. - "How do you want it? Should I sit down? If you wanna, I can get deeper if you bend forward. C'mon, be a good girl and use your words." "Just... I want... Fuck." - Not being able to put a single sentence together, you shushed his palm and godly fingers away. Bracing yourself, you leaned into the door comfortably, shaking your ass a bit to tease him. Joel didn't hesitate to play along, slapping it to see the tender, soft skin jiggling. It didn't escape him how you almost purred, whimpering from the friction. He was half-sure you joked about the spanking bit, but seeing you get off on it put a childish grin on his face.

Before he undid his belt (your head was turned to him the entire time, hungrily watching each move), he'd pulled his wallet from one of the pockets, pulling a condom out. Biting on the aluminum packaging gently, Joel threw his wallet away carelessly, feverishly undoing his jeans before pushing the pants and underwear down to his knees. His dick sprang free, having you hypnotized while Joel put the condom on - you'd swear you hadn't seen a nicer-looking dick in your lifetime, not even in porn movies you watched. It was decently long, pre-cum leaking from the tip, with few veins giving it a nice texture. What put a slight frown on your face was the width of it. It was girthy, for the lack of a better term, massive, to say the least. The challenge excited you, giving you more reasons to take him balls deep. Moan escaped your mouth upon that thought.

"Oh, I know, baby girl." - Joel whispered, stepping closer to you, kneading your cheeks like dough - digging his fingers in one moment, lovingly squeezing them in the other. - "I'll take care of everythin', I promise. Just relax for me." "Okay, sugar." - Complying, you tried your best to relax when he ran his palms down your back, massaging soothing circles into your skin. Hearing the nickname, Joel snickered under his breath. "You gonna me drive up the fuckin' wall if you keep that nickname up."

You started to turn your head in Joel's direction to reply, but before you could do so, the tip of his dick slipped inside you - the burning sensation had you banging your first against the door, opening your mouth, eyes closed firmly, chest heaving as you adjusted to him. It wasn't unpleasant - it was just unusual - you hadn't had sex ever since that 'British stud of yours' as Anne dubbed Felix. And any toys couldn't do Joel's dick any justice. "All good, little lady?" "Mhm, never better." - Nodding, you took a long breath before lowering yourself down on his shaft, feeling it stretching you out inch by inch. There weren't many things that would make Joel Miller speechless, but watching you sliding down while his hands held your hips, hearing you muffle your whines and moans was pure fucking magic. The closer your ass got to his base, the harder it was to breathe for him.

"Look at you, sweetheart." - Joel cooed, closing the remaining gap between your bodies - the tip of his cock brushed your cervix, making you gulp. The man didn't move for a solid minute, letting you relax and adjust, rubbing soothing circles into your hips. - "This would make a man lose his damn mind, Jesus fuckin' Christ. You're doin' so fuckin' well for me." "That dick would make any woman lose their mind too, Texas." - Saying that, you giggled, unintentionally tightening around him - Joel's hips buckled in response, making you whine happily. - "You can move, yannow that? I ain't made of glass." "Promise to tell me it'd get uncomfortable for you, yeah?" - The man asked, kissing your shoulder. Nodding, you lazily smiled at him. "Promise."

In a few thrusts, you could perfectly understand why Joel promised he'd stop if things got uncomfortable for you - he struggled to find his tempo, sloppily thrusting in and out of you in unforgiving, needy movements. But as soon as he found his footing? His movements became determined and precise, each trust stretching your tight walls gently, almost lovingly. He was gripping your hips, the nailbeds digging into your smooth, gentle skin - so tightly that you'd swear you'd have small remnants of him with you in the morning. Anytime he felt like it, he'd make you meet his dick halfway, breathlessly snickering at your ecstatic expression. You both mumbled nonsense, motivating each other to keep going, movements growing desperate as you started chasing your highs. Without Joel needing to mutter a word, your palm sneaked to your clit, your fingers rubbing frantic get gentle circles around the bundle of nerves.

"'M gonna... 'M gonna..." - Joel muttered religiously, palming one of your breasts to gently play with your nipple. "Just a bit longer, and I'm... Fuck, fuck, fuck, Joel." - It came across as a pathetic whine - the tip of his dick brushing against the most sensitive spot inside you. The burst of warmth and pleasure made you shudder, meowling to your forearm as you tried to keep your shit together. "Ya with me?" - Joel pressed on, his brain barely capable of making meaningful sentences. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes." - As he brushed the spot again, a mind-numbing orgasm washed over you. For a moment, you didn't know who the fuck you were, what your name was, where you were, or whom you were with. All you could feel was concentrated pleasure washing over your body, leaving you whining and moaning into the fabric of his shirt before letting it fall to the ground. Joel's last trusts were sloppy, almost too brutal, but soon, he was grunting as his load leaked into the condom.

"Jesus." - He muttered, gently slipping out - the emptiness hit you like a truck, almost leaving you begging for more. You'd beg if you could form any word on your tongue. - "How we doin', little lady? All parts where they should be?" - He whispered, gently helping you to stand up as he pulled your underwear and shorts back where they belonged. If you'd let him, he'd memorize how you looked - sweaty, breathing irregularly with a contained expression. Every inch of your skin was a masterpiece Joel'd carve into wood just to have it always with him. Fucking on a bathroom stall, however, wasn't the right place or time to ask for some lovey-dovey nonsense.

"You some kind of mechanic or what? I'm good, don't worry 'bout me. Gave me exactly what I wanted." "There she is, the sassy little sweetheart I couldn't get 'nough of. And... Somethin' like that. I'm a carpenter." - Joel explained, ensuring you looked somewhat presentable. It wouldn't be gentlemanly to let you walk around looking like a cute, freshly fucked mess - no matter how much this idea aroused him, letting all the men who eyed you over the night know that he was the one you chose to have the time of your day with. Instead of answering, you started laughing, catching him off-guard. - "What's funny 'bout me bein' a carpenter, hm?" "Nothin', nothin'." - You whispered, shushing his palms away to control your make-up. Well, it was decently smudged but still presentable. With how Anne looked before you and Joel took an abrupt detour to the stalls, you'd be soon on your way home anyway. - "I'll be working for a carpenter, starting fairly soon. It's just a funny coincidence, 's all."

"I see. He's a lucky man, then." - Joel hummed, caressing the apple of your cheek with his fingers before letting you steal a peck from you. - "If you'd be workin' for me, I wouldn't keep my fuckin' hands off you, sweet girl. You tell him you have another carpenter in town who wouldn't waste a second hirin' you, yeah?" "You don't mean that. That's the sex talkin'." "On my honor. If he won't treat you respectfully, yannow who to call. I can always use some help." - Teasingly slapping your ass, Joel picked his shirt and wallet off the ground, adjusting his belt and jeans. - "There's the business card, you call this number, yeah? The second one. The first one's for my office. And as a promise, you take this with ya." - Carefully, he tugged you into the shirt, smoothing your upper arms. - "'s my lucky shirt. I never go out in anythin' else. You better keep an eye out." "This gets the ladies going?" - Was what you replied, pushing your arms through the sleeves and buttoning up the lower half of the shirt. Ensuring you won't lose the card, you pushed it inside your phone case, showing it to Joel. "It got you goin', didn't it?" "Was that bloody smirk 'f yours, asshole." "Never been turned on by anyone callin' me an asshole. Whatcha doin' to me, girl? You ready to go?" - The lock was undone, and as a gesture of gratitude (and another promise), Joel offered you his palm to hold onto. To your surprise, he let you entwine your fingers with him without protesting. "Yeah. Let's go."

Thankfully, when you walked back onto the humid, heavy-aired club, Tommy and Anne were still dancing - both appeared heavily intoxicated, holding each other tightly, dancing to a sweet serenade. That, thankfully, meant no questioning for either you or Joel. As you also predicted, Anne wanted to go home when she spotted you hanging out by the bar.

Joel and Tommy helped you find a taxi, settling Anne down in the backseat - it was raining heavily, all of you jogging to the car with laughter. The night started to get cold. It was time to go home, lulled by the prospect of a date - the man in question was just pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, kissing your temple, whispering sweet nothings and goodbyes to your ear. Tommy, even though he was usually as perceptive as a stomp, left you alone and moved to smoke under a nearby umbrella, grinning from ear to ear as he watched you being all cheesy and lovey-dovey - he knew better than to mutter a word. Joel'd definitely fire back at him.

"Here's the money for the ride, tip included. Take 'em wherever they want to, the rest's yours." - Joel leaned into the cab, handing the driver a hefty bill while patting the roof - what a typical gesture. Staring at him in shock, you shook your head in disapproval - Anne pointed at him with a drunkard giggle. "I'm startin' to like your grumpy Texan ass more 'n more." "What a compliment." - Joel answered with pure irony. - "Take care, ladies. Text me when you get home, 'kay, sweetheart?" "Will do, sir. But betcha ass we'll be discussing this later." - Vaguely pointing to the driver, you spared Joel one last smile before the cab took off, driving you home. - "Take care!" - You cried out, watching his figure disappear in the distance.

Getting Anne to your room without waking up the whole block was a superhuman task - she'd trip over nothing, kept on shushing you (even though you hadn't said a word), giggling under her breath as she tried to keep her balance. You expected Mom to bust in at any minute, but only Sam inspected the ruckus. "Jesus fuckin' Christ." - The girl muttered, rubbing her eyes sleepily. The sight was hilarious, you needed to admit - Anne was sitting on the edge of your bed, rocking from side to side while attempting to take off her shoes. Her tongue, as usual, was sticking out of the corner of her mouth with pure concentration. - "I take it that the night was good?" "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. Go to sleep now, yeah?" - Smoothing her shoulder, you watched as Sammy nodded sleepily and started retreating toward her room.

Before going to sleep, you made sure Anne's clothes were hung enough to dry out before she departed after tomorrow's dinner, and that her hair was neatly covered with a towel. As promised, before hitting the sack, you sent Joel a short text to let him know you're both safe at home, wishing him a good night. The night was something - sex with Joel helped you sober up, and thanks to Anne's overwhelming, unmissable snoring, you took one hell of a time to fall asleep. While Anne was knocked out in an instant, you had to roll around for quite some time before you finally fell asleep - dreaming of Joel, his big hands, honest smiles, and passionate kisses.

"Are you fuckin' with me? That happened? And it was that good?" - Anne squealed, pushing half a waffle inside her mouth. Her appetite (despite the hangover she must've had) always surprised you. Nobody should be this hungry after digesting such an ungodly amount of alcohol... Nobody. Sam, responsible for bringing you a very late breakfast to bed, had her eyes glued to your lips, listening to how you described what had happened in the bathroom stalls. - "... Didn't even notice you two were gone." "No wonder. You two were fucking out of it. They were wobbling around to Long Long Time by the time we got back, both sobbing their asses off." "Uh-uh, that didn't fuckin' happen. Don't believe a word comin' out of this wench's mouth, Sammy." "In all fairness, it's a solid song." - Sam reiterated, having Anne snapping, humming approvingly. "Amen, sister. Girl knows her stuff."

"Back to the guy. So you texted him goodnight? As he asked?" - Sam pried further, laying down as she stared at you. "Mhmh." "Had he replied?" "Yes." "WHAT DID HE-?" - Anne squealed even louder, earning an elbow to her side. Rubbing the spot, she looked at you. - "Bitch, you hadn't told me he actually reached back out. What did the super hot, hunky, gruff cowboy say? Spill it." "Well, he wished me a good morning for starters, unlike someone..." - Alluding to how Anne's first sentence consisted of 'Girl, I don't know if it's gonna come outta my mouth or ass first, so you better move' and keeping the duo tensed up, a smile spread on your lips. - "He started asking when I was free but told me he couldn't go out today because of this dinner with his best buddy. So... I have a date tomorrow." "You're shitting me!" - Anne muttered, giggling her ass off. "Dude, keep it the fuck down. I don't wanna explain this to my mom." "Yeah, yeah, whatever. What's your take on the situation, young padawan?" - Without sparing you a look, Anne just waved you off and pointed her fork in Sam's direction.

"He sounds like a genuinely great guy. A bit of an age difference? No prob, sis. On the other hand, if you'd bring home an eighty-year-old gramps with diapers and prescribed meds..." "Samantha!" - Gasping for air, you threw a strawberry her way - grinning from ear to ear, Sam caught in on her first try. - "'s that what you think of me? Thank you kindly. That's so fucked up." "You asked me a question, and I gave you an answer. Grow up. But no cap - you're glowing just talking about the guy. You're all flustered, giggly, playing with your hair and... It's nice to see you like that." "She ain't wrong... She ain't wrong at all."

Dinner preparations consisted of pure chaos - Fleetwood Mac's biggest hits playing out of your dad's stereo as you helped around the kitchen, Anne occasionally dipping to comment on the baseball game your dad watched in the living room. The entire house was pristine, not a dust particle in sight as if the Queen of England was about to drop for a visit. Your mom pulled out her best decorations and fanciest set of plates, asking you to decorate them with napkins. Sam was with you the entire time, carefully watching your moves as if you weren't real - even giving in to dance with you to Dreams, both laughing as you clumsily wobbled around the dining room.

When it was around 4pm, you all hid in Sam's room to make yourselves look presentable - Sammy opted for a cutesy wollen vest, a short-sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of jeans. With her hair styled in a high ponytail, she looked genuinely cutesy. Anne borrowed one of the fancy dresses you used to wear for work, pairing it with her pair of good ol' trusty pair of Vans - as per usual, Anne would've looked hot as fuck even if she'd worn a potato bag. You opted for a more casual, relaxed fit. You dug out a flowy black dress with polka dots all over it, choosing a relaxed hairstyle and light layer of make-up to go with it. You assumed you didn't have to sit around dressed like you were waiting for a job interview since the guy was your dad's best friend.

"They're here!" - Mom cried out over the music blasting in the living room - your dad changed it to good ol' Bruce Spingsteen's Born in the U.S.A. "Aight, how do I look?" - You asked, twirling around to let both the girls see - you wanted to leave a good first impression on your soon-to-be employer and a trusted family friend, as well as on his brother. "You're looking good. I've told you a million times already - Joel doesn't make a fuss about such things. I've worked for him for a year and a half, so I'd be the one to know." - Sam muttered, rolling her eyes. She'd spent the last hour assuring you looked amazing and impressionable, that was much true. - "Just come already, Jesus. You'll relax once you see him." - With that, she started descending the stairs, loudly greeting the guests.

"Like a snack." - Anne suggested, having you shaking your head. "Not the time..." "What if he's like... Smoking hot?" "He's also my dad's best friend. No way in hell..." "Never say never." "That's why I usually don't ask for your fucking input, Anne." "Chill, girl, you got this. Take a breath, shake the nerves off... You look fucking amazing, and you're way smarter than... Oh... Oh, fuck." - She was standing on top of the stairs, her palm clutching the railing until her knuckles turned white. All emotion suddenly drained from her expression, her face growing pale, and her eyes widened at the sight. Slowly, you peeked around the corner, your eyes meeting the strangers immediately.

What if he was smoking hot, huh? Well, you knew for a fact he was. Those lips were kissing you yesterday. Those palms chalked up the cue for you, teasing you how to play billiard without getting a cramp in your palm. These eyes watched you as if you were the only woman in the club, following each step you took, his palm never shying away from grasping the small of your back. You saw him undress for you. You felt him pounding into you when he chased his release. You listened to his voice pouring sweet nothings and perverted, arousing nonsense into your ears as he fucked you. You had his number saved in his phone. You had a date set with him. It was Joel. Joel, the mysterious hunky gruff cowboy. Joel, who was staring back at you with the same horror in his eyes. Joel, who was your dad's best fucking friend.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck indeed.

Thank you for reading! 🩷 Reblogs and comments are appreciated; in case you have any questions or scenarios you'd like to see, hmu in dms or under the post. 🩷 Have a nice day!

[versatileginger]

HIDDEN | CHAPTER 2

Billy Russo x OC (Ava) 

Warnings: Not canon, violence, weapons, stalking (not MMC), murder, everything you'd find in The Punisher universe, no betrayal. 

Summary: Billy meets someone that piques his interest. Did he mention she carries a knife?

A/N: Chapter 2 is up, and that on Friday the 13th. I hope everyone enjoys and constructive criticism is always welcome!

Billy had spent the past few days mulling over thoughts of Ava, the mysterious woman he'd crossed paths with at a quaint coffee shop. His life was a relentless whirlwind of danger and duty, but Ava had briefly been the sanctuary amidst the chaos. She lingered in his mind like an enigma, a puzzle he couldn't resist solving.

And then there was that knife.

Billy liked that knife; it kept his mind swirling in a thousand directions.

On a crisp Saturday evening, he found himself in one of New York City's grittier neighborhoods. The dimly lit streets were adorned with dive bars and neon signs, an atmosphere he found comfort in, right amidst the rugged soul of the city he knew so well.

Dressed in his more casual attire he entered the seedy, yet legendary, pool hall that had seen its fair share of brawls and late-night hustlers. It was the kind of place where secrets were shared in hushed tones and alliances formed over games of skill and chance. Billy had come here for a solitary evening of reflection, a way to clear his mind at the end of the day.

As he pushed through the creaking doors, the clatter of billiard balls and the low hum of conversation greeted him. The air was laden with the scent of chalk, carrying an unmistakable aura of competition. He found an empty stool at the bar, ordered a whiskey, and surveyed the room, seeking an escape from his thoughts.

Just as he was about to savor the first sip of his drink, a voice rang out that he knew well. It was Ava. Her laughter cut through the din as she leaned over a pool table, lining up a shot. Billy couldn't believe his eyes; it felt like destiny had conspired to bring them together once more, this time in the very heart of New York's underworld.

He gently placed his glass back on the bar and observed her with a blend of astonishment and curiosity. Ava was in her element, her self-assured demeanor seamlessly fitting among the pool players around her. She meticulously chalked the cue, her gaze riveted on the table, her movements elegant and precise. But there was something more to the way she moved, setting her apart from the casual players.

Billy couldn't resist the urge to approach her. He made his way to the pool table, the dim overhead lights casting shadows across his rugged features.

"Mind if I join in?" he asked, his voice carrying the subtle edge of challenge.

Ava raised her head from the pool table, her brown eyes locking onto his, a mix of surprise and amusement flickering across her face. A playful smile curled her lips. "Billy, hey!" she exclaimed, excitement tinging her tone. "You're welcome to try your luck."

The game evolved into a friendly contest, each shot evolving into a calculated maneuver. Billy's years of experience in sizing up situations and devising strategies came into play as he aimed with precision. Yet Ava was no stranger to the game; she was determined to prove it.

With a playful glint in her eye, Ava decided to up the ante. "How about a little wager, Billy?" she challenged. "If you win this round, I'll share a story from one of my adventures. But if I win," she continued, a mischievous smile on her lips, "you have to regale me with a tale of yours."

Billy raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the proposition. "You're on," he accepted, his competitive spirit ignited.

Their movements around the table now held a new level of intensity. With each shot, they aimed not only for victory but also for the chance to share a glimpse of their respective worlds. The dimly lit pool hall seemed to fade even further into the background, leaving only the pool table and the two players locked in a spirited exchange of skill.

In the end, it was Billy who emerged victorious, sinking the final ball with finesse. He couldn't help but smile at his success, though he knew that Ava's story would be a captivating one.

Ava took a sip of her drink and then leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Congratulations, you win," she said with a playful grin.

Billy raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Let’s hear it then, a deal is a deal."

Ava chuckled and began, "Well, back in college, I had this roommate, Lisa. She was a bit of a prankster, always trying to outdo herself with elaborate practical jokes."

Billy leaned closer, fully engaged in Ava's story.

"One day," Ava continued, "I came home to find my room filled with helium balloons. Literally, hundreds of them. They were on the floor, the bed, hanging from the ceiling – everywhere."

Billy couldn't help but laugh, picturing the comical scene.

"But here's the kicker," Ava added with a grin, "each balloon had a funny face drawn on it. My roommate had turned my room into a balloon zoo of caricatures."

Billy burst into laughter, finding Ava's story genuinely amusing. "That's quite the prank," he said. "I hope you got her back in some way."

Ava winked, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, I did. But that's a story for another time."

With their laughter still echoing in the pool hall, Billy leaned back and contemplated, as promised, a story of his own.

"You know, that reminds me of a time when Frank and I found ourselves in a quirky situation."

Ava's eyes lit up with anticipation as she leaned closer to hear one of Billy's tales despite not winning.

"So," Billy started, "there was this one time when my buddy Frank and I decided to visit a local carnival. It was your typical small-town fair, with rides, games, and all the classic attractions, ya know?"

Ava leaned in, eager to hear the story.

"So, we're strolling around the carnival grounds," Billy continued, "and we come across this shooting game. You know the one, right? You get rifles, and you're supposed to hit as many targets as possible."

Ava nodded, picturing the classic carnival shooting gallery.

"Now, my buddy Frank and I are both competitive guys," Billy said with a chuckle, "and we decide to give it a shot. The carnival vendor hands us each a rifle, and the challenge begins."

Ava couldn't help but smile, anticipating the humorous twist.

"But here's where it gets interesting," Billy continued. "Frank and I, we're always challenging' each other, so it was natural that we turned it into a competition."

Ava burst into laughter, imagining the playful rivalry.

"And believe it or not," Billy added, "we got so carried away that eventually the vendor, who wanted to close up for the night, couldn't get us to stop. He even dimmed the lights to signal that the game was over."

Their shared laughter filled the pool hall as Billy recounted this lighthearted carnival shooting competition.

"But we weren't about to quit," Billy continued with a chuckle. "Even with the dimmed lights, we could still see those targets well enough. Frank and I kept challenging each other, taking shots in the near-darkness."

Ava couldn't help but chuckle at the image of the determined duo.

"And then," Billy said with a grin, "I accidentally stepped on Frank's foot just as he was about to take a shot. It threw off his aim enough to miss the target and let me get in one more shot."

Ava burst into laughter. ''Accidentally huh?'' she asks, raising her brow.

"You should've seen his face," Billy continued with a laugh. "He looked at me, half annoyed, half amused. But I couldn't help myself; I was laughing too. In the end, we both had a good laugh about it. The vendor finally closed up shop, and we left the carnival with a couple of giant stuffed animals as our trophies."

As the laughter from Billy's story echoed through the pool hall, Ava couldn't help but enjoy the camaraderie and the entertaining tales from his adventures. Their easy banter had created a comfortable atmosphere, and she had genuinely relished their time together. However, she soon realized the time.

With a warm smile, Ava said, "That was a great story, Billy, but I should probably head home. It's getting late."

Billy nodded in understanding. "I completely understand. Let's walk you home to make sure you get there safely."

Ava's expression brightened at his offer. "That's really kind of you, Billy. Thank you."

They both gathered their belongings, leisurely finishing their drinks, and made their way towards the exit of the pool hall. The quiet of the night had settled in around them as they stepped out onto the dimly lit street. Billy walked alongside Ava, their conversation flowing easily as they strolled through the city.

As they reached Ava's apartment building, she turned to Billy with a grateful smile. "Thanks for walking me home, Billy."

"Anytime," he replied, his voice warm and friendly.

Ava stood in the entrance of her apartment building, feeling a pleasant connection with Billy. Their conversation had flowed so naturally, and she found herself wanting to see him again.

"Hey, Billy, I had a really great time tonight. If you ever wanna grab coffee again or just chat, would you mind giving me your number?"

Billy smiled, his blue eyes lighting up. He chuckled lightly. "Sure, don’t forget to shoot me a text later so I have yours. Can’t have a beautiful lady like yourself have my number but not have hers.’’

"I'll make sure to send you a text. I wouldn't wanna miss the chance to chat with a charming man like yourself."

Billy grinned, liking the way this is going. "C’mon, hand it over." he replied, holding out his hand for her phone. He quickly entered his number into her phone, his fingers dancing across the screen. When he was done, he handed the phone back to her, their fingers brushing slightly as the device exchanged hands.

Billy's eyes locked onto Ava's with a hint of intrigue, and he said, "There you go, Ava. Now you've got the number of the charming man himself."

Ava couldn't help but smile at the charged atmosphere between them. She took her phone, tucking it back into her pocket. Her eyes met Billy's, and she gave him a playful yet sincere smile.

"It's been a pleasure, Billy," Ava said. "I look forward to that text."

Billy's grin held a hint of anticipation. "I'll be waitin' for it, sweetheart," he replied, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

With that, they exchanged one last, lingering look before finally bidding each other farewell. Ava turned and entered her apartment building, her heart racing with excitement. She knew that this chance encounter had the potential to be the beginning of something extraordinary, and she couldn't wait to see where it would lead. Billy, standing on the dimly lit street, watched her go with a sense of intrigue, already looking forward to their next meeting in the gritty, unpredictable world they both inhabited.

With a smile on her face Ava enters her apartment on the fifth floor. The hallway is dimly lit, but she can see her door at the far end. To her surprise, there is a beautiful bouquet of flowers waiting on her doorstep. Intrigued, Ava carefully unfolds the small card attached to the bouquet.

The message on the card is cryptic, but instead of feeling scared, it piques her curiosity. It reads, "Our paths crossed today, Ava. I can't wait to see you again." Ava raises an eyebrow, analyzing the words. Although the message is unsettling, she is not easily frightened. It could simply be a prank.

Deciding to investigate further later, Ava places the small card in her fruit bowl, a designated spot for things she needs to look at later. She takes out her phone from her pocket and notices that it is still open on the contact screen, displaying the name.

"Billy Russo"

MAIN MASTERLIST HIDDEN MASTERLIST CHAPTER 3

[winterburning-zip]

Pinned :)

DNI: if you're mean, if you wanna fuck with my peace, if you have bigoted/oppressive opinions.

Winslow

he/him

~About me below the cut~

not an nsfw blog but also not curated for younger audiences.

About: queer nonbinary trans guy. certified silly goose. collector of hobbies. welding and mechanics student, future tattoo apprentice

lately:

trying to pursue my passions & interests. trying to form good habits and stay tidy. figuring out gender stuff. saving up for a tattoo apprenticeship. excited for upcoming activities w/ loved ones. enjoying having momentum to work on myself. doing more exercise & outdoor activities.

topics, activities, & music i like that i can think of rn(12/7/24):

reading queer lit & modern classics/writing music & poetry/digital art/chalk murals/thrifting/video essays/80s & 90s aesthetics/cars & mechanics/philosophy/dog training/cripplepunk & folkpunk/mutual aid/paddle boarding/roller skating & longboarding/mending & tailoring/billiards/cooking/

Ethel Cain/Gang of Youths/Tegan & Sara/Vundabar/cr1tter/Lorde/Wic Whitney/Renee Rapp/2pac/Hemlocke Springs/Paris Paloma/Julia Wolf/Sammy Rae & the Friends/Kendrick Lamar/Joy Oladokun & so many more, I love music & listen to new shit every month or so

You can find my second(NSFW/shitposting)blog @falsememories-truedaydreams

Free Palestine + all people facing genocide, slavery & humanitarian crises

[archivist-crow]

On this day:

AGATHA’S AMNESIA

On December 3, 1926, Agatha Christie, the famous British mystery writer, dressed in a green knitted skirt, a gray cardigan, and a velour hat, climbed into her much beloved gray, bottle-nosed Morris Cowley and drove off into the night. The next morning the car was found empty at the bottom of a slope, and its front wheels hung over the edge of a 120-foot chalk pit. The brakes were off, the gear lever was in neutral, and the ignition was switched on. Agatha was thirty-four at the time, and her seventh book, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, was on the bestseller list.

Headlines cried out opinions of abduction, murder, publicity stunt, and suicide. Bloodhounds were brought out. The Silent Pool, a natural, spring-fed lake near her abandoned car, was dredged and thousands of people from four countries joined the police as they combed the countryside. Arthur Conan Doyle, creator of Sherlock Holmes, initiated some psychic sleuthing on the case and gave one of Agatha's gloves to a noted psychometrician. Agatha's husband, Colonel Archibald Christie, who was having an affair with another woman, Nancy Neele, was watched by the police.

Meanwhile, at the Hydro Hotel in Yorkshire, a woman registered as Teresa Neele from South Africa was shopping, playing billiards, hiking, and dancing the Charleston in the evenings. Ten days later, the hotel manager, suspecting she was the missing writer, called the police. Colonel Christie arrived at the hotel and identified her. When Agatha saw him approaching her table, she remarked to her companions, "Fancy, my brother has just arrived.”

Amnesia was diagnosed by her doctor, though most people refused to accept that explanation. Agatha never referred to her disappearance and would only grant interviews if it was understood that the incident was off limits.

Text from: Almanac of the Infamous, the Incredible, and the Ignored by Juanita Rose Violins, published by Weiser Books, 2009

[thebestpooltablebrands]

Why Is Pool Table Felt Important?

Table felt is essential to your billiards experience. If you're a billiards enthusiast, you've probably noticed that the felt on your table influences not only the game's aesthetics but also its playability. Today, we will explore why pool table felt is so important and how it affects your game. Whether you're a casual player or an aspiring pro, understanding this can significantly enhance your billiards skills and game enjoyment.

The Role of Pool Table Felt

Defining Pool Table Felt

Pool table felt, often called billiard cloth, is the fabric that covers the surface of the table. Contrary to its name, it's not always made of felt. Most high-quality billiard cloths are made from a blend of wool and nylon or polyester. Its texture, weave, and material quality play a critical role in how the balls move across the table.

Historical Significance

Historically, the evolution of pool table felt has mirrored the evolution of billiards itself. In the early days, tables were covered with woolen cloth. However, as the game became more popular, the need for a smoother, more durable surface led to the development of modern billiard cloths. Understanding this history can give you a deeper appreciation of the game.

Read more:

How To Balance A Pool Table?

How To Choose A Commercial Pool Table?

The Science Behind It

The science behind pool table felt is fascinating. The fabric's nap, or direction of the fibers, affects ball speed and spin. High-quality felt ensures consistent ball roll, which is crucial for making accurate shots. Substandard felt can lead to unpredictable ball behavior, frustrating players and affecting performance.

The Impact on Game Play

Speed and Control

One of the most significant ways pool table felt impacts gameplay is through speed and control. A well-maintained, high-quality felt allows for smoother, faster play. This can make a big difference in competitive play, where precise control over ball speed and direction is essential.

Consistency

Consistency is key in billiards. High-quality felt ensures that balls roll predictably, allowing players to develop and rely on their skills. Inconsistent felt can lead to unexpected ball behavior, making it difficult to improve and enjoy the game.

Spin and English

Spin, or English, is a critical aspect of advanced billiards play. The type of felt on your table greatly affects your ability to apply and control spin. High-quality felt provides better grip, allowing for more effective spin shots. Understanding this can elevate your game to new levels.

See more: https://bestpooltablebrands.usite.pro/

Types of Pool Table Felt

Wool-Nylon Blend

The wool-nylon blend is one of the most common types of pool table felt. It offers a good balance between durability and performance. The wool provides a smooth playing surface, while nylon adds strength and resistance to wear.

Worsted Wool

Worsted wool felt is considered the gold standard in pool table cloths. It's made by combing the wool fibers to remove impurities, resulting in a smoother, more durable fabric. This type of felt is often used in professional and high-end tables.

Polyester Blend

Polyester blend felt is a more affordable option. While it may not offer the same level of performance as wool or worsted wool, it's still a viable choice for casual players. It's durable and easier to maintain, making it a popular choice for home tables.

Maintaining Your Pool Table Felt

Regular Cleaning

Maintaining your pool table felt is crucial for preserving its quality and performance. Regular cleaning helps remove dust, chalk, and other debris that can affect gameplay. A gentle vacuum or specialized brush can keep your felt in top condition.

Avoiding Damage

Avoiding damage is another critical aspect of felt maintenance. Sharp objects, heavy cues, and even food and drinks can cause irreparable harm to your table's surface. Being mindful of how you use and care for your table can extend the life of your felt.

Professional Services

Sometimes, professional maintenance is necessary. Over time, even the best-maintained felt will show signs of wear. Professional services can stretch, repair, or replace your felt, ensuring your table remains in top playing condition.

Choosing the Right Felt

Consider Your Playing Style

When choosing pool table felt, consider your playing style. If you enjoy fast, competitive play, a high-quality worsted wool might be the best choice. For more casual play, a wool-nylon blend or polyester blend could be sufficient.

Budget Considerations

Budget is another important factor. While investing in high-quality felt can enhance your gameplay, it's essential to choose a fabric that fits your budget. There are options available at various price points, ensuring you can find felt that meets your needs without breaking the bank.

Color and Aesthetics

Lastly, consider the color and aesthetics of your felt. While green is the traditional color, modern tables come in a variety of colors to match different decor styles. Choose a color that complements your space and enhances your enjoyment of the game.

Conclusion

In summary, pool table felt is a critical aspect of billiards that significantly affects gameplay. From speed and control to consistency and spin, the quality of your felt plays a vital role in your overall experience. By understanding the different types of felt and how to maintain them, you can ensure your table provides the best possible playing surface. Ready to take your game to the next level? Explore our selection of high-quality pool table felts and find the perfect one for your table today.

[caparrucia]

Nyx and Cor play billiards or darts together

"I don't want to be presumptuous," Nyx said, watching Cor lean on the table with intense interest.

"Of course not," Cor muttered snidely, aiming his strike and fucking up the angle by a sliver.

He scowled sourly at the cue ball as it rolled away, as if it was to blame for his own incompetence, and Nyx was fucked, really, thoroughly completely fucked, because he thought the sulky tantrum was the goddamn cutest fucking thing he'd ever seen.

"But I can't help but feel you're trying to seduce me, Sir," Nyx went on, stressing the last word just so to make Cor squint at him suspiciously. Nyx grinned. "I just wanted to let you know it's working."

"Is it?" Cor asked, eyebrows arched as he backed away and let Nyx take his shot.

Nyx hit the shot with the same uncanny precision he'd honed learning how to warp-strike effectively.

"Why don't you proposition me?" Nyx asked, wiggling his eyebrows as he reached for a chalk cube with a smirk. "See what happens?"

Cor rolled his eyes as Nyx showed off another shot, cue stick hooked behind his back and causing him to stretch unnecessarily along the table.

"But you're having so much fun already," Cor deadpanned into his beer.

"Imagine how much fun I'm going to be after," Nyx pointed out, grinning with teeth.

Cor snorted and toasted at him with his beer.

"Consider yourself propositioned, then."

[bigcatcues]

The Ultimate Guide to Pool Cue Weights

For both seasoned players and those new to the billiards game, choosing the right pool cue can feel like a quest for a magic wand. One of the most critical factors in that choice? The weight of your pool cue. Whether you’re sinking eight balls, mastering trick shots, or just aiming to improve your game, understanding standard pool cue weights can give you a competitive edge.

In this guide, we'll explore everything from the basics of selecting the right weight for your pool cue to specifics for different pool games, and even highlight some top-quality cues for you to consider. Let's chalk up and break into the world of pool cues!

1. What Cue Stick Weight Should I Go For?

Selecting the ideal weight for your cue stick is paramount in optimizing your performance at the pool table. Generally, cue weights range from 17 to 21 ounces. Lighter cues (17-18.5 oz) offer more control and are easier to maneuver for finesse shots, making them ideal for beginners. Heavier cues (19.5-21 oz), on the other hand, provide more power behind shots, which could be beneficial for breaking or for players with a solid, steady hand.

Key Consideration: Your playing style and what feels most comfortable in your hands should guide your choice.

2. Types Of Pool Stick Weights

Cue sticks come in various weights to cater to the diverse preferences of pool players. The most common types include:

Lightweight Cues (17-18.5 ounces): Great for precision and skillful shots.

Medium Weight Cues (18.5-20 ounces): Offer a balance between control and power, suitable for most players.

Heavyweight Cues (20-21 ounces): Best for players looking for momentum and force in their shots.

Each type plays a distinct role in the gameplay experience, impacting shot accuracy, speed, and control.

3. What Are The Pool Cue Weights For Different Pool Games?

Different pool games might benefit from different cue weights, depending on the strategy and type of shots frequently made.

Eight-Ball & Nine-Ball: These popular games find a sweet spot with cues around 19 ounces. This weight offers a good balance for the variety of shots required.

Snooker: Typically uses lighter cues, often below 19 ounces, due to the precision and control needed for the game’s longer and more strategic play.

Carom/Billiards: Players often prefer a medium to a heavier cue, as the game does not involve pocketed balls but rather relies on caroms, requiring a bit more force in the shot.

4. Top High-Quality Pool Cues With Standard Weights

When it comes to purchasing a pool cue, quality is key. Here are a few recommendations that cater to various needs and preferences:

Predator Cues: Known for their innovation and quality, Predator cues offer a range of weights and are a favorite among professionals for their accuracy and power.

Meucci Cues: Meucci is revered for its craftsmanship and balance, providing cues that are comfortable to hold and play with across all weights.

Viking Cues: A blend of tradition and technology, Viking cues are durable and come in a variety of weights to suit any player’s needs.

Remember: The best way to find your perfect cue weight is to try different options. Visit your local billiards store, or ask to try out friends' cues to get a feel for what works best for you.

In Conclusion...

Selecting the right pool cue weight is a personal choice that significantly influences your game. By understanding the significance of different cue weights and how they align with various pool games, you can make an informed decision that enhances your play style and performance.

Whether you're a beginner aiming to refine your skills or a seasoned player focusing on precision and power, there’s a pool cue weight out there that's perfect for you. Get out there, experiment, and find the cue that not only feels right in your hands but also elevates your game to new heights.

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@bigcatcues