#house billiards pool table

[howyaben]

Home Bar - Southwestern Home Bar

[ryansbedroom]

[chelseafcazul]

Game Room Family Room Phoenix

Example of a sizable, contemporary, enclosed game room with travertine flooring, beige walls, a metal fireplace, and a television stand.

[valkyriethemes]

Family Room - Game Room

[echobx]

Lover turned Brother - Rafe Cameron × fem!reader

summary: y/n is playing pool at her new home, the Cameron mansion, and Rafe walks in on her and takes what he sees as rightfully his

word count: 1.2k

warnings: stepcest, smut, spanking, p in v (unprotected), creampie, double orgasm (fem!receiving), backshots

author's note: never in my life did I ever think to write stepcest and yet here we are. this wasn't even on my og list for kinktober, but I had this idea and couldn't help it

kinktober masterlist

You are in the billiard room, pocketing one ball after the other with much more ease than usual. The table at the Camerons is better than the one at the Country Club where you usually play. But this is your new home, and you don't see why you shouldn't take all the advantages it holds. 

You bend over the rail, trying to bridge the cue on your knuckles deeper onto the table to reach the cue ball that lies impossibly far away from you no matter which side you try it from. 

When Rafe walks by the room and sees you bent over the table, he feels his slacks tighten on his crotch. He knows it's inappropriate to think about his new stepsister like this, but he can't help it either. Especially since you are dressed in a daringly small skirt, that while you lean forward, shows off your pretty ass and the pink thong you're wearing. 

He can't help it when he quietly pushes the door open and closes it behind him, striding over to you just after you have banked the shot and are about to lean up again. His hips thrust against your ass, and you fall forward again. 

“Rafe, stop,” you tell him when you feel his hands on your hips. “We can't do this.” 

“I can do whatever I want,” Rafe mumbles as he flips the skirt over, revealing the pretty heart shape of your ass. His hand leaves a red, stinging mark on your skin when he slaps you, and you jolt forward. 

“It's wrong,” you whimper, but you know you've lost with the increasing feeling of emptiness between your legs. He's always had this effect on you, and even if you tell yourself that it's not moral or that it is frowned upon, you can't help but get turned on by almost anything he does. The day before he picked a baking tray from a higher shelf and handed it to your mom, his shirt slipping up just a little bit and as a result of that you spent a bit longer than usual in the shower, trying to get yourself off to the thought of him. But no matter what you do, it doesn't suffice.

“No, it was wrong that your mommy dear started fucking my dad and ruined what we had,” Rafe growls, slapping you another time, and you yelp, almost excitedly. 

“They will hear,” you hitch a breath, and he slaps you again. 

“House is empty, they all went out. Even took Wheezie with them,” he laughs. “And we can do whatever the fuck we want.” You can hear it in his voice that this new situation you find yourself in isn't doing you both any favors. “I'm not gonna stop fucking you just because you're my sister now. I fucked you before and no one gave a shit, so why would they now?” He chuckles with a deep melodic growl, and you can hear the zipper of his pants, and then how they fall to the wooden floor. 

You haven't had proper sex since before the engagement was announced, which has been four months ago, with the wedding growing closer by the day. And from what it feels like when he rips your panties down and forces your legs apart, Rafe has the same issue. 

“You're such a slut. My little step-sister, who's so fucking wet I might just eat her out,” he tsks, and you whimper at the feel of his cock sliding over your cunt, collecting your slick before pushing into you with a long and fast thrust. You cry out at the intrusion, needing a moment to adjust to him after how long it's been. 

“So big,” your lip quivers against the felt of the pool table, hands clawing at the railing as he keeps you down with one hand on your back, while the other holds onto your hip. 

“Best pussy on the whole island. Not gonna let you go,” Rafe promises as he starts to fuck you. His pelvis hitting your behind with loud smacks. Your moans are almost pornographic, but you can't help it with how he fills you out, the mushy head of his fat cock hitting against your cervix with every thrust, and you love every bit of it.

“Touch yourself,” Rafe demands, and you pull one hand down between your legs and start rubbing your clit until you spasm around him, creaming all over his cock and hearing him laugh through your pathetic cries of pleasure. 

“Fucked out and still not done?” he taunts you, and you try to shake your head, but it doesn't really work. Your eyes are glossy and your brain is mush when he pulls your hand from your clit and pulls you up by your neck, making you stand flush to his chest while his dick keeps torturing your soppy cunt. 

“Rafe, please,” you whine, his hand closing around your throat and making you see stars. 

“You want my cum? Want me to fill you up and make me a daddy? Huh?” he grins and although you can't see it, you know he doesn't really mean it, not yet. He'll go and buy you plan B like he's done so many times before after a slip up. “Want me to breed you like the whore you are?” 

“Please, daddy,” you press out, still struggling to breathe with the tight grip he has around your throat. But he lets go and slams you down onto the table, you can just brace your hands enough to not hit the felt full on. 

Rafe picks up his pace, his hand that was just around your throat is now between your legs, bringing you to your second orgasm. Your screams and the wet sounds of your sore cunt fill the room, drowning out his heavy pants and grunts when he fills you with his cum and then falls slack onto your back. 

He kisses the sweaty skin on your back for a few minutes while growing soft inside you and then pulling out. And although you just had the best sex in months, you wish he would keep going. 

It's all a daze when he pulls your slip back up and tells you how much he's gonna love to take it off later that night and see all of his cum dripping out of you, or when he gets dressed and pulls you back up to clean your teary-eyed face with a soft cotton tissue. 

“You look so pretty when you're dumb on my cock,” he whispers against your lips, leaving you wanting for a kiss that he won't grant you, yet. 

“Rafe?” you ask and grasp for his hand, your knees are weak, and you feel like you will fall over if he leaves you now. 

He takes a step closer, cradling your face in his large hand and tracing your every feature with his eyes. “It's a shame, and I thought we would be the ones getting married one day,” he sighs, pulling away instantly and walking out on you. And if it hadn't been for the pool table in your back, you would've hit the floor the second the door fell into its lock.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @hoe4sunarin @m2m2m2 @mochimms @itsme-again @maybankslover @th3eternalersi @because-i-like-toxic-men @rafeeekam @carolinaxvz

P.S. Happy Birthday @psychedelicgenesis 💕💕

[jen-with-a-pen]

Cocoon

summary: A chance encounter one night at a house party sparks the hottest hookup Bucky and Steve ever have.

parings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

word count: 2.95k

warnings: BJs, hand stuff, partying, alcohol, drinking, making out in a bathroom at a houseparty, they're slightly intoxicated but it's all consensual I promise, gay gay gay gay, dirty talk, MDNI 18+

a/n: happy pride month 🏳️‍🌈 enjoy this WIP I've had brewing for a while now. also I love how i've been in another writing slump and the first thing I'm motivated to finish is some juicy gay p0rn. love that for me💅

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know! not beta'ed. any mistakes are mine.

gif by @/multiverse-sparkles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: Cocoon by Catfish and the Bottlemen Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Bucky Barnes doesn't know which is harder.

There's Steve, who's rutting up against his leg like a puppy, whining, desperate for friction and freedom while drunk on whatever the fuck is in the communal jungle juice. Steve’s flannel is draped over the tub, thrown haphazardly aside when he felt too hot and Bucky felt it was getting in the fucking way. 

There's Bucky, who's straining every muscle in his body in an attempt to keep himself from unzipping his fly and freeing his throbbing cock that Steve is pawing at greedily. Sweat beads on his forehead, sticking strands of hair to his skin as hot breaths fan his face and neck. He realizes his ponytail came loose somehow and his leather jacket is strewn about somewhere on the tile floor. He thinks he feels it at the tip of his boot so he kicks it aside to avoid it getting stepped on. 

And then there's the goddamned door, which Steve slams Bucky up against the second Bucky’s teeth find Steve’s tender earlobe. It creaks and groans under their weight, not at all prepared for whatever the fuck is happening right now. 

Then again, neither are they. 

Neither of them expected to walk into some mutual-friend-of-a-mutual-friend’s house party itching to leave the moment they stepped foot into the isolated cloud of weed and booze that seeped into their nostrils and clothing within the first ten minutes. They hadn't expected their two very separate groups of friends to somehow miraculously know each other, using the kitchen as the location for some shoddy, un-sober family reunion. 

It wasn't until one side challenged the other to billiards did Bucky and Steve locked eyes with one another, instantaneously recognizing something in the way seafoam green meeting bright baby blue made them feel an immediate pull towards each other. Maybe it was Steve's a-little-too-big flannel, a-little-too-tight khakis, and soft blond hair shining in every shade of gold in the mixture of ever-changing LEDs and sporadically-placed table lamps. Or, maybe it was Bucky's slim, dark denim jeans hugging every muscle in the thickest thighs Steve’s ever seen, completed with a black T-shirt, leather bomber jacket, and messy ponytail with loose threads of chocolate hair that framed Bucky's face perfectly. Steve felt his Adam’s apple bob every time those strands fell perfectly into place when Bucky leaned just a little too forward onto the table to aim his pool cue, biceps fighting against leather as he lined up his shot. 

Steve about snapped his stick in half when Bucky’s eyes flicked up to his as he jerked the pool cue, sinking two solids in at once. Steve’s pants tightened on the spot.

Steve, however, sought revenge– and got it, too– when he was the one to sink a stripe, then another, and another. Bucky’s eyes darkened, a smirk ghosting his lips at the challenge and his very attractive, very worthy opponent. 

Bodies ganged up in cheers and chants as the two tangoed with their pool cues, taking riskier and riskier moves. Bucky took a shot behind his back. Steve made one over his shoulders. Each time, one would look to the other a millisecond before taking a shot as if silently seeking approval and finding it in the dragging of one’s tongue slowly along their teeth (Bucky) or in the raising of a cocky brow and biting one’s lip (Steve.) 

When the 8-ball was pocketed, shots passed from hand to hand through the crowd to quench the palpable tension in the basement air. Laughter and cheering erupted, echoing off the wood paneled walls. Downing another shot, Steve side-eyed Bucky as sour vodka dripped down his chin. His brow twitched when Bucky’s gaze flitted to the stairs then back to Steve– signaling, asking, begging. Steve’s sideways grin and reddening cheeks were all the ‘yes’ Bucky needed. 

And so, as Bucky bites down onto Steve’s swollen bottom lip and releases in a painfully slow drag of his teeth, Steve is the first to break their shared silence.

“Ah– f-fuck, oh my God,” he pants, pawing at anything his hands can reach at this point.

“Fuck is right,” Bucky hisses against Steve’s neck as he nips the tender skin. “You up for a challenge, baby?” Bucky ruts up against Steve’s palm, swallowing a moan when the friction rubs in just the right way against his cock’s swollen, covered head. Steve’s heart goes into a frenzy. The liquid courage coursing in his veins kicks in.

“Got you up against a door now, don’t I?” Steve challenges as his teeth graze Bucky’s cheek. 

“Only if y’keep me here,” Bucky breathes, leaning his forehead against Steve’s. He pauses, taking in the macroscopic details of Steve’s reddened face. “I’ll make ya a deal.”

Steve smirks. “What kinda deal, hm?” His palm pushes further into Bucky’s erection, prompting an uncontrollable twitch and rumble of a swallowed groan. He’s got what Bucky needs and he needs what Bucky’s got. 

“You–” Bucky kisses him again, desperate, “get on your knees–” another kiss, “so I–” another, “can admire th’ view.”

Steve's eyes widen. His pants feel like a goddamn tent as Bucky kisses him once more, smacking his lips upon release. He cups Steve’s face, thumb rubbing gently over the blond’s swollen lips.

“If you do a good job, I’ll pay ya back in full.”

Steve drops to his knees in an instant. 

Bucky guides him with coos and ‘good boy’s as he undoes his belt and tosses it into the tub. Face to face with the daunting zipper, Steve glances back up at Bucky, Adam’s apple bobbing. Bucky softens, hand sliding from Steve’s messy blond mop to his chin, tilting him up. 

“First time?” 

Steve’s already-red face saturates deeper. He nods reluctantly, eyes flitting away from Bucky’s in embarrassment. Bucky scoffs a laugh and forces Steve’s gaze back to him; he’s careful to be gentle, but still firm. 

“I’ll help ya, baby. I’ll coach you through it.”

Steve’s bottom lip quivers. He shifts on his knees. “Y-you sure? ‘m sorry, I–”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Bucky commands, shaking Steve’s chin the tiniest bit. His smile falters as he bites down on his lip from the strain. “I’ll do anything if it means getting those pretty pink lips on my cock.”

Steve instantly sits up straighter. Bucky’s hand snakes back into Steve’s hair while the other unzips the front of his jeans ever-so-slowly. Steve can’t help but feel his fucking mouth water as he takes up the task of shakily unbuttoning the denim, releasing Bucky from the prison of his pants. Steve feels himself grow harder as he’s met with sleek, black Calvin Kleins conforming perfectly to Bucky’s hips, the front tents with tension from his throbbing cock begging for release. The branded white waistband shields a deep, carved ‘V’ leading up to the ghost of softened abs underneath the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt.

Steve swears he must be fucking dead– this must be heaven.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Steve falters as his eyes flit up to Bucky, catching a sultry, cocky wink thrown his way before focusing entirely back onto the task at hand. He wipes his clammy palms on the thighs of his khakis before sliding them up Bucky’s concrete thighs– both of which he’s very certain would crush his skull and he would be thankful– and hooking tender fingers onto the waistband. Adam’s apple bobbing, breath held, mouth watering, Steve peels the Calvins down and off Bucky, releasing the most mouth-watering, ecstasy-inducing, biggest fucking dick he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

Fuck. It’s the first dick he’s ever seen in his entire life. Aside from porn tapes and sleazy zines, that is. Bucky can’t help but puff his chest out, smirk widening, grip tightening onto the short length of Steve’s hair, prouder and hornier than he was before his pants came off.

“Told ya t’ take a picture, baby.”

Steve looks up at Bucky with hands still gripping onto his Calvins before dropping them to the floor. With a shaky sigh, he slides closer to Bucky’s leaking head glistening in the shoddy bathroom lighting. Fingers travel up Bucky’s thighs as fingernails gently dig into the oh-so-sensitive part of soft skin, sending a shiver up Bucky’s spine. His palm hits the base of his cock, wrapping around the base of it while his other hand gently takes Bucky’s sack. Stiff and at the ready, Steve leans closer and closer until the dripping wet, eagerly reddened tip hits his lips, poking through and sliding onto an awaiting tongue. Bucky groans and hits the door with a free fist. 

“F-f-fuck– oh my– fucking Christ–!” 

Curses and praises rain down on Steve as he obeys Bucky’s hips thrusting gently into his warm mouth. Steve’s tongue swirls around Bucky’s head as he starts to bob, setting the starting tempo and matching Bucky’s movements. His fist around the base tightens, sending more blood into his cock, in turn sending Bucky careening into the back of Steve’s throat. Steve sucks in, choking on Bucky’s cock and savoring every second of it. Tears brim his eyes as he slowly pulls back, drool dripping out his mouth and covering Bucky, who’s fist in Steve’s hair pulls at just the right angle, sending an uncontrollable moan up and out of Steve’s hoarse throat. 

He wipes his mouth and dives back in. 

“Fuck, Steve, I–”

The sound of his name spilling out of Bucky in a desperate call only motivates him and his own dick more than ever. Lips, tongue, and teeth graze over Bucky’s head as Steve bobs quicker this time around. Lips pucker around the shaft as he pumps and bobs simultaneously, undoing Bucky from the way his knees buckle against the back of the bathroom door. A guttural moan vibrates out from Bucky’s chest to his limbs, reaching Steve as he picks up the pace.

Steve nestles his mouth at the base of Bucky’s cock before fanning his tongue out across the girth and licking a wet stripe all the way up to the head, actively (and almost) killing Bucky. With both of Bucky’s fists raking desperately through his hair, both of Steve’s hands migrate once more, wrapping around Bucky and squeezing every ounce of precum out of his swollen red tip. Steve takes the opportunity to look up at Bucky for the first time and nearly ruins his own pants at the sight above him. 

Sweat-stuck hair frames Bucky’s panting, desperate face. His once-indigo eyes are no more, swallowed by lust-blow black pupils and fluttering eyelids; his Adam’s apple bobs hysterically, caught in a hurricane of pure pleasure and the pain of having to– needing to– restrain himself. His cheeks burn pink as shadows bury themselves in the crevices of his features. If Steve didn’t know any better, he fucking swears Bucky looks like a stolen work of art from the Louvre itself.

Bucky swallows, parting his lips ever-so-slightly. “Don’t stop– ’m so fuckin’ close, Stevie.”

The nickname snaps Steve out of his trance, the scene above him more than enough motivation to finish the job and finish it well.

Sore, puckered lips engulf Bucky’s swollen cock as Steve works at twisting both his hands in opposite directions, pumping and squeezing as he sucks and bobs to the rhythm of Bucky’s hips. His pace quickens, as does Bucky’s breathing. Neck muscles tighten and biceps strain as Steve feels his jaw beginning to lock. The back of his throat is numb from endorphins and adrenaline. He feels Bucky’s entire body freeze and instinctively removes his hands, reaching around and grabbing onto Bucky’s ass, pushing him into the deepest part of his throat just as Bucky finally releases. Hot ropes of cum shoot down Steve’s throat as he continues to gently suck, coaxing every single drop out of Bucky. His tongue laps at the excess spilling over his molars and swallows, making Bucky twitch and curse all over again.

The two of them are connected, forever a part of one another in this moment and the next; both are intertwined through body and soul, whether they might know it now, or not. Regardless, they are each other's firsts, whether they know it (Bucky) or not (Steve.) A trophy to keep in the back of their minds. A memory that makes them lie awake in bed at night with the ghost of a smirk on their lips.

Bucky, now fantastically ruined, allows his body to give out and slides down the length of the door, crumpling in a pleasure-drunken heap on the floor with his legs outstretched in front of him. His eyes don’t leave Steve’s, who is now sitting opposite of him, gagging and swallowing as he rests against the front cabinets of the bathroom vanity. His hair sticks up in different tufts, remnants of Bucky’s grabby hands. His face is the reddest Bucky’s ever seen. He feels his dick fucking twitch again. 

In echoing pants, both silently agree on two things: 1. how good the cool tile feels beneath their fingers, and 2. how they won’t acknowledge the fogged-up bathroom mirror. 

“Wow,” Bucky breathlessly utters. He cards a clammy hand through stringy hair, dropping it lazily into his lap.

Steve nods, swallowing again. “Wow.”

Bucky blinks. His eyes finally focus and follow from his own lap to his outstretched legs, to Steve’s folded knees and used, swollen face. He stares, taking everything in while he climbs down from the high. A smirk ghosts Steve's lips as he meets Bucky’s gaze. 

“What?” Bucky questions. 

“Wish I could take a picture,” Steve answers. Bucky snorts and shakes his head.

“Might as well. Hang it on the fridge or somethin’ for how good you did.”

Steve perks up. “I… did a good job?”

Bucky smiles, eyes wandering to the ceiling to avoid blushing more than he already is. He ultimately comes back to Steve before nodding. “Yeah. You did,” he smiles at Steve. “More than good.”

Steve feigns disbelief. “More than good?”

“Some would say great, even. Five star service.”

Steve scoffs a laugh. “Some?”

“Some being me, myself, and I.”

The two titter a moment more before another comfortable silence falls between them. Steve watches Bucky a second more before shifting to his knees again. Slowly, carefully, he crawls towards Bucky, closing the few feet of distance between them in seconds. Bucky sits up against the door and spreads his legs open, welcoming Steve between them, ignoring his semi-hard cock as it continues twitching. Steve stops inches from Bucky as the air shifts. Steve, still on all fours, peels his clammy hand from the tile and rests it on Bucky’s cheek, carding a couple fingers into his hair for good measure. He can hear Bucky’s heart beating, which he (correctly) assumes Bucky can probably hear his, as well, pounding against the marrow bars of his rib cage.

Seafoam green meets bright baby blue as Steve gently pulls Bucky closer. Soft lips meet one stubbled cheek, and then the other, before Steve pulls back as if to peer straight into Bucky’s soul. 

And Bucky is okay with that.

“Thank you,” Steve says.

“No, thank you.”

“You can thank me later like ya said.” Steve smirks. Bucky smiles. 

“That can be arranged.”

Finally, Steve pulls Bucky into him. Lips crash together once more, this time the hunger is replaced by lust and gratitude. It feels genuine. It feels right. Everything feels right. 

As Bucky leans more into the kiss, with his hands cupping Steve’s burning cheeks, a loud BANG BANG BANG kills any and all goodness within the bathroom that existed just second prior. The two flinch in each other’s arms as they scramble up and off the floor, frantically trying to find clothes and fix hair. 

“Yo! Buck? You in there? We’re fuckin’ leavin’, dude!” A voice calls from the other side.

Panic flashes over Bucky’s face as Steve hands him his belt. “Uh, yeah! Be right out!” 

“Well hurry the fuck up! Natasha’s getting grabby!”

Bucky and Steve listen for footsteps to recede before sharing a sigh of relief as they continue to clean up. 

“Why does Natasha get grabby?” Steve asks playfully, eliciting a louder laugh from Bucky now that they didn’t have to be totally silent any longer.

“Too much tequila. The girl can handle her booze but not without fatal consequences.”

Steve snorts at the thought. “Can’t say I blame her,” he winks. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and snorts back. “Me neither,” he smirks. 

As Bucky goes to grab the doorknob, Steve grabs his shoulder.

“Wait, I–” he starts. His cheeks bloom into a hues of pink again as he sheepishly looks at the floor. “Can I get your number?”

Bucky smiles and feels around his pockets for something, fishing a sharpie out from his jacket pocket. “Gimme your arm.” 

Steve obeys, offering his left arm to Bucky’s awaiting hand. Bucky cradles him as the sharpie drags across his skin, leaving behind a series of numbers large– and legible– enough to read. Steve pulls his arm back and analyzes the new temporary tattoo, committing each digit to memory in case something egregious happens to his arm from now until he gets home. He notices the area code and looks curiously back up to Bucky, who caps the marker and shoves it back into another pocket. 

“Bucky! C’mon, man! No, Natasha!” the voice calls again from the living room. 

Bucky gives Steve one last peck on the cheek before turning on his heel and striding down the hallway, leaving Steve standing in the threshold of the still-steamy bathroom with messy hair, a missing flannel, and a phone number inked onto his skin. The smile plastered on his face refuses to leave.

[unicornsannie]

Wanna bet?-Choi Jongho

Genre:Fluff,smut

Warning: enemies to lover,table pool sex, spank (1-3 times only),hair pulling,big d Jongho:D, unprotected sex, rough sex,Threatened to cum inside Y/N

MDNI

A/N:I'm back from stress... anyway

Walk with your heels ringing along the mansion of your brother's friend's house just to find your brother and bring him back.

Coming to terms with someone who threatens you is not fun.They were just having fun because the person who owned this mansion was not there. They were instructed to "wait" for a while

With a tight dress that hugs your plate, your chest and back are uncomfortable. You just hope this thing will be done quickly but not luxuriously.what's the point of wearing this dress but just agree and stop all this

When your mind is too distracted, you come across a room where you might know where your brother is.The sound of high heels opened the door and found the host playing pool.

"Jongho?, you-"You walk over and see him holding the billiard ball as you walk over to block him to put the ball in the hole."Y/N,well you move before I stick a cue stick in your asshole and let you get fucked with this"

You took the cue stick and pointed it at him while threatening him."I'm the one who will gouge out your eyeballs. It's good that you agree with my brother and stop all these threats".

You noticed his eyes were only on your body as you rubbed the cue stick in his hand. You walked over and waved your hand towards his face making him wake up from his daydreaming.

"I'm sorry Y/N, I have another way to solve this" he held out the cue stick to you and smirked. You nodded and took the cue stick from his hand

"So you think I can't play this thing" You took the billiard ball and put it on the table. Only to see Jongho respond with a nod from him."If you succeed in defeating me, I will stop everything including bothering you" He grabbed your chin to force you to look at him

You walk towards the pool table and start playing. You try your best to cover your hips but Jongho pulls himself close to you

"Don't be shy, it's just the two of us here" Your hands were shaking maybe because of your feelings or your hatred towards him

In some games, you notice that something pops up in his pants.You lift your feet on the pool table and your body on it. The game will be over if you put the last ball in the hole but you hear the sound of the belt going as if Jongho is unbuckle it.

You turned your head and saw that he had pinned your waist to the table making you unable to move."Jongho let me go now" You struggled to get free.

"Y/N, I don't like to admit it but I'm in love with you" You stopped fighting him and let him continue"And seeing you in this position, I've wanted you in this situation. Weak, unable to do anything and only able to listen to his master's instructions"

"If you don't care, can I change the bet?" You nodded and he slowly lifted your dress and revealed you in just a thong.He slapped the side of your hip cheek making you let out an embarrassing sound

"Be my girlfriend and everything will be over." You try to lift yourself up but Jongho pulls your hair and holds it down.He unzipped his pants and took out his red cock that was standing in pain from wanting something.

"Jongho don't-"Sadly your words were cut off by the cock he thrust into you without warning.You can only bring out tears of pleasure and your mouth is open with saliva flowing because you stick out your tongue.

Jongho pulled your hair and forced you to kiss him. The sound of whines and moans filled the room making it echo. Jongho let go of your hair and slapped your hip cheek again"You bastard ,likes the enemy's own cock.Do you want more?"

You nodded and he sped up again but deepened it.You held back to avoid letting go but you received another slap."Cumslut, you better let go before I cum inside you and get pregnant with my child"

You cum around him making him come out of you and cum behind you.He saw the dirt and your exhausted body that he had made.He picked you up and placed you on the couch watching you breathe calmly

“Are you okay Y/N?” You just stared at him and wiped your tears. Noticing the disappointment in your eyes made Jongho worry and walk towards you.

"Y/N, I don't play around when it comes to love. I love you and I want you to be mine"You could only smile weakly and he held out a hug for you.He hugs you like there's no tomorrow.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is one of my favorite homes. I posted it before and apparently, it has never sold. They have been listing it, removing it b/c it didn't sell, changing the price, relisting and removing, since 2020. It's a 1905 Spanish Eclectic, which is very unusual, and it's in Kansas City, Missouri. 3bds, 3ba, $500K. Check out this unique & funky time capsule.

We begin in the spacious living room. The walls are probably in need of at least some color, but that's a lot of wallpaper to remove.

Check out the tile on the fireplace and the mirror art above.

Moving to the dining room, the wood kind of looks like craftsman style and there's a low window seat.

The kitchen is completely frozen in time.

There's even a pantry.

The great thing is that there's a door to the pantry in the main floor primary bedroom- so convenient for a late night snack.

And, at the foot of the stairs is a sink.

On the 2nd fl. is a very large bedroom with double doors to the sun room.

The sun room is gigantic. This home has such big rooms.

This would be the smallest bedroom.

At some point, within the last 50yrs, this bath was redone.

This room I cannot explain. It's on the main floor, off the living room, and it's sort of a foyer that has spiral stairs that go down to the basement. It was also made to look like the bridge of a ship. It's so cool and needs to be decorated as such.

The basement is definitely the star of the show. There's a vast rec room with wainscoting and a fireplace. The colorful tile is original. Note the small tile of a champagne glass.

Check out the bar. There's a vintage fan mounted to the ceiling and a brass foot rest. Oh, and 2 little music notes in the floor.

There's a billiard room. I wonder if the pool table conveys, b/c it perfectly matches the style of the house.

This is a home for entertaining. The laundry room has cabinetry for lots of storage. It's big enough for a second kitchen.

In this area is the half bath and stairs to the back yard.

But, this is the coolest room of all. It's a freshly painted indoor pool and look at the original vintage filter.

Look at this thing- there's only one way in and out. It's basically a basement you could fill with water. It has windows and they've delineated approximately how high the water should go, although it looks too high. There're also 2 rather dim looking lights above. This is so bizarre.

And, this is the dressing room and former shower for the pool.

There's a big driveway and garages for 3 cars.

Nice size yard and patio.

What are those stains on the roof? The lot is .28 acre.

[jayyyleo]

I had a dream that Dan and Phil made a Phouse tour but at some indiscernible point I was there with them. They had a billiard room in the basement because " Phil always wanted a pool table" They even showed the view from behind their house looking out on a lake? River? With romantic little cottages along the bank. But not the actual Phouse from the outside.

[chaplinlegend]

Charlie Chaplin, Douglas Fairbanks and British writer and playwright Edward Knoblock, playing billiards (c.1922).

___________________________________________________________

"Charlie Chaplin: “I had heard much about Douglas Fairbanks’ charm and ability, not only as a personality but as a brilliant after-dinner speaker. In those days I disliked brilliant young men – especially after-dinner speakers. However, a dinner was arranged at his house. Both Douglas and I told a story of that night….I made up my mind to feign a headache and leave early. Fairbanks said he was also nervous, & that when the doorbell rang he quickly descended into the basement, where there was a billiard table, and began playing pool. That night was the beginning of a lifelong friendship.” (X)

Photos: Chaplin Archive.

[melobin]

played billiards with my friends last night and ‘til now i can’t stop thinking about eunseok :(( esp that one video of him playing :( going out with him and the rest of riize n wearing the shortest mini skirt ever!!! kitten heels and a pink top !! eunseok thinks you’re the prettiest thing ever :( you didn’t know how to play so you ask him to teach you :( letting him bend you the pool table, your panties showing as you bend over :( n after dropping you ott, ofc you let eunseok end up fuck you :3

this makes me think of eunseok knowing you’re doing it on purpose, especially if you weren’t wearing panties at all. pretending you don’t know what you’re doing just to tease him, sweetly asking him if he can teach you and of course he says yes!! you bend over the table, showing to him you’re not wearing any underwear and letting him stand over you, the roughness of his jeans pressed against your bare cunt just makes him chuckle as he helps you take your shot.. he’s the one who offers to take you home after and of course he ends up in your house, bending you over the nearest surface with his cock stuffed inside of you and his fingers wrapped in your hair. he’d fuck you so good, especially after being so pent up from your teasing. makes me think he’d want to degrade you a little for showing so much of yourself to him in such a public area

[rafesveryrealgf]

Two’s better than one | chapter 3

Rafe x reader | Topper x reader

Warnings: NON CANON, curse words, sexual innuendos, cheating, toxic!topper, alcohol, arguing, toxic relationship, slight smut, lowkey toxic!reader

Synopsis: you might’ve fallen for your boyfriends bestfriend

You and Topper were in his truck on your way to Kelce’s house party. Toppers hand grazed your inner thigh while his other hand held onto the wheel.

“So how’d you hear about Kelce’s party anyway?” He wondered. His hand still slowly rubbing your thigh up and down.

You honestly didn’t know what to say. You could’ve easily said Kelce told you, but one talk with Kelce and that would’ve been proven to be a lie. You could’ve told the truth and said that Rafe had told you, but that would’ve left too many questions lingering in his mind so, you just told him one of your friends told you.

I’m sure Topper thought it was a bit suspicious that you’d found out Kelce was having a party before him, his best friend, found out. But if he had thought it was suspicious he kept that thought to himself.

After he replied with a nod, then, a dragged out ‘ah,’ it was quiet for a second. The only thing making a sound was the turned down music playing on the radio.

Once Topper reached Kelce’s house, and parked his truck you both hopped out, walking hand in hand up to Kelce’s front door.

You both immediately saw Rafe and Kelce playing pool in the middle of the living room, so, Topper made his way over to his best friends with his arm now slung over your shoulder while yours rested around his waist.

You and Topper were still a few feet away when Rafe looked up at you, briefly, with an even face, then looked back down, before taking a shot at the billiard ball making it into the small hole.

“Yo, you guys wanna join in?” Kelce said, waving over you and Topper.

You looked up at Topper and he looked down at you, both silently questioning what the other one wanted to do.

Topper looked back up at Kelce and Rafe and nodded.

“Uh. Yeah, yeah. Sure.” Topper said, removing his arm from off your shoulder.

You crossed your arms and walked closer to the pool table. “I kinda suck at this shit.”

“You’ll be alright once you get the hang of it.” Kelce reassured you.

“So, we’re just gonna start a brand new game for them?” Rafe questioned. His voice sounding quite annoyed.

“Dude, it’s not a big deal.” Kelce said, leaning up from his missed shot.

“We can wait,” You blurted. “Til’ the next game, if you want.”

To be fair, you didn’t want to play at all.

Rafe looked at you and rolled his eyes, taking the pool stick from Kelce, and walking over to you.

“Nah, we’re already starting,” he said, handing the pool stick to you. “And you’re going first.” He smirked.

“C’mon.” He continued.

Topper and Kelce stared at you both, more than likely noticing the weird tension between you two.

What game was Rafe playing at? First he was so annoyed that you and Topper were joining in on the game, and now he sounded almost eager for you to play.

You guys had been playing pool for about twenty minutes and sadly you still weren’t getting the hang of it.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Topper said, turning away from the pool table, making his way towards the kitchen. “You guys want anything?”

“Nah,” Rafe drawled. “I’m good” he watched you from the couch as you struggled some more playing pool.

You rolled your eyes when you realized Rafe was entertained by your lack of knowledge of the game.

Topper was now gone, and Kelce had followed.

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe said, standing up from the couch. “Let me help you.”

“No I got-,” he cut you off by standing behind you and bending you over the table to get a good shot at the ball.

“Now, look,” he grabbed your hands and placed them on the stick the correct way. “Keep your hands right there, and your fingers like that, okay?” He stood up.

You nodded still bending over the table, getting ready to take your shot.

The position Rafe had you in was awkward, to say the least. And as you took your shot that was the only thing you could think about.

Topper came back shortly with drinks, handing you one even though you hadn’t asked for one.

“Thank you.” You said, giving him a smile as you grabbed the red solo cup.

“Who’s turn is it?” Kelce questioned.

An hour had passed and the group had went their separate ways. You and Topper made your way into the pool, and Kelce and Rafe had wandered off somewhere else. You had a few more drinks, and so did Topper.

You were now sitting on Toppers lap in the pool, swaying to the music that was coming from inside the house, but loud enough for you to hear outside.

“How am I getting home?” You said wrapping your arms around your boyfriends neck.

“Might have to stay the night here.” He said, giving a light chuckle.

He looked down at your lips before pecking them.

“You know I can’t miss curfew, Top.”

If you were any less drunk than you were right now, you would’ve been freaking out about missing curfew.

“Stop stressing,” he kissed you again, this time, deepening this kiss.

You kissed back at first then got pulled away once you got pulled back into reality. “No, I’m serious, Top. You know how my parents are.”

“I’m serious too. Stop stressing.” He attempted to kiss you again, while sliding his hands in your bikini bottoms.

You slapped his hand away and removed yourself from his lap.

“This is why, I can’t stand you sometimes.” You swam to the steps and made your way out of the pool, looking over your shoulder to see Toppers parted lips and annoyed expression.

As you made your way inside, you found Rafe, who was busy talking to a blonde girl that you had seen around school a few times before.

You made your way over to him. His attention automatically shifted away from the blonde and over to you when he saw in your face that you were annoyed.

“Can you take me home?” You said, finding yourself getting even more frustrated by the minute. “Please?”

“Top ditch you again?” He grinned.

You rolled your eyes, turning away from Rafe.

You had no idea how you were getting home before curfew and you had no time for Rafe’s annoying remarks.

He jolted after you, putting both hands on your shoulders and turning you around.

“Hey, hey, I’m joking. C’mon.” he said.

You both walked until you reached his familiar black truck.

You murmured a ‘thank you’ when he opened the passenger door for you.

The ride was silent as you leaned your head on the window with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Wanna tell me what happened or..?” Rafe finally spoke, breaking the silence.

You leaned up a bit, eyeing him, silently, as he looked over at you then back at the road a few times.

When he got no response he just nodded. “That’s okay.”

It was silent again.

“I feel like he just wants to get in my pants, you know?” You whispered. “I tell him I have to be home and he just brushes it off. Knowing if I were to get grounded, I wouldn’t even be able to see him.”

You didn’t have to name the person you were talking about, Rafe knew. You could also tell Rafe didn’t exactly know what to say. And just like the last time you had accidentally ranted the whole car ride, you found yourself doing it again.

Something about ranting to Rafe was comforting to you.

“Honestly Tops never been a good boyfriend. I’d always hear Sarah complain on the phone to her friends and shit,” He spoke. “It was annoying, really.”

You frowned while nodding.

“But Sarah is also dramatic as shit. So I never really knew the whole truth,”

You let a chuckle slip as you nodded once again.

“Hmm. Maybe I’m just dramatic too then.” You said, grinning at Rafe.

“Nah,” he dragged out. “Nothing dramatic about wanting your boyfriend to understand you.”

“Sorry for talking your head off.” You murmured. “He’s just so frustrating sometimes, you know?”

Rafe nodded, trying to contain his laughter. He thought it was funny you apologized for talking his head off then continued talking his head off.

Rafe pulled into your driveway, and you brought your hands up, ready to open the door of the truck.

“You know? you’re not so bad, y/n.” He spoke. “You may talk a lot, but you’re not bad at all.”

You looked back, taken aback by his words.

A smiled creeped up onto your lips.

“Yeah.” You drawled. “You’re not so bad yourself, Rafe Cameron.”

He returned the smile as you reached for the door handle once again.

Before you could open the door, Rafe leaned over, grabbing your shoulder. You turned around to look at him, confused as to why he had done that. But before you could ask, he placed both hands on your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss.

You were staggered. “Rafe- what are you doing?” You said, pulling away from the kiss.

[angusbyrne]

LOCATION: The game room🎱 DATE: Monday, September 5, 2005, mid-morning Closed starter for @themickey

With more care than a casual, one-person bout of pool required, Angus gathered the billiard balls out of the pockets they'd been left in. At his private social club, back in DC, they had several tables—carom, English-style, Russian pyramid, and snooker. His ability to hold his own there was largely thanks in part to the time he spent in the game room at Woodrow House, even before he became an official resident. The one here was a classic, English 8-ball table; the old felt was the same soft, deep green. He couldn't resist fooling around with it for a moment.

Angus took the triangle rack off the wall-mounted cue holder, his attention only momentarily caught by the sound of another person entering the room. "Good morning," he greeted Mickey, as warmly as he could manage when he wasn't typically a warm person and he'd barely had any sleep the night before. There was also the matter, of course, of an ongoing scavenger hunt that he was all too willing to ignore for a little bit. There was an irrational part of him that thought, maybe, if he pretended not to care about finding a clue, then one would fall into his lap as the day went on. Maybe. He moved to rack the balls, starting with the 1-ball at the apex.

"Alison's beat the both of us in here, I do have to inform you," he continued, then gestured over to the scene where Alison's discovery occurred. "She found a clue on the dartboard."

[julie-hollis]

Joanne.

tw intimate partner violence, violence, blood

The Lost Horse Saloon almost faded into the night landscape. All of the old dry wood easily blended into the Arizona dirt like it bloomed from a crevice in the ground. As the bar grew larger in her field of vision, muffled music and laughter floating into the night, Julie felt the rage boiling under her skin. Next to her, Joanne wept quietly. 

“Julie, please, just let it go,” Joanne sniffed when the truck parked. 

Julie looked at the blood crusted under Joanne’s nose and the mottled bruises around her eyes. Even in the dark Julie saw the injuries in detail. It was rare for her to feel anything other than contempt for the woman in the passenger seat, but in that moment she remembered. At one point it was just the two of them against the world.

“He took the only thing you had of your dad’s, he pawned it, and he hurt you,” Julie said. The offenses, now that they were said out loud, made Joanne’s face crumble like paper – bone white and wrinkled. 

“He didn’t mean it, baby.”

“He did,” Julie said as she scanned the lot for a dented cherry red mustang.

“I love him, Jewel. He loves me – Jewel!” Joanne sobbed.

Julie kicked open the driver side door at the slash of red in the night, a wound on the horizon, and strode towards the bar. 

“Jewel!” The passenger door slammed. “Jewel, please!”

Julie felt the ghost of Joanne’s nails on her arms, but shrugged her away. She didn’t want an anchor. She didn’t want a warning. 

Her mother’s protests fell on deaf ears as she walked into the bar. Billiards cracked and music pulsed. Bent heads with cowboy hats and the laughter of women greeted her in bursts of noise. If any pairs of eyes noticed her, Julie didn’t feel them. She was laser-focused, eyes zoning in right on Paul.

His guilt must have sensed her, because one minute Paul was smiling and tossing back a shot, and the next he froze, eyes wide and wild. Julie watched him for a moment. She could imagine him standing over Joanne, stealing from her, hurting her. Paul winced and Julie’s composure broke. She snatched a pool ball from one of the tables.

Just like that Paul darted.

“What the fuck?” The bartender yelled as Paul swiped a row of glasses off the countertop. The crash was supposed to stall her.

Julie went after him, pushing through the crowd, in mindless pursuit. She could taste the rage on her tongue. Paul knocked over a few stools on his way out, but the thing was only one of them was sober. Only one of them wasn’t debilitated by addiction and old age. 

Only one of them beat her mother. 

Julie’s heart thundered in her chest and everything moved at hyperspeed with the exception of Paul. She saw him with complete clarity as he ran into the dirt parking lot, kicking up a dust storm. Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears like a drum. She had the vague thought that this must be how predators felt when they found their prey.

“Jewel!” Joanne’s voice cried out, she must have gone around the back expecting to meet them. 

Paul, hearing Joanne’s voice, stumbled. Julie lunged.

They fell to the ground in a twisted tangle of limbs. Julie’s fist clenched around the pool ball as she used it to slam into Paul’s nose. A river of blood gushed from his nose and coated his nicotine-stained teeth.

“You thought you’d get away with it, huh?” Julie asked as she brought her hand down again and again. “You thought you’d get to come into my house and hurt my mom?”

“Jo!” Paul shouted as he tried to push her off. Julie saw the red on his skin and swung for one of his eye sockets. Eye for an eye, bruise for a bruise. “Call her off, Jo!”

“Come on, tough guy, you wanna beat a woman then fucking swing,” She screamed into the night. 

“Hey, hey! Julie! Julie stop!” Gruffer voices yelled. 

“Jewel, please don’t kill him,” Joanne sobbed. 

Their voices were easily blotted out as she grabbed Paul’s collar and started to slam his face into the dirt again and again. Paul was saying something, maybe he was begging, but all Julie could focus on was making sure he’d never be able to touch Joanne again.

“Julie, stop,” a man’s voice said. Julie thrashed as she felt herself being yanked off the ground. She bucked forward, teeth bared. 

“Julie!” Another voice yelled, she could feel the coiled muscles of a forearm bracing against her. “Fucking stop!”

“What’s the matter, Paul?” Julie goaded, she spat at the ground where he laid out sniveling. Still alive. “Not so tough now?”

“Julie, you have to calm down.”

She recognized the voice in her ear. Tilly. Caid’s friend that he introduced her to a few months ago when the group went out to dance. 

“There you go, easy,” Another voice said like he was trying to lull her rage into a pen. 

Julie strained against the hold on her arms, vaguely recognizing that her feet weren’t on the ground. “He beat my mom,” she ground out, “He beat her and he stole from her.”

“He didn’t mean it!” Joanne protested. She was now crouched over Paul’s weeping body as if she could shield him. Locks of her bedraggled black hair, still not a streak of gray, curled over him like garden snakes. 

“Get up, Joanne,” Julie snarled. The last night they lived together as mother and child, Julie watched her mother shriek like a banshee and bite the hand of a police officer. The woman shielding Paul? She was a stranger. Weak and powerless.

Julie felt her usual coldness reserved to Joanne return to her veins. She stared at her mother. Joanne whimpered and brushed Paul’s bedraggled hair off his bloody face. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” she said to the man who would never say ‘sorry’ to her.

Julie felt a hysterical laugh bubble in the back of her throat.

“Till, we need to get them all out of here before the cops show up – how old are you, Julie? Julie – that’s your name, right?” 

“Twenty-four,” Julie replied after a moment.

“Till-”

“Hold on, Abe,” Tilly said. “Jesus.”

Julie felt the grip on her one side fade away. Tilly’s kind eyes blocked away the sight of her mom and Paul for a moment. “You said he beat your mama?”

Julie nodded. “He stole her dad’s watch, too. Pawned it in Phoenix.”

Tilly looked over his shoulder and shook his head with a click of his tongue. “You could get arrested for this.”

“I don’t care,” Julie bit out. Anger bubbling again.

“We’ll take care of him,” Tilly said. “You need to go home. Don’t talk about it – not even to your friends.”

“My mom -”

“She’ll be alright. You just need to get out of here,” Tilly said with a little nod. “Let her go, Abe.”

Julie’s feet met the ground. She looked over at the guy called Abe and then to Tilly. Both of them tipped their hats at her. 

“You have our word, we’ll make sure he doesn’t follow you or her,” Abe said, hand briefly squeezing her shoulder. 

Julie shook the touch away and got a better look at her mother and Paul. Paul’s wild eyes landed on her and he winced. 

“Why’d you have to do that, Jewel?” Joanne wailed. 

Julie shook her head and crouched down to Joanne’s eye level. Abe made a move for her. Tilly put a hand out. “Give her a minute.”

“I’ll never forget this,” Julie said to her mom. Joanne flinched at the venom in her voice. “You bring him back to my house and I’ll kill him.”

[thisismyideaofhumor]

Went to a friend’s house yesterday and she has a billiards table in the basement and I realized that the only reason I kno how to play pool is thru analyses of the pool motif in homestuck

[stardustbarbarians]

Excuse Me, Mr. Cadillac?

A Jake Kiszka / fem!reader fic

Summary: You play a game of pool with Mr. Cadillac while discussing some business.

Tags: drinking, playing pool, smut (MNDI), unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), blink and you miss it degradation

Words: 4.6 k

A/N: This is coming to you live exactly 24 hours after I went to the Mac Saturn concert. As always, if I missed any tags please let me know! Enjoy! Inspired by Mac Saturn’s Mr. Cadillac.

+++

You had been to this run down dive many times before. Each time you came it always looked and smelled the same, the pungency of stale alcohol and cigarettes not something that you would soon forget. The entire place was dimly lit. Christmas lights had been strung up years ago along the ceiling, only of which two strings still functioned properly. Where the sallow yellow decorative lights failed, vibrant neon signs advertising various liquors and beers gave the place a blueish-green filter. That was, except for the pool tables. It was the only place in the whole joint that had functioning over-head lights warmly glowing down onto the red billiard cloth. They had to keep those working; it was the entire reason people came to the Crooked Cue.

Just like all your other trips to the bar, you sat in front of the burning blue Jose Cuervo sign like a parishioner in front of an altar. And just like a devout man, you hardly ever skipped mass. You were almost ashamed to say so, but the bartender knew your name. Although, he knew a lot of people’s names there. The Crooked Cue was the type of dive that housed the same patronage every day that ended in “Y”.

It was at the point of the night where you had gotten enough liquor in your veins that you would leave the bar and join whichever game of pool you thought would be the most entertaining or challenging. But you hadn’t yet. You stayed planted in front of your neon icon and sipped on your tequila cocktail.

“Aren’t you gonna join a game, y/n?” the bartender asked, pouring a shot for Caroline - one of the repeat faces you had played against and drank with.

“Not yet, Stu. I’m waiting for someone,” you answered, fingers playing with the lime wedge you had long since squeezed into the drink. The rind was rotating between your anxious fingers, the extremities having a mind of their own and just itching to go out there and play.

You saw the way his eyebrows knit together minutely in confusion, his hand resting against the bar to your right and his other on his hip. The sound of billiard balls clacking together peaked over the steady clamor of voices methodically, the dying speakers just barely coughing out music that didn’t date past 1979.

“Who are you waiting for?”

Your lips involuntarily pulled up into a humorless smirk, an eyebrow cocking up on its own volition as well. A huff of laughter pushed past your lips as you dropped your lime rind back into your drink, shifting your now free arm to cross over the other that was leaning against the bar. “I don’t know.”

Before he could press you for more, you saw someone approach from your left out of the corner of your eye. You couldn’t make out any features, but you knew instantly that this wasn’t one of the familiar acquaintances that made their second home in that dive. When you turned to get a proper look at him, your body immediately tensed up. He was a man that carried an aroma of respect, one that was earned through fear. There were more than a few tough customers you were cozy with at the Crooked Cue - one could even consider you a member of that label - but something about the man next to you screamed that he was not one to be trifled with.

The man had strong features, dark eyes, and a prominent nose. Just one look from him was enough to intimidate you. He wore a black turtleneck underneath a black suit coat that had white pinstripes running along the length of the fabric. A single pendant made from obsidian hung from a short silver chain glinting in the light of the neon sign. Dark curls framed his face; only a few strands, the rest of it was pulled back in a low ponytail. He was wide, broad. He stood about six feet tall and he made use of every inch of his height. Hanging from his plump bottom lip sat a toothpick, indentations from his teeth marring the pine splinter.

“What can I get for ya?” Stu asked the man. He also seemed spooked by this new person, standing up straight and never taking his eyes off the man’s clasped hands. You’d never seen him with his guard up like that before.

“A Cadillac Margarita and another of whatever she’s having.” His voice was deep as he spoke, almost like it rumbled from the deep valleys of his chest. But there was a smooth and warm quality of it that drew you in and eased your worries. That made your guard go up even more.

As Stu reluctantly busied himself with the ordered drinks, that’s when the man turned his attention to you. Subconsciously, you sat up straighter as his gaze fell upon you.

“Ms. y/n?” he addressed, a shiver going down your spine at the iciness in his tone.

“Yes. And, you are?”

“None of your concern,” he barked, that stone face somehow steeling even more.

He stared like that for what felt like hours. You felt pinned down under his gaze, almost entranced by the frigidness of it.

Just when you had accepted your fate of being suspended in that purgatory for the rest of time’s slow march, he jerked his head to motion behind you. Spinning around, you noticed Stu placing his Cadillac margarita and your El Diablo on the bar next to you.

“Grab your drink. Let’s move,” he ordered, scooping up the margarita for himself and marching off towards the tables. Taking the moment of reprise while his back was turned, you inhaled a large gulp of breath, a hand flying to your pounding chest.

“What’s going on?” The bartender placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, concern all over his face and in his words.

You swallowed before you spoke, willing your heart to slow its hummingbird-paced pounding. “I found my pool partner.”

That was all you spoke before grabbing your drink and following the path Mountain Man had taken over to the pool tables. He wasn’t hard to spot; a tall, dark, and handsome man whom you’d just encountered in a sea of monotonous and consistent faces you knew like the back of your hand.

When you approached the table he was positioned at - the back far corner away from most of the other patrons - that’s when you noticed the other unfamiliar face leaning against the wall next to the pool cues. Just like Mountain Man, he had long dark hair, but it wasn’t tightly coiled. There was an easy-going wave to that chestnut hair that matched his aura. The moment you laid eyes on him, you knew just who you were dealing with. This was a man of authority, a man who knew how to boss people around in order to get exactly what he wanted. He was a man that dealt in people's lives and felt himself a god. You could tell all that just by the way he smiled at you.

This man was significantly shorter than Mountain Man, probably around five foot seven. He wore a dark navy suit with a matching vest, however he was bare chested underneath. Similar to his companion, he also wore a silver chain, but the pendant at the end of his was what appeared to be an old fashioned coin. The color suited him well. The blue made the warm brown of his eyes seem even warmer than probably usual. You could tell it was tailored to fit him. Why he didn’t also ask said tailor for a shirt to match was beyond you, but you found yourself unable to complain. He watched you as you approached, regarding you with a slight inquisitive tilt of his head. His petal pink lips were pulled up at one corner, a condescending look in those amber brown eyes of his. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

Right as you made it to the table, Mountain Man whispered something in his ear. Whatever he said must’ve been favorable as his smirk grew, a nod of his head dismissing his companion.

You’re not quite sure why, but you were far less intimidated by him than his brooding compatriot. He almost reminded you of a mouse, his features soft like one. Perhaps that’s why you suddenly had confidence surge through you as you grabbed the worn cue from the rack on the wall. It was the cue you had used over the years, the maple wood smooth and comforting in your fingers. You knew it was yours because of the nic in the cue where it had splintered from you hitting some perv over the head with it. It’s been your lucky charm ever since.

You watched as your opponent took a sip from the margarita Mountain Man handed him before walking over to grab his own pool cue. He had a multitude of silver rings adorning his fingers, but not enough to be gaudy. There was a brief glint in his eye before he came within feet of you, unable to catch what exactly it was before it vanished. That cocky smile was still on his lips and it was starting to get on your nerves.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” he stated in a rather smooth voice. It reminded you of how a quality whisky felt sliding down your throat: smooth but with an edge to it that burned just enough to be a warning. You stood there as he grabbed your hand, placing a kiss on the back of it with his soft lips. If you had allowed yourself, you most definitely would’ve become putty in his hands after that. But you had to keep your wits about you. If the rumors about this man were true, then letting your guard down was the most dangerous thing you could do.

“Are you going to tell me your name?” you prompted, ripping your hand away from him. He seemed to find that amusing, a short burst of a laugh escaping his lips.

“Call me Mr. Cadillac.”

“Will that be something I find on your license?”

“Let’s just say it’s for the best interest of everyone involved that you don’t know my real name,” he purred, that dangerous edge back in his voice. It seemed to have traveled to his eyes, that hardness. Looking into them reminded you of stepping outside in the middle of January.

“Fine. Breaking or raking, Mr. Cadillac?” You moved away from him, pulling out all the colorful balls from the pockets on the table.

Pulling the racking triangle off the wall, he holds it in front of you intending for you to take it. “I always break.”

With an unimpressed look, you took the triangle shaped wood out of his hand and walked over to the side of the table marked with the racking circle. With a practiced grace, you arranged the polyester resin in the alternating pattern of solids and stripes, mindful of keeping the 8-ball in the center. Once you finished, you removed the triangle and hung it back on the wall next to the pool cues. Mr. Cadillac was at the other end, lining up the cue ball inside the area of the table called the kitchen. Bending over so that he could take the shot, Mr. Cadillac lined up his pool cue and within seconds, a loud CRACK emulated through the bar. It was a good break, the solid and striped balls rolling all over the red felt with no grouping of balls larger than 2.

With a self-assured smile, he sauntered over to your side of the table, one hand in his pocket. Stopping within a few feet of you, he leaned his hip against the table with his head falling to the side. His eyes never seemed to leave your face, almost like they were inspecting you. You weren’t entirely sure if he liked what he saw; you weren’t sure you liked being gazed upon like that.

“Good break, sweetheart,” you muttered as you got closer to him. Mr. Cadillac had positioned himself in a way where you had to stand within inches of him in order to take your shot. He chuckled at your comment, a small hint of surprise in his tone.

You tuned out the rest of the bar as you line up your shot, aiming for ten - the blue striped ball. On your exhale, you send the tenth ball into one of the side pockets. Not breaking your concentration, you continued to sink shot after shot. It wasn’t until on your fifth attempt at making a pocket that you missed. Standing up to your full height, you finally tore your eyes away from the table and looked at your opponent. There was something in them that burned fiercely, just barely contained. He was looking at you with a hunger you rarely saw so unadulterated in a man’s eyes before.

“Are we gonna talk business or did you just come here to get your ass handed to you?” you ask, your tone snarky but low. He was once again close to invading your personal space, but not close enough that you could call him out on it.

“Right. Business.” He walked over to the cue ball, his eyes never leaving you once again. He only looked away to examine the table, his long hair spilling over his shoulder as he leaned down to make a shot. You would only admit to yourself that the way he looked leaned over that table made your blood catch fire. It wasn’t hard to imagine yourself pinned between his chest and the table, both of your breathing heavy as sweat and his movement caused his hair to stick to his face-

You cut yourself off before your thoughts got anywhere else. You had to keep a clear mind and thinking like that would get you into nothing but trouble.

“Tell me what you want, angel.” The way his voice sounded sent chills across your skin, the pet name doing nothing but adding to that sensation.

This time, it was your turn to saunter over towards him. “I need you to make someone disappear for me.”

Hearing that, it seemed that Mr. Cadillac’s ears perked up. He wasn’t expecting that to be your request.

“And who might that be?”

Placing your hand on his shoulder, you pressed your body against his side as you leaned into his ear. “My husband.”

You watched his face closely as he turned his head in order to look you in the eyes. The smirk that spread across his full lips sent an ache between your legs. It had been a long, long time since someone had made you react in such a way. To say he was pleased with your answer was an understatement. Completely abandoning his shot, Mr. Cadillac shifted his torso that you were now pressed into one another’s fronts.

“Growing tired of the old ball and chain, are we?” he purred, the hand that wasn’t holding the pool cue snaking around your waist. The way your body seemed to perfectly fit with his was something that you filled away for later.

You hummed in response, your own hands sliding across his body. You allowed yourself to be pulled by his arm, hoisting you up to sit you down on the table, your leg sliding up the side of his. It was a picture of perfect sensuality. There were so many sparks flying from both of you. Part of you was worried that one would catch and set the building on fire.

“Not tired of him, per say,” you answered, touching your forehead to his. Your right hand had made its way up to his lips, your pointer toying with his bottom lip a little.

“Then what is it, doll? Tell me,” he coxed, slotting himself between your legs as his palms planted themselves on the table on either side of you.

“Excuse me, boss,” Mountain Man had called, his voice closer than you had expected it to be. Mr. Cadillac whipped his head around but not before you heard a frustrated growl originate from deep in his throat.

“What do you want, Daniel?” he snapped, his hair hanging in your face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was extremely pissed to have been interrupted. It was quiet between the three of you as the two men had a silent conversation. It was then and there that you figured out just how long the two had known each other. Mountain Man - whom you had now known was actually named Daniel - shot you one final look before being dismissed by Mr. Cadillac. If looks could kill…

Collecting himself and returning to that suave personality he had inhabited not two minutes earlier, Mr. Cadillac swiveled his head to once again look at you. “Sorry about him. He can have horrendous timing.” The way he delivered that line, it was loud enough for Daniel to hear.

“Where were we?”

“You were about to tell me why you wanted your husband taken care of,” he purred, his fingers coming up to your chin, his thumb playing with your bottom lip; a parallel of what you had done to him only minutes ago.

“I’m afraid that’s none of your concern,” you whispered back, your hands pulling him impossibly closer to you.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, angel,” he chuckled, his tone sultry. Mr. Cadillac slid his left hand down to your waist, his fingers pressing into you not enough to bruise, but enough that you felt their presence.

“Don’t I,” you flatly hummed. You were aware of all the eyes watching the two of you, your blatant public display a spectacle for the other patrons. They had never seen you act so overt in your affections; they all knew your marital status. However, when the police eventually would poke their nose into your husband’s disappearance, you knew they had your back. There would be no utterances of a strange man tangled in your arms in the days leading up to his disappearance that would pass their lips. Just as you keep your lips sealed and eyes averted from the illegal happenings within the walls of the Crooked Cue. That’s why you had insisted you meet Mr. Cadillac at this dive.

Mr. Cadillac had leaned into your neck, his lips gazing against your skin when you interrupted him. “So, you’ll get rid of Joel, right?”

With a sigh of annoyance, the hired gun pulled his lips away. “Babydoll, I can arrange it so that he never existed.”

Satisfied with his answer, you pulled his head in towards your neck as a way to coax him to use his mouth. He took the hint, his soft lips pressing into your skin. His teeth occasionally would nip you, each time a sound of surprise emulating out of you. You weren’t aware of your hips rolling into his, but he was very conscious of it.

“Is there anywhere more private we can go?”

He chuckled in your ear, shivers rolling across your body. “That’s a little forward, isn’t it, angel?”

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart: You’re not dealing with any angels tonight.”

The shaky breath he let out had to be involuntary. He couldn’t believe you. With one more growl, Mr. Cadillac pulled away from you before wrapping a possessive arm around your waist. There was a rushed feel to his handling of you, as if he thought every second was precious and was wasted while not in your arms.

You realized that he was leading you out into the parking lot, his hand not gripping your waist shoving the back door open. It slammed against the wall with a loud BANG, the cool night air frigid against your fiery skin. You allowed yourself to be led to a Black 70s Cadillac. It was all cliché; the name, the car…

He opened the door for you, glancing over your shoulder to see Daniel tailing you two. He wasn’t close by any means, just monitoring the both of you. Mr. Cadillac saw where you were looking, waving his hand at his associate in a shooing manner. It seemed Daniel was not happy about being treated as such, but he obeyed regardless. He disappeared back inside and left the two of you alone.

You climbed into the car, now aware that the two of you weren’t leaving the parking lot. That made a surge of excitement blister across your nerves. It wasn’t like this was the first time you would be in the backseat of a car getting your world rocked. It was actually your preference. Mr. Cadillac followed, slamming the door behind him and hitting the lock. As soon as the two of you made eye contact, you went after one another. It was all heavy breathing, roaming hands, and sultry tongues. Mr. Cadillac pulled your shirt off over your head, his lips attaching themself to your neck as his cold fingers slid along your back and undid your bra. The leather of the seats was cold against your back, his chest burning against yours. It was your turn to leave him bare chested. You pushed the blazer off his shoulders, still attached to him at the lips. You tried your best to get his vest off, but the buttons proved to be very cumbersome. Losing his patience, Mr. Cadillac ripped the vest open, buttons flying off and bouncing all over the back seat. One of them landed on your chest before jumping to the floor. It wasn’t long before the ruined clothing item was laid to rest with the other discarded buttons.

He detached from your lips, trailing them down your neck and torso before he took residence right above your zipper. His fingers nimbly freeing you from your pants, lifting your hips up off the upholstery so he could remove them fully. You weren’t expecting him to move your panties to the side and start lapping his tongue through your folds. You screamed out in surprise but it was quickly muffled by his right hand shoving his fingers in your mouth. You knew exactly what he was telling you to do. You began sucking on his fingers while he sucked on your pussy. The air was filled with the sounds of his slurping and your desperate mewls. You didn’t realize your hand was gripping his hair until you looked down.

After a moment, he removed his mouth from your core, placing two kisses on both of your thighs. However, he watched you with hooded eyes with your hollowed out cheeks and your tongue swirling his fingers. He pulled them out, you trying to chase them with your mouth. That made a whine escape his lips, his eyebrows knitting together momentarily before he collected himself.

You watched as he lowered his spit-slick fingers towards your pussy, a smirk spreading on his lips before he touched you. He slipped a finger inside you, a moan being ripped from your throat. He lunged forward and swallowed it with his mouth. In fact, he swallowed all of your moans as he stretched you out by curling, swirling and scissoring his fingers inside of you. His teeth worried your bottom lip, his free hand in your hair as he leaned on his forearm.

The end was in sight, your nerves aflame with each movement of his fingers. Your nails scratched at the skin of his back, pulling your head away from his lips to warn him. “Mr-Mr. Cadillac-”

“Jake,” he growled. It was his name. It was a command.

“Jake,” you breathily corrected, “please. I’m so close.”

“Please, what?” he demanded, his fingers pressing against your walls and causing you to scream.

“FUCK! Please! Fuck me!” you managed, your back arching against the feeling.

A low and dangerous chuckle sauntered out of his throat, chills wracking your body at the sound. He leaned right into your ear, his nose brushing against the side of your face. “All you had to do was ask, angel.”

Removing himself completely from you, he hurried himself by undoing his belt and removing his pants. They weren’t removed completely. His tailored pants pooled around his knees as you took in the sight of his cock. It wasn’t the longest you’ve ever taken, but what it lacked in length it made up for in girth.

Jake took himself in hand, lining up with your entrance. He slowly pushed his way in, feeling every inch of him as he nearly burst your hole. You bit your finger in order to keep your screaming at bay as your eyes rolled back in your head before you felt it violently removed from between your teeth.

“None of that. The entire block will hear how much of a slut you are,” Jake purred, his grip on your hand firm. He had finally inserted himself to the hilt, bending himself at the waist to cage you in. He took each of your wrists in hand and pinned them to the leather above your head.

You both stayed there for a moment as you adjusted to his size, breathing each other’s air. You moved first, shifting your hips enough until Jake got the hint to start thrusting. He started out slow, but it was only a matter of a minute before his pace increased. You were crying out loudly, your hands curling themselves into fists at the sensation of your organs being rearranged. He was biting at your neck, sucking on the skin and leaving his signature there in a possessive manner.

Sweat was rolling off his skin and dripping onto yours, his hair sticking to his cheeks and forehead. You couldn’t help but compare it to your earlier daydream. The real thing was leagues better. It didn’t have the sound of slapping skin, guttural growling, or the sensation of Jake’s hot breath against your skin. Those nuances were what made it real and better.

You gave Jake no warning as you came as your orgasm had creeped up on you. The whole time it had felt as if you were toeing the ledge, but the final shove came to you as a surprise. You let out a broken sob, your back arching against the pleasure as his grip on your wrists tightened against your struggle to free them. You felt yourself spill all over his cock, your walls tightening against him. He thrust into you one more time before quickly pulling out of you and cumming on your stomach. His cum was warm as it spurted on your abdomen. You both struggled for breath as your fatigue hit you full force.

Jake hung his head momentarily before sitting back and up straight. He glanced to the floor of the car, reaching over to grab his discarded vest. He wiped your stomach clean with his ruined vest, tossing it back on the floor after cleaning up your cum off the seat. When that was finished, he laid against your chest.

“Your husband will vanish within the week,” he announced, his voice hoarse.

You bent your neck down to place a kiss on the top of his head. “I’ll send you some money after he’s gone.”

“Since you’ll be newly single in the next few hours, how open are you to being my arm candy? You wouldn’t have to pay me for disposing of your husband,” Jake proposed.

“As long as you keep fucking me like that,” you honestly answered.

“You just sold your soul to the devil, angel.” His chuckle was low.

“Sweetheart, I’ve seen the devil. You don’t have his smile.”

The conversation was left at that. You gathered your clothes and left Jake.

The next day, your husband didn’t come home from work.

+++

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