#Along Lakeshore

[thorsenmark]

Only Wanting Fresh Air (Indiana Dunes National Park) by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: While walking along the shores of Lake Michigan in Indiana Dunes National Park with a view looking to the northwest on an overcast afternoon. In composing this image, I decided to use some of the dunes nearby and create a more layered approach with the shoreline and then waves coming in across Lake Michigan.

[workingforitallthetime]

hello from wisconsin!

well, those were two disappointing losses, but very fun games! and having watched team 100 and team 101 fuck things up all fall and finally get their shit together in the second half of the season, i am not worried about the big picture. team 102 is sure fucking things up in new and creative ways though. the last two seasons it was usually pretty obvious when the boys were having a night when things were just not clicking. but this season their new thing is to play well, take control of the game, and then let it slip away in the third period (usually involving multiple dumbass penalties.) for just one fucking season i would like us to not be the most penalized team in college hockey.

anyway, the most important thing is that i got to eat lots of cheese with meghan. we also got to see garrett dab. and bucky the badger stood on his head on the ice, which was extremely impressive. also rutger wore socks with little hearts on them. worth the trip!

[wildermouse]

You said the new owners of your rental replaced the trees with gravel, does it look better or worse?

so much fuckin worse. why did they buy a house in a lakeside forest if they’re gonna modernly suburbanize it

[aleatoryw]

are any of my followers from or familiar with west michigan? (not the u.p.) I'm planning a spring trip and would love to hear your can't miss it spots!

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Two decades of boil water advisories are over for Hiawatha First Nation after the completion of the first phase of the community’s new water treatment plant and distribution system.

A grand opening was held earlier this week for the new plant and system situation in the First Nation located 30 kilometres south of Peterborough. Chief Laurie Carr says the system is a symbol of change for the community which has long advocated for better long-term solutions for boil-water advisories across Canada.

“We are thrilled to have finally reached the final stages of this first phase of the Hiawatha First Nation Water Systems project,” said Carr.

“The new facility provides one-third of our community with safe and clean drinking water, ending years of boil water advisories for these citizens. This achievement brings us great joy and marks a significant milestone in our ongoing commitment to the well-being of our residents.”

The water treatment plant on Hiawatha Line features a centralized treatment unit, officer and garage buildings and a distribution system serving along 42 homes Hiawatha Line, Lakeshore Road and parts of Paudash Street. Approximately 130 homes still need to be hooked up to the new system. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[ann-atar]

In the not so distant future, Celebrimbor comes to Aman.

He didn't respond to the summons right away, which surprised many, though they didn't comment on it, and once re-embodied Celebrimbor is very quiet, and very still, and doesn't say or do much beyond what is necessary.

His convalescence is not quite in keeping with what is usual, but the Valar and the Maiar who work among those who have recently appeared in Aman treat his new body carefully; they know that the soul inside it is still hurt, still damaged, still withered and gasping, and the day when Celebrimbor will be truly healed is far, far away.

There are elves among them, of course, and they escort Celebrimbor outside every day. They take him to places of surpassing beauty and he is gently compliant, acknowledging their kindness with a smile that's barely there, or a nod of thanks, but nothing more, until the movement and migration of the kingfishers along the lakeshores and up the major river valleys in Aman captures his attention.

There is no winter in Aman, just spring and summer and spring again, but the birds move into the valley where the newly awakened reside with some regularity, and their calls at dawn and midday make Celebrimbor sit upright in wonder, every time. Finally he asks for charcoal and paper, for paints and watercolor, and begins to draw the kingfishers and all their variations through the seasons.

This goes on for some time.

(When a well-meaning elf asks if he wouldn't rather work with metal, wouldn't rather hold a hammer and strike an anvil instead, he drops his brush and walks away suddenly, one hand cradling the other, and the elf has to collect his scattered drawings before they are taken by the wind. They do not ask again.)

One day an attendant loses track of Celebrimbor in the wild. Hours turn into days and soon a search is on. Some of the elves don't understand. They ask, what harm could possibly come to him here? One of the Valar who lingers nearby cuts the air with a gesture, his expression grave, and they fall silent.

Celebrimbor is found by the shore of a small, clear lake, hidden among the grasses with an injured kingfisher in his arms. He is filthy, and he is crying.

"It fell from the sky," he tells the same Valar who silenced the elves. "Can we save it, please? It's so badly hurt, it might be dying, it's done nothing wrong."

"Of course, of course," is the answer. "Of course, we can but try."

[thevilqueen]

Pussy Is God ~ Mahito

Word Count: 1 786

Pairing: fem!Mahito x Reader

Summary: Mahito wants to know what it feels like to be you.

A/N: This is a repost from my old blog, it's smut.

Mahito’s small and slender hands rested on his chest, feeling the curves of his breast through the fabric of your clothes while he sat on your bed patiently. He was satisfied with the way his new body turned out. Even though he wasn’t able to get any reaction from his male counterparts when he showed off his cleavage and long legs in your mini skirt.

But that was to be expected. Besides you were the only one kind enough to give him the attention he needed when he wanted. Although you were always a little rough around the edges, acting like Mahito was more of a nuisance than anything else despite your frequent intimate exchanges. But would you react the same way now that he made his features softer and his body more graceful?

The sound of your bedroom door finally opening had him smiling in delight. His hands were now resting on his crossed legs while he batted his long eyelashes, big beautiful heterochromatic eyes staring at your face.

“What-”

As surprise took over you, the words got harder to find. Your eyes widened slightly as you took in the sight of the woman in front of you. The stitches on his face and limbs along with his long lakeshore blue hair betrayed him and soon you realised who you were facing. What was the meaning of this?

Despite wanting some clarification on the situation first you couldn’t help the heat spreading all over your face, hoping that the young woman wouldn’t notice.

“I was waiting for you!” he exclaimed, getting up from your bed and pulling you close to him.

Mahito’s fingers interlaced with yours and his warm breath caressed your face as he spoke excitedly, giving no explanation about his new look.

“Why are you wearing my clothes?” you cut him off, avoiding his eyes.

A small pout appeared on his plump lips and you swore your heart skipped a beat. You never felt that way close to the young man before and you hated that sensation.

“I can take them off if you want,” he said teasingly, a grin on his face.

You wanted to stop him. But before you could Mahito was already undressing in front of you, throwing your clothes on the wooden floor and making a show out of it. Your eyes automatically travelled down to his breast, filling your lacey black bra perfectly then to his small and delicate waist before settling on the nice curve of his behind and his smooth legs.

“Do I have to take off your underwear too?” he asked, in an innocent voice before biting his lower lip waiting for your answer. “What’s the meaning of this Mahito?” “What do you mean?”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“What’s with that new look?” you asked. “You don’t like it?” he replied, getting closer to you. “I just want to know what it feels like to be like you. You always enjoy yourself so differently from me I can only be curious, you know?”

As the words left his mouth, Mahito’s arms wrapped around your waist, his hands sliding into your pockets as his rosy lips caressed yours.

He was gorgeous, you couldn’t deny it and the idea of making him discover the pleasures this body could bring him was incredibly arousing. So you kissed him, tasting his lips like you did so many times before. But this time it was different, he was different. Mahito’s body fitted so perfectly with yours it was alarming.

His tongue slid inside your mouth while his breast pressed against your clothed ones. He let out a soft moan as he felt your hand squeeze his behind gently. That was unlike you, he couldn’t help noticing. You were always so rough and mean to him each time you two would get undressed. But he could tell there was a gentleness in your touch and kisses that weren’t there before and he loved it.

You were completely charmed by him or rather his new form. Soon however your kisses got hungrier and it was happily that Mahito had you laying on top of him, fully naked while his or rather your underwear remained on his body. His mouth was quick to find your breast, sucking on your hard nipple softly while his free hand stroked the other.

But you had other plans for him tonight.

“I thought you wanted to know how it felt to be me,” you pointed out, pushing him away from you gently. “Let me take care of you, baby.”

Mahito smiled at your choice of word and you immediately regretted it. How caring you had become suddenly. Only insults left your mouth when Mahito filled you with his cock. All you ever did was bruise his body, inflict pain on him in a way that had him screaming in pleasure. Yet tonight you wanted to ravish this body of his. He looked so fragile and graceful in that new form it was almost like you feared hurting him, to your dismay.

“I’m your baby now?” he teased. “Shut up,” you ordered, your hands unclasping his bra before pushing him onto your bed.

Your eyes laid on Mahito’s perky breast, his pink and hard nipples filled you with want and soon your lips were kissing his flesh tenderly. Surprised by the new sensation, he moaned at the way your fingertips and tongue felt on his skin. Mahito let out a soft cry when you started sucking on his nipples, finally understanding why you craved the stimulation so much.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” you asked, with a smile before kissing the cursed spirit again.

Mahito melted into your touch, the pressure of your breast pressing against his along with your thigh in between his clothed entrance was already so much. You grinded against his leg, coating his skin with your growing arousal.

“Let’s look at that pretty pussy, now,” you said, leaving his body for a short moment, sitting on your bed and lifting his smooth legs to discard his panties.

Mahito spread his legs, letting them rest on your thighs. What a sight you thought, his folds had a pretty purple shade and his arousal was evident. The urge to bury your face into him was growing with each second that passed by. So you wasted no time closing the distance between the two of you. Your lips descended towards his entrance while you guided his legs to your shoulders, holding him still.

Mahito’s heartbeat was ringing in his ears and he couldn’t help the whimper coming out of his lips as your tongue ran over his sensitive skin up to his clit in a swift motion. Your grip on his legs tighten and soon the taste of him was all you knew as you buried your mouth deeper, licking and sucking.

The young woman’s cries felt like music to your ears and you couldn’t help smiling as his hands gripped your hair and his hips bucked into your face. Mahito’s first orgasm had him screaming your name, the new sensation overwhelming him with delight. You kissed his clit softly before sticking your tongue inside of his tight hole. The intrusion felt too good and soon Mahito was begging for more.

Your fingers replaced your tongue soon and your mouth went back to circling his clit while your fingertips caressed his walls expertly. Mahito’s second orgasm was fast to take over and again he was crying out your name while his body twitched uncontrollably.

He was starting to feel lightheaded as your assault didn’t stop, orgasm after orgasm taking over him and leaving him out of breath each time.  

“Too much,” he cried out, his beautiful eyes filling with tears.

You kissed his entrance a few more times before giving him a short moment to recover as you sat up on your bed, his slick coating your face.

“But we just started, beautiful,” you told him, leaving him to lay bare on your mattress while you fondled in your drawer, pulling out the toy you needed.

Mahito’s eyes studied the black double-ended dildo covered in lube and wondered how he would feel with the object inside of him. He was no stranger to penetration as you had tortured him with your toys before, but he wasn’t used to that new body and the feeling of your fingers stuffing his cunt felt already so delightful he could only look forward to what was coming next.

“Sit up you,” ordered before positioning the toy and sliding one end inside of your wet core. The stretch was a little painful yet delightful as you shoved it deeper into you. 

You draped one of Mahito’s legs over yours while another went under yours. You brushed the tip of the toy against his folds, stroking his clit lightly with your thumb before guiding the dildo to his aching hole. Mahito moaned, feeling the head stretching him. It was painful yet he needed more. He moved closer to you, welcoming the toy fully until it was completely buried inside of him.

Your legs were intertwined as you thrust into each other, each end of the toy caressing your walls. Both of you moaned as you found a pace that suited you. The stretch was overwhelming Mahito, yet he couldn’t refuse your fingers teasing his clit while your hips kept moving.

“Feel so good,” he moaned. “I know, baby,” you replied, your own voice breaking as the young woman pushed the dildo harder, hitting your sweet spot.

Both of you messily came around the toy repeatedly, between the movement of your hips and the feeling of your fingers on each other’s clit all you could think about was overwhelming pleasure. The sight of Mahito’s flushed cheeks and bouncing breast was beautiful. You couldn’t help wrapping your fingers around his neck and pulling him in for an open mouth kiss, as the toy stuffed the two of you.

Your slick dripped onto the mattress and into each other’s thigh as you pulled it out of the two of you. Your body collapsed on top of Mahito’s making sure your leg was still tightly pressed to his core while his own thigh brought you some fiction too.

The young woman’s hand traced the curves of your behind slowly before sliding up to your cunt again, palming your entrance gently. You moaned into his mouth, kissing him slowly while your hand pulled at his soft hair.

“Let’s do this again,” he breathed into your lips.

You hummed, feeling exhausted from your repeated high shared with the young woman.

“I think I like you better like this,” you said. “Me too,” he replied with a light chuckle.    

[deathblacksmoke]

you're my summer babe

pairing: nick folio x f!reader

word count: 1.2K

cw: cute country bf fishin' folio, vaginal fingering, semi-public sex, hammock hehe

author's note: the first of july's folio requests! anon requested a camping trip for the bb boy's birthday and @mysticdoodlez requested a lil something i sprinkled in. happy birthday sweet foli <3

banner by my dearest @baddestomens | divider by @saradika-graphics | title from "summer babe" by pavement.

It had been your idea to go camping for a couple days for Nick’s birthday. You’d been meaning to get out to Deep Creek for ages, and figured he would love a nice ride and a birthday sunset along the lakeshore.

Sitting bored on the dock while he fishes and you get eaten alive by mosquitos, however, had not been a part of your plan.

“Nicky, I wanna go swimming,” you complain, trying your best not to sound too whiny. It is his birthday, after all, but you’re covered in bites and your skin is roasting, coated in a thin sheen of uncomfortable sweat. You wish you’d thought ahead enough to bring yourself a hat. “It’s so hot out here.”

“Go ahead and hop in, baby,” he responds, not bothering to look back at you. He seems to have missed the implied with you that you’d hoped would be clear. You roll your eyes, taking close note of the fact that his shoes are off and his phone is sitting on top of his sweatshirt at his feet.

Complaining won’t do you much good, you decide. You can beg him to take you down to the swimming beach and eventually he’ll cave, but Nick likes surprises. You’ll give him one.

You strip down to your swimsuit and he doesn’t so much as raise his head to take notice — a sweet little shocked yelp escapes him when you tackle him forward into the lake. His eyes are wide when he bobs back up to the surface, an incredulous smile on his face. You move to kiss him before he dunks your head back under the water.

The beach has mostly cleared off by the time the sun begins to set. You lay your book down on your chest and from the spot in the hammock you’ve been occupying for the better part of the afternoon, you watch Nick, hat over his face and dozing. 

You can only hope you’ve made it a perfect birthday trip for him, pleased to see him tuckered out and sleepy under the sun, the way he likes the most. You notice him stirring gently as you make your way over to him.

He squints his eyes open when you take his hat off his face and sit down on the blanket beside him. His smile is immediate and always warms you from the inside out, the way he never seems to be anything less than thrilled to see you in front of him. 

He sits up to throw an arm around you and pull you into his side. You fall into him easily to watch the sunset over the lake — your favorite view with him.

The pained little hiss he lets out when you lean your head onto his shoulder startles you. You pull back to see you’d missed a spot when helping him with his sunblock, an angry red starting to form along his collarbones and chest.

“I have some aloe in my backpack,” you ask, soothing your hand across the burn, transfixed by the tiny marks on his skin, the way he’s so warm beneath your wandering fingers. “Should I go and grab it?”

“Not yet, honey,” he responds, pulling you back into him. He stifles the hiss this time, choosing instead to have you close to him, admiring the pinky-orange of the sky. “After the sunset.”

The evening passes quietly until you’re curled up tight together in the one person hammock, nothing but you two and the lightning bugs and the sounds of distant campfire talks. Your face is buried in his neck and he smells like sand and lake water, a hint of weed leftover from the joint you’d shared earlier on the dock.

“I wish we didn’t have to go,” Nick says, the first break in the peace and quiet for what feels like hours.

You consider it for a long moment. The break has been nice, not just to celebrate his birthday together in a favorite place, but to get away from everything with him. The break has been so needed.

“Me too, honey,” you reply, a little dejected. You could stay here with him for ages, just the two of you. “I might be able to take a couple extra days off work. We only have the campsite for tonight, though.”

He gives you a mischievous little chuckle as he holds you closer. You have to keep your eyes from rolling, knowing he has an idea that’ll have them traveling backwards in your skull. He always does.

“That’s all right,” he says through a naughty laugh. “We’ll sleep right here. In our hammock on the lake.”

His hand travels between your bodies before you can stop it, not that you would otherwise. It’s risky, out in the open on the lakeside, but it’s tempting with everyone else back at their camps, no prying eyes or listening ears. He’s so warm, so close. His hand inches down the front of your suit, fingering through your folds, and you’re helpless to stop him or the satisfied little sigh you breathe into his neck.

“Nicky,” you gasp into his mouth as he curls two fingers inside of you. He shushes you, kissing you deeper. You don’t want to draw the attention from anyone who may be around, but always find yourself struggling to keep quiet when his hands are on you, his lips kissing a path across your shoulder. “Honey.”

“Gotta keep quiet, love,” he laughs, grinning against your neck, nipping little marks into your skin. You stifle your sounds the best that you can. The way he touches you always sets you alight, even when you’re not in the stifling heat of a summer night.

Your end approaches you quickly, always helpless against his touch. You’re about to tumble over the edge when you hear a tell-tale crack, only another moment and not enough time to do anything before the branch you’d secured the hammock to falls, leaving the both of you plummeting to the hard ground beneath you.

It only adds to your embarrassment when a voice comes from somewhere behind you, “Y’all all right out here?”

You don’t let yourself wonder how much they heard, if anything at all. You hope for the latter. You rush to pick up your belongings as Nick sits cross-legged on the ground, stunned and amused by the situation.

“Come on, Nicky,” you say, offering an extended hand to guide  him back to your campsite. “I’ll put more aloe on your chest and you can have your birthday sex in private.”

His laugh and the way he excitedly follows behind you warms your cheeks.

Ultimately, you do leave the next day. You pack up your things and head out first thing, stopping all along the way home for sodas and ice creams and rides through nowhere towns. It’s enough to just spend time with him.

You do end up taking the rest of the week off, the remainder of his birthday week spent at home relaxing with your boy, like he deserves — like you both do, before he’s off again.

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[twola]

im just wondering if you could do a short story with arthur getting ‘jealous’ of you at a bar for flirting with other men? 👀 and he later makes you regret pissing him off? *wink wink*

Learning The Hard Way

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

In which Arthur needs to teach you a lesson.

CW: There’s a bit of back and forth in this one… that devolves into physicality. Obviously, I do not condone any type of domestic violence. So we’re gonna go with that this type of play is consensual.

Many thanks to my meowdy pardners - @verai-marcel, @shootybangbang, and @redwritr - for helping me shine this one shot until it gleams!

Your voice rings out in the night through the camp, where Lemoyne’s heavy humidity hangs low. “You ain’t my husband, you ain’t my daddy, you ain’t anyone to tell me how to do my job!”

“You listen here- ”

You burst out of the tent and stomp toward the lakeshore, away from the orange firelight glowing toward the center of camp. Fortunately, the night is loud enough, and your voice doesn’t jar the entire camp, drowned out by cicadas and the rumble of men drinking after dinner.

Not that you’re particularly concerned about making a scene. No, you couldn’t give a shit about that. Your temper flares and your boots slap against the muddy grown as you clench your fists, skirts swishing at the speed of your gait.

But even with your artificially elongated stride, the loud footsteps that follow you eventually catch up to you as you reach the wood line away from the glen. 

You’re yanked back by your elbow and turned around to come face to face with an equally aggravated outlaw, wrinkles set deeply in his frown as his eyes narrow under the brim of his dark hat.

“I’ll damn well tell you when you’re bein’ stupid about a job. Coulda got yourself picked up by the law on that last stage,” he hisses, and you scowl in return as you yank back your arm from his grip, “Ain’t no way you’re doing this one.” 

“No, Arthur. Just because we’re sleepin’ together doesn’t mean you can order me around like some little housewife.”

Arthur Morgan’s scowl deepens. “You ain’t comin’ on this job and that’s final.” 

“Fuck you.” You seethe, turning on your heel before he grabs at your arm again, yanking you backward.

“Get your ass back in that tent, you little-”

He doesn’t see the whip-fast arc of your other hand before it connects with his cheek. It sends his hat flying to the ground and he immediately lets go of your arm, reeling from the blow.

“It’s over. I’ll get my things out of your tent and back to my own. You ain’t gonna treat me like I’m some prissy little thing. I don’t need this and I don’t need you.” You enunciate the last word with venom in your tone, spinning on your heel again to walk in the other direction, along the wood line, skirting the edge of the camp toward where the horses are hitched.

You needed some kind of outlet to quell the hotness of your blood after the fight, and stomping around camp wasn't doing it.

Hiking your skirts, you hurry toward your spry little gelding, dapple coated and one boy you know you could always count on. He neighs softly as you untie his rein frm the hitching post. You run your hand through his black mane.

“C’mon now boy. Let’s get outta camp to blow off some steam, sound good?” 

As if he can understand you, he nudges against your shoulder with his nose and you laugh as you move to pull yourself up into his saddle. You tighten the strap on the holster mounted on his saddle, your repeater at the ready should you need it.

Without a look back, you guide him into the freshly-borne night, at a gallop before you even hit the main road.

-

But alas, breathless riding through Scarlett Meadows can quell your aggravation but so much. As the moon rises in the sky, you slow your gelding down upon the red-dirt path leading into Rhodes - the Parlour House in the distance is lit up, beckoning visitors with its warm glow.

A drink or two. That would certainly help you unwind. 

Laughter and music waft into the warm night as you slide down from your horse, hitching him to the post right outside the main porch. You straighten your skirts before tucking back stray hairs along your temple as you step onto the porch and push your way through the door.

Indeed, the saloon is full of people tonight gaily drinking away their wages. You weave your way through the crowd to the bar, where you order yourself a whiskey from the bartender, tossing him a few coins when he slides the glass to you.

The drink goes down far too quickly to alleviate your frustration. Barely takes the edge off. It’s not the first time you and Arthur have gone at it - but you know, you know you were right. You were robbing stages before Arthur was your bedmate, before you joined the gang. He’s just going to have to learn to give you your space to do your work.

Hell, no one ever told him not to go on a job. Damn double standards.

Though… you can’t lie to yourself too much. There is a corner of your heart that is warmed by the fact he’s concerned for you - that he wants you safe. No one has wanted that for years.

No. You were an outlaw first. And damned if Arthur Morgan makes you some camp filly to warm his bed.

“Why, ma’am, you look like you could use another drink.”

You turn your head toward the man. His cheeks are flushed with drink and the starched collar of his shirt is unbuttoned at the neck. A silken waistcoat. Probably a Gray or a Braithwaite cousin. Pomaded dark hair and a clean-shaven face. All of the trappings of a feckless rich boy who had never seen a hard day’s work in his life. 

Completely the opposite of Arthur. 

You give a smile, leaning on your elbow, “Suppose I could…”

He nods to the bartender immediately, and a glass of whiskey appears in front of you at the bar.

You sip at it slowly as he steps closer, his elbows nearly touching yours. A subtle air of fancy cologne; of bergamot and southern jasmine, wafts off of him as he begins to engage you in conversation. 

One drink turns into two. Turns into three.

The man’s arm wraps around your waist, landing on your hip, pulling you to near sit in his lap on the barstool. “Pretty little thing like you - we don’t get that much here out in Rhodes.”

You lean into him. Who knows where this could lead. Maybe you could have a little fun tonight. Maybe you could rob him after. Maybe he was just what you need to get a certain brooding outlaw out of your system.

“What do you say about headin’ upstairs for the night?” You whisper as you toy with the lapel of his waistcoat. The golden chain of his pocket watch glints under the lanterns. A sly smile creeps across your face.

He can barely contain himself, grinning from ear to ear, and leans in to nip at your jaw. You giggle in response. He helps you slide off of his lap and presses his lips to your ear, whispering things he wants to do to you all night as he squeezes your hip.

“Just you wait here, sweet thing - I’ll get us a room and we can continue on.”

You smile a roguish, knowing grin that betrays your intent as you return to the barstool. The bartender pushes another glass of whiskey in front of you, which you down quickly, sucking air between your teeth as it burns on the way down.

You tense up as you feel a body moving too close behind you, a man with a large frame leaning into the bar behind you, crowding you in.

The tang of tobacco and whiskey wafts into your nose before you’re yanked from your seat.

-

By the time you’ve regained your bearings and your footing as you’ve been dragged out the side door of the Parlour House, you recognize what’s going on.

Just like you recognize that black hat.

“Get off me, Arthur.” You yell but are fairly helpless to do anything but be dragged along the path to the empty stable.

The outlaw gruffly snorts in your direction, his large hand clamped on your upper arm. As you reach the stable, your shoulders slam against the wooden wall of the workroom he had cornered you into.

“Your goddamn mouth - I need to remind you who you belong to.” Arthur hisses, groping roughly at your breast with one hand. The other grasps at your skirts and starts hiking them upward. You’re forced face down on the workbench, Arthur’s hand across your back to hold you down, your bucking unable to move against his strength. You squawk indignantly as your bloomers are yanked down your thighs and puddle near your ankles.

“Sure as fuck, ain’t you-”

The loud smack of skin on skin cuts you off, and you yelp in painful surprise at the sting of his palm on the bare, pale skin of your behind.

“Wanna try again?”

Your ass throbs as he removes his large hand from your skin, but with his other placed down hard against the small of your back, you’re unable to move from where he has you pinned to the table.

“I said, sure as fuck ain’t you-agh!”

You cry out, louder, as he swings again, hitting you square across your rear with a searing smack.

“Honey, ain’t making me happy to do this, but you gotta learn your lesson, and seems like this is the only way to get through that thick head o’ yours.”

You hiss at him, glaring daggers. 

Smack.

“Changed yer mind yet?”

“Fuck you.”

Smack.

After the fifth blow, tears start to leak from your eyes as you clench your fingers on the table. You aren’t going to be able to ride for a week at this rate - your ass is red and hot, but you also can’t deny the moisture accumulating just below, starting to trickle down your inner thigh. Goddamnit.

“You belong to that man you were battin’ your eyes at?” He seethes behind you, and you growl in response, unwilling to give him satisfaction.

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

The eighth blow makes you cry out in pain, and Arthur falters. When he removes his hand from your rear, he slides his palm down to trail over your thigh for a moment. He pauses, pulling back up and rubbing his palm over your behind almost tenderly. But you know, you know, that he felt your slick as he swept his fingers across the backs of your thighs.

“Y’ready to stop all this nonsense?” Arthur drawls, softly, slowly, as if he were trying to calm a skittish horse. The circles he’s gently rubbing on your sore ass feel almost pleasant, and you don’t clench your fingers nearly as hard on the edge of the table. Your tears have stopped, leaving a drying trail down your cheeks.

You don’t respond - you can’t - because at that moment, he slips his hand down, down between your thighs to caress your glistening folds, and you gasp in surprised pleasure as he presses his knuckle against your clit. You widen your legs without thinking, giving him more access. 

“Think you are…” he rasps, and gently moves his fingers against you, placing one arm on the table next to you to lean over your frame. His large frame smothers yours, clothed hips brushing against yours gently.

You whine and shiver beneath him. You know you’ve already lost.

“What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

“I-I… agh- I need-” You stumble over your words, your knees shaking as he pushes that finger within your cunt, suckling on your earlobe as he leans further over you. You can feel his thickening cock against the back of your thigh as he gently presses his hips forward against you in time with the strokes of his finger.

Arthur presses a second finger inside you and a needy cry escapes your throat, your hand shooting forward to grab his, forcing your fingers through his free hand. His breath is warm against your ear and he chuckles, curling his fingers as you moan. God, his hands are so big, his fingers filling you so much better than your own.

“F -fuck …” you stutter out, pressing your hips back against his hand, “A-Arthur… I need you.”

The outlaw extricates his hand from between your legs and you whine in dismay at the loss. Strong hands encircle your waist and lift you from where you are laid out on the table, and through no small feat, he turns you and winds his hands under your thighs, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist, your arms wound around his neck. 

It’s then that you look at him, for maybe the first time all day, caught drowning in the pools of his blue eyes. You can barely feel him stepping forward, carrying you, his hands firm under your thighs, careful not to touch the inflamed skin of your rear.

Your back is pressed against the wooden wall of the barn, but he doesn’t crowd you in at all. He leans in, and uncontrollably, you do too. When your mouths meet, you give a little sigh, opening your lips and permitting him to enter, his tongue pressing against yours as a rumble bubbles up from his chest.

“Shouldn’ta yelled at you,” he breathes against your lips, and as much as you can, you shake your head at him.

“Shouldn’ta run off,” you whisper in between kisses, the wet sounds of lips meeting nearly drowning out your low reply.

“Shouldn’ta hit you.” 

“You know I liked it.” You whisper with the hint of a smile ghosting across your lips.

“Little spitfire, you are.”

Arthur presses his hips forward into yours, and the long, full column of his cock in his pants presses against your bare folds, and you moan and throw your head back, gyrating your hips against him. He swears under his breath, one hand leaving your leg and furiously working the buttons of his fly as he retracts his hips just enough to work his pants open.

It's only a moment more before you feel the hot head of his cock press against your weeping opening, and he presses his lips to yours desperately as he juts his hips forward, greedily swallowing your moan as he quickly pushes himself inside you.

Your hands fly to his hair, fingers interlaced with honeyed locks, and his hand returns to your thigh as he starts to retract his hips and thrusts them upward in a slow rhythm, the wet noise of skin joining loud and stark in the night.

“ ‘M yours, Arthur.” You breathe as your eyes flutter with the slow, languorous rhythm he’s set. He leans in and takes your lips in a passionate kiss as he presses himself deeper within you.

“Was never a question,” he replies with a smirk, as he draws back enough that his forehead still leans against yours as he rolls his hips upward.

You frown slightly, but Arthur leans in for another kiss that steals your breath away. He’s a natural, of course, in the art of stealing. Your breath, your heart. Everything.

“You’re mine, Darlin’,” Arthur whispers against your lips, “You’re mine, ‘nd I’m yours.”

[i-heart-slashers]

For birthday promos. Jealousy jealousy number two.

With Charles Lee ray plz

“Of course I am jealous! You’re mine!”

Pairings: Charles Lee Ray x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): theft. dark themes. mentions of murder and brutality. toxic relationship. jealousy.

You had gotten sick of seeing Charles talking to Tiffany any time the two of you had gone out to the bar or any place the blonde had popped up like she had a tracker on your boyfriend.

He'd broken up with her months before he'd met you, but still, it was like they couldn't fully part ways.

His comments of only wanting and loving you now went on deaf ears, especially when he made no move to stop Tiffany from flirting and touching him flirtatiously.

Whenever you bring it up, he's clueless to the blonde's charms and expresses that they're just friends now and are comfortable around each other because of their history.

It wasn't easy being Charles' girlfriend, especially with him being the Lakeshore Strangler, but you loved him, and you also loved being a part of that danger.

With every touch Tiffany places on Charles, a murderous thought goes through your brain as she cackles at his words. You've mentally killed Tiffany numerous times in so many different scenarios, but your face expresses nothing.

You can't really blame her; she was still head over heels with Charles and would definitely keep putting the moves on him, displaying ample cleavage with that heart tattoo.

Instead, you could blame your boyfriend, who, for all his cluelessness, heard your angered pleas of keeping her away too many times to be able to act dumb anymore.

So, you put a plan into action. Tiffany may have the seductive womanly wiles to distract your boyfriend, but you have brains and pure knowledge of how Charles works.

Denying your boyfriend's invitations to go to the bar that night to celebrate his success of killing some rich woman, you instead get yourself dressed up and meet a friend you met in the 'scene.'

Aka… another criminal you knew.

Pulling your 'friend' into the bar, you ignore everyone as you lead him over to a booth, the act immediately caught by Charles, who was no longer listening to the bartender.

No Tiffany in sight…. strange…

This was your plan all along; you knew that it would piss him off to not only see you with another man but another criminal. A petty criminal at that.

Charles had an ego the size of America, and you knew him seeing you laugh it up with someone he deems beneath him would cause a volatile eruption.

It's not long before Charles storms over, threatening your 'date' with his revolver and forcing you out of the bar, hissing and swearing as he drags you to the run-down apartment you share.

The two of you yell over each other as your arguments are usually this explosive. Neighbors bang on paper-thin walls as gunfire rings out from outside as you live in a rough part of town.

Pushing his hands away from him, you frown, hissing, "You're just jealous, Charles. He's just a friend, and we've known each other a long time." You say this, which is pretty much summarizing his words about Tiffany.

Charles throws his coat on the couch, runs his hands through his hair, and looks frustrated and furious. "Of course I am jealous! You're mine!" he yells, grabbing your arms, not as rough as you were bracing for. "…and I'm yours."

"Could have fooled me!" You scream back at him as his face drops as the words you hiss in his face. "I may be yours, but… I wonder sometimes if you're just mine."

Your boyfriend stops as the apartment gets the quietest it's been after an argument. "Is this about Tiff? She means nothing anymore. You're it for me, doll; you get me through every shitty day!"

Charles brushes your face out of your hair before turning and walking to the mantlepiece, picking something up, and walking back over to you.

It looks like a custom-made ring with a 2-carat pear-shaped diamond centerpiece, a halo of round gemstones, and a plain band. You'd gotten used to identifying jewelry when you began dating Charles.

"I got this from that rich bitch tonight. It's probably worth five to six grand easy; I was gonna get you to sell it for us, but-…" He slips it onto your ring finger as you gasp. "I can kill more rich hags for their jewels."

You give a tiny smile, trying not to betray your happiness and joy that he had chosen you. Kissing him deeply, you hug yourself into him as his hands wander.

"Strange how Tiff didn't make it to the bar tonight, though; she was excited to hear about my latest victim," Charles muses as he holds you against his chest, his hands on your ass.

You just smirked knowingly as your head lay on his chest. "Yeah… strange."

[thorsenmark]

A Distant View of Chicago from Indiana Dunes National Park by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: A setting looking to the northwest while taking in a view across the blue waters of Lake Michigan with the skyline of Chicago off in the distance. This was while walking along the Dune Succession Trail in Indiana Dunes National Park.

[na-bird-of-the-day]

BOTD: Great Blue Heron

Photo: Dan Roach

"Widespread and familiar (though often called 'crane'), the largest heron in North America. Often seen standing silently along inland rivers or lakeshores, or flying high overhead, with slow wingbeats, its head hunched back onto its shoulders. Highly adaptable, it thrives around all kinds of waters from subtropical mangrove swamps to desert rivers to the coastline of southern Alaska. With its variable diet it is able to spend the winter farther north than most herons, even in areas where most waters freeze. A form in southern Florida (called 'Great White Heron') is slightly larger and entirely white."

- Audubon Field Guide

[adverbally]

I’m Never Gonna Dance Again

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Careless Whisper - George Michael” | wc: 795 | rated: T | cw: description of knee injury, brief discussion of surgery and recovery | tags: career-ending injury, ballet dancer steve, eddie is also a ballet dancer but that’s less relevant to the story, I am not a ballet expert but I did my best

———

Steve built his reputation as a danseur on his ability to jump: height, hang time, graceful landings, the complete package. So maybe it’s only fitting that the last step of his professional ballet career would be a jump as well.

A double cabriole derrière.

He’d done it hundreds of times in his career, on stage and in the studio. Throwing a leg into the air, twisting his body while his other leg comes up to beat against it twice, pushing it even higher, before landing on the bottom leg again. So simple he could float through it on autopilot, already thinking ahead to nailing the triple tour en l’air later in the variation.

Muscle memory takes over as he launches upward, raising one arm above his head with the other extended to the side, feeling the perfect point of his feet as his legs meet in the air, once, twice before gravity takes over again…

Steve hears the pop before he feels anything.

Then comes the pain in the front of his knee as it buckles beneath him. He can’t get up, he can’t even extend his leg, and he knows immediately that his days as a principal dancer are over.

It isn’t the injury itself that’s the problem. A fully ruptured patellar tendon, like his own, can be repaired. With surgery and physical therapy, he could be healed in a year, tops. Strength and range of motion almost fully restored, just a little stiffness in the joint.

But it would happen again. Repetitive motion, jumping and leaping and landing, had weakened the tendon in the first place, and resuming his work would put him at risk of another tear. He could strain other parts of his leg as he compensated for his weakened knee, and the potential cascade of more surgeries and less mobility… he needs to think beyond his ballet career and consider the rest of his life.

Eddie helps him with that, as he always does. Ballet had brought them together, from roommates at the conservatory to partners dancing for the same company. As much as he cherished sharing the stage with the love of his life, there is so much more Steve wants to share with him– walks along Lakeshore Drive, the stairs to the front door of their future home, maybe even a couple of toddlers to chase around.

Losing ballet would be okay as long as he still has Eddie, Steve thinks.

And for the most part, it is. His surgery is successful and he storms through his rehabilitation with a focus he never used outside of ballet. He keeps his spirits up, even once the cold weather sets in and the ballet season begins without him. He can walk without a limp, moving through the daily activities of his new life as if nothing had ever happened. He even tries a few simple footwork sequences under the close supervision of his physical therapist.

(When asked to jump, he refuses to try, not even a simple assemblé. It would be too painful to see how his technique had suffered in the months without practice, how the leaps that once came to him as easily as breathing are now far out of his reach.)

Everything is fine until eight months post-injury. That’s when the dreams start.

It’s usually Steve, alone on the stage, performing a solo to an empty auditorium. No music, only the slap of his slippers against the floor with every step. It’s often something he’s performed before, like Siegfried’s solo in the third act of Swan Lake or Albrecht in Act 2 of Giselle. Other nights, it’s his original choreography, made up while staring out the window on the El as he heads home from the studio. One memorable time, it’s a pas de deux of his own creation, with Eddie as his partner as they trade leaps and lifts and pirouettes as equals.

The dreams always feel so peaceful. There are no distractions, just him and his body and his breath, moving through variations, feeling the emotion behind each dance, doing what he does best. He hits every step perfectly. It’s like the endorphin rush of his best performance, every time.

And then he wakes up.

He has a moment, a fleeting thought of his rehearsal schedule for the day, wondering if his favorite practice tights are clean, before reality sets in. Then it hits him, and it hits him hard. He stumbles out of bed with his knee stiff from sleep, hoping he doesn’t wake Eddie.

Steve slips into the bathroom and turns on the shower. Then he braces himself on the vanity counter and cries as long and as loud as he wants, knowing the running water will cover up the sound of his grief.

[definitelyunhingedagentphoenix]

John Juniper and Agent Phoenix strolling along a lakeshore on a really windy and cold day in fall when the wind knocks Juniper's hat into the water

Juniper: aw man, I really liked that hat. It's really far out there too. I doubt I'll ever see that one again.

Agent Phoenix: *rolling up their sleeves*

Juniper: Phoenix no! It's freezing!

Agent Phoenix: *runs full speed into the water and swims way the hell out there to get the hat. Comes back shivering but smiling wide* GOT IT!

Juniper: ... *Smiles* thank you Phoenix.

[sitting-on-me-bum]

Ice-coated sandstone cave along the south shore of Lake Superior. Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, USA

By Ian Plant

[mqverick]

your woman || ‎ ‧₊˚ 𓂃౨ৎ

mature themes, 18+

very detailed smut, dni if you’re a minor

“just use me up and then you walk away

boy, you can’t play me that way”

─── ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ───

Every time Charlie Babbitt opened his mouth, it seemed like a never-ending awards ceremony was on, a lazy smirk living permanently on the corners of his lips. It was as if the idea of someone questioning him was both amusing and absurd. Charlie’s ego was so immense, it practically had its own gravitational pull. It was the sun in his universe, with everything and everyone else relegated to mere planetary status.

If the work didn’t pay well, you wouldn’t had bared a single second next to him, leaving to finally rest at your home with his excessively loud yelling still ringing in your ears, the annoyed sighs, the rude commands. To sum things up, Charlie Babbitt was the kind of man to drive you insane even if you were walking on sunshine.

It surprised you when he first announced that he’d preferred little old you over Lee to come along with him on a business trip in Palm Springs.

The response that rolled on the tip of your tongue at first was a big fat no. Why on earth would you want to spend an entire weekend with that nerve wrecking boss of yours when you could just enjoy the rewarding silence and comfort of your own home? But then again, when Charlie had his mind set on something, he stuck with it until the end.

In other words, whether you liked it or not, you were going on a little ‘getaway’ with him. Turned out, though, that his plans got disrupted by the sudden death of his father, forcing him to take a turn and drag you along to Cincinnati, where the funeral was taking place. You found out later on in the car that Charlie wasn’t the biggest fan of his father due to the lack of emotion he showed throughout the ride. You didn’t care to ask, simply letting out an annoyed groan every now and then to piss him off even further.

For four hours, you were participating in a scoff contest with him, winner would be the one with the longest, most pained sigh. Things got even worse — if possible — after Charlie spoke to the family lawyer about his inheritance, which was as disappointing as getting to work for him all day long. Couple of rose bushes and a stupid car.

“For fuck’s sake, Charlie, can you quit complaining about everything?” you yelled at him after deciding that you’d had about enough.

“Quit complaining?” he repeated, looking at you as if you were a lunatic. “Tell you one story. Just one. You know that convertible out front? My father loved that car more than he loved his family. It’d always been off limits to me. Tenth grade, I’m sixteen and for once I bring home a report card and it’s almost all straight A’s.”

You glanced at him, impressed with the statement, whistling out a low ‘ooh’. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Babbitt,” you commented and he had to break the eye contact for a minute, flushed with embarrassment and a light blush.

“Don’t look so damn surprised, Jesus. So, I go to my dad. Can I take the guys out in the Buick? A victory drive, you know. Says no, but I sneak it out anyway, take the keys. We’re on the Lakeshore Drive; four kids — and we get pulled over. He’d called in a report of a stolen car, not his son took the car out without permission. Just… stolen.”

“I’m getting bored of your sob story.”

“Shut up, will you?” he gritted through his teeth, sighing when you faked a yawn to demonstrate how deeply nonchalant you felt about his story.

“Get to an end, it’s been years.”

“Cook County Jail. Other guys’ dads bail ‘em out in an hour. He left me there two days. Drunks were throwing up everywhere, psychos eyeing me up… That was the only time in my life I was gut scared. Shit-your-pants fucking terrified. Left home, never came back and here I am.”

By the end of his memory, Charlie was trying to choke back a couple of tears that burned through his blurry eyes. His back was turned to you, he hated getting weak, felt as though the Trojan walls he’d built to keep up his mental strength had been bombed, collapsing into crumbles.

You said nothing — couldn’t bring yourself to. You weren’t used to being around that Charlie, had no idea how to react. Under normal conditions and had you not despised his guts, you would’ve hugged him so tightly that the air would get knocked out of his lungs, but it felt wrong, inappropriate for the moment. You settled for a tight-lipped smile instead, standing up and grabbing the second pillow from the bed, tucking it under your arm along with a blanket.

“Looks like you need the bed more than I do.”

Not even a goodnight. He didn’t bother to say another word to you either, so you called it a night, hugging the uncomfortable pillow closer to your head as you shivered under the blanket, wishing that you could’ve gotten the bed instead of the couch. Charlie deserved it that night, though. It was probably the least you could do for him, seeing as your way with words wasn’t exactly a delight. Sleep wasn’t on your side either.

Spent a couple of moments tossing around in agony, until you eventually decided to get up, blanket wrapped loosely around your shoulders as you rummaged through the library in the living room, encountering a photo album. You looked around in the room, making sure that Charlie was still in his room and placed the heavy album on your lap, carefully turning the pages.

Charlie at four years old. Then a bit older, standing alone in the picture, scrawny chest, baggy trunks. You had to stifle a chuckle, the pictures of younger him amusing you.

───

You both woke up early the next day, wind blowing through your hair as Charlie drove to the beneficiary down at the Lynwood Home. Just some stuff I have to wrap up for my dad’s estate, was the only explanation he gave you as he turned down the narrow road, clearing the crest of a hill now, a huge white building coming into view. A country estate, you reckoned.

Charlie continued toward it, approaching a man painting at an ease near the side of the road, shielding whatever he was working from the view by having his back turned to you.

“Excuse me, that place up there is the Lynwood Home, isn’t it?” But the man didn’t acknowledge Charlie in any way and you had to hold back a chortle. Nevertheless, he continued his way into the building, asking you to wait for him outside (wouldn’t take long, he said) as he sorted out the beneficiary issue that seemed to taunt him.

Not being in a mood for arguing, you did as you were told, patiently sitting in your seat as you shuffled through the radio station, trying to find a catchy song to listen to. You gasped in surprise when the sudden presence of a man sat next to you at startled you out of your boredom.

“Hello, can I help you?”

No response.

His hands were firmly grasped around the steering wheel as he started intently at it. Didn’t move at first, just stayed still for a couple of seconds before he began murmuring something that you couldn’t really make out. You tried to get him out of the car, but he flinched as if your touch was scorching against him in every intention of pushing him away. At some point, you gave up and hoped the man would leave when Charlie would come back, otherwise he was bound to hearing it from him very loudly.

Which indeed happened when he finally returned, rudely asking the poor guy to get going. Raymond, as you found later he was called, had other plans though. Apparently — and it came as much as a shock to you as it came to Charlie — he was his brother. Son of Sanford Babbitt.

Raymond Babbitt, who was kidnapped in some sort of way by Charlie, claiming that Dr. Bruner had suggested that he took his brother on a little trip. You knew that was just his usual bullshit talk, though, but tried to keep it down your throat, focusing more on helping Ray relax. He was mouthing stuff that made no sense, spelling out Vern and memorizing TV dialogues — he looked and sounded stressed and it made you want to hit Charlie’s breaks so abruptly that he’d crash his stupidly air floated head into the front shield of the car without the slightest hint of a warning.

Fucking California.

You found yourself in a crappy motel he’d rented in California for the night. Raymond was upset, so out of his comfort zone and familiar routine and places, sitting alone in his room as Charlie wandered back and forth all over the rooms while making calls back to Lee, informing him that he needed to put a pause in the business for a bit.

How insane was he exactly again?

“You’re a horrible fucking person, you know that?” you muttered lowly into his ear as you mustered a warm smile to his brother, opting to make whatever the hell of an experience that was at least enjoyable for him.

“You have no place in this.”

“No? Last time I checked you’ve been dragging me back and forth your stupid trips like I’m some sort of forgotten luggage.”

“That’s it — lights out, Ray Ray,” Charlie exclaimed in a forced enthusiastic voice as he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you outside, closing the door to Raymond’s room.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Get a fucking taxi and leave! I’m not going to give you explanation on what I do in my personal life,” he whispered-yelled at you, stalking across to his own room as you followed him, pissed.

“He’s your brother! You’ve kidnapped the poor guy, have been nothing but a dick to him and all that for what? Go apologize to him, tell him that first thing tomorrow morning you’re taking him back to the beneficiary,” you ordered him in the same tone he used at you.

Charlie shielded his eyes, running his palms down across his cheeks as he let out a long, dramatic sigh, burning holes through your head with his malicious glaring. “The fuck that’s happening! He’s a freaking pain in the ass, obviously I’m not going to tuck him in and kiss his forehead goodnight — I’m not his mother.”

“You’re his kid brother, Charlie. For crying out loud, he needs you, the least you can do for him is show some respect. It’s not his fault he doesn’t understand the world the same way you and I do,” your voice softened just a tad, trying to keep the noise down for Raymond not to hear. “He’s your big brother, could be someone to look up to—”

Charlie glared down at the floor, fighting of his temper. He shook his head — could be even be hearing to your nonsense? “What’s going on in my life is none of your fucking business and you get no chance to go around giving advice.”

“Fine, be the shitty piece of burning crap you are then, I couldn’t care less. But you owe me explanation on why you brought him here. What are we even doing in California?”

Charlie collapsed on the foot of his bed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to keep him. I’m pissed off at him…”

“What is that even supposed to mean? Pissed off at Raymond? What has he done to you?”

“No, at my dad. I need to get what’s mine, okay? He left Ray a shit ton of money and… You heard what Lenz said, okay? He doesn’t even understand the concept of money — my dad preferred to leave him three million dollars, up until every last dime, he fucking despised me.”

You blinked slowly, trying to absorb all of this.

“You’re telling me you’re treating Ray like he’s some sort of your property for money? Where the fuck do you get off, Charlie — you’re disgusting!”

You stalked past him in the bedroom, storming off as you slammed your hands on each side of your head in disbelief. You heard him get up from the bed, catching up with you as he snatched your arm and turned your body towards his own.

“You don’t know how it feels to be in my shoes right now, okay? Look, I need you… I need you here, this is all very confusing for me and—”

“For you?! What about Ray? Is anyone’s life even worth anything to you? No, wait, everything has to be about you only! What do you even need me for, huh? Babysitting, pussy, more money? I’m fucking leaving, I don’t want to be involved in your little freakshow,” you were screaming now, unable to hold yourself back as your finger stabbed toward the wall to punctuate your points.

“What’s my crime here?” Charlie continued, as if he was clueless to the entire situation. You wished you could just start punching sense into his head.

“Your crime is that you use people. You’re using Ray, you’re using me, you use everyone you son of a bitch. I hope your money goes into your fucking grave when you—” out of the blue, his mouth was covering yours with force, hands clutching into your shoulders as he tried to keep you steady against him, eyes squeezed shut.

You recoiled, unable to gauge any reaction out of your body, but let him continue bringing more heat into the moment, eventually getting you to start moving your lips against his, matching the urgency he initiated. When Charlie pulled away, your brain was still foggy, struggling to catch your breath, which seemed to be an issue for him too.

“You wouldn’t shut up,” he explained in a raspy voice. It’d just hit him what he’d done; kissing you, kissing the person that he swore he hated. It was true, though, he’d only done it to get you to stop talking, your angry statements about his screwed up plans causing him to lose control.

Your eyebrow raised upwards in slight confusion and effort of comprehending that Charlie’s lips had been on yours just a moment ago and you’d never felt so good, so complete before in your life. You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pinned him against the wall behind him, hearing him let out a chocked gasp, which for some reason sent a tingling sensation through your lower body. The second kiss was firmer, more passionate, because this time, you both knew exactly what was happening, it was consensual and Charlie’s crotch was pressing so beautifully against your thighs that you felt as if you were high. His hands were going through your hair, messing it up completely as he explored the rest of your face too, fingers gently cupping your cheeks for a brief second, before they dipped into the curves of your waist.

You arched against his touch, biting down on your lip as his mouth now moved below, leaving a trail of rushed wet kisses through your jawline. You felt him smirk against your neck as he softly dragged his teeth against your soft spot, licking and sucking, applying just the right amount of pressure to hear your muffled noises of pleasure.

“Ray—Raymond is in the next room,” you breathed, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your lips parted in a silent moan when you felt his index finger graze your underboob through the material of your thin blouse.

“He doesn’t understand this, he’ll probably think we’re fighting,” Charlie replied to you as he surfaced from the side of your collarbone to pepper small, quick pecks on your lips.

“We are fighting.”

“Good, shut up and fight me more then.”

You melted against him as he guided you backwards into the bedroom, dipping your chin over the slope of his shoulder as he held your weight, stumbling as your back accidentally hit against the corner of the door, making you wince. You didn’t care, though, pushing the door shut as Charlie pressed you against it with a loud thud. You lazily wrapped your legs around his lower waist, but his grip on your ass was strong enough to support you.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, absentmindedly tugging at it and eliciting a somewhat loud moan from him that made your entire system shudder, embarrassed at how wet you were growing just by making out. “Fuck, Charlie — bed now.”

He obliged, laying you on the bed as he pulled his already half unbuttoned shirt off, fighting back a cocky smile when he noticed you impatiently unclasp your bra under your blouse. He towered over you, falling gently on top your shoulder as he held onto your hips, placing soft kisses on your flesh. He had full consciousness of the effect he was having on you, finding it incredibly hot.

“God, you’re so…” he trailed off, hoping you hadn’t heard him. Truth was, Charlie had always been captivated by your beauty, convinced himself that there wasn’t another person in the planet that was half as gorgeous as you were.

He placed a tender kiss on your lips and helped you take your blouse off, giving you a moment to breathe before getting lost into the V-line between your breasts. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped from your mouth when the tip of his tongue made contact with your cold skin, his hums and groans vibrating through it.

The man who you’d been at odds with was tracing his digits dangerously close to the hem of your underwear and it all felt like the glimpse of embarrassment from having wet fever dream that pleased you more than any other human touch.

“I still think you’re the worst person I’ve met, by the way,” you muttered through tiny sighs, eyes closed as your fingers twisted around the bed sheets, hips suddenly jerking as you finally felt his hand hover over your scorching core through your trousers. “Stop fucking teasing me.”

“I think it’s rich that you’re giving me orders when I can just completely stop touching you and go to sleep while you’re whining like a mess,” Charlie replied, distancing himself from you in demonstration, walking right across the other side of the room to pick up his discarded shirt.

You were going to skin the bastard alive.

“Fuck you, Charlie, you’re a fucking brute, you know that?” you yelled in frustration, getting up from the bed and sprinting over to him, turning him around and crashing your lips against his, nails now digging painfully into the curves of his ripped back. Stealing each other’s air, you fell back into the bed again, pulling his trousers down and almost cumming when you caught a glimpse of his cock twitching against the fabric of his gray boxers, sort of visible due to the front patch that had gotten all wet and sticky from his precum.

You pulled at his hair, breaking the kiss to smile a little when you noticed that he was equally lost in the moment, biting on his bottom lip lustfully, looking at you through half-lidded eyes and beautiful blown pupils. You could feel the thud of your combined heartbeats, while fumbling to take off more clothing pieces, needing to feel every inch of his skin pressed up against yours, giving you goosebumps. You’d never felt that way.

“Fuck, that hurts,” he winced as your nails dug so deep into his back’s muscles that they ended up leaving wound marks, fresh and sort of pinkish.

“Touch me or it’ll get worse,” you threatened, knowing that as he’d said earlier, you weren’t really in a place to be colourful with him. His tongue scraped the roof of your mouth as he ran a finger down your center, testing the waters over your underwear and smirking when he felt the heat of your soaked panties radiate against his digit. You were so ready for him and he hadn’t even began doing anything to you — his erection growing painful at the observation.

“You’re so hot for me, I haven’t even touched you yet, gosh,” he whispered through a strangled moan, mind hazy as he tossed your panties aside and finally slipped a finger inside of you. Your hips jerked in surprise, rocking against his hand, craving the friction, the urge to fill you up more.

You moaned embarrassingly loud when the tip moved in a hither motion, almost losing your shit. He didn’t take too long to add another finger, which only made it better for you as you took a quick glance at him through your lashes, butterflies gushing inside your stomach at the sight of him, all worked up, lips parted as small groans came out of them, eyes closed as he fought off the need to wrap a hand around his dick as well, get off to touching you.

“Charlie,” you cried out his name, hips rolling forward as his touch made contact with your bundle of nerves. His long fingers were hitting all the right spots inside of you and the combination of the still very burning anger for him and the little wet noises along with his grunts had sent you over the edge a lot faster than you’d expected.

The moment Charlie felt your walls clench around his fingers, he pulled them off, wiping them off on the fabric of his boxers as he muffled your frustrated whimper with a kiss, permitting his hand to touch himself over his boxers as you ground against his thigh, pulling him down on top of you. Off, you mouthed, looking at his underwear. The bastard was driving you insane, so you yanked them off when you noticed he had no intention to giving in to your requests, sliding them down his ankles. Your jaw almost dropped at the gates of hell when you saw him, needing a moment to take it all in. He was so pretty, so achingly ready to go inside you, the image alone was enough to make you cum, your previous upcoming orgasm still hanging around the air.

“What did I tell you earlier? We’re doing this my way or we’re not doing anything at all.”

“Fuck, please, just fuck me, Charlie, I can’t wait any longer,” you found yourself pleading, forgetting that just ten minutes ago you’d been on the verge of cracking his skull open.

His eyes scanned your naked body for a second and you scoffed, tilting your head in confusion.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he admitted lowly, face growing hot as if he wasn’t just about to raw your bones. He crawled closer to you, giving you a kiss before parting your thighs, muscles clenching as his tip teasingly grazed your entrance. He wanted to make you feel so good, have you remembering that moment all the nights you’d be alone at your house, be the man you’d compare all the other men to in bed.

Except Charlie didn’t want you to have any other men after that night. Hoped he’d be good enough to make you want more of him, perhaps stay the nights over, ask to sleep next to him after, if he was lucky and satisfying enough.

“Sure you want to do this?” he asked you before he could change everything between the two of you, already knowing what your reply would be.

“Yes, god, yes, be fucking done with it already,” you dragged out, dramatically impatient. Your head was thrown back the moment he slid fully into you, staying still for a bit in order for you to adjust. Both of you inhaled a sharp breath, eyes shutting closed as he lost his balance a little, the dizzying feel of finally getting to be embraced by the warmth of your walls causing his heart to beat faster than a sledgehammer against his chest.

“You feel so good,” he hoarsed, forehead connecting with yours as he absentmindedly leaned down to kiss your nose. When he moved, slowly thrusting forward, you swore you wouldn’t be able to last enough. His breath was hot against the cell of your ear, allowing you to hear every groan, every noise he made and it turned you on so much that it practically ached.

“Faster,” you ordered, rolling your hips as he began having a steady pace, sloppy, wet sounds echoing in the room as Charlie fucked you rougher and rougher, skin slapping. The bed was squeaking now, your one hand grasping for dear life onto the sheets as the other wrapped tightly around his waist, fingers dipped into the curve of his lower abdomen. You focused on his face again, your heartbeat racing as you noticed his front teeth poking out of his parted lips, finding it both adorable and incredibly sexy.

He’d stopped moaning, not wanting you to know how desperately he needed you, his hands firmly placed on your hips as he tortured himself silently. “You like that? Like how we’re fighting?”

“Shut up,” you cried out. The angle he was hitting inside of you was killing you, you wanted him deeper, impossibly much, needed him to split you in half. “You’re the fucking worst.”

Electricity jolted through your veins as he picked up pace, practically slamming into you now, the moans he’d tried to hold back in his throat coming out in a struggle. “‘M not going to last long,” he warned you, capturing your lips in a deep kiss, hands cupping your cheeks with force.

“Cum inside of me.”

You really had no idea what you were doing to him, had you? Who — Charlie Babbitt — feeling his cock twist against your walls just by hearing you say you wanted him to cum in you. You had him in a chokehold, it was kind of ridiculous.

“Fuck, I—” he never got to finish what he was going to say in the first place, because you were trembling under his touch, overwhelmed by the speed and the fact that your worst fucking enemy was fucking you like you’d never been fucked before and it was all enough to send you over the edge for the second time that night, except now Charlie didn’t stop, didn’t pull away. You propped your chin upwards and caught his mouth in yours as you came, feeling him follow shortly after you, cum shooting inside of you in warm spurts as he fucked you through your orgasms, groaning loudly, body jerking.

Once both of you had reached your highs, he collapsed on top of your body, head buried into your shoulder as the two of you tried to catch your breaths, legs tensing. It eventually dawned on you that you just had sex with Charlie Babbitt.

“That was the hottest fucking sex I’ve ever had,” you confessed as he rolled off of you, laying next to your side as he chest rose in and out.

“Yeah,” he breathed, unable of saying much.

“I hate you.”

“You’ve got a really nice way of showing it.”

You kneed his thigh and he winced, still very fragile from the intensity of his orgasm. His hair was all sticky and sweaty, clung into his forehead, face flushed and red. You could orgasm all over again just by looking at him. “I believe we’ve traumatised your brother for life.”

“Worth it.”

“You’re taking him back tomorrow.”

“No, I’ve already told you—” you cut him off by kissing him, the tip of your tongue lingering against his bottom lip as you pulled him deeper into your mouth, hand tangling into his hair.

“You’re not the only one who gets to shut up others by kissing them. And if you ever want this to happen again, you’re going to do things my way from now on.”

And Charlie was just fine with that.

FIN.

tags: again, i wrote this for @honeymvnt so i hope you’ll enjoy reading this ml !! 🎀🫵🏼