#Patriots’ Row

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Steps from the Capitol, Trump allies buy up properties to build MAGA campus | The Washington Post

At first glance, the flurry of real estate sales two blocks east of the U.S. Capitol appeared unremarkable in a city where such sales are common. In the span of a year, a seemingly unrelated gaggle of recently formed companies bought nine properties, all within steps of one another.

But the sales were not coincidental. Unbeknown to most of the sellers, the limited liability companies making the purchases — a shopping spree that added up to $41 million — are connected to a conservative nonprofit led by Mark Meadows, who was Chief of Staff to President Donald Trump. The organization has promoted MAGA stars like Reps. Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga.) and Lauren Boebert (R-Colo.).

The Conservative Partnership Institute, as the nonprofit is known, now controls four commercial properties along a single Pennsylvania Avenue block, three adjoining rowhouses around the corner, and a garage and carriage house in the rear alley. CPI’s aim, as expressed in its annual report, is to transform the swath of prime real estate into a campus it calls “Patriots’ Row.”

The acquisitions strike some Capitol Hill regulars as puzzling, considering that Republicans have long made a sport of denigrating Washington as a dysfunctional “swamp,” the latest evidence being a successful GOP-led effort to block local D.C. legislation to revise the city’s criminal code.

“So you don’t respect how we administer our city and then you secretly buy up chunks of it?” said Tim Krepp, a Capitol Hill resident who works as a tour guide and has written about the neighborhood’s history. “If it’s such a hellhole, go to Virginia.”

Reached on his cellphone, Edward Corrigan, CPI’s president, whose name appears on public documents related to the sales, had no immediate comment on the purchases, which were first reported by Grid News and confirmed by The Washington Post. “I’ll get back to you,” Corrigan said. He did not respond to follow-up messages.

Former senator Jim DeMint, CPI’s founder, and Meadows, a senior partner at the organization, did not respond to emails seeking comment. Cameron Seward, CPI’s general counsel and director of operations, whose name appears on incorporation documents related to the companies making the purchases, did not respond to a text or an email.

As Congress’s neighbors, denizens of the Capitol Hill neighborhood are accustomed to existing in close quarters with all varieties of official Washington. Walk the neighborhood and you might catch a glimpse of Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.), Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) or former Trump strategist Stephen K. Bannon, among those who own homes near the Capitol. The Republican and Democratic national committees both have offices in the neighborhood.

But it’s rare, if not unprecedented, for a nonprofit to purchase as many properties in such proximity and in so short a period of time as CPI has assembled through its related companies, a roster with names like Clear Plains Holdings, Brunswick Partners, Houston Group, Newpoint and Pennsylvania Avenue Holdings. The companies list Seward as an officer on corporate filings, as well as CPI’s Independence Avenue headquarters as their principal address.

Now, in what may be an only-in-Washington vista, a single Pennsylvania Avenue block is occupied by Public Citizen, the left-leaning consumer advocacy group, the Heritage Foundation, the conservative think tank, and CPI, which bought four properties through its affiliates.

In addition to the nine D.C. parcels CPI’s network has bought since January 2022, another affiliated company, Federal Investors, paid $7.2 million for a sprawling 11-bedroom retreat on the Eastern Shore. In 2020, CPI, under its own name, also spent $1.5 million for a rowhouse next to its headquarters, which it leases, a few blocks from the Capitol.

DeMint, a former Republican congressman from South Carolina, started CPI in 2017, shortly after he was ousted as Heritage’s leader amid criticism that the think tank had become too political under his direction. Meadows joined in 2021, after working as Trump’s Chief of Staff. He was by Trump’s side during the administration’s final calamitous days, before and after the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the Capitol and as the President’s allies were seeking to overturn election results.

On its 2021 tax returns, CPI reported $45 million in revenue, most of it generated through contributions and grants, and paid DeMint and Meadows compensation packages of $542,000 and $559,000, respectively. Its current offices, a three-story townhouse at the corner of Third Street and Independence Avenue SE, is a hub of GOP activity. During the chaotic lead-up to Rep. Kevin McCarthy’s election as House Speaker, dissident Republican lawmakers were observed congregating at CPI.

CPI also provides grants to a cluster of nonprofits headed by Trump allies. Former Trump adviser Stephen Miller, for example, leads America First Legal, which received $1.3 million from CPI in 2021 and bills itself as a check on “lawless executive actions and the Radical Left.”

Cleta Mitchell, an attorney who was on the call Trump made to Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger seeking to reverse votes in the 2020 election, runs what the organization bills as its “Election Integrity Network,” which has cast doubt on the validity of President Biden’s 2020 victory.

“The election was rigged,” EIN tweeted last July. “Trump won.”

CLOSE TO THE CAPITOL

At an introductory meeting in December, recalled Gerald Sroufe, an advisory neighborhood commissioner on Capitol Hill, a CPI representative said the group planned to move its headquarters to a three-story building it had bought on Pennsylvania Avenue, next to Heritage’s office. Until the pandemic forced it to close, the Capitol Lounge had occupied the 130-year-old building. The bar had served a nightly bipartisan swarm of congressional staffers and lobbyists for more than two decades.

The CPI official, Sroufe said, indicated that the group planned to use the new Pennsylvania Avenue properties to “expand” its offices and “provide new retail.” But the official made no mention of Patriots’ Row, Sroufe said, or the three rowhouses the group’s affiliates had bought around the corner on Third Street SE. All of the properties are in the neighborhood’s historic district, which protects them from being altered without city review.

“This is much grander than what we were talking about,” Sroufe said after learning from a reporter about the other purchases. “On the Hill, people are always talking about how wonderful it is to be close to the Capitol and Congress. It’s kind of like a curse.”

As in many commercial corridors hit hard by the pandemic, businesses along Pennsylvania Avenue have struggled over the past couple of years. Tony Tomelden, executive director of the Capitol Hill Association of Merchants and Professionals, said CPI could energize a strip pocked with vacant storefronts.

“I welcome any business because the only thing opening right now are marijuana shops,” said Tomelden, an H Street NE bar owner who helped open the Capitol Lounge in 1996 and, as it happens, instituted a rule that patrons could not talk politics while imbibing. “If they’re going to pay a lot of money and raise property values, I’m all for it. I don’t care about anybody’s politics as long as they pay their tab.”

In an overwhelmingly Democratic city, finding those who are less sanguine about CPI’s growing footprint is not exactly difficult.

Yet politics is only part of the issue, as far as Krepp is concerned. CPI’s purchases, he said, threaten the area’s neighborhood vibe, as would be the case if any group, no matter its ideological leaning, bought as many properties. “I don’t want to create another downtown on Capitol Hill,” he said. “There’s a glut of available office space downtown. You don’t have to buy up neighborhoods.”

Rep. Jamie B. Raskin (D-Md.), a regular commuter to the Capitol from his home in Montgomery County, sees CPI’s acquisitions in terms more political than geographic.

“It just seems like a massive real estate coming-out party for the extreme right wing of the Republican Party,” Raskin said. “This is a very explicit and well-financed statement of intent. They set out to take over the Republican Party and they’re very close to clenching the power.”

Instead of Patriots’ Row, Raskin suggested an alternative name: Seditionist Square.

“Maybe Marjorie Taylor Greene can be their advisory neighborhood commissioner,” he said.

A ‘PERMANENT BULWARK’ IN D.C.

On its 2021 tax return, CPI said its mission is to be a “platform” for the “conservative movement,” and to provide “public policy” training for “government and nonprofit staffers” and meeting space for gatherings and policy debates.

Although not required to identify donors, CPI reported seven contributions in excess of $1 million, including one of more than $25 million. Trump’s Save America political action committee gave $1 million in 2021, according to campaign finance records. Billionaire Richard Uihlein, a major Republican donor, gave $1.25 million a couple of years ago through his foundation, records show.

A CPI-related entity, the Conservative Partnership Center, rented space to two political action committees as of early January, the House Freedom Fund and Senate Conservative Fund, according to campaign finance records. CPI also received $4,000 from Rep. Matt Gaetz (R-Fla.), who has recorded his “Firebrand” podcast at the group’s studio, as has the host of the “Gosar Minute,” Rep. Paul A. Gosar (R-Ariz.), according to the group’s annual report. Greene paid CPI $437.73 for “catering for political meetings” in 2021, the records show.

“No one stood up to the Left as courageously as Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene,” CPI declared in its 2021 annual report, hailing her as a “hero” who “endured sexist fury that always lurks just beneath the progressive surface.” The report described Boebert as a “gun rights advocate” who “wants to protect our environment more than anyone else.”

It was in CPI’s 2022 annual report that the group briefly referred to its expansion plans, writing that it has strengthened “its ability to serve the movement by beginning renovations to Patriots’ Row on Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“In 2022, the Left tried to drag America further into a dark future of totalitarianism, chaotic elections and cultural decay,” the report asserts in an introduction from DeMint and Meadows. “The Washington establishment, per usual, did nothing to stop them. But neither the Left nor the establishment could stop the culture and community we’re building here at the Conservative Partnership Institute.”

“With our expanded presence in D.C.,” they add, “we’re launching CPI academy — a formal program of training for congressional staff and current and future members of the movement.”

“Even if we can’t change Washington, we can create a permanent bulwark against its worst tendencies.”

A SPATE OF SALES

CPI began its expansion in 2020, purchasing the rowhouse next door to its headquarters and christening it “The Rydin House” for Mike Rydin, a construction magnate and prominent conservative donor. When Federal Investors bought the Eastern Shore property, the group named it “Camp Rydin.”

On Capitol Hill, several property owners who sold their buildings to CPI-linked companies were surprised to learn that the buyers were connected to a group led by Meadows and DeMint.

“I did not know,” said Jacqueline Lewis, who sold a townhouse on Third Street SE to 116 Holdings for $5.1 million in July. The company’s officer, according to its corporate filing, is Seward, and the principal address it lists is the same as CPI’s headquarters. A trust document related to the transaction is signed by Corrigan, CPI’s president.

Brunswick Partners, which lists CPI and Seward as contacts on its corporate filing, bought the neighboring rowhouse for $1.8 million in January, according to property records. Brian Wise, the seller, said he did not know of the company’s CPI connection. An attorney who approached him and his wife, he said, “asked if we were willing to sell and we agreed on a price. It was a business sale.”

Keith and Amanda Catanzano also were unaware of CPI when they sold a garage in the alley behind Third Street SE to Newpoint for $1 million in June. Newpoint lists Seward as an officer and the same mailing address as CPI. “We had no idea,” said a woman who answered the phone at a number listed for the Catanzanos before hanging up.

Eric Kassoff, who sold the former site of the Capitol Lounge to Clear Plains, said he knew of the company’s CPI ties before the $11.3 million deal was finalized in January. He also sold the group a carriage house behind the building for $400,000.

Kassoff said he did not want to lease the space to a fast-food restaurant or a convenience store. He said CPI’s political leanings were not a factor in his decision to sell to the organization.

“Why would I have any issue selling my property to proud Americans?” asked Kassoff, who described himself as an independent. “We need to get past the labeling and demonizing and talk to each other, and that’s true in politics as well as commerce. If we were all to take that position we wouldn’t have much of a country left, would we?”

Although the Capitol Lounge closed more than two years ago, vestiges of its past remain on the building’s exterior, including a rendering of Benjamin Franklin beneath a quote concocted by the bar’s founder, Joe Englert: “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.”

James Silk, the bar’s former owner, said he left behind memorabilia when he vacated the building that could be suitable for the new owner: Richard M. Nixon campaign posters still hanging on the walls of what the owners cheekily dubbed the Nixon Room (located across from the Kennedy Room).

“Nixon is finally with his people,” Silk said. He laughed and added: “Nixon was a Republican, right?”

[transkholins]

and so it goes, and so it goes and so will you, soon, I suppose

[missathlete31]

Thursday Night Football Anyone?

Looking for Chad Powers

[skrunkly-of-the-day]

my skrunkly of the day is Von Herder from Moriarty the Patriot

[visenyaism]

feastdance dashboard simulator

💋queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

it’s so sick that people keep criticizing queen cersei as if she’s not the first female ruler of westeros??? literally elevating bastards and women to her small council is super fucking progressive as is creating the precedent of dismissing unfit kingsguard??

🪨dragonstoner Follow

aren’t all of her children literally bastards born of incest

💋 queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

oh so now you’re going to listen to stannis baratheon, known misogynist, kinslayer, fornicator, team green supporter, and homophobe, huh.

🦑pykedyke

okay guys i know there’s no “perfect candidate” but you have to vote in the kingsmoot anyways not voting is how someone like e****n g*****y wins and literally anyone is better than him. suck it up and row to the polls

🦈reaveherihardlyknowher

ohhhh not this “vote your crew no matter who” “blue lips man bad” bullshit again. fuck off idgaf which godless man sits the seastone chair i’m not voting for asha shes literally a neoliberal

🦷 lastoftheegiants

first i had to give up my rights and then i had to give up my gods just to not get killed by fucking wights but i literally cannot believe the nights watch made me give up my strap as part of the treasure ransom. shit was expensive it was IVORY. i hate southerners so much i hope the lord commander dies

🌪️kinslayerr

DO NOT COME TO THE RIVERLANDS

🍓silverspurs Follow

why

🌪️kinslayerr

there’s riverlands here

🧜‍♂️theythemderly

freys

🌾maidencool

my cousin got eaten by rats in harrenhal

🐎brackennation Follow

dumb cunts wearing raven feather cloaks strutting around who think they’re better than you but they’re not better than you

🌟sevenstar

i saw a guy get killed and then just stand back up and start fighting again because his friend kissed him on the mouth down here once

🦌whitehart

giant feral pack of 60 wolves running around

🍓silverspurs Follow

ok understandable have a nice day

🫧bastardwaters

i hate the fucking sparrows can we be normal for five minutes or can we just not have shit in the crownlands

☠️real-stormlands-patriot Follow

ITS LORD COMMANDOVER #RIPBOZO

🐦‍⬛mormonts-raven-bot Follow

CORN! DEATH! CORN!

(CAW! I follow members of the Night's Watch to remind them of their oaths!)

🦷 lastoftheegiants

????

🍋floriansjonquil

Loras Tyrell x Queen of Love and Beauty!Reader Imagines

Keep Reading

🪻maidens-smile Follow

girl this is notttttt the time he literally just fucking died at dragonstone?

💎oathkeeper

should’ve stanned jaime #LORASFELLOFF

💐flowerknight

one kill yourself jaime lannister is an honorless kingslaying turncloak two i heard loras tyrell was literally fine?

👊fleabottomtop

lord davos seaworth, the class traitor from the stannis baratheon administration, is a nasty little thottie and just died from making it clap in white harbor

🌅girlheir

this tower fucking sucks.

🌅girlheir

i’m just like rhaenyra targaryen for real

🌅girlheir

🐀ratcook5000 Follow

people meat tastes good asf when you don’t have a wench in your ear saying it violates guest right

🐺threeeyedwolf

🍒ladylance

need that targ girl in mereen to get those lizards over here and liberate this website by any means necessary cause what the fuck is going on

[copperbadge]

[ID: a photograph of a row of folded shirts lying on top of one another; sometimes part of a phrase or logo is visible but the most evident part of each shirt is the year, 2014 through 2024. They are in varying shades of red, blue, white, and grey.]

Old Navy issues a new limited edition 4th of July shirt every year; they cost like five bucks so they're not the most durable, but my folks really liked for us to wear matching shirts for cookouts, so usually I'd keep an eye on the website and buy them for the family when they came out in March or April. I realized when I was home for the fourth that we probably had a decade of shirts...

Not all of these came from me or my family; I bought a few on eBay to round out the 2014-2024 set. But I thought it would be fun to clear mine out of my closet and turn them into a blanket, so I'm going to assemble them with one more panel (made from a different Old Navy shirt) and sew a real weird patriotic quilt.

[stresscrimes]

guns used by mass killers

first row, left side

Adam Lanza, Bushmaster XM15-E2S rifle

Brandon Hole, Ruger AR-556 semi-automatic rifle

Salvador Ramos, Daniel Defense DDM4 V7

Nikolas Cruz, Smith & Wesson M&P15 Sport II and AR-15 rifle

Payton Gendron, bushmaster XM-15 E2S target AR-15-style semi-automatic rifle

right side, first two rows, left to right

Dylann Roof, Glock 41 .45-caliber handgun

William Atchison, Glock 19 Gen 4 9mm pistol

Jarid Haddock, Possibly a Glock 19 Gen 3 with modifications

Pekka Auvinen, .22 calibre SIG Sauer Mosquito semi-automatic pistol

Ian Stawicki, .45-caliber Remington 1911 R1 handgun

Dylan Klebold, Intratec TEC-DC9

left side, top to bottom, second row

Brenton Tarrant, WW-15 AR-15–style rifle

Eric Hairs, Hi-Point 995 carbine

Jeff Weise, Remington 870 Police Magnum pump-action shotgun

Eero Hiltunen, Sako L579 .308-caliber bolt-action hunting rifle

Aaron Alexis, Remington Model 870 Express Synthetic Tactical 7-Round 12-gauge shotgun

Kimveer Gill, Beretta Cx4 Storm

right side, last row top to bottom

Dimitris Patmanidis, Converted blank pistol

Radcliffe Haughton, .40-caliber handgun

Matti Saari, Walther P22

Sebastian Bosse, Ardesa "Patriot" caplock pistol

[anisangeldust]

Alter is my hips 𝜗𝜚⋆

Summary: After finally getting the meal he deserves, Panems president finds himself with an opportunity from a mistake.

Part: ← iii →

Warnings: coercion/dub-con, oral (f and m), smut, p in v, unprotected sex, Snows interesting internal monologue, dumbification, spanking, fingering, hair pulling, back scratching (all that good shit), misogyny, premeditated murderous intentions, domestic violence/abuse, slapping, punching, mentions of bruising, mentions of blood, mentions of broken bones.

A/N: DDDNE, please don’t read if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable. Your internet consumption is not my responsibility.

When Coriolanus pulled away from your lips they were red and swollen, his eyes glazed with a dangerous mixture of lust and greed. He had kissed you, you had let him kiss you. This changed everything, because now he was aware that you wanted him too. The air in his office now felt thick, your dress was all that much tighter, your lips that much more plump. You were a tease, put on the earth to test his patience - a test he failed. Without another word he scooped you up and set you down on his desk, his grip on your waist was tight, and his gaze was predatory.

“So fucking beautiful, so pretty” The young president grumbled as he captured your lips again. Coriolanus’ hands traveled down and under your skirt. He hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties and tugged them down “hips up” he commanded as he pulled them down your legs. He broke the kiss and looked down, smirking at the obvious damp mark in your panties “oh pretty baby, so needy” he cooed and brought your panties up to his nose. The smell of your arousal almost made him cum, he’d done that, fuck he made you wet, Coriolanus balled up the fabric and shoved it in his pocket before gently pushing you onto your back and hiking up your little maid uniform.

“What.. what are you doing Coriolanus?” Your tone was almost cute, so endearing, so innocent

Young Snow looked at you like you were his death row meal. “What I should’ve done weeks ago” he growled and leaned over you “and if you don’t like it-“ he started kissing up your thighs “-you can get the fuck out of my office.” His icy blues were blown black as he met your gaze. A beat of silence went by, which he took as consent. “Oh you do want it? I should’ve known, such a patriotic whore.” He teased and kissed all around your aching pussy “so beautiful, all for me my precious dove..” he murmured as he used two fingers to spread open your folds.

The sight in front of him was almost too arousing for his already too-tight pants and rock hard length. Strings of your arousal all so pretty and ready for him to use, your swollen clit that peaked out from your pink folds, such a beautiful cunt he was about to savor. Coriolanus licked a fat stripe up from the bottom to the top of your slit, gently placing teasing kisses on your sensitive bud. One of his large fingers teased your entrance as he applied kitten licks to your clit.

“Coriolanus — oh! Mm.. oh my gods oh!” His ears soaked in the sounds of your moans, each shaky breath, every gasp and groan, all of it because of him. He used his free hand to explore up and down your bottom half, the other was prodding your desperate whole, eventually pushing in while he simultaneously sucked on your little pink bundle of nerves.

Coriolanus would never get over your taste, you were oh so sweet, a nectar of the highest quality, he thanked whatever god there was for the privilege to savor you. Every swipe of his muscle made you sticky and beautiful, as your cunt became deliciously glossy he become more insatiable. He lifted his head periodically, only to coo or groan. “Fuck me baby, taste so fucking good — feels good doesn’t it my little dove? Yes it does” he murmured as we dropped his head back down.

“Gods! Oh I’m gonna come Coriolanus!” You cried out, back arching off the sleek mahogany of his desk, nails hooked around the edge and head thrown back. This was ecstasy you could only dream of, no past boyfriend or stupid hookup could compete with the skilled tongue of Panems’ president. His fingers thrusted in and out of you, first one, then two, then three of his large and veiny fingers stretching out your little pussy and curling to hit that sponges spot inside you so deliciously.

The corners of his mouth curled up in a beautiful smirk. “C’mon, come for me, show me how much you love your president—mmmhh, patriotic slut, have you no shame? Having your pussy stretched on the presidents desk. Tsk tsk tsk” he half teased, half degraded. He slurped and sucked like you were an oasis in a desert, the words of degradation hit your ears like a pornographic tsunami, they snapped the tight coil in your abdomen, almost involuntarily making you buck your hips as you rode out your orgasm.

Coriolanus helped you through your intense pleasure, gently pulling his fingers out of your hole and using the three of them to rub soft circles against your clit. When your body had calmed, he took his fingers and gently sucked the cum off of them, groaning at the delicious taste of your release. “So sweet baby, so good” he praises and gently cupped your face in one of his hands. “But I haven’t had my fill yet..” he grumbles as he kissed and sucked on your hip bone, using both his hands to hold your thighs.

Making his way down to your sensitive cunt, he licked and kissed your throbbing clit. You whined something about being sensitive and while trying to push his head away, an action that pissed him off. He rose and caged you under him on his desk. “I decide when you’re done, I decide when you’ve come enough, and if you try to keep what’s mine away from me I’ll turn you over my lap and spank you raw.” He growled, eyes dark.

You should’ve been terrified, you should’ve got up and ran, yet something about his controlling made you even more wet. With a nod and a quiet “yes sir..” you submitted to his will. You couldn’t help but crave the danger, a fly willingly landing on a spiders web, a lamb lying on their back for a wolf. He eagerly started on your sensitive and wet pussy, drinking up every drop of you. The tenderness of your last orgasm made your next one wash over quickly, and despite your almost painful bouts of labored breaths, he didn’t stop. Coriolanus didn’t stop until it was unclear whether the thick sheen coating your thighs was your come or his spit, he didn’t stop until you were spasming in your hips and felt like your legs would fall off.

Coriolanus lifted his head once more, viscous drops that fell from his chin and a string of saliva connected to your cunt. He placed one last kiss on your puffy clit before using two fingers to scoop the wet mixture off his face. The young president then used his free arm to lift you back to a sitting position on his desk. The sight of your fucked out face with puffy lips and glossy eyes was indescribably satisfying.

He pushed his clean hand to play with your bottom lip. “Did that feel good dove? That was your treat for all your hard work, for being one of the few women I can tolerate” he cooed, almost mockingly. A small nod from you made him smile, you were so easy to please weren’t you? “On your knees now baby, I’m no where near done with you.” He urged gently. Coriolanus then carefully used his arm to help you on your knees, once again using his clean hand to tilt up your chin as he sat down in his chair, peering down at you. “Open your mouth.” He gently commanded again and he placed his slimy fingers on your tongue.

You eagerly sucked his fingers, letting out a said “mmm..” and swirling them around with your tongue, savoring the taste like it was the best lollipop on the market. Coriolanus groaned and held the back of your head with his other hand, raking your fingers through your soft hair. He let his fingers out with a *pop* and licked his lips. Such a good girl you were, following his rules so obediently, so pretty and perfect for him.

“Alright sweet girl, ready for my cock?” He cooed and tangled his hands in your hair, gently forcing you down onto his leaking shaft. You took it upon yourself to lick up the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, one hand gently fondling his balls and the other wrapped around the base. Coriolanus could have came on the spot from how good it felt to finally have someone who knew how to properly please a man, a woman who knew her place. As you took as much of him as you could, he started to really take control, giving you a few moments to adjust before he started to fuck your face. What a gentleman!

“Been dreaming about fucking those lips, you’ve got a throat made for bruising” he huffed, head thrown back and hand moving while he used you like a fleshlight. The sounds of you choking on him made him feel powerful, and the tears that pricked your big eyes aroused him impossibly more. The feeling of his fat tip bullying your throat should’ve raised red flags, but every choke, every gag, you felt yourself fallen deeper and deeper into his palm. The soft grunts of “fuck.. so.. good- ah; good fucking girl-“ drove you do take him deeper, faster, be better than Livia, though that was easy.

There was something so indescribably cathartic about coming down your throat he decided, sure he’d fucked his fist, came in an old rag, even fucked another woman all in attempt to relieve the ache that sat in his heavy dick. Finally having the real thing? Nothing compared, and nothing would compare to when he’d finally be all in the deep, wet, warm pussy. “Swallow it all baby, wouldn’t want it to go to waste now would you?” He teased and wiped up a bit of the salty dribble from the side of your mouth, forcing his tongue on your mouth and making sure you swallowed all of his cum.

Part of him, a deep, closed off part of Coriolanus almost felt guilty. You deserved soft and gentle, In a bed, as his fiancée, not as the other woman.. no, Livia was the other woman, every touch, every kiss, every look he shared with her felt like he was cheating on you, how was he supposed to touch the wretched woman after this? How are you supposed to go back to rotten fruit after being given nectar from the heavens? The more he looked down at your gorgeous face, the longer something unfriendly tugged at his chest. Love? No, he didn’t love you. He swore he’d never love another, love was a weakness. He did care about you, yes, he cared. He cared about you more than he’d ever cared about Livia, he looked forward to seeing you, you deserved to be Mrs Snow.

In a moment of weakness perhaps, Coriolanus gently lifted you up into his arms bridal style, laying you down on an adjoining sofa with a warm, crackling fire. “So beautiful..” he whispered in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, looking at you like some sort of irreparable treasure. Coriolanus sat down and started to slide his hands up your thighs, taking you by the waist so you were straddling him as he sat. “You’re gonna take me..” he started “and you’re gonna like it okay? I’ll stuff you full of my cum and then you’ll have to keep doing your job little dove” he mumbled as he slid down and gently nipped at your throat. “Words baby, I need words.” He softly commanded.

“Yes sir.. yes” you nodded shakily, your own cum still dripping down your thighs and now ruining the Presidents dress pants. You let out a soft groan as he bit and nipped at your jugular, tasting the saltiness of your delicate skin.

A satisfied smile crosses Coriolanus’ lips. “Such a good girl, I’ll make sure you get rewards for how well you listen to me.” He chuckled and gestured for you to kneel up “gonna help you ride me, don’t forget who’s in charge my little dove.” He drawled, voice laced with warning. As Coriolanus aligned his newly hard cock with your still dripping fold, he mentally shuddered. As you lowered down and the tip slid in, he growled with desire. Every inch more you took of his thick shaft was another piece of his resistance being chipped away. He fully growled out when you bottomed out, the little yelp sound was enough for him to finish right then and there. Coriolanus really had every intention of being soft, but a predator is still a predator. And what kind of lion would he be if he refused the soft underbelly of such a willing lamb? With little (no) warning, he snapped his hips up and started to fuck you hard.

“Oh! Ah! Too much! Coryo.. it’s—!” You yelped and he snickered under his breath. It would’ve taken a tranquilizer dart and a barrack of peacekeepers to pull him out of you, your warm, wet cunt. His cock buried in you was the solution to all the problems he could think of as of that very moment. Coriolanus had really never felt more peace than when he was guiding your body on and off his cock. If lust was truly a deadly sin then send him to the 2nd circle of hell, if there was a heaven then it paled in comparison to you. And if all else; this was the moment that he decided that you would take Livias place, even if it meant bloodshed.

The wet squelches and loud moans merged together in a symphony of desperate pleasure. Coriolanus shut you up with a sloppy, albeit slightly romantic, kiss full of tongues and teeth. Your nails raked down his back, so hard that if he wasn’t wearing a shirt it would’ve drawn blood, and his hands had your waist in a rib-crushing hold. His long shaft and pillowy tip hit that spongy spot inside you so deliciously, eliciting a harmony of moans from both of you. Your bodies fit together perfectly, though the scene was less romance and more sexual desperation, built up desire from over a month of unresolved sexual tension that finally got let go.

The pleasure was so good that you devolved into a thoughtless puddle of a woman, jaw hung open and head thrown back, only soft whimpers escaped your throat as you reached your climax. Coriolanus was grunting and groaning like an animal in heat. He would never get tired of this pussy, so wet and tight, all for him. Coriolanus’ climax came too soon, he wanted to spend eternity buried in your cunt, but he couldn’t deny how badly he needed to paint your insides with his seed. Deep moans turned into soft pants as Coriolanus drew closer “gonna fill you up you slut, you beautiful, sweet little slut.. gonna make you mine— have you dripping..” he croaked and landed a harsh spank to your butt, the action making you cum and squeeze around him. Feeling you grip him was what made the blonde lose it, bucking his hips as he shit ropes of his pearly cum into your eager cunt, making sure to ride out until he was satisfied.

Coriolanus felt your head on his shoulder as you both cooled down, labored breaths and the smell of sex filling the confines of his office. As much as he hated to let you go; any onlookers to this scene would mean bad press, so he gently laid you down on the couch and kissed the side of your lips. A small grumble leafy his chest as he murmured “you have to go back to work dove, and so do I..” he whispered.

“Then I’ll need my underwear back..” you mumbled and he almost growled. There was absolutely no way in any dimension that he’d give you back a pair of your soiled panties, not when they smelled so delicious. The president sighed and looked over you “I’ll go get some from Livia, don’t move from here.” He commanded while getting up and shoving his softening dick back into his boxers and, now ruined, dress pants. Coriolanus walked into his room and then closet, getting a new pair of pants and stealing a pair of Livias panties. He quickly changed and went back down to his office.

Like the good girl you were, you hadn’t moved a bit. Young Snow smiled and walked over to you, “such a good girl, didn’t love a muscle. Hips up” he commanded and slid the panties on, making sure to keep as much of his cum as possible inside your pussy. “So good, now give me a kiss and get back to work.” The words were both soft and authoritative, as you got up and stretched your muscles, he delivered a hard smack to your ass and chuckled “so good, always so good for me.”

——

As always, Coriolanus watched out his big window as you spent your lunch break in the presidential gardens. He leaned forward with brows furrowed as he watched you whiny pick up an animal by a patch of berries, he could tell by the saddened expression that crossed your face that the animal was dead. It looked to be a little white rabbit, feeding off what looked like the gardens blueberry plant. Coriolanus chuckled gently to himself, of course you’d be compassionate enough to care for an animal that served you no purpose. The young president knew that you’d run in after your lunch break and tell him how the bunny died, you always had a knack for telling him all about your day, no detail too minuet.

Just as anticipated, when you walked in with his tray of afternoon tea, you started immediately with the story. “I found a dead bunny in the gardens at lunch. Poor thing.” You shook your head solemnly while fixing up his tea “the gardener thinks it’s the berries. He grew a patch of nightshade berries and I think he accidentally planted poison nightshade instead.” Your story made him almost smile, it was very plausible, though he made a mental note to talk to the gardener to see if it was truly an accident. “And then..” you continued, setting the tea on a saucer and handing it to him “I found flowering hemlock weeds in the bed of the berries. He swore he weeded it all out last fall but he probably left some roots. So we’re both pretty sure they grew into each other and made some super poisonous deadly nightshade hemlock berries.” You rambled on.

“Super poisonous deadly nightshade hemlock berries? Well I’m glad you two caught it before we picked them. My smart little dove” He chuckled while sipping his tea “come, sit on my lap.” He patted his thigh and you complied, sitting down in his leg so he could wrap an arm around you. His large hand played with your hair absentmindedly. “I’m sure we’ll find some use for them, like a repellent to get rid of unwanted animals and keep them away from the garden plants..” he murmured. Something about that statement flickered a light in his mind. Keep away unwanted animals? Super poisonous and unassuming berries? This was perfect, almost too perfect. He looked down at you and was clearly lost in thought “What were you saying a few days ago about that flower? Baby’s breath?” He murmured at you.

“Gypsophila? It’s toxic and sometimes lethal for consumption?” You murmured back and leaned into him petting your hair “kinda reminds me of these weird hybrid berries” your smile was so cute, so innocent. How adorable. “Why do you ask?” You mumble as your face gently rests in the junction between his neck and shoulder.

What was he supposed to say to that? ‘Oh to kill my fiancée so I can marry you instead’? Though he was sure you reciprocated his feeling of lust and care, you had to. And what woman would say no to being his wife? He softly cupped your chin and kissed you softly “I refuse to spend the rest of my life with Livia.” He simply drawled between your lips. The words hung heavy with implication, he’s going to kill Livia. Coriolanus’ hand slipped down and patted your still cum filled pussy, reminding you of the days earlier activities. “I never intended for our rendezvous to be a one time thing. I don’t think you understand how deeply you’ve sunk your claws into me, my little dove. You’re mine now, but for that to happen I have to get rid of Livia.” He grumbled against your lips, looking down at you with both need and care.

Your eyes widened at his words, head lifting up to so you can look him in the face. “So.. wait. You- want.. me? To take her place? As your Fiancée?” You mumble, uncertainty painting your words. A small shiver ran down your spine, were you dreaming? This was a scenario you hadn’t dared to even humor, you could live with being his mistress, but wife? Your mouth hung open with shock.

“Yes. I do. You deserve the life of luxury she takes for granted. You’re a worker, and I care for you more than I’ve ever cared about her.” He said smoothly, hand starting to rub over your clothed cunt. “I can’t just break up with her, she’d spread some bullshit rumor about me. She has to go, and when she does I’ll make you the First Lady that Panem deserves.” His words were smooth and clear. Coriolanus’ middle and ring finger ghosted softly over your clothed pussy, making sure to get you wet and squirming again “I’d advise keeping this between us. I’d hate for you to meet the same fate I have planned for her.” He threatens as I kisses you softly, a walking contradiction with the voice of a siren. “Now get up, finish your work for the day and tell Marcus to pick the nightshade hemlock berries. Grab some hemlock flowers and babies breath too, tea and pastries with jam always pair nicely.” He leans back and continues on his work.

There was maybe 10 minutes of peace (impressive for the state of tension in the mansion) before the sound of broken glass and the screams he could only deduce were from Livia. A few quick strides and Coriolanus was met with one of his many hosting rooms, a bar area complete with his betrothed sobbing and screaming while you were sweeping up a broken champagne flute. “She.. she threw it at me! She hates me!” Livia sobbed, though any sane person recognized her crocodile tears. A quick once over confirmed that you were unharmed, which meant that 1. You had thrown the glass at her, which he wouldn’t blame you if you had. Or 2. She threw it at you and missed so she’s blaming you. Coriolanus was very much betting on the latter.

“Yes. I’m sure our presidential palaces maid threw a champagne flute at you for no reason. That sounds like something she’d do” He rolled his eyes “get up off the floor. You’re a grown woman who’s acting like a toddler.” The president scoffs and tilts your chin up to look at him “once you finish cleaning this mess just go home. You deserve it.” He mumbled gently before looking down at Livia and turning on his heel.

“You don’t believe me? Coriolanus! She attacked me!” Livia gets up and pulls at his jacket “please, fire her! She’s been nothing but rude to me since she got here!” She whines and pleads. Quite frankly, Coriolanus had been toeing the edge of insanity because of Livias lies and attitude. In a spur of the moment flash of anger, he grabbed Livia by her shirt collar and backhanded her harshly, his rings leaving an imprint and the mark already red.

“Know your place and shut the fuck up.” Coriolanus growls as he lets go and she drops to the floor, cradling her hurt cheek. He leaves before he can see your wide eyes, or before he can hear her soft cries of pain and confusion.

——

The bullshit started just as Coriolanus set out to go to bed. He shrugged off his jacket and shirt, setting his pin on a little dish and unbuckling his belt. He made sure to hide your used panties in the pocket of a different suit jacket for later, his boxers pooled as his ankles and he slipped on a robe for getting unready. Coriolanus didn’t like to be shirtless in front of his fiancee, he didn’t like having to remember that he was stabbed saving someone who would end up at the noose anyway, too vulnerable, too much. He swears he could hear her wretched voice from across the mansion as she made her presence known “Coriolanus!” She whined as he finished washing his face.

“I’m still not happy with you.” He grumbles and dries off with a towel. “Shes been nothing but kind to you and you’ve been a bitch.” He scoffs out at her pleading puppy eyes. How pathetic was she?

“I know, but I thought I could make up for it..?” She pulled the string of her robe to reveal a lingerie set. Livias eyes, full of lust and want, trailed up and down his body, yet Coriolanus felt nothing but disgust as he looked at his fiancées body. His dick, which was already semi hard the whole day due to your activities, became harder as he remembered how you looked with your uniform hiked up. His erection sat heavily on his thigh, barely visible through his robe.

“Put some clothes on. I don’t want pity sex, or sex at all for that matter.” He grumbled and pushed her out of the way, moving to their closet as he filed through potential sleepwear.

But Livia was dedicated if nothing else, coming up to him and trying to strike a sexy pose against the wall “but I can see that you’re hard, please? Let me make it up to you..” she smiled and tried to reach out and touch his hard cock.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes, scoffed, and smacked her hand away. “No. And that’s not because of you. I can’t control my dick 24/7, I’m not sleeping with you. Now get half decent and stop being a pain in my ass.” He scowled, putting on some boxers before shedding his robe.

“This is about her isn’t! She’s poisoning you against me!” Livia pouts out her bottom lip, immediately blaming you for her shortcomings, though she wasn’t completely off. “You don’t understand! When you’re away.. she— well she just hates me!” She starts her crocodile tears again. “And I’m not a pain in the ass! Shes a skank! She’s trying to make herself look good and make me look bad! She’s trying to take you away from me!” Livia cries out, acting like she hadn’t hurt you for no reason on multiple occasions, including multiple bruises and several scars.

Coriolanus was at his breaking point. “Yeah? And you’re just a saint aren’t you? God you’ve been a pain in my ass since this whole proposal deal! She’s just cleaning the manor!” He scathes while shoving Livia against the wall. “You’re trying to frame her, she’s done nothing wrong. Stop being a bitch or I’ll correct your attitude.” He growls and lets go of Livias shirt. She opens her mouth to protest and he physically can’t stop himself, he punches his fiancee right in the face. Not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that her nose starts bleeding.

“Doesn’t feel good does it? Being pushed around. Next time I’ll crack your fucking nose. You tell anyone and I’ll ruin you.” He seethes out, momentarily remembering that he had plans to kill her on the days following. “Now get the fuck out of my room. Go sleep somewhere else. I don’t want to see your fucking face.” The young blonde let her fall to the floor and tuned out her sobs.

After she got up and left the room, blood dripping form her cupped hand and tears streaming down her face, Coriolanus shut and locked the door. He went to the closet and pulled out your used panties, god how good they smelled.. Putting them up to his nose, he breathed in and moaned. President snow sat down on the bed, pulled off his boxers, and immediately wrapped his fist around his erection. “Fuck.. mphff.. oh fuck..” he groaned out as he started to work up and down his angry cock, the tip red and oozing pre. Coriolanus took a large breath in of your panties, imagining in was your cunt sat on his large nose. It didn’t take long before her was bucking up his hips and holding your underwear against his face as he came all on his hand. Usually he would be ashamed of masturbation, but this marked a new beginning, a reality that he would no longer have to deal with Livia. And as he washed off his hand and abs, he almost let out a sigh of relief. Coriolanus had never slept better than when he knew your panties were under his pillow.

Taglist!

@daenerysqueenofhearts @caramelandvenus @yoursrosie @wearemadeofstardust0 @kay-lla @mrsriddlenott @sleekervae @ianales @qoopeeya @arzua10 @matcha-muses @jitsuki12 @nojeicintjzonfhw @poppyflower-22 @lustforrush @jefferson-in-the-tardis @aurabambi @royal-sunflower @rovckwells @rubys-rere @iydImsydxoxo @lucyisdoingfine @nyxxoxo @paradisepoisons @miserableblood @poppyflower-22 @anonymous14261703170309 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @sqct @anakinluvr4ever @tmblrsexyw0man (comment if you wanna be added🫶)

[callsign-rogueone]

conscription day - a.g.

Aaric Graycastle x reader words: 1.2k 🏷: at incredibly long last, here begins the story of Aaric and Sunny! no pronouns used in this chapter but future ones will use she/her. very minimal Iron Flame spoilers. their story will follow the whole book so more major stuff in future chapters. in this one: canon-typical peril, dragon fire, implied death of unnamed characters. proofread, but with a migraine. five points of extra credit if you can identify another girlfriend or two in here 👀

Crossing the parapet was easy enough, and that should be the hardest part of your day today, yet you still can’t kick the nervous feeling in your chest, even after you have both boots on solid ground and your name has been recorded as having made it across, after you've been organized into a squad...

It persists through the handful of boring patriotic speeches about the commitment you’ve made to your country, which go in one ear and out the other. You know why you’re here. You don’t need to be given any other reasons.

You look over at the boy next to you. He doesn’t look scared of anything; not the quartet of dragons perched on the stone wall fifty yards away, nor the rest of the cadets around him who are all armed to the teeth, but he’s not loud and proud about it like some of the other cadets you’d heard talking on the Parapet. He’s keeping quiet, and watching. 

It’s almost like he doesn’t want anyone to see him, trying to blend into the crowd as an average guy so as to not make any enemies or expose any weakness he might have — but he certainly doesn’t look like he has any weaknesses, tall and strong and well trained, wearing his weapons like he knows how to use them, silently watching the rest of the crowd in the courtyard.

Maybe you’re a little bit alike in that regard; not in your level of preparation — you’re definitely the least-armed person in the squad, and likely in the entire quadrant, with one knife at each hip and absolutely nothing else, as that was all you’d been able to afford before you left for Basgiath — but in the way you present yourselves to the rest of the world, focusing on figuring everyone else out and keeping quiet, not sharing much.

Your nerves are finally starting to settle. The four dragons continue to eye you, some scarier than others; a battle-hardened red, a bored green and an equally disinterested brown that actually yawns -- and looks to be missing a few teeth when it does, and a mean-looking blue at the end of the row. Just missing black and orange.

As if the thought had manifested into reality, a massive, one-eyed orange dragon swoops down to perch on the wall too, stone crumbling under its feet. The other dragons clearly weren’t expecting this — the red bares his teeth at the intruder, the others backing up to give him a healthy amount of space.

One of the wingleaders, the only girl of the four, shouts something you can’t distinguish, and then there’s a chorus of screams as the orange unhinges its massive jaw, spewing red flame upon the formation.

A girl across the courtyard springs into action, leaping in front of her wing with her palms outstretched, making some kind of invisible shield over herself and the group of students behind her that deflects the fire. Clearly there isn’t anyone in your area that has this ability — everyone hits the ground, or yanks each other aside and prays they’ll be far enough away to avoid being burnt.

The boy you’d been watching locks eyes with you, and then you’re on the ground underneath him in a matter of seconds, wrapped up in each other; chest to chest, his hands braced against the gravel on either side of your head, one leg between yours, your faces less than three inches apart.

The intimacy, the implications of this position you’re in with a total stranger, a man you’ve never met, and an armed one, at that, should make your skin crawl, should make you want to kick and scratch to get him off of you, but you stay in place, under the safety of his armored shoulders, because it’s clear that he doesn’t want to hurt you, or to assert his power over you — but to protect you.

You have a deep-down feeling that you can trust him, despite not knowing anything about him. He doesn’t know anything about you, either. You don’t think he even knows your name — you’re certainly too shaken to remember his, if you’d heard it -- but he hadn’t hesitated to put himself between you and danger, turned his back on a fire-breathing dragon to make sure you were safe.

You’re still transfixed by the color of his eyes, a gorgeous jade green with a ring of gold around his pupils, which are dilated with the same mix of shock and fear that yours must be -- maybe he’s not as fearless as you thought. No, brave is a better descriptor. Isn’t that what bravery is, being scared but doing it anyway? 

If every day at this school is like this, you could certainly learn a thing or two from him.

The screaming stops and the heat lessens, replaced with the sound of an earth-shaking roar and the smell of smoke and charred leather.

“Are you okay?” he asks, the first time you’ve heard him speak. His voice is soft and cool, soothing.

“Yeah,” you manage, blinking up at him. “I’m okay.”

He rises to his knees, then his feet, extending a hand to help you up. You take it appreciatively, regaining your footing, surprised by the steadiness of your steps.

He reaches forward to brush the dirt from your hair, tucking a loosened strand behind your ear.

Your heart has never beat this fast in your life. You’ve never been touched this gently, never seen such a deep look of concern in a man’s eyes, that gorgeous shade of green looking down at you…  You realize that he’s still holding your hand -- rather, you’re still holding his. You let go quickly, your cheeks warming with embarrassment. 

“I’m okay,” you repeat, as much of a reassurance for yourself as it is for him. “Thank you,” you add after a second, still a little stunned by the events of the last two minutes — especially by the way he’d acted, to come to your rescue without hesitation.

He would smile at you if he hadn’t just watched a dozen people be incinerated. “We’re supposed to look out for each other, aren’t we?”

You manage a nod, your eyes finally moving from his to assess the damage and regretting it immediately. All of Second Wing seems intact, having been protected by the girl who had put up the air shield. She looks a little unsteady on her feet, but otherwise unharmed — it must have taken a lot of energy to do something like that. First Wing was far enough away to be unscathed, but Third Wing, and the squad beside yours… if you had been placed anywhere else, there would have been a reasonable chance that you’d have been burnt alive.

You don’t have much time to dwell on it as the girl you remember to be the squad leader, Rhiannon, barks out an order to fall back into formation. 

You step back into place at the back of the block, between your hero and a blonde girl who looks like she regrets eating breakfast this morning. “Deep breaths,” you whisper to her. “In through your nose, out through your mouth, like you’re blowing bubbles.”

She blinks at you, but tries it anyway, and it seems to work, her posture loosening slowly. “Thanks,” she replies quietly, keeping her eyes forward. 

The boy is right — the three of you should look out for each other, if you want to make it out of here alive.

[kateswallofweird]

i miss the age of tumblr when mcu fanfictions were constant. post thanos snap so ig nomad!steve rogers x you ; will update wc later ; definitely not proofread

you didn't mean to fall in love with him. it just happened.

"they're after me again."

steve was up before you could even open your eyes. you felt the bed dip as you blinked away the remnants of sleep, and when you came to, he was frantically looking for his suit.

"it's hanging in the bathroom," you say, a yawn betraying you as you sat up, drawing the blanket closer to your body.

this was the third night in a row that he'd woken with a start, convinced that someone was coming to get him, to get you. it had happened in the past—the sense of impending doom, not the presence of a threat part—and every time anxiety filled him, you talked him down from his ledge of fear.

it was a consequence of the life he's lived for so long, you realized after his second panic. beneath the heroics (the risky plays that would leave anyone else for dead, the responsibility to run into fire when everyone else ran away) and all the power (the super serum and the expectation to always deliver), steve rogers was still a man whose heart pumped his body of blood and whose mind ran in circles when presented grief. a well aimed punch would still hurt him just like how years of fighting still incurs in him an unfamiliarity to peace.

"we need to leave," he mumbles. it's more to himself than it is a direction to you. "secure the perimeter. payments in cash. fake names and new disguises."

he fumbles with the zipper of his top. his hands start to shake, and the rings that line his eyes seem darker tonight.

"who's coming after us?" you ask, getting out of bed (despite your body aching for sleep) to help him. your fingers straighten out his armor, the rough kevlar fabric no longer leaving your fingertips raw.

when you look up from his suit, it's clear he's searching for an answer. his eyes scan the windows behind you, like he's expecting an assailant to launch themself through the glass at any moment.

"steve."

he is ripped from his anxiety by your voice. all it takes is his name, the gentle but commanding tone you take to bring him back down to earth.

"i . . ." but he can't even begin to form a sentence to tell you what's plaguing him.

he is a weathered version of the man he once was. captain america? what a joke; the modern day symbol of patriotism was laughable to him. he wasn't a hero anymore; he'd lost his fight. he was just . . . steve rogers now, a fugitive overridden with the fear of his past catching up to him.

"talk to me," you plead.

his chest tightens when his gaze meets yours.

"do you ever think about," he pauses, like he can't bring himself to say it, so you wait until he can. "do you ever think about how much better your life would be—without me?"

"never."

because you didn't mean to fall in love with him. you didn't mean to cross government lines and harbor a fugitive despite the growing consequences and a call for his return. you didn't mean to soften the heart of a hero growing sour, someone who's seen war and suffering and what happens when you fail to shoulder your burden. you didn't mean to find hope amidst the grief of a world half empty, spilling joy back into a man who was just about ready to give up. you didn't mean to fall in love with him. it just happened.

but you supposed that's what made love so beautiful; it's a choice. every day, every hour, every minute—it's a choice to stay and to do right by this person you've committed to.

"come back to bed. it's cold without you."

[negative-null-semiofficial]

My bishop gets up and says "I'm so sad that they're taking the patriotic hymns out of the hymnbook, we're going to sing them all July long!"

And softly from the back row I whispered "Don't"

[sailoryooons]

I hope everyone who voted third-party or not at all has a front row seat to the horrors they have inevitably unleashed upon their fellow countrymen in the name of “patriotism”

[robthegoodfellow]

I'm Glad My Dad Died

mungrove | slightly expanded version of fic written for @strangerthingscharityzine | ao3

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Billy had a secret: he was glad his dad was dead. So glad that even when his mom sold their house in Ocean Beach and moved them to Hawkins, Indiana, uprooting him from his friends and the sea and everything Billy loved, he still wouldn’t go back to the way things were. Given the options—California, dad alive; or Indiana, dad dead—he’d pick the second every time.

He would, even though Hawkins was its own hell. Learned the hard way that among prepubescent country bumpkins, embroidered roses on your shirt and hair like Shirley Temple bought you a one-way ticket to Loserville.

It was the fall of 1979. Disco was dying and former flower children were gearing up to vote for Reagan. Kumbaya over, time to make America great again.

So, yeah—sixth grade sucked, but stuff at home was world’s better. They were living with Aunt Doris—because San Diego was too expensive, his mom said, and wouldn’t it be nice to get a fresh start?

Mom was really into the whole fresh start thing—which Billy suspected was fueled by guilt and determination to be the kind of mother she hadn’t been before. And… he appreciated that. He did.

But—he wished she would stop? Put down the pen, step away from the extracurricular sign-up sheets.

Because if the outfit put a target on his back, swim team aimed the bow, and band fired the arrow. 

You’ll miss the water, honey. And you love music! 

She wasn’t wrong. He did love those things—but not enough to willingly wear a Speedo in public or blunder through some Beethoven on the flute. Also in public.

Oh—why the flute? Because she’d fed him a steady diet of hippie tunes from the cradle and knew how much he dug Jethro Tull. Perfectly reasonable explanation—his peers would definitely understand.

Here lies Billy Hargrove, innocent victim of social homicide. 

The bullying was relentless, but Billy figured he could take it. No middle school bully could come close to the one he’d lived with all his life. 

You know, the one he was glad was dead.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Billy hadn’t wanted to attend the talent show, but Mom insisted it was important to support his friends. By which she meant her friends—women she’d been palling around with who had kids in said show.

Kids she’d been aggressively arranging playdates with like Billy was five. 

Patrick’s talent was making twenty free-throw shots in a row. Robin’s was singing “This Land is Your Land” in four different languages. His mom and Mrs. Buckley had laughed about keeping the less than patriotic lyrics, assuming the Spanish rendition would fly over people’s heads.

Billy felt bad even thinking it, but he did wonder if his mom pushing these particular friends at him was part of her fresh start campaign.

Pat was black. Robin was a girl. And his dad had a habit of muttering snide remarks about anyone who wasn’t a WASP packing a sizable stinger—who wasn’t a clone of Neil Hargrove, basically.

And look, Pat and Robin were—fine. But he knew and they knew that they were only hanging out because their moms wanted them to, which was awkward as hell. Made his palms sweat whenever they were together or whenever they said hi at school despite him being a fairy freak according to kids whose opinions mattered. 

They were nice, but it felt like pity. Embarrassing in a way that made him shrivel up inside.

So he wasn’t in the best mood, slumped in the auditorium between his mother and Doris, praying no one pelted him with shit from behind. Mom felt crappy enough about all those years with Neil—Billy didn’t need her kicking herself for scooping him out of the fire and into a frying pan.

Pat set a record—28 in a row—and Billy clapped. Robin sang her song wearing a daisy crown, and Billy clapped. Dully, he watched as stagehands set up the next act, hauling out a drum kit.

Gareth, this shrimpy sixth grader, sat at the drums. Then an eighth grader came out, followed by a couple kids in seventh, the former bearing an electric guitar, one of the latter a bass. The guitarist waved, leaned into the mic—skinny guy with a buzzcut, eyes big and dark as an alien. 

We are Corroded Coffin—paused as a contingent of the audience went nuts—and this song is called Paranoid.

In the next row, a kid whispered, excited: Think they’ll make Coleman pull the plug again?

Gareth banged his drumsticks, counting them off. 

The opening riffs were like nothing Billy had heard before—this grind of chords that rattled teeth, thrummed in the chest. He straightened, compelled forward, a fishing line hooked deep.

Buzzcut was bent over the strings so low that all you could see was the top of his head, a fuzzy cue ball. Then Gareth kicked in, and the front man wailed the first verse, this nasal staccato, sort of speak-singing.

Billy scrambled to decipher the rapidfire—caught bits of the first verses. Then the bridge begged for help, and the rest landed loud and clear.

I need someone to show me The things in life that I can't find I can't see the things that make       true happiness I must be blind

The words were meant for him—just for Billy. It’s me. The guitarist leapt, plunged into a driving solo. The song’s about me.

Make a joke and I will sigh And you will laugh and I will cry Happiness I cannot feel And love to me is so unreal

Helpless, Billy turned to his mom, who grinned, whispering they’re great, aren’t they? He could only nod, swinging back to the guitarist, riveted until the final blaring note.

For Christmas, Billy unwrapped the smallest package under the tree—a cassette. It was all he’d asked for: Black Sabbath’s greatest hits album.

Because that night of the talent show, he sold his soul for rock n’ roll.

More specifically, for heavy metal.

More secretly, for the boy with the big brown eyes.

Eddie, he’d found out at school the next day, gossip overheard at lunch. The boy was Eddie.

Eddie Munson.

And whenever Billy caught a glimpse of him, the rest of that year, he thrummed like an electric guitar.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Unfortunately, his passion for headbanging and powerchords did not meaningfully improve the remainder of middle school, and by the time he walked the stage at eighth grade graduation, Billy resolved to make a change—give himself a fresh start on his terms.

First, he mowed endless lawns and bought a new wardrobe: bootcut jeans with matching boots, which lent him some height and a certain swagger; button downs in dark colors worn open to his sternum and white tees like the crew from Outsiders; a bitchin’ leather jacket.

His hair had progressed from Shirley Temple to Farrah Fawcett, so he trotted to the barber for a Bon Jovi bi-level. Almost chickened out at the mall when he got his ear pierced, but loved the way the earring swung from his left lobe… though the right would’ve been more accurate. 

He quit band and swim. Thought maybe he’d try basketball instead, and enlisted Pat to help him practice.

They were actual buddies by then.

Lastly, he took up smoking. Marlboro Reds, because they were badass. Soldiered through the pack all summer, suppressing a gag on every pull till he was puffing like a chimney.

August before ninth grade, Pat’s brother let them tag along to a party at the quarry; if Billy got in good with upperclassmen, it could pave the way to social acceptance—maybe even… popularity?

Total pipe dream, but then… it worked.

That night was one for the record books: first time smoking dope, shot-gunning a beer… first time a girl went down on him.

First time he’d seen Eddie in two years. Wouldn’t even have recognized him, except the eyes hadn’t changed. Eddie was a junior and looked it: taller, wild dark hair to his shoulders, tattoos peeking from his sleeves. He made a brief appearance and vanished—there to sell some supply, not socialize.

Billy wished he’d stayed. Admitted then what he was most excited about for high school: the chance to see Eddie Munson again.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Ironically, the object of Billy’s obsession had suffered a fall from grace in the transition to the big leagues: swirling rumors swore he was a Satan-worshiping anarchist and a burnout to boot. A weirdo who played geeky games with his loser friends.

Except—unlike Billy, Eddie didn’t give a fuck. While Billy strutted around vaguely unsettled, ill at ease with his costume, this immersive performance for the foreseeable future, Eddie had unveiled his freak flag—reveled in it, let it fly.

Regret gnawed at him, grew in Billy’s gut—knew if he were a little braver, he could trash this cool kid stuff and… 

End of Eddie’s senior year, Billy was sick at heart. Knew he’d missed his shot.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

So imagine his confusion, surprise—his hidden euphoric delight—when Billy spotted that dark mop atop a wiry frame loping across the parking lot on the first day of eleventh grade.

Eddie should have graduated, but for whatever reason… hadn’t.

Thus, a new resolution: seize this chance. Be Eddie’s friend.

By second semester, Billy had worked his way up to casual chit chat and also, incidentally, was a raging pothead—so much so that his mother was worried, and she had spent the 60s stoned out of her gourd.

Let him experiment, Doris advised, winking at Billy over dinner. His grades are fine. What’s the harm?

The following evening, Doris showed him her special cookies stashed in the freezer, cautioning him to only ever take one bite and be patient. Billy asked if he could give one to his friend.

Top tier moment, right up there with Dad dying. Eddie’s eyes lit up all starry, demanded Billy come hang so they could make like Keebler—try the old elfin magic—and Billy was blessed to learn that Loaded Eddie = Handsy Eddie.

Blessed and cursed, because Eddie learned that Blazed Billy = Honest Billy. Tell me a secret, Eddie said, tickling. Tell me a secret.

Nothing happened. Eddie was just… affectionate. Bit of a snuggler. Who now knew he was the reason Billy was such a metalhead. 

And that Billy was glad—about his dad.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Eddie was held back again, and suddenly math and history were Billy’s favorite classes because Eddie sat next to him in the back row. Seemed to do decently with Billy there egging him on.

Thus, his final resolution: graduate with Eddie. Drag him across the finish line if necessary. Billy held study sessions he didn’t need at the library after school, invited Eddie to join—and Eddie did.

Eddie invited Billy to come see his band play at a local bar on Tuesdays—and Billy did.

Tell me a secret, Eddie said one weekend, when they were sharing a bowl, and Billy snorted, gazed into bloodshot eyes. Glad you got held back. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be doing this. Eddie smirked, soft. Getting high? Billy laughed. Hanging out.

Billy turned eighteen that March, and the Buckleys and McKinneys came over to celebrate, as usual. Unusual was the doorbell as they were about to eat, Eddie and Wayne trooping in, sorry for being late.

Robin picked up on something that night—cornered him in the bathroom. Are you and Eddie…? Billy went tight, and she rushed to reassure. It’s okay if you are. I am, too. So Billy breathed, calmed. I am. I dunno if he is. Robin arched her brow. From where I’m sitting, odds are good.

Billy spent weeks yanking hope by the roots.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Come May, they walked in green cap and gown—hugged in the milling crowd, Eddie cackling wet in his ear, a clinging koala. Didn’t think I could do it.

Billy brought him along to Robin’s graduation party. In the backyard, her old childhood treehouse beckoned, and they heeded the call.

Tell me a secret, Eddie said, sitting back against mossy boards. They weren’t even high. He flicked Billy’s earring—set his heart swinging. That should be on the other side, Billy said, and stared until Eddie flushed red, understood. I got a secret, he said, and Billy didn’t dare to know but did. 

Eddie said it: I’ve wanted to kiss you all year.

A click as Billy swallowed, bone dry. Then do it.

And Eddie did.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

[eldritch-bf]

An underrated part of the original short stories is the detail that the narrator is zealous and prideful about their heroic service with the military helping to protect democracy and freedom of whatever and the fact that West was apparently side-eyeing the entire time. Like he wants the bodies but he does not give a shit about patriotic duty or whatever nonsense, which is honestly probably used to further emphasize how inhuman/amoral he is for that time period but it actually endears him to me. Especially because it’s extremely funny. Imagine the narrator and West standing off to the side while a Sargent gives a morale boosting speech to the soldiers standing in their neat rows and the narrator is damn near ready to grab a rifle and join the war as a combatant and West is just rolling his eyes and making faces the whole time.

[ash5monster01]

Getaway Camp : Ten

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x FemReader

Warnings: 18+, smut, alcohol use, mentions of relations with older women, language, oral, p in v, dirty talk, lots of foreplay, heavy tension.

Summary: It’s the busiest day of camp and despite how daunting the day may seem, Charlie and Valerie finally find a way to get some alone time.

word count: 4.5k

Masterlist

Nine ←→ Eleven

July 4th 1961

When the camp bugle goes off in the morning, Charlie is quick to groan and pull his pillow over his head. Even though it was just another Tuesday, today was the Fourth of July. Every staff camper was required to work because they’d need all hands on deck. Everyone was guaranteed to be here, even the Bungalow Bunnies missing husbands. Campers would have extra family come in and the entire camp would be focused on celebrating the national holiday. Charlie always loved the Fourth of July, but right now he really wished this cabin would swallow him whole.

There was no point in stopping to see Valerie before his shift because she more than likely had been at the lake for an hour already. Today Charlie was only meant to be an extra set of hands, rowing not really a priority on a celebratory day. For Valerie though, they needed all the lifeguards they could get, the Holiday bringing more people to the lake than there had been all summer. So slowly Charlie got up and ready, hoping the day wouldn’t be to mind numbing or hot, yet maybe the heat would give him an excuse to visit Val.

“Hey Charlie” Chrissy greets from her and Valerie’s shared cabin when he steps outside. Charlie offers a small smile, waving his hand politely at her.

“Hey Chris, I’m assuming Val’s gone already?” he nods his head in no particular direction, knowing the girl would most likely be exhausted before the end of the day.

“Yeah, Levi and her left around 5am. Wanted to get a head start before the chaos” she tells him and Charlie finally notices the red, white, and blue outfit she has thrown on. With a quick glance it’s not hard to see that all the staff had gone out of their way to dress up for the holiday.

“Sounds like her, it’s about to be a busy day” and Chrissy nods, knowing he doesn’t even understand the half of it. With one more wave Charlie is off and in search of some food to fuel him throughout the day.

After being put on nearly a million different tasks throughout the day, Martha the camp director sets him free, and Charlie races towards the dock to see his girl. As soon as she’s in sight he’s the least bit surprised she has dressed up for the holiday as well. Star earrings dangling from her ears, a blue skirt pulled over her red swimsuit, and an American flag hat on top of her head. Beside her stands Levi in a white t-shirt with an American flag in the center, paired with just his regular red swim trunks. Funniest of all is Alex who stands in American flag overalls, his captain hat, and nothing else. Charlie isn’t the least bit surprised.

“Ace!” the girl cheers the second she sees him and Charlie can’t help the dopey grin that crosses his face as he watches her sprint down the dock and towards him. He never knew it could be like this, to always be so happy and excited around another person. He always just viewed girls as some convenience. He never knew it could be an actual and real relationship.

“Hey doll” he smiles once she’s barreled into his arms, body wrapped around him whole, and he’s quite sure he’ll never get tired of how warm she is or the way she smells. In just the last month her presence alone had become the place he felt the safest.

“You didn’t dress up?” She pouts once she’s pulled away and Charlie snorts, expecting this reaction completely.

“I would have if I had thought to pack anything remotely patriotic before I came here but I fear it’s only black and white t-shirts for me” Valerie raises her eyebrows and even though everyone around them views it as a teasing glance, Charlie knows it’s because the girl loves nothing more than him in a tight t-shirt.

“You can model those for me later, we can go to Levi’s cabin in a little bit and steal something” she tells him, hands squeezing at his sides and Charlie just chuckles because really who is he to complain when it comes to her.

“Happy Fourth of July man” Levi greets as they walk over. Alex smiles from beside him, bare shoulders and the curve of his chest peaking from behind the suspender straps.

“That’s quite an outfit” Charlie says and Alex grins with a shrug.

“Busy day for me, you wouldn’t believe the amount of activities I had to have planned. Guests always love it when I show a little skin” he flexes his arm, taking his job as a camp director and weird just a little too serious. Charlie just laughs and shakes his head until he spots Nate leaving the main lodge with two bungalow bunnies under his arms, wearing the most sheer red tights he’s ever seen.

“Put that thing away Fanning!” Levi calls out and Nate glares at him before bidding the two older women goodbye and stalking down the dock towards them. Charlie has to actually look away from how much is showing in Nate’s groin. He wonders if he actually even knew how to dance, let alone teach a class.

“Hey, complain all you want, but I could probably guarantee I made more tips than all of you combined today” he points a finger at each of them, a different kind of cockiness and confident persona than Charlie ever had. He’s almost thankful but then he wonders if growing up as a preparatory school kid really did affect him.

“Can’t argue there, Mrs. Thompson squeezed my ass during Simon Says today” Alex says, shivering at the thought of the older woman. Valerie can’t contain her giggles with that image now in her head.

“Nothing is worse than the time Mrs. Kellerman insisted I teach her mouth to mouth and then attempting to practice on me” Levi says, a hand wiping at his mouth as if the older woman’s lips were somehow still there.

“What about you Charlie, any older women hit on you yet?” Nate asks and Valerie instantly looks at him, eyebrows raised and patiently awaiting the answer to this question. Charlie turns fire truck red before a nervous hand rubs at the back of his neck.

“Only once, Mrs Turner took a morning class of mine a few weeks back. She sat in the front seat facing me and every time she leaned forward to row she leaned a little to close to my crotch” this has the boys laughing loudly at his sheepish answer and even Valerie can’t contain her giggles at the thought. Poor uncomfortable Charlie probably unsure what to do as the woman leaned closer and closer.

“Oh poor baby, I’m sure that was traumatic” Valerie says, voice full of amusement as she pats the boys chest and he rolls his eyes as the boys continue to laugh.

“Valerie, don’t pretend like all the guys here don’t ogle you everyday” Alex points out and Valerie just shakes her head before propping her hands on her hips.

“That’s only because men can never take a hint and I look damn good in a bathing suit” the boys laugh again but Charlie just gulps because that very bathing suit had haunted his dreams since he first got here. Now he was burning with jealousy over all the other men who did.

“Let’s just all agree it’s apart of the job” Levi starts and everyone nods. “And Nate just happens to abuse his power”

“Hey!” the boys begin arguing and Valerie just rolls her eyes before laughing and sliding her hand into Charlie’s.

“We’ll see you boys at the Tip later. Levi, me and Charlie are going to steal some of your clothes” and Charlie is quite certain the boys didn’t even hear her but Valerie is dragging him along anyway and he would never fight her on that. As long as he was with her.

It’s not long until Charlie is dressed in one his white T-shirts and a pair of flag shorts they had found in Levi’s cabin. They surprisingly fit even though Charlie’s crotch was now covered in stars and legs in red and white stripes. Either way it made Valerie happy and he found no point in complaining when she set her hat on his head and a kiss on his lips. He wore the patriotic outfit and drank a beer at the staff camp dinner before following her on a hike to the Tip.

It was a clearing on the side of one of the camps mountains, it apparently had the best view of the lake, and was the ideal watch spot for any staff who didn’t have to work through the firework show. It also was a well known hookup spot. Either way Charlie was still sat next to Valerie on the same blanket from their first date, a stolen bottle of champagne between them, and a sunset better than any he had seen this entire summer.

“Please tell me it’s not some random staff blowing off these fireworks?” Charlie asks after a beat, admiring the way Valerie’s hair cascaded down her back. How it matches perfectly with her tan skin and the red sundress on her form. He fears he’ll never be able to look at the color red for the rest of his life without picturing her in this dress or her bathing suit.

“No, thankfully. Samuel Adler hires professionals that put on this big show. It’s usually the only time of year I see him out and about at camp with a giant Eagle shirt on” Valerie tells him and Charlie snorts at the image.

“He seems very patriotic” Charlie says and Valerie shrugs, eyes cast out in the horizon.

“Yeah but Adler means Eagle. That’s why it’s our camp mascot. So I also think that has a lot to do with it” and Charlie laughs, picturing all the Staff shirts stuffed in his cabin closet that have printed eagles on them. It suddenly all made sense.

“Figures” Charlie adds and Valerie giggles, reaching for some of the snacks they brought. The sun was dipping behind the horizon now. The bright orange sky now a faded blue. The perfect backdrop for an array of colorful fireworks, but Charlie can’t pull his eyes from the girl. Slowly he reaches his hand out and brushes some of her hair away, revealing the bare skin of her back. Eyes holding something she had never seen before.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks with a soft chuckle despite how on edge she felt, the anticipation bubbling underneath the surface.

“You’re just so beautiful” and much to Valerie’s surprise, Charlie’s leaned forward and pressing a soft kiss to the back of her bare shoulder. His lips linger there a moment, arm keeping her hair pushed out of the way, and fingers grasped lightly around the base of her neck.

Goosebumps rise along her body the same time her knees push together tightly. She’s unsure she’s ever reacted in a such a way to a man’s touch before. He’s already got her worked up and he hasn’t even done anything yet. Just the idea of so much bare skin and soft lips has her nipples peaking underneath the fabric of her dress. There was no chance tonight would end and they’d have to be apart. She needed Charlie Dalton and she wanted him now. She was going to make sure of it.

“I’ll be right back” she says when he pulls away and Charlie’s eyebrows draw together in confusion as she scrambles up in search of Levi. When she finds him he’s stood with Alex and he doesn’t even see her coming as she tugs him back into the tree line. Charlie watches this but chooses to ignore it despite the uneasiness that now settles in his gut. They were just friends, right?

“What the hell?” Levi asks until he spots her eager and serious face. It’s not every day your best friend pulls you into the woods with a mad woman look.

“I need a favor” and that’s how the plan goes into motion. Why when they step out of the woods Levi is approaching Mia for the first time since the first night at camp. Flirting and convincing the girl the ask her roommate Alice if she could spend the night with Andy tonight so Levi could come over. Alice agrees and goes off in search of Andy while Valerie goes for the most pivotal part of her plan.

“Nate, can we talk?” the cocky boy, now free of the revealing tights turns to face her. His dirty blonde hair styled perfectly and permanent smirk wide on his face.

“What’s good Val?” he asks, sipping from the beer can in his hand. Valerie knows it’s a long shot but she’s desperate, never been this desperate before.

“I’m about to ask you something I know you’ll say no to, but I’m desperate” Valerie whispers and Nate ducks closer, making sure neither of them can be heard by the fellow campers.

“What is it?” he asks and Valerie sighs, wringing her hands together nervously as she accepts her fate. Putting all her hope into Nate, of all people, hands.

“Ask Chrissy to spend the night? Please, before you argue. Levi is staying with Mia tonight and Alice is going to stay with Andy, I was hoping to have Charlie stay with me, but with Chrissy in the cabin…” Valerie trails off, waiting patiently as the boy mulls it over. He recognizes what lengths Valerie has gone too, the detailed way of cabin swapping almost everyone within their friend group. Despite how much he wants to avoid Chrissy he can’t help but feel a little pride over her sneaky way of finding alone time to hook up. It’s something he wishes he was clever enough to do.

“Fine, but you owe me big time” Valerie can’t help but clap her hands together before jumping and pulling him into a hug. The boy rolls his eyes but accepts it anyway.

“Thank you Nate” and then she’s rushing off, leaving him to find Chrissy despite how badly he didn’t want to.

Charlie doesn’t expect the girls return, she practically barrels into him, knocking him back on the blanket. He goes to ask her what she was up to but her lips lock onto his the second the first firework lights off in the sky and now he couldn’t care less. She kissed him a few more beats before rolling to her back and looking up at the sky. Green, purple, red, and blue fireworks firing above them.

“Would you want to stay in my cabin tonight?” Valerie asks and Charlie’s head snaps towards her, shocked by the question. Yet she doesn’t seem phased, eyes cast on the sky above her, and all the pretty colors. Perfectly content.

“What about Chrissy?” he asks and Valerie’s head turns, Charlie’s eye line following to see Nate curled closely to the blonde girl on a blanket not very far from their own.

“She won’t be a problem” and it finally occurs too Charlie what exactly the girl had been up to while she was gone. He can’t help the way his face heats up when she turns back to look at him, the suggestion heavy and looming, and the wait finally over.

“I’d love to stay”

It’s the first time he’s ever seen Valerie say no to a party, dragging him into the woods while everyone stays at the Tip, drinks in hand and music playing from the radio someone had brought. The hike is practically terrifying in the dark but Valerie’s hand in his own as she drags him along gives him a thrill he never wants to lose. Even staff camp is dark with everyone gone, only a few lanterns along the walkway lit as they go past each of the darkened cabins. It isn’t until they reach their own does Charlie finally feel his heart stutter in his chest.

“Do you need anything from yours?” Valerie innocently asks and Charlie gulps, eyes flitting between the two cabins.

“Yeah, why don’t you go in and I’ll be right there” he urges her away and Valerie flashes a smile before Charlie lets go of her and and walks to his own door. Once inside he scrambles for an old Welton shirt and some boxers, stuffing them into a bag along with condoms he never thought he’d have to use. Before leaving he takes a quick swig from one of the liquor bottles on his desk, hoping the liquid courage would bring back the same seventeen year old Charlie that once seduced a woman in a cave. He could do this.

Charlie sees no reason to knock when he steps into Valerie’s cabin, the shades a hazy yellow now lit with life inside. Yet he freezes when he finds the girl standing in only her bra and panties, red fabric pooled at her feet. Valerie is sheepish but hides it well as she flashes him a pretty smile.

“Sorry, I was just sick of that dress” she tells him, reaching for a stray staff shirt on the chair of her desk but Charlie holds a hand up, stopping her while his other hand clicks the lock close on the cabin door.

“Wow” is all he can say and Valerie blushes, her head dropping to look at her feet, arms wrapping around her front. It’s the first time she’s felt self conscious and beautiful at the same time. Charlie walks over, dropping his bag along the way, before grabbing her arms and pulling them away. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen V”

“Oh please” she tries to shove him but Charlie’s grip is strong, right hand leaving her arm and gripping the bare flesh of her waist. He pulls her close, close enough that for the first time she actually has to strain her neck a little to look up at him.

“I mean it, I knew it the minute we met” Charlie says and Valerie smiles before responding with a soft kiss. Her other arm escaping his left hand as she wraps them around his neck and pulls herself flush against him. Charlies hands slide to her back, every trace of his touch lighting her skin on fire. It doesn’t have to be rushed, it’s just them. The tension slowly unwinding, the itch finally being scratched. So it’s a surprise to no one that when Valerie’s tongue slips into his mouth and hand tangles in his hair, his hands are gripping at the dough of her ass.

Valerie breaks the kiss for only a second, pulling the tight white tee up Charlie’s form. Revealing the happy trail and the defined pecs from the past month of rowing. He’s so handsome and she has to try not to whimper at the sight. She never knew it could be like this, so intimate, so meaningful, so desired. Charlie’s eyes gaze deeply into her own, a need burrowing in him like never before. This time he attached to her more hungrily, guiding her towards her bed and gently laying her back down on it while his mouth kisses her feverishly. This time it’s fast, desperate, excited, and it’s already making Valerie wet.

“Shit Val, you’re so soft” Charlie mutters, lips trailing onto her neck, more than likely leaving deep crimson marks she couldn’t hide. Valerie just giggles, legs wrapping around his waist before grinding herself into him. He’s already hard, tall and proud against her, and she can’t help but guide her heat over it again.

“And you are not” she whispers in his ear and the hair on Charlie’s arms rise, involuntarily rutting his hips into her and that’s when he hears it. The softest and sweetest moan leave her lips and suddenly he’s ten times harder.

His lips trail from her neck to her chest, once over her bra, before his fingers are digging into the cups and pulling them down. Her breasts spill free from the top, her left nipple getting caught in his mouth. She writhes underneath him, whining as he sucks harshly at one and gropes the other. It’s a sensation she’s never had before. Hands tangled in his hair she moans as he switches between them, sucking and biting softly into her flesh before unclasping the bra and freeing it from her body.

Charlie sits up, eyes catching her own before dropping to her bare breasts again. Valerie watches eagerly as his hands reach out to grope her, grabbing at her chest and pinching her nipples softly. The action has her hips shimmying against him, searching for friction. Charlie complies, grinding into her heat and trying desperately to ignore the wet patch that has formed on her panties.

“Has anyone gone down on you before?” he whispers, words coming out in a soft pant, and Valerie shakes her head quickly. The idea scaring her, to many horror stories from her friends saying how men said it was disgusting. The last thing she wanted was to scare Charlie away.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to-” the words catch in her throat, freezing the minute Charlie’s hand cups over her pussy, rubbing slow circles over the fabric.

“I want to” is all he says and she chokes over the words, trying to fight it but his large fingers feel so good and then suddenly he’s on his knees. Staring at her like the most magnificent thing on this earth.

Valerie keeps her mouth shut, watching as his fingers slide under the hem of her white panties and begin to slowly pull them down. She’s almost embarrassed by how wet she already is but when she’s on full display, Charlie blows a soft breeze against her core and her head is already falling back into the sheets. He trails slow kisses along her inner thighs, her legs shaking with anticipation as his arms hook under them. She has no warning when his lips finally press softly onto her clit. Kissing it for good measure.

When his tongue dips into her folds she has to grip tightly at the sheets, a heavy whimper leaving her lips as he explores her. When his tongue slips inside at the same time his nose bumps her clit, she can’t help the way her legs begin to tighten around his head. Charlie doesn’t seem to mind, he just keeps devouring her like a man starved. He’s sporting his own wet spot through his borrowed shorts while he does so. Needing to be inside her more and more.

“Wait, Charlie, I’m gonna-” she doesn’t finish her sentence, the orgasm washing over her, legs clenching tightly and Charlie using his own strength to hold them open while he eats her through her orgasm. When her body finally stills he stops, the girl breathing heavily against the mattress.

“Such a good girl” he praises and Valerie wonders how that’s already made her wet again. As Charlie stands she finds the strength to lift her head, watching with wide eyes as he pushes the shorts off his form and his length snapping up against his pelvis. Just barely grazing the happy trail she had become so obsessed with. Her mouth waters at the sight and it makes sense his cock is just as pretty as him.

“You sure you’ll fit?” she asks as he reaches for a condom and Charlie smirks, a real Charlie smirk as he rolls it along his length. He doesn’t answer her question but instead dips his tip into her folds, gliding it up until it taps against her bundle of nerves, and that’s enough to answer her question with a yes.

“I’ll go slow” he promises, lips meeting her own in a sweet kiss. When she starts to grind against his length he uses one hand to line himself up with her entrance, sinking deeply, and doing his best to keep control. He was desperate not to cum within the first thirty seconds. Valerie winces lightly but her hands reach for his sides, guiding him deeper. Charlie takes his time, sinking slower and slower. Valerie can’t believe it hasn’t ended and finally, after what feels like forever, he’s flush against her. Already hitting a spot she didn’t know existed until now.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asks, brushing some brown hair from her forehead where it had began to stick and her heart somersaults. Something so romantic and gentle about how he was checking on her despite how deep inside of her he was.

“Yes, move. Please move” she begs and Charlie nods, pulling halfway out before rutting back into her. The moan she lets out he tries to memorize and keep locked away forever, encouraging him to do the action over and over again. When he finally finds his pace he reaches to grip her breasts, the sight of them bouncing mesmerizing. He squeezes at them gently before pinching her nipples and feeling her walls flutter against him. His hips stutter for only a moment before continuing.

“Charlie, I’m close” Valerie whines and Charlie removes his hands from her boobs, moving to hold himself steady while his free hand reaches for her clit. He rubs messy circles into it, pounding faster, and watching the way her face twists while she moans uncontrollably. Whimpering his name and making it impossible to last.

“Come on baby, finish for me” and as if Charlie’s words had flipped a switch she’s clamping down on him tightly, milking him for all his worth. The sensation has Charlie finishing right behind her, stuffing himself so deep as he fucks her through it. Her moans and whines make his heart race and when both of their orgasms are over he’s falling safely against her, panting out heavy breaths.

“Wow” Valerie repeats his words from earlier. Charlie chuckles against her, wincing when his cock brushes up inside her again. Slowly he slides out, trying not to get hard at the sight all over again.

“Agreed” he says and Valerie smiles, wrapping her arms around him and cuddling close. She’s quite sure Charlie has ruined every man for the rest of her life. Now not only did they have all night but they had the rest of summer.

“I never knew it could be so….. exhilarating” Valerie finally finds the right word and Charlie smiles, lips pressing against her own.

“Me either” he tells her and Valerie smiles, kissing him again, and secretly wishing to keep him forever. Just like this, wrapped in her arms.

“Think we could go again?” she asks and Charlie laughs, a piece of the old him returning to his soul as he looks into the girls hazel green eyes. Shining with adoration and something else he recognized as love. A word he was all too familiar with but not comfortable with throwing around. Either way he knew he was falling hard and fast for a girl he couldn’t keep.

“I don’t ever plan on sleeping again”

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