#jesus christ josie

[muntitled]

𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐧

Hazel Callahan x F!Reader

Summary: "Jesus, dude, do you know what it means when a gay girl says they wanna have a "slumber party?"

Warnings: Hyper Feminine!Reader, Language, Fluff, Jealousy, Humor, Reader has a crush, Confessions, Teasing, Smut (+18, Minors DNI), Dom!Hazel, Humping, Grinding, Masturbation, Pillowprincess!Reader tbh, Thigh Riding, Public sex, Risky Sex, Massive Degradation Kink, Power Play, Ownership Kink?, Praise Kink, Slight!Hate sex ♡

Part two >

Hazel Callahan was rarely included into anything vaguely external, she would venture to say that she was even rarely included in her own thoughts. Therefore, infuriatingly, painfully aloof Hazel thought nothing of the invite you had presented to the entire group at Fight Club.

Why should she feel special?

Things like this seldom warranted her definite response, so when all the girls had affirmed their attendance, Hazel was... discombobulated to find a silence of anticipation growing pregnant in the gym.

It took a sharp stab in the ribs from PJ for Hazel to swing her head back into this specific reality in the space-time continuum. A reality in which you sat adjacent to her in a circle, legs crossed dainty underneath you to better accommodate the neatly pressed pleads in your pink skirt. There was nothing remarkably profound from you carrying yourself like the pretty princess you thought you were, what strikes Hazel as odd, however, was the look of expectancy in your dark eyes- a look you directed at… her?

"What?"

"You're coming? To my slumber party tonight?" you reiterate stifling the need to pat down at your braids corralled into a pink headband. You are basking under the scrutiny of her gaze but you also happened to suffer under it too. The longer Hazel watched you with furrowed brows, and her knee propped up to her chest, the longer you keened forward as if desperate to hear her say-

"Of course she's coming," PJ once again injects herself in between the two of you. "We'll all be there," You're perhaps nodding at PJ and Josie but your eyes are unable to leave the absolute prison that Hazel has them in. She does nothing except nod as well, before leaving you to your clique who all sit prettily under clouds of Chanel number 5.

The interaction replayed within the confines of Hazel's head throughout the rest of the school day. Right up until she finds herself, nestled in a car with Josie and PJ, taking the short drive in the more affluent neighbourhood from her place to yours.

"So, Hazel," the lascivious tone in PJ's voice already has her rolling her eyes as the car slows before an egregious house. "Are you ready to lose your virginity tonight?"

"Jesus Christ-" Murmurs Josie before PJ assumes what is expected to be your tone of voice- only its a hyperbolic and a higher in pitch reenactment of the real thing.

"Oh Hazel! I'd really like for you to come to my slumber party tonight!" All three girls leave the car as PJ continues her comedic display of seduction as she brushes up against Hazel and says "I really want you at my slumber party."

Hazel laughs as PJ grabs a hold of her upper arm, exposed from her open black button up and tank top. "You're coming right?" PJ sobers up as she says, "That's hot girl speak for "You're going to be cumming inside me-"

Josie does not keep her eyes off the approaching house as she interjects with, "Girls can't cum in other girls"

"Wow!" Hollers PJ, "-And here I was thinking you actually believed that girls can do everything that guys can do-"

"Wait," Hazel's eyes are on her shoes as she readjusts her tote bag and says, "You think she actually wants to like... fuck?" She lowers her voice drastically in the wake of making it up to your front door as she bends and reiterates, "Like actually fuck me?"

There is, frankly no time for Hazel to get a firm response on such a discombobulating thought because you quickly open the front door, and your skin is glowing everywhere from being completely exposed in your pink satin shorts and matching camisole set. Your hair is still loose as it frames your face- your round and constantly smiling face. Why had Hazel never noticed you until now?

Perhaps she did.

Perhaps she negated the possibility of forming a crush on you because you appeared so painfully… straight?

But here you are, smiling at her and only her. Your eyes had been bright at the sight of Hazel and her button up and how outrageously attractive she looked in a tank top but your smile dims significantly when you peer down at PJ'S hand still wrapped around Hazel's forearm.

"H-Hey," Said Hazel, with her voice that reminded you so vividly of a midnight snowstorm,

"Hey," you replied back, quickly turning away. Your mood had already been cemented for the rest of the evening. Despite it being your slumber party, you let your best friend host while you continued to wallow in the regret of your own unshakeable feelings. You hated that PJ and Hazel were very clearly a couple, but what you hated perhaps more, was that you still wanted her. You stole longing glances at her in your space, lazing on your bed while the rest of you sat encircled on the floor in sleeping bags. Hazel completely hijacked your entire brain throughout all the games and activities.

You had lost yourself in her presence and that only kicked up a notch when you felt a pair of forearms lazily splay onto your shoulders from above. With your bum still on the floor and your back against the foot of your bed, Hazel had decided to humour her turn in Truth or Dare. While she answered, she let her legs frame your body. So that it swung over the side of the bed, perfectly framing your sides.

Breathing had been impossible. So impossible in fact, you didn't know it was your turn until it took Hazel bringing her lips down to your ear. Your nerves had been shot to hell as she whispered, "Dove, it's your turn."

You cursed this idea and you cursed this wretched slumber party.

Luckily, It passed by in a significant blur that left you still riding on the high of being in Hazel's personal space until bedtime at 1am. While the girl's drifted into their own sleep, your eyes remained on the pink chandelier hanging from your ceiling while you cradled your stuffed frog to your chest. No matter how hard you try, sleep is a difficult thing to come by. You are left to your thoughts of the girl sleeping on the floor, while gentle snores sounded in the room.

"Fuck," you almost instinctively mutter as you find your hand drifting past your navel. You spread your leg ever so slightly before pushing your hand into your underwear. The quicker you came, the quicker your body could finally be allowed to slip into actual slumber. It sounded like a solid plan, and you had already taken to grinding your wet cunt against your hand- until it all went to hell and your duvet is being pulled slightly off of you.

You're quick to remove your hand and grab a hold of your covers as your eyes snap open to stare at the silhouette above you. Hazel's hair is a spectacular mess on her head and her skin shines orange from the glow of your salt lamp.

"Let me in," she whispers, not really waiting for a response before she's forcing herself into your covers, scooching you on the right side of the bed.

"What are you-"

"Shh," it's embarrassing, how quick you are to snap your mouth shut and heed her commands. Hazel's stomach warms significantly at how docile you are and she smiles as she says, "I cant sleep and I had the vague suspicion that you couldn't either." Hazel says, propping her exposed forearm under her head as she looks up at your ceiling. Her button up is discarded somewhere in the room, leaving her in basketball shorts and a tank but you're not complaining. Not at all.

"I told myself I'd be more intentional with my actions, and my actions are telling me to kiss you right now, but my feelings are telling me you might not want that." You're corraled into stark and naked shock as you watch the girl you've always wanted, confess to you in your bed. It feels unreal. The longing stares, the hours you've spent writing amatuer poetry in your notes app about her, the amount of times you made yourself cum with her heavy on your mind.

This does not feel real.

"Jesus," your voice is uncharacteristically coarse as you rush to say, "Dude, do you know what it means when a gay girl says they wanna have a "slumber party."

Hazel appears stunned as she watches you with wide eyes, "Well yeah," Says Hazel, "but… do you know what it means?"

"I've liked you since junior year," Your confession has her mind going hazy as she tries to recall all the subtle hints which she effortlessly discarded as you just being kind.

"God, you're such an idiot!" You release a chuckle that momentarily stirs a sleeping girl laying closest to the bed in her sleeping bag.

"Shh," Hazel's finger is pressed softly to her lips, you nod slowly only able to process mimicking her own actions.

"What were you doing just a second ago?" She says, swiftly removing the attention from her and her stupidity, replacing the atmosphere instead, with something much more dangerous. There's a difference in her whispers, a tone that has you melting into the covers as you unconsciously squeeze your legs shut. In this moment, she could ask anything of you, and you would simply comply. The silence stretches like honey between the two of you, and Hazel watches with doe eyes as you sink into your shame.

"You don't have to say anything." She finally whispers back, freeing you from your internal damnation but not completely letting you off the hook as she continues: "Just move your hips for me." It was an aggressively passive instruction that exploded a bundle of charged electricity between your legs. You are trapped in a distinctly uncomfortable position between wanting to comply, but wanting to be stubborn. The discomfort of these emotions are not entirely unwanted.

"Do you want me to show you how?" There is a challenging glint in her eyes that simulates the peroration of whatever the hell this is that you are both about to do.

This non-relationship which is so innately a relationship.

"Yeah." Your voice rocks with the signs of an oncoming tempest alerting your body to the possibility of something very, very exciting on the horizon.

Time and space seems so few and far in-between as Hazel keeps you arrested in those blue, endless hues. Examining her features keeps your wanton, unwinding nerves chaotically at bay. There is an intense exchange of control as Hazel shuffles closer, until her head is resting on your pillow and your both breathing into each other's parted lips.

She almost restlessly sets her palm onto your body, her hands on a slow path down your hips. It gives you a sliver of control knowing that bubbling behind her dilated pupils is a need that haunts her just as greatly.

"I'm gonna show you, okay?" She does not need to repeat herself but you recognize her words for what they are: masked behind the excitement and the charged atmosphere, is a real, and genuine need for consent.

The very moment you hopped over this threshold, you would forever be locked in a world anew. There would be no take backs. Your actions would forever be transcribed on the sacred tablet of our shared history.

"Are you going to show me, Hazel?" Desire is seated comfortably on top of your lungs and you speak only in soft pants, "Because it really feels like you're all bark and no bite."

There is a flash of excitement that sweeps momentarily over her lidded lustful gaze.

Her hands are much more sure of themselves as they lock into your sides, her fingers digging rudely into your silk pyjama bottoms.

"Shouldn't you be taking those off?" You ask cheekily.

A scoff slips through her lips as she shifts just a tad closer, her face now centimetres from yours. "You're awfully needy." Hazel whispers, "It's incredibly embarrassing."

What would prove to be even more embarrassing is the jarring way your hips stutter the very moment those words leave Hazel's lips. Your accidentally whorish slip up might have gone unnoticed were it not for the annoying fact that her right leg was seated quite cosily between your legs.

"Shut up," is all you manage to say - a desperate attempt at scrambling for your dignity crumbling in the bed between you.

Hazel laughs airly. Slowly, her hands at your hip begin to move, subsequently allowing your hips to move. A soft and slow moan passes through your lips, drowned out by the sound of sleeping girls as your eyes flutter shut.

"Hey," Hazel's lips are fully touching yours now, "Look at me." She could've never anticipated how the fucked out look in your eyes could ever make her feel. Your eyebrows are curved, as if you're in pain as you hump slowly against her thigh. The coarseness of the silk and her thigh pressing against your aching cunt… it makes everything feel so overwhelmingly real, unmarred by great expectations. The thump of her heart underneath your palm is so incredibly real. The beads of sweat growing pregnant on her forehead are real. Her dry, parted lips pressed against yours is in fact real.

"What are you thinking about?" It strikes you then that you had been a muddled, mindless haze, humping against her thigh with an urgency.

"I'm thinking about you." You reply, truthfully.

"Good things, I hope?" It is so unimaginable, the way her voice is able to remain so incredibly steady while yours is as shaky as a walrus thumping across an icy lake.

"I don't suspect anyone has ever had a single good thought about you." You shoot back and the fingers gripping your hips lock tighter, nearly prompting you to apologise.

The only other option left for you to exhaust is clamping your mouth shut as Hazel's hand assumed a much more aggressive administration. She grips on the plush skin at your sides with an unnecessary hardness, as if she wanted to tear in into you.

"See, I was gonna fuck you," it is absolutely shameful, the whimper that escapes your lips, "But now I'm gonna make you hump my leg like the slutty little girl you are." Before you could scold her, or perhaps violently disagree, rudely, before your cries of indignation could ever be forced out, Hazel is lifting you up from your side of the bed, her head shifting until her brown curls cover your pillow fully.

She turns onto her back, never releasing eye contact as she forces you down so you're straddling her steepled knee. The new position leaves you searching for a new anchor.

"Your hands are pushing down on my hair-" she grumble-whispers.

"If you'd let me finish faster that wouldn't be as much of a problem now, would it?" Hazel's response, in lieu of her thoroughly unimpressed face, had been to grind her thigh further against your core, eliciting a wanton, broken moan into the air.

"You're gonna have to be quiet, Dove." Her voice is gravel, "Wouldn't want anyone seeing how much of my whore you are, would you?" The sound of your own moans slam back into you as you press your pussy incredibly closer to her leg.

"Imagine what they might think of you? Our little star pupil getting herself off on my leg? Is that really all it takes to please you?" Staying quiet had become an unimaginable feat, a mountain that becomes even more difficult to surmount when Hazel's eyes search frantically over your crippling form for a trigger that might send you over the edge.

You couldn't begin to imagine how powerful she must feel watching your hips move wantonly on her thigh while your hooded eyes displayed desperation.

You feel so thoroughly hers, a previous existence in which you went without her hard ministrations guiding you to orgasm felt completely in vain. You want nothing more than to be so incredibly good to her, and the thought that she might want the same way sends you to an early grave.

"You're doing so well, Baby. Keeping going." An embarrassing wave of pleasure ripped straight through your spine leaving a trail of shivers in its wake. There is no mistaking that your reaction to her praise and her validation had not gone unnoticed.

Your pussy is completely soaked against her leg, burdened with the knowledge that it wants something but it didn't exactly know what.

"I need you," you whisper. Before your own shame might wave away the pleasure, you are delighted at the moan that slips through Hazel's parted lips.

You had been so thoroughly enamoured by your own pleasure, you had not stopped to consider hers. The pillow princess stereotype brought with it a wave of shame as you looked down and found her hips stuttering slowly against yours.

"I'm right here, Dove."

And you both began to melt for each other. Your legs are tangled in one another while her thigh is pressed against your clit at the same time your thigh is pressed between her legs as well.

You are pleasantly surprised when you begin to feel the fabric of Hazel shorts moving against your own legs slotted in between her. You didn't have to picture how gloriously lecherous it might have looked, using each other so blatantly to fulfil a need that had begun simmering since forever. "Oh fuck, you're so pretty," her hand finds purchase against your breast, tweaking your nipples until they hardened against the camisole while her other hand was comfortably gripping your jaw, staring up at you with lustful eyes.

"You don't even know how perfect you look right now," you did not speak a word of a lie. Watching Hazel's long and domineering form writhing underneath you is a mental image you wish to keep stored in your chest of sacred memories forever. It is discombobulating, watching someone so used to walking so tall and unbothered, being made a complete mess underneath you.

You never wanted this moment to end.

"I want you to kiss me." She croaks, despite already bringing your face close to hers by the strength of a single grip. Her eyes search yours for something. You only hope that grinding yourself even faster against her leg is a testament to whatever it is she might've been looking for. Soon, her lips crash onto yours. When Hazel Callahan kisses, she kisses sloppily and disastrously as if she wanted to swallow you whole before you ever thought of escaping. Her lips are all encompassing, her tongue is restless, pushing itself into your mouth with avid determination.

You moan softly into her mouth. A sound she appreciates greatly given the way her hips began to move against your thigh with a matching ferocity. Her hand slithers along your back, until she cups a handful of your ass, dragging your pussy once again against her, at her desired pace.

Rough. Arresting. Frantic.

"You're being too loud," She sighs, breaking away from your lips to trail them down your neck. "You're being too fucking loud-"

"Fuck, Hazel I'm close-" Your legs are locked against hers but the hand on your ass keeps your hips moving by proxy. "I'm so close."

"You're gonna cum for me, Dove?"

"Oh God, I love it when you call me that-" There is an embarrassing pool of wetness accumulated between your legs, dripping through your shorts and onto her skin. She is equally as wet and that fact only spurs you on.

"I need you to cum for me, baby?" Her stuttering hips told you her own release is dangerously close, sitting on the horizon. Perhaps your orgasm had bled into something prideful, her need to make you cum first caused her to delay her own release.

"You're fucking unbelievable." You sigh with troubled realisation.

She uncovers herself from your chest, panting heavily without her hips ever stopping. "You're gonna cum first, okay?" She nods, persuading you to mimic her movements because despite everything, you are putty in her hands.

"Okay."

As she kisses you once more her hand travels back to your now exposed boob. Between your kiss, Hazel had somehow managed to haphazardly lift your camisole enough to expose your breasts.

A straggled sound leaves the back of your throat as your orgasm crested.

She succeeded in making a mess of you. Your hair had been set free, braids spilling like wild snakes down your torso.

"Oh God, oh fuck-" a hand slaps over your mouth. Hazel's eyes are wide as she continues to guide your hips to release.

"Such a good little Dove, aren't you?" Your eyes are blown with stars and pixie dust as you nod drunkenly. She's humping your thigh and you're humping hers and soon the orgasm sneaks up on you, stealing your breath right from inside your lungs. Your strangled moan is muffled by her palm.

Her eyes take it all in with a very certain hunger, drifting from watching her own hips grinding your thigh, to the choked expression of utter euphoria splashed against your face.

"Fuck, baby." Her Eyebrows knot as her breathing picks up. The pressure visibly building across her face is nearly enough to send you back into your pool of euphoria.

"Oh fuck- oh baby," The wave of pleasure that courses through her is violent and incredibly validating. It is you who had gotten her to this point, humping your leg so desperately as if it might be the only thing she could ever hope to achieve. For someone who had built such a notable reputation for always mainting an I-dont-give-a-fuck mentality, this feels like an immense achievement for you.

Once the smoke clears, and Hazel finds herself back on planet earth, the relics of her euphoria register as intermittent aftershocks. The dawn of what you had just done begins to settle and almost instinctively, you revert to your teasing.

"How nice of you to finally join us," you are still hovering above her, her long neck craning to look at you.

"You talk a lot of shit for someone who squeaks when she cums."

The dampness between your legs is a reminder. "You're gonna learn to take just as much as you give sooner or later," You don't miss the hint of a promise thinly veneered along that whisper. Choosing to ignore the fluttering in the pit of my stomach at the sound of it alone, you climb off of her and back to your space on the bed.

"What's its name?" Hazel asks, peering into the darkness to bring your stuffed frog back into your arms. "You strike me as someone who gives their stuffed toys names."

You're still out of breathe as you reply, "Texas,"

She cracks a smile at that. Before you can finally drift off, a hand slips across your hip, trailing over your torso before brushing over your breast and staying there. "I'm gonna buy you one...I wanna watch you hump it like you just did my leg okay?"

All you're able to do is nod.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

dress - m. murdock

a/n: i am not proud of this in the way that i will not be claiming it when i am judged by god. warnings: SMUT like real sex!!! dom!matt, p in v smut, matt has a thing for talking in bed, MATT BEING A TEASE!!! many nicknames, pining, praise with slight degradation, fluff here and there, tipsy reader and matt, i'm sure i'm missing one or two word count: 3.3k summary: ten months of yearning wears you and matt down to desperation. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: dress - taylor swift "say my name and everything just stops/i dont want you like a best friend/only bought this dress so you could take it off."

Foggy is so mad at him.

You’re a good employee, a great employee even! You’re dedicated to your job, and you bake in your free time, so you bring in all sorts of treats—Homemade bagels, donuts, cookies—His favorite are your cinnamon chai sugar cookies you make.

You’re intelligent, well-spoken, and good at explaining the issues that you run into. And you’re funny, Foggy would argue, you have incredible timing and wit. You always buy a round at Josies. You are an amazing employee and friend, and Foggy adores you.

So why, pray tell, must Matt feel the need to have you?

He won’t say it out loud, not to Karen, not to Maggie, not to Foggy, and certainly not you. But he’s entranced by you. He loves the sound of your voice as you explain things, he loves that your heart always skips a beat whenever you’re about to deliver a one liner that will crack everyone else up, he loves that when you bake, you always make things all naturally out of desire to make the best dessert you possibly can. But most of all?

He loves that your heart rate picks up whenever he enters the room.

You, on the other hand, are pretty much fascinated by Matt Murdock. You love the sound of his laughter, you love his hands, you love his charm, you love that you can see a chain around his neck when the day dwindles and he loosens his tie, and Jesus H Christ, you love that baritone.

So, it’s safe to say you’ve both been smitten since the first day you met each other.

Yet, you spend ten months cruelly dancing around your attraction for each other.

He’s hesitant to want you in any context, he’s your boss, he’s fucking Daredevil!

By then you know—Mostly accidentally on purpose. All his usual people are out of town or busy, so when he gets stabbed, he has nowhere else to go. He winds up climbing into your window, scaring the ever-living shit out of you. It’s not how he wanted to tell you about his alter ego, but he knows he can trust you.

And you hate the site of blood and gore, so you struggle to patch him up that night. And it makes your heart ache, all the ways he hurts from his nighttime hobby. And he decides right then and there that he can’t have you, not now. Not knowing how much you would—and really, will—worry about him.

So, he buries his want in other people that have no real meaning to him. He even goes on a second date with some of them. One of them even comes to visit him in the office to have lunch.

It makes you jealous to the point where you need to take a walk to dwindle your desire to go back into the office and beg on your hands and knees for her to leave so you can have him. What happens instead is that you go get a pumpkin chai latte and take it back to the office, sitting and keeping to yourself, even when the girl comes out of his office giggling as he stands in the doorway as she leaves.

He smells the pumpkin from his office, and it drives him wild. Just from how quietly you dwell in your jealousy, as you mask it with your favorite fall flavors.

He breaks up with the girl the next day.

• • •

And a week later, he gets his official invitation to Marci and Foggy’s wedding—A big to do, full of family, friends and coworkers that make it a real party. Matt will be Foggy’s best man. You and Karen aren’t in the wedding party, as you were good friends with both the bride and groom, but Karen wanted to make sure at least one of them was focused on the firm, and you hated to be the center of attention. So, you shared your love from a few aisles back.

You had gone shopping with Marci for your dress, Karen too. You enjoyed spending time with them—While you had made friends with them easily, prior friends had never really come easy to you.

It was nice to be wanted.

But they had insisted on you trying to find different dresses that made you look amazing. And for the most part, the dresses made you sort of uncomfortable. They revealed too much or revealed too little.

And then you came across this red satin dress. It hugs your curves in all the right way, and it makes you look good. It makes you feel good. You have these perfect black heels to wear with them, and then Karen says it.

“You know, Matt kind of has a thing about textures. He loves silk and satin.” Your face burns. Of course, he does. Why wouldn’t he? He can hear people's heartbeats, tell when they’re lying, why wouldn’t he be keen on nice textures?

“Karen Page, are you insisting I should by this dress to impress a man?” You laugh just to escape your nerves.

“No! But it can’t hurt! It’s not like he’s bringing a date—” She turns to Marci. “He’s not bringing a date, right?” she asks quickly. It makes her laugh.

“No, Murdock RVSP’ed for one.”  You look at yourself in the mirror again, thinking it over. And over. And over. Then you turn to your friends again, and nod.

“Alright. Alright, I’ll get it.” You grin, “And y’know.. Karen’s right, It can’t make the situation any worse.”

“You know what you need now? Good lingerie for after—” Your face is red again at your friend’s comment.

“Shut up, Marci!” You whine, heading back to the dressing room to get changed.

• • •

Matt is sitting with Foggy and his brothers, enjoying a glass of scotch before the ceremony when someone knocks on the door.

And somehow, he’s not shocked to hear your nervous heartbeat when the door opens.

“Hey Fog, Karen said you had scissors—Can I borrow ‘em quick? There’s a tag on this dress I forgot to take off and it’s impossible to reach—”

“Yes, Absolutely, and you know who would be great at helping you? Matt. An incredible knack for… Cutting things.” It’s a poor attempt to get the two of you alone, yet Foggy hands you the scissors and pushes you and Matt outside the room.

“My rooms only two doors down.” He explains, taking your hand in his and leading you there.

After finding out about his super senses, it became clear that he was more than capable of finding his way through places he’s stayed, and that he’s privy to a lot more information than people would give him credit for.

So here you are. In Matt Murdock’s hotel room. A tag itching at your back, with you unable to grab it.

“I’m just gonna—” He awkwardly reaches to the top of your dress, and you just move the hair from your neck and try to ease his anxiety.

“Just go for it, Matt. I don’t care, it’s just annoying.” You promise. And he does.

He folds the top of your dress the best he can and its only enough for the scissors to almost grab the tag without him sticking his hand down your dress. He hesitates for a second before exhaling deeply.

Then, he leans down towards your back, and scrunches the material enough so that he can reach the tag and bites the tag off.

You can feel his other hand on your hip. His hot breath on your back. He hears your heart jump as your breath becomes shaky. He wonders how bad it would be for him to skip the wedding and take you right here, in this room.

He plucks the tag from his teeth and smooths out your dress, as you let go of your hair. He feels this raw need for you.

And you feel it too. Yet he pulls away, taking a step back from you.

“We should get to the ceremony.” he said, trying to catch his breath. He yearns for you, in a way that anyone else would laugh at. It’s the type of yearning you read about in Jane Austen novels. That is the level that Matt longs to touch you. It’s desperation.

“Yeah...” You say softly, trying to recover from what just happened. You drop him back off at Foggy’s suite and head back to the hall, hoping to find Karen and put the moment behind you. And that’s just what happens. You watch the ceremony, and it’s gorgeous. You’re thrilled for Marci and Foggy, and it elates you that they put together such a beautiful ceremony.

And yet, you can’t take your eyes off Matt and how good he looks. He stands tall, and he really does look good. It makes it kind of hard to focus. It makes it really hard to focus. And you think about this all the way through their first dance song, through dinner, through cake and through all the cheesy wedding traditions Foggy insisted on.

You have a few drinks but eventually it all becomes too much, and you take a minute outside of the hall and into the cold air. And you’re thinking about Matt.

“You’re gonna catch a cold out here.”

Speak of the devil.

You turn back to him and smile.

“I’ve been thinking about you.” You say, and he hums. It’s the alcohol in both of your systems, it’s why neither of you run when you say it.

“Same goes for you, sweetheart.” He takes off his coat and wraps it around your shoulders. You note the silky texture of the inside of the jacket. It pushes you further.

“Why do we insist on playing this game? Why do we watch each other go after people who we don’t want when all we want is each other?”

He takes a moment to answer. Because in truth, he’s sure he could tell you why, he could discuss all of the horrible things that have happened to him, and you could share the same sort of stories about your own life. You could sit there and dissect past traumas for hours.

But that’s not really what you’re asking.

“I don’t know...” He says softly. His hands find themselves on your hips, and he rubs small circles into the fabric. “Satin?” You hum, melting at his touch. “Words, pretty girl. You know I like hearing your voice.”

“Satin.” You confirm, your breath catching.

“There she is...” He hums, and leans in. You feel his breath against your lip, and you take it upon yourself to close the gap between the two of you.

It’s soft, full of this hesitation because despite all the flirting, you’re still unsure of yourself. He quickly eases these fears as his hands move and you find his arms wrapped around your torso. He deepens the kiss, and you both lean into it. It becomes more desperate after that.

Your hands find their way to his hair, and you fiddle with the ends, unwilling to break the kiss, even if it means air. He breaks the kiss for a second, only to come back to your lips with more passion, biting your bottom lip, before slipping his tongue into your mouth, taking the more aggressive approach.

And you can’t take it anymore. You need him. You pull away from him, pant softly before kissing his jaw gently.

“Take me to your room.” You request. He obliges.

You find yourself taking off your heels as soon as you get in, your feet aching as you walk further into the room. The context is much different than it was this afternoon—And it makes you nervous.

Matt comes up from behind you and places his hands on your arms, rubbing them gently, before kissing your shoulder.

“You don’t have to be nervous. I’ll be gentle with you...” He says softly. You hum before he continues, “Or do you... want me to be rough with you?” he asks teasingly, landing a quick bite onto your shoulder. You make a noise of surprise and turn to him.

“You’re a tease, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Once or twice.” He begins to loosen his tie, eventually forcing it off and then starting to unbutton his shirt. You begin to help him with this task, eventually getting it all the way unbuttoned. Then you gently push him back against the bed and he laughs, falling onto it.

He thinks it’s cute. Until you sit above him, your dress hiking a bit. You lean down to kiss him as his hands find their way to the back of your thighs, and begin to move up and down, just being the tease, he is.

You whine into the kiss, and it just makes him chuckle further, before flipping the pair of you over, then planting a kiss on your neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Needy from just a few kisses?” He slips off his shirt as he continues to kiss you. One hand remains on your thigh, travelling up your thigh, eventually finding your panties.

“Mhm...” You hum, your hands wrapping around his neck again to play with his hair.

“Talk to me, sweet girl...” he says softly before he continues his assault on your neck.

“Matt…” You hum. “You know, I only—” Then his fingers find your clit and begin rubbing gentle circles, just teasing you with his fingers. It turns him from tease to cruel. You let out a moan, and he only tuts in disappointment.

“Keep talking or you won’t get anything from me.” He tells you, before continuing to tease you. His fingers begin to work on your folds. You try your best to focus. He takes off your panties and throws them on the ground somewhere.

“Only bought this dress for you... Thought you might like it...” You gasp again as he slips a finger into you, “Fuck—Thought it would make you do something about it.” In fairness, it got the reaction you had only hoped for in your wildest dreams. It makes him chuckle against your skin.

“Only got this pretty little dress for me to touch you like this?” He adds another finger and starts to move. When you don’t answer, too busy getting lost in his fingers, he bites your shoulder again. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Yes! God, yes…” You respond. He hums in approval, continuing to curl his fingers inside of you. It only takes a few minutes before you can feel yourself near the edge of an orgasm. “Matt… Baby, please...”

“C’mon, sweet girl... I’ve got you, let go...” And it’s enough to make you, cumming all over his fingers. He lets you ride out your high, out of breath. He kisses your neck again before bringing his fingers up to his lips, tasting your juices. “Sweet girl, still.” He smirks. Your heart skips a beat. He chuckles. Then he continues, “Did so good for me, sweetheart... Wanna keep going?” He asks.

“Yes, please... Wanna feel you inside me...” you confess.

“You want me to fill you up and stretch you out, pretty girl?” You should know better by now, but you just hum in response, gaining another bite to your shoulder. “Try again.”

“Yes... I want you so badly, Matt, please... I’ve been dreaming about it for months now,” You confess, “Need you...”  He seems satisfied by this, and moves back, helping you sit up.

“Well then, we’ll need to get this pretty dress off you.” He says, his fingers working to take off his belt. Your fingers run over his chest. It’s all he can do not to rip the dress off, but he knows how much it means to you and how much it could’ve cost. So, instead, he slips the dress off you and feels you shiver against him. Still so nervous. He tosses the dress in the general direction of his suitcase, so it doesn’t sit on the floor. He leans in and starts pressing kisses to your chest, his hands reaching up to your bra and unclasping it. He throws it with much less care than the dress.

He keeps kissing down your torso as he lays you back on the bed, your hands going again to his hair.

“How come it’s fair that I’m fully naked, and you still have pants on?” You ask. It makes him laugh, and he stands straight again.

“Fair enough,” he says, taking them off. And then goes his boxers. Before you can stare at him, he’s on top of you again, kissing you deeply. You can feel his cock resting against your fold and it makes you moan into the kiss. He pulls away for just a second before asking, “Is this, okay? You’ll stop me if it’s too much?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you.” You respond. He smiles at your words.

“Perfect. Perfect, pretty girl...” He hums as he begins to kiss your shoulders and the top of your chest, before slipping inside of you. You let out a moan, and he groans as well, taking a few minutes to take all of you in. It feels amazing. He begins to move inside of you as he brings you in for another kiss. When he pulls away, he’s talking, “Been thinking about this for... Fuck, so long...” He groans. “Been dreaming of this perfect pussy and how good it would feel around me…” He says, and it elicits a shaky moan from you.

“Faster, please...” You request, and he obliges, picking up the pace. You’ve been thinking about this for a long time too. You never imagined he’d be so controlling about the whole thing. It works you up almost as much as how vocal he is.

He leaves bites and marks down your chest as he pulls you closer to him, knowing he won’t last much longer. He feels you tighten around him and makes another demand, “Tell me how badly you want to cum, and I’ll let you.” He says this before planting a rather contrasting soft kiss to your ear.

“Please... Please, Matt, Fuck... I need to cum all over your cock... Wanna feel so good, baby...” You moan, your fingers pulling on his hair. It excites you when he moans. “And I want you to cum inside me... Fill me up, Baby, please...” You beg. He’s happy with it for now, but he knows he’ll want to hear more another time.

“C’mon, sweet girl. Cum for me…” He pants, and it’s all you need before you let yourself come undone around his cock. He continues thrusting for a few minutes, letting you ride out your high, before cumming himself, and you moan at the feeling. He lays against you for a few minutes, trying to recover, and it’s then that you notice he’s shaking.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly, brushing his hair out of his face. He looks at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. He laughs at your question.

“I’m great... You’re just... amazing...” he says honestly, kissing your shoulder one more time. “Perfect, pretty girl...” He praises. “My perfect girl...” It makes you shudder. He stays like this for a moment more before kissing you softly. Then, he sits up and goes to get a towel to clean the both of you up. And then, he’s back in bed with you. He pulls you close as you both recover from what just happened.

“I wasn’t lying,” You start, “I’ve been thinking about you for months. You’re all I’ve wanted for so long...” You confess. He kisses your head and pulls you closer.

“Me too... I was too much of an idiot to tell you though. Almost let you get away.”

“You got me.” You affirm. He hums and begins to rub all too familiar circles into your hips with his thumbs.

“And now I just want you more.”

The feeling is mutual.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job Post 409: Babysitting, p4

So, yeah. I could have bitten off his arm if I wanted. Holy shit I could have bitten off his arm. There was something about it that was crazy tempting, and the old me might have actually done it. I mean - fuck. The feeling of power, of having a grown man’s entire limb in your body and the ability to take it with just a <snap> if you chose? I can’t believe I had the strength to resist. But this was Dr. J, haha: Melissa would be pissed and he…well, he’d probably be dead. 

Anyway, the look he’d had in his eyes when we stared at one another, in that moment where I had him sunk down my throat to the shoulder? That was fucking thrilling enough. It was like I was watching him, a man, realize just how helpless and weak he really was, how entirely fucked-up his world had become, and how powerful we were getting. I mean, Jesus (wait, sorry. I know Melissa didn’t like us using that word). I just took an entire arm down my throat. Our abilities - my mouth, Josie’s hair, Amelia’s nails, not to mention what some of the other girls can do or (good lord) Marisela - were getting to be much more than the little bar tricks they started out as. We were becoming something new, something else, and it was a fucking trip. 

I mean, it was a man’s whole arm today. What would it be six months from now?

Back to him. I’d given him that handjob into Missy’s old bra with his hand in my stomach, and worked on his arm with the muscles of my throat and esophagus. His hand, though, was probably in danger from my stomach acids - which, I knew, had become like crazy strong. We’d gone out for steaks, some of the girls and I, earlier this week and I’d, as like an experiment, had eaten everyone’s bones. So I really I knew I had to get him out soon. So, with a long, luscious slurp I slid his arm all the way back out and saw how red the skin of his hand had become. Christ I couldn’t help it so - that’s so fucking hot -  without another thought I grabbed the back of his head and kissed him hard, passionately on the mouth.

Oh shit I wanted him, like, now.

But a few seconds later, I released him.

“F-feel a little burn on your hand there?” I asked, taking his hand by the wrist. I was struggling to control myself and knew I had to calm down. I usually didn’t get like this. 

He nodded, too breathless to speak, looking at his red, burnt hand himself. He flexed his fingers, made a fist, released it. He probably didn’t feel it yet. He was in shock, and still coming down from his climax. 

Down between his legs I was drawing Missy’s bra off him, away from the sticky mess of his crotch. I put it aside. That's gonna need the laundry haha. 

“Hmmm, well, we don’t want a hydrochloric acid burn, now, do we?” I asked, and reached under his armpits to whisk him off the washer. A moment later, I had his hand in the laundry sink running cold water over it. I made him keep it there while I turned back to deal with some of this laundry. Hm, I kinda let things get a bit out of hand there, didn’t I? In the meantime, the dryer had beeped, the towels were done. I emptied it, moved wet laundry from the washer in, and started up the load of Melissa’s delicates. 

“Does it still hurt now?” I asked him, after about a minute. What the fuck was up with me? I was acting all like his mom and shit. Did I feel that guilty?  

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It was…it was just a little touch of it, I think.” Wow he looked really tired. And he was naked, and probably cold. Well, if I was gonna act like his mom I might as well lean into it. 

“Here, buddy, let me put on her robe…” I said, as I took Melissa’s white terry cloth bathrobe from the pile that had just come out of the dryer and slid it on over my clothes. It was still warm. OOoo…he’ll like that. .“How about we go relax?”

At that, I picked him up under the arms again, this time letting him wrap his legs around my waist so I could carry him. He felt light. My arms encircled him and slowly I walked us back out to the great room, leaving the last load of laundry to finish up in the washer. 

I pushed some papers aside and sat us down on the couch. Darkness was beginning to fall outside, and Melissa would be home soon. For now, though, I arranged him on my lap, just the two of us. “No more work,” I found myself saying. I supported his back with my right hand and started to open my robe with the other. I knew this was a little off-brand for me - who knew ‘The Mouth’ could be so nice, huh? - but I figured I could show this little shit that I could do what she does, that I deserve that big raise haha. 

I deserve…   

Nothing, never mind.

Though he was basically falling asleep in my arms, within a minute I had the warm white fluffy robe around him, the belt tied loosely and him cocooned to my chest. I had him dry nursing from my right double-G-cup and, omg, I was jerking him off again. Despite him basically being in little-man heaven I could tell he was anxious and feeling a little tense.

“Shhhh, you can just imagine it’s her,” I cooed to him, clicking off the table lamp next to us. That thought I guess finally made him come, and after a gentle orgasm he finally drifted off to sleep. “Good boy Dr J, you just relax,” I whispered, amazed myself at what a good Mommy Girlfriend I could be if I tried, “I’ll keep you on the nipple ‘til she gets here…”

===========================================

srrrry it's been a minute; working on getting us back up to speed here on tumblr. Patreon is up to Post 478

[ilikesuperheroesokay]

My thoughts when watching No Good Nick for the first time

”Oh, I like Jeremy! He just cares about his family, and he’s so hardworking and passionate! He has every reason to be suspicious, and it’s only fair that he’s a bit disgruntled.”

“Wow, this family is NOT close.”

“Aw, Ed makes beautiful art!”

“How sweet of Molly to make Nick feel comfy.”

“Wow, I can see where Jeremy gets his determination and dedication from! Look at Liz go, she’s a beast in the kitchen!”

“Aw, Nick’s flashbacks. :( “

“Wow, Ed’s such a good dad! Trying to make Nick feel at home, gosh I love him! It’s giving Patton Sanders.”

“Aw…Liz. Your wedding ring.”

“Damn, Molly needs new friends.”

”Damn, Molly needs new friends.”

“Wow, Nick is so clever!”

“Damn, this system is really fucked.”

“Aw, Eric and Jeremy are so cute! I’m getting a bit of a vibe from both of them, both together and separate, but I bet that it probably won’t become anything.”

“Is Jeremy autistic? That would explain a bit.”

“Aw man, I don’t like Lisa Haddad, but I Love Josie Totah! Look how pretty she is! 🤩 I haven’t seen her since Jessie!”

“Wow, Jeremy and Eric would be so cute together, but I’m sure it’s just one of those queer coded shows that never actually does anything.”

“Ooh, I really like Will. He’s cute, and he’s perfect for Nick.”

“Get outta here Riley, you’re gonna blow Nick’s cover!”

“Gosh golly gee wilikers, Eric and Jeremy sure are getting quite close!”

“Ugh, Nick, istg you’re digging yourself a deeper hole!”

“Oh no, Will’s a traitor.”

“Roses are red, cacti are prickly, holy shit that escalated quickly.”

“*sobs*”

“Huh, are they-OH MY GOD THANK THE LORD ABOVE JESUS CHRIST THEY FINALLY KISSED OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD YESSSSS.”

“Seriously, why do people hate Jeremy? In all seriousness, I’d be his friend! We can work on his election process together.”

”Aw, Ed. Look at you, helping your son out with something he really cares about. Dad of the year.”

“No! Jeremy’s coming out plan was ruined! But it’s okay, because they accepted him! (Ed missed everything)”

“…I need…I just…I need a couple minutes to just…cry.”

“Wow, time to watch it five more consecutive times! But there’s gonna be more seasons, right? Right? Right? RIGHT?!?”

[murderandcoffee]

okay so I'm counting this as a partial win for c? skulls are indeed cracking, but it's not arthur's doing

how long until...

a) arthur and noel are found out

b) noel learns that john is the king in yellow

c) arthur starts cracking skulls

d) the butcher or larson show up (extra points for both)

e) everything goes horribly wrong in a different, unexpected way

[newtonsheffield]

Simone looks so good she’s a literal angel 😭🥵

Also Charithra is there! Which of your AU Sharma sisters are attending the red carpet?

Simone. Pls.

She’s so pretty.

But okay, secret dating actors au. Edwina and Kate arrived together, and Anthony’s skulking off somewhere to the side. Definitely not, looking at his girlfriend. They’re polite costars. But, polite costars can call out to one another, surely. Polite costars can nudgey-nudge siblings out of the way.

“Oh ho ho!” Anthony called out loudly enough to catch the attention of everyone around them. He saw Kate’s shoulders stiffen a little and he heard the reporters holding their breaths as Kate cut off her sentence, turning towards him. “There’s my Movie Wifey!”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Edwina muttered as Anthony jogged over.

He kissed her cheek first, “Edwina, looking lovely, no Josie tonight?”

As if he didn’t know her girlfriend was filming the same project as him.

“She’s busy. Like I suspect you should be.”

Anthony grinned, winking at the camera, “They let me out for good behaviour.” He turned, to Kate, his chest a little tight as he took her in, “Kate, good to see you. You look beautiful.”

She smiled affectionately but rolled her eyes as though they were only pretending. “Anthony, charming as ever.”

He pointed at her dress and then at his white brocade jacket, “Your stylist stealing tips from mine again hey? We match?”

Kate drew him in for what would look like a friendly hug, a peck on the cheek but she turned her head at the last moment and her lips brushed his ear softly. “You’re being a naughty boy.”

“Oh come on, you like it when I’m a naughty boy.”

[latibvles]

after-action report.

a women’s hockey team au because i can never enjoy things normally. a special thanks to @basilone , @saturnwisteria , & @moghraidhs for lending me so many of their girls to make a full team !! :) anyways here’s this, takes place right after the first game against lottie’s old team after she was traded to the “New York Rats” in the off-season in 2018 >:) Viv has also just been named “Alternate Captain” in the off-season.

—

"Rats go the other way— here's Willie Neumann, she's been all over the place in this third period. Neumann comes in— she feeds— across, Josephine Evans to Kelly— she SCORES! The New York Rats break through and win it in OT!”

—

The locker room's bustling by the time Vivian makes it inside. Lottie's got a line of stitches on her lip and a sour expression, glaring all the way down the tunnel. Vivian puts her still-gloved hands up in a method of mock surrender; Lottie rolls her eyes in that halfway point between annoyed and amused.

"Someone had to do it," she declares, before Vivian can say anything.

"You say that every time, Lot!" Anita teases from her side of the locker room, where she's since shed her pads and jersey and tossed them into the proper receptacles to be cleaned.

"And I'm right every time!"

No outward protests on that front — they had a feeling there'd be a fight anyway. As much as Lottie's assimilated into the team since her trade in the off-season, they all know about the chip on her shoulder that she's still got about being traded at all.

Lottie getting into a scrap with a busted lip after taking a puck to the face just hadn't been on Vivian's bingo card. She chalks it up to adrenaline and a healthy amount of bitterness towards her old teammate. She makes her way offer, to where Josie Evans is tossing Lottie a fonder smile. Lottie on the other hand is simmering as she meticulously yanks at the Velcro of her shoulder pads. A powder keg still smoking, a fuse with a thin drag of smoke trailing from the tip, ready to be relit. She looks up and squints and Vivian can't help but snort.

"Lighten up would you?" She bumps Lottie's calf with her still skate-clad foot. "How many stitches?" Lottie presses her lips into a line, and it almost forms a perfect T with the black line protruding from the bottom one.

"Doc Alden said sixteen, I think?"

"Jesus Christ," Vivian looks back down the tunnel, half expecting Jo Alden to be there, lingering. "You'll be good for tomorrow?" The second half of their back-to-back, LA Stars tonight, Texas Blackhawks tomorrow. Lottie nods with the slightest scrunch of her nose, like the notion that she'd sit the next one out is downright offensive.

"S'just a cut. M'fine." She huffs, and Vivian smiles a little wider at that — probably looking a little out of her mind.

"Good. We need our Ace. Now get decent. Media's coming in in fifteen." And as much as I'd love to spare you, they're probably going to want to talk to you, too.

The A on her jersey is a new thing to navigate, but she feels like she's been in some weird state of captaincy since she was eighteen and had a post-game microphone shoved in her face for the first time. She thinks this might be a halfway decent start — making more of a habit of keeping an eye on her teammates and not just her line.

Vivian finds her spot next to Willie after that, sitting down with a loud exhale and leaning over to start undoing her skates. She can feel Willie's eyes on her, saying nothing — she's gotten used to it after playing together for the past three years. She flings her jersey into the heap, shrugs off her shoulder-pads and then tosses Willie a curious glance.

"You wanna talk to 'em this time?"

"You've got it covered." Vivian snorts at the immediate answer as Willie pulls her New York Rats t-shirt over her head, compression shirt long since shed. Vivian shakes her head a little.

"Don't be so eager to save me next time, Willie." The dark-haired girl scoffs.

"Don't act like you don't like it." Vivian tries not to smile a little, not gratifying that with a response.

Vivian has shed her pads and her jersey by the time the doors open, John Egan at the front of the wave of five reporters. The top knot of his tie is undone a bit, and he tosses her a smile and a wink — neither of which are especially subtle.

Willie rises and walks to the other side of the room.

"Hi guys," Vivian offers with a small wave as they make their way to her with all manner of recording devices — phones and mics and an old-school recorder for an older guy working with MSG Network. She leans forward a bit, elbows on her knees as the familiar ache of her body winding down starts to settle in. "Have at it."

Egan, first — because he's always first, as their newish on-ice reporter. Last year he spent a lot of time shadowing Bill Veal. This year, they let him loose on all of them. She looks him up and down, at the easy smile on his face and the mess of curls flopping over his forehead.

Definitely loose.

"You put up two assists in this game and are steadily on a point-per-game pace according to the stat sheets," he starts out, and Vivian tries not to preen under the praise for once. "This is the second year in a row you're getting closer to breaking that ninety-point-mark. Is that something you're aiming to achieve this season?"

"What, scoring a lot of goals?" The others in the room chuckle, routine and rehearsed. Vivian gives him a smile. "I mean yeah, it'd be nice. Y'know, I wanna keep improving my game, keep putting up marks, setting up plays. So if it happens this year well— you'll probably be the one to know before I do." Egan nods at that, a slight crinkle to his eyes at his smile. Let the circus begin.

She's gotten used to it after three years of questions. They were more brutal when she was eighteen, have lightened up on her a bit over time as she's grown into herself a little more. Vivian tries not to snicker at how some of them squirm just a little, or flush when she looks at them dead on, or smiles with all her teeth, or teases them before answering.

They're going a little easy on them today, not that she's complaining.

The older guy, the one from MSG, nudges his old-school recorder a little closer. 

"It was ultimately a power play brought about by Rivers in that third period that got the Stars a goal and forced the game into overtime," he starts out in a gruff voice, scratchy and serious. "What's the conversation like in the locker room or on the bench before you go into that overtime period?" There it is.

She runs her tongue over her lips, the salt of her sweat clinging to her tongue as she mulls over the answer, before swiping a hand over her mouth.

"I mean— it's exactly what you'd imagine. It's not about who got the penalty, it's about the penalty kill — how well we're shutting them down in our zone, getting the puck out. So obviously we're not singling people out in the middle of a game." Her eyes flit back over to Lottie's on the other end of the locker room — brief, then returning to the reporter. "Or after it. They're a good team and not every game's gonna be a cakewalk, y'know? Not our first overtime win or loss. It just happens sometimes," Vivian shrugs, then squints slightly. "That answer your question?"

They continue on, a couple more questions before fluttering to the next player —Lottie, who looks over at Vivian with clear displeasure, to which Vivian just mouths a "Told ya so" that makes Lottie shake her head a little before trying to re-steel her face.

They haven't been playing together long; there was training camp in September, and the monthful of games after that. She can't exactly say she knows what it feels like to be traded, and kind of hopes she'll never know it. But she knows what it feels like to be singled out. We're not throwing you to the wolves yet is what Vivian doesn't say, but she hopes her answer conveys as much.

Willie wanders back towards her, tilts her head to one side.

"What're you thinking?" Vivian's lips press into a line, glaring a dagger into the back of one of those reporters' heads, before refocusing her attention on the dark-haired girl.

"They need to start asking better questions in here."

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Young Love and Old Money

Summary: this series follows the story of Lewis Nixon and Josephine Wills and their trials, tribulation and love throughout WW2, including stories of their friends in between. Warnings: sexual images at the start, swearing, minor mentions of wounds, Julian and George being adorable.

Masterlist

Welcome to Hell - December 1944

His lips trailed feather-like kisses down her neck, trailing between the valley of her breast and down her stomach. Hot breath mingled between their lips as he kissed her passionately, his fingers digging into her hip bones.

“Lewis…please,” Josie's voice was hoarse and came out barely above a whisper but Lewis heard every word.

“Use your words my Darling. Tell me what you want,” Lewis growled, he could feel himself growing impatient and the urge to ravage his wife grew stronger by the minute. It had been months since they lay together and despite Lewis enjoying Josie’s company in the daytime, he couldn’t help the jealousy growing within him as he watched her laughing with Webster and Luz. As soon as he managed to drag her away from them and back to his own room, well the room he shared with Dick but Dick knew better than to come back to his room tonight.

“You’ve been teasing me all day Darlin’, how do you expect me to control myself,” he’d whined when he finally kissed his wife, tugging her lip between his teeth teasingly.

“Well Lewis, I’m sure you’ll find a way to reward yourself for such restraint,” Josie laughed, trailing her fingers across his shoulders, tugging at the lapel of his jacket.

“Oh, I’m sure I will.”

“Lew? Lew, come on. You’ve got to get up. Elements of the first and sixth Panzer Divisions have broken through in the Ardennes forest. We’re moving out in an hour. Come on Nix, get up!” Dick demanded, shoving Lewis causing him to nearly topple out of the bed.

“Jesus Christ Dick! What’s a man gotta do to get some sleep around here?”

“Not be in the 101st Airborne apparently,” Dick joked, throwing Lewis’ ODs at him. “Hurry up Lew.”

Lewis stomped out of his room, trailing after Dick at an increasingly slow pace, his jump boots scuffing at the tarmac as he dragged his way towards the jeep.

“This is bullshit. Why does everything seem to become the issue of the 101st? You’d think we were the only damn battalion in the whole ETO,” Lewis grumbled, glaring at Dick who sat with an amused smile on his lips.

“I don’t know what you’re so chirpy about. It’s not like we’re going on vacation.”

“No. I just find it humorous watching you complain.” Dick groaned slightly as Lewis thrust his elbow into his friend's stomach.

“You just keep laughing, Winters.”

“Nixon, may I have a word?” The matron's stern voice caused Josie to turn hastily, hurrying over in her direction.

“Yes Matron,” Josie resisted the urge to salute her, despite neither of them being in the army the Mateon ruled with an iron fist and reminded Josie of how Lewis had described Captain Sobel.

“I need to send some nurses to help at a field hospital in Bastogne, Belgium. Unfortunately, I can’t spare any nurses so I thought I could send some VADs instead. Would you be interested?”

Josie nodded and accepted the Matron's offer, not that the Matron showed any kind of enthusiasm towards the situation.

“Good, you’ll be leaving the hospital tomorrow morning. Be ready to leave at 0700 sharp.”

“George, do ya think you could keep it down? Some of us are trying to get some Goddamn sleep,” Bill's voice squawked from his foxhole causing George to laugh louder.

“For fuck sake!” Bill continued to grumble but George couldn’t contain his laughter, burying his head into Julian’s neck who was spluttering, trying to contain his own giggle.

The loud crouching of boots approaching from behind them caused the pair to pull away, Julian frantically trying to straighten his jacket where George had shimmied his hands inside to keep warm.

“Captain Nixon, Sir,” they both saluted the captain but Lewis just watched them with a bemused grin. The pair sorely saluted him, managing to get away with it as Josie’s close friends so this behaviour was unusual for them.

“Why do I get the feeling that you two are up to something?” Lewis asked, sliding down opposite them in the foxhole. “You look suspicious.”

“What? Us?”

“No!”

“We’re not..”

“I mean..”

“Guys, relax. I’m just messing with you. It’s okay I know about you anyway.” Lewis relaxed, leaning his head back against the cold, icy ground.

The pair opposite him looked confused, George’s chin chattered as he went to speak. “What do you know?”

Julian’s eyes were wide and he resembled Lewis’ dog when she thought she was in trouble for something. Although most of the time Lewis never punished her for anything, he had been besotted with that dog.

“You know? I know… about you two. Josie told me everything. It’s fine,” Lewis smiled at them reassuringly but his confession did nothing to lessen their nerves.

“You know everything? But you know it’s illegal right?” George asked, leaning forward as if Lewis couldn’t hear what they were trying to tell him. “We could be shot!”

Lewis had never seen George Luz so serious and it broke his heart to realise just how worried the pair were about him finding out the truth.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Alright. I swear I won’t say a word. I’m happy for you both, I really am. You mean a lot to Josie, which means you also mean a lot to me too.” Lewis looked at the pair sincerely, reaching his hand forward to shake both their hands, cold fingers brushing against each other in a shaky handshake.

“She did what?” Julian’s face was panicked, he looked at George worriedly, resisting the urge to grab his hand.

“It’s alright. My lips are sealed,” Lewis assured them and felt as much relief as they did when the pair visibly relaxed against each other once more.

“Thank you, Captain Nixon,” Julian spoke up, his pink nose peeking out from beneath the scratchy, brown blanket he was wrapped in.

“Call me Lewis, you’re family after all.”

“I can’t believe she told him,” Julian sighed, tears bubbling in the corners of his eyes ready to overflow. “I trusted her.”

“Hey. Hey. Hey. Don’t cry, okay? We’ll be alright. Captain Nixon is a friend after all. I’m sure it will be okay,” George tried to comfort him, pulling Julian close into his chest and wrapping them both up in the blanket.

“But what if it’s not?” Julian whimpered, his face buried further into George’s neck.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. Okay? You’re stuck with me.”

Lewis’ numb feet ached as his feet connected with the frozen ground, his legs swinging in long strides as he hurried towards the aid station. Ever since he’d received Josie’s letter informing him of her move to Bastogne he’d been desperate to see her, desperate to hold her, to kiss her.

He passed two wounded soldiers by the front door, one had his arm wrapped in some dirty, grey cloth while the other had an aid kit bandage wrapped around his head. Lewis' feet echoed on the cobbled, stone floor as he marched through the church, his eyes scanning the sea of bodies for any sign of his wife.

“Lewis?” A voice called from behind him. “Lewis, are you hurt? What are you doing here?”

Josie hurried towards him, flinging her arms around his neck. “Josie,” he whispered into her hair, his arms finding their home around her waist, pulling her body flush to his. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. What are you doing here, Lew?” Josie asked, running her fingers through her husband's dishevelled brown locks as she looked up at him worriedly.

“I came to see you. As soon as I got your letter I had to know you were okay.” Lewis admitted, feeling a little pathetic but also no longer caring, as long as his wife was safe that’s all that mattered.

Shouts from behind them caused the couples to pull apart and Josie hurried towards Eugene who was bringing in another wounded soldier.

“Lewis, I have to go but if you’re still here later then we can talk some more.”

Lewis felt lost as his wife slipped from his arms and ran over to the medic who was already reeling off the man’s condition. Lewis felt out of place here, he was of no use in a hospital but watching as his wife hurriedly applied a bandage he knew that Josie was where she belonged

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt

[fictionalcharactergraveyard]

ponyboy x an ocs first fight went something like this-

Ponyboy: You have the nerve to show your face after what you did? How could you?

Josie: What are you- oooh....you're at that part.

Ponyboy: *gives pouty silent treatment*

Josie: You TELL me to recommend you a book to make you feel something, and now you're mad that I did?!

Ponyboy: The dog is DEAD!

Josie: I KNOW!

Steve, not far off: Jesus Christ they're perfect for each other.

[bornonthesavage]

Tell Me "Don't", So I Can Crawl Back In Part 6

Part 4  Part 5  Part 7  AO3

“You. Fucking. Idiot.”

Eddie stared at his reflection, his hair disheveled from where he’d been pulling at it, and tried to burn those words into his skin with his eyes. Because really, what had he been thinking? Why had he invited Steve to his show? Well, he knew why. It was that goddamn smile and those stupid earnest eyes. The way he’d so casually and sincerely told him to call if he ever needed a ride. As if it were that easy. And maybe it was for Steve. But for Eddie? Who had worked so hard on not giving a shit what pretty rich boys thought of him? It was catastrophic.

Because either Steve was the best actor alive, which was highly doubtable, or he was just genuinely a great guy who liked to hang out with Eddie. Which, wasn’t that just a world ending notion? It was for Eddie. Because despite his best efforts (And yes, Gareth, he had put real effort in), this was starting to feel an awful, horribly lot like a crush. On a straight boy. Something he’d sworn he’d never do again. And with that came the terrible truth that he wanted Steve to like him.

So why had his traitorous mouth invited him to the show on Wednesday? It wasn’t Steve’s thing. And it was going to hurt when Steve looked around, listened to them play, and then walked away. Because why would he do anything else? Steve was from a different world, one that Eddie had never and would never fit into. But now, here Steve was, forcing his way into Eddie’s spaces. No, not forcing. Because Eddie had invited him. And fuck, he’d seemed so enthusiastic about wanting to come.

But you’ll be there, so that means I can make it my thing.

Jesus H. Christ. Who said things like that? Well, Steve Harrington, that’s who. Where the fuck had he even come from? If Eddie hadn’t been annoyingly aware of Steve for the last three and half years of high school, he might genuinely think his subconscious had dreamed him up as his own personal torture device. A straight boy who looked like a wet dream, smiled so sweetly, and actually wanted to spend time with Eddie? A veritable apple of Eden. Something that was right there, but still out of reach.

But it was fine. It was just a little crush. He could get over it. If Steve wanted to be friends, he could do that. He’d gotten over crushes before. Granted, they usually ended with him either getting his ass kicked or with the other person neve speaking to him again. But this time could be different. He could be different.

Eddie leaned in close to the mirror. “Get it together, you fucking loser! This is not a big deal. You and Steve Harrington can be platonic buddies. Just dudes being bros. Guys being pals. You will not think about how soft his lips are. Because he is straight, and we’re not doing this again! It doesn’t matter if he’s nice to you. We’re not so pathetic as to fall for every single pretty boy who isn’t mean. So get. A. Grip.”

He took another second to glare at himself before stepping away from the sink and opening the door. As he stepped out of the bathroom, he paused at the sight of all his friends staring at him, sprawled around Gareth’s living room

Jeff shook his head. “Dude, you do realize that door isn’t soundproof, right?”

Eddie glanced behind himself, heat flooding his face at the realization that all his friends had just heard that little meltdown. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, obviously. I don’t care.”

He walked to the sofa and dropped heavily on it, jostling Josie and Gareth. He’d become very good, over the years, at ignoring pointed looks and meaningful glances. Now, that skill was coming in handy, as he felt every eye in the room settle onto him.

“So,” Josie said, her voice faux casual in a way that only she could manage. “What exactly is going on with Harrington?”

Eddie chose that moment to become very interested in a stray sting on his jeans. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Grant snorted. “Seriously, dude? You couldn’t come up with a better lie than that? Or did you think none of us had noticed the sudden golden boy jock sitting with us every lunch period?”

And okay, look. Eddie knew he’d have to talk this out with the rest of the gang eventually. He’d been avoiding it, up until now, because the truth was that he didn’t know what to say. No matter what Steve said, Eddie had no idea why he had chosen their little band of misfits to join in with.

“Yeah, I mean, what about it?” he said with a shrug. “He lost the rest of his friends, so now he’s sitting with us.”

“Okay, but why?” Mic asked, holding up his hands. “Why us? Why you?”

“What, you don’t think my charm is enough to draw in the likes of Steve Harrington?”

It was a deflection, Eddie knew that. But only because he didn’t know. He didn’t know why him. Sure, Steve said that he like that Eddie was real. But Steve only knew that now. He hadn’t known it that first day, after they’d spoken together for the first time. Hell, Eddie hadn’t even been particularly nice to him.

“Not really, no,” Jeff said, looking around at the rest of the group for support.

Eddie leaned back on the sofa and pressed and hand over his heart. “Wow, Jeff. I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just break my poor little heart.”

Gareth, predictably, was the one to lose his patience with Eddie first. “Look, man, it’s just weird. Like, what if this is some big prank that the jocks cooked up to make y- us look stupid?”

Eddie wanted to pretend like he hadn’t heard that slip up. Because he got it. He did. And at first, he’d also thought it was some sort of joke. But now? He really didn’t think so. And maybe he was just a hopeless gay disaster, blinded by a handsome boy’s smile. But he also wanted to give himself credit. Both at the diner and in the car, he’d seen the way Steve looked at him. So open and vulnerable, a little bit afraid but also hopeful. And more than anything, he just seemed lonely.

“Look, I get what you’re saying. I do. And you know me, if I thought this was just a dumb jock prank I’d be the first to throw Steve out on his ass. But… I’ve hung out with him a couple times outside of school now, and I don’t think that’s the case. Steve is just… he’s lonely. He gave up the jock lifestyle, and with that all his friends. Have any of you taken the time to consider that maybe he saw our group, made up out outcasts and people who had no where else to go, and figured maybe he could find a place to fit in among us? That we’d be the people who wouldn’t judge him?”

And as he said it out loud, it was like a puzzle piece slotting into place. Because yeah. That actually made a lot of sense. What had Steve said? He’d given up the bullshit.

I want something real. Something that makes me feel anything more than dull acceptance of what I’ve always been told I should be. What I should want.

Eddie knew all about fighting against a society that told him he should want something he never would. About drawing a hard line in the sand and putting his foot down to say no. About fighting against the tide of fate that dragged him toward a future that had been predetermined by a father who cared more about his next score than his kid. So, if he could be something else, something better, why couldn’t Steve? He deserved that chance. Eddie would give it to him.

When he looked up and met the eyes of those around him, they seemed at least somewhat pacified. Which was good, because he didn’t want to fight them on this. He wasn’t going to turn Steve away. He’d already decided.

Grant was the first to break the silence. “But, Eddie. You should still be careful. None of us want you getting hurt.”

It was touching, really. When he’d first come out to Hellfire a year earlier, he hadn’t really known how it would go. Hell, it hadn’t even happened on purpose. But when Gareth, Josie, and Jeff had unexpectedly walked into the backroom of The Hideout and saw him lip locked with another guy… well, it had been pretty obvious. And he’d been terrified. Terrified that he was going to lose the chosen family he’d built up around himself. That he’d be rejected by the very people who he’d brought together.

But that hadn’t happened. They’d accepted him, embraced him. Told him that it didn’t matter who he loved, he would still be Eddie. And fuck, he loved them for that. But with that came an overprotectiveness that sometimes grated on his nerves. He spread his hands and gave them all a wide grin.

“Guys, calm down. You act like you all haven’t had little friend crushes on another person before. This is nothing. I’ll get over it, and then we can all move on with our lives. Besides, it’s not like I’m delusional. I know Steve’s straight.”

His friends didn’t seem totally convinced, but that was fine. He would show them. On Wednesday, when Steve came to the show, he’d show them that he and Steve could be friends. He was a big boy. So was Steve. Both figuratively and literally. Yeah, Steve was a very big boy. Hell, he could probably toss Eddie right over his shoulder and—No! Nope. Crap. Okay. This might be more difficult than he’d initially thought.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets 16 - Sneak Peek

Oh.

Well, it seemed that you weren’t the only one awake.

You felt almost guilty for thinking he was off to his mistresses when he was right there, apparently working on his art and you nibbled on your lip, fidgeting in your spot. He probably did not want to be disturbed but you were curious to see what exactly he was doing, not to mention you really didn’t want to be alone after your nightmare. Dragging the tip of your tongue over your bottom lip, you looked down at the dancing flame in the oil lamp before shrugging your shoulders.

If he did not want your presence, he could just tell you.

You walked across the hallway to reach the room and as soon as you did and saw him inside, your heart started beating even faster than it was before.

Of course night clothes were supposed to be more relaxed than formal attire but you were beginning to think that at this point, Benedict put on clothes merely to taunt you and send that fire through your veins. The half open shirt let you take a peek at his muscular chest, the rolled up sleeves showing off his strong arms, and the suspenders over his dark trousers was hanging down at his sides, making you gulp loudly. He was perched on the stool, his whole attention on the painting in front of him and he was completely oblivious to your presence which let you run your eyes over his figure, from his handsome face to his strong body—

And you had made innuendos and criticized Benedict’s appetite for nightly activities with his mistresses.

Hypocrisy was not a fun thing.

You rolled your shoulders back, forcing yourself to focus and cleared your throat to signal your presence, making him turn his head.

“Y/N,” he said after a beat, letting out a breath and you smiled slightly.

“Hello.”

“Hello—I didn’t even hear you, you move very quietly.”

You nodded. “Uh… yeah, it’s a childhood habit.”

He tilted his head, that small smile playing on his lips. “You and Josie used to play hide and seek?”

The nightmare flashed before your eyes and you bit inside your cheek.

“Something like that,” you said and lingered by the door, then nodded at the canvas in front of him. “Are you—is that going to be me again?”

Jesus Christ, what kind of a question was that?

Unlike you, Benedict was not fazed by your arrogant question at all, only a bit surprised but he quickly recovered.

“Not this one,” he said and pointed at the other canvas that only had the half of its background with the brush in his hand. “That one will be you.”

Your head shot up in surprise and you stole a look at him to see whether he was serious or just jesting but he looked completely genuine. You took a deep breath, willing yourself to ignore how his answer had caused a fluttering in your stomach.

“I’m only here because I’m too lazy to start a fire in any of the other rooms,” you lied through your teeth and stepped inside. “I’ll stay here a while simply for that reason but that—that means nothing.”

He repressed a smile and motioned at the room. “Of course.”

You made your way into the room to put the oil lamp on the small coffee table, then sat down on the sofa to grab a book off the table so that you could shuffle through it. Your eyes skimmed the lines and you turned the pages, frowning slightly.

“Half of these are just not good.”

Benedict let out a chuckle. “Which book are you looking at?”

“The Greatest Artists in History,” you read the title out loud and made a face. “Debatable.”

“Which painting?”

You held up the book so that he could see the page better and he raised his brows.

“Really?” he asked. “You don’t like that one?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just think your paintings look better.”

[willshookaspear]

NOT BY BLOOD | RAFE - 40: not by blood.

Snippet of Chapter 40: not by blood

"Merry Christmas!" Josie shouted as she opened the front door. Sarah came running as soon as she heard her best friend's voice. "Oh my god, you're back!" she exclaimed and pulled Josie in for a hug. "I was worried you would miss Christmas. How did it go?"

He drilled his eyes into hers, waiting for an answer to his question.Did you love me. Or do you love me?His chest was heavy like it had been so many times for the past few months. An invisible weight suffocated his breathing and lay barren his soul. She could make or break him at this moment. This was the moment where he found out if he would have to cope with existing in this world without her.When he'd opened the door he'd thought he was dreaming for a second. He couldn't believe that she was standing in his apartment right now.And why was she taking so fucking long to answer?

Here was Rafe Cameron, telling her that he loved her.It had been milliseconds since he asked the question. It was like Josie's mind and body overflowed. She had so much to say to him. And she couldn't possibly put what she felt for him into words. 'Love' seemed an understatement. But when she realized she hadn't yet replied, she let out a small breath through her agape mouth and shook her head, as if shaking off all the irrelevant thoughts until she could only get that one sentence out. The one sentence that mattered. The one he needed to hear. And she needed to say. "Jo..." Rafe started, hope draining from his face, leaving it pale, torn. She exhaled sharply and jumped the ledge. "I love you." Rafe's eyes met hers, slightly narrowed as if he was trying to decipher if he heard right. "You love me?"

"Ehm," Josie started and brushed some hair out of her face and behind her ear. She was interrupted when Rafe barged through the door with all their luggage, and the numerous bags of Christmas presents they'd picked up on the way. "Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered as she dropped it all on the floor and sighed out. When he saw Sarah and Josie looking amused at him he smiled in proper holiday spirit and walked up to them. "I see you got your puppy dog with you," Sarah said and stuck her tongue out at her big brother. Then she turned to Josie, face full of excitement. "So, what do you wanna do tonight?"

"I don't mind. Got anything planned?" Josie asked as she slipped off her jacket and hung it up. 

"I'm glad you asked," Sarah stated firmly and dug out a crumpled up piece of paper from her back pocket and smoothed it out on her thigh. "Since you've never had an Outer Banks Christmas, I made a list of all the Tannyhill traditions we have to do. Rafe?" Sarah turned to her brother and waved the list in the air. "You in?"

Rafe just shook his head with a smirk and wrapped his arms around Josie's waist, leaning his chin into her shoulder. "Whatever, Sarah. From now on, I go wherever Jo goes."

Sarah couldn't help but form a sneaky smile as she pointed a finger at them. "Please, the whole family is here for Christmas. I'm not gonna be the first one on this holiday to mention how you're basically cousins." And at that comment, Rafe and Josie at the same time let out, "Not by blood!"

AO3: NOT BY BLOOD | RAFE CAMERON by willshookaspear

[marythekumquat]

Snippet from my AU of Josie and Rennick arguing cause I love it so much. Chapter 4: Scotland the Brave. (Yes, they still hate each other at this stage.) I don’t know why, but I love their banter.

“You’re working on an oil rig. What’d you think? You were gonnae be taking in the fresh air as if the oil and gas was harmless? Jesus, we’re probably breathing in poisonous fumes standing here now, Gibbo. This job ain’t for the faint-hearted. You canny handle it, then fuck off back to Peterhead!”


Before Gibbo could grievously respond, a taunting yet agitated tone chimed from the stairwell in singsong. “Oh, Capitaaaaine!”


Rennick irked, “Jesus Christ…”


“Right,” said Gibbo contently, “I’ll leave you to it. Efters.”


Rennick made a small sneer at Josie before grunting a sigh and walking out the Quad. Josie picked up pace to catch up. “McLeary is coming up to his end of orientation. Must be sour your plan didn’t work."


“The fuck are you on about now?”


“Don’t try to tell me you didn’t have me saddled with an electrician to fuck up my training competency with Cadal. I’m on to you, Davidson!”


“It’s Davey, you twit. No! It’s Rennick! Or sir or boss. Or… monsieur, in your case. Once again, I haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about. Time to bring that pretty wee head of yours back down to Earth.”


“Don’t flatter me, monsieur. Doesn’t suit you. I’m on to you. You sink you can get rid of me with child games like zat, you’ll be in for a long, painful ride. Play stupid games win stupid presents!”


Rennick scoffed to himself as they entered the deck. “It’s prizes.”


“Whatever! You’re no prize! You know your life would be so much easier if you just admitted I’m good and treated me as such! Look around! This place was a fucking junkyard before I came along. Half of the machines running are courtesy of me.”


Rennick turned back to Josie with a glare as he held the handle to the grated gate door. “And if you weren’t such an arrogant gobshite, I wouldnae have to keep telling you to fuck off. Now… fuck off!”


He went to push open the gate angrily and throw it back into her face as he usually had, but it was stuck fast. He tried a few times, then grunted and cursed with it but it stubbornly stayed.


Josie observed smugly, “Might be time for some new doors there, Capitaine. Or did you spend the whole budget on your ties?”


Rennick made a swift kick at the bottom of the grate and the door swung open. He taunted a closed smile to Josie before saying, “Takes some know-how, Cartier.”


“Oh, look at you quoting the Cadal punchline! Zee Beira’s own mascot.”


“Go fix something!”


“What else would I be doing? I’m zee only one around here who does!”


Trots came down from the Administration steps calling eagerly, “Rennick! Can I have a minute, please?”


Rennick exhaled grievously, “Can I have a minute of fucking peace?”


“Sacrebleu! Here comes Union Man. Have fun, Capitaine.” Josie said cheekily as she started her confident jaunt back to Engineering.

[stevenbasic]

GITJ Post 349: That was Then, This is Now, p1

“Mmmmph! M-Morgan!! Pl-please!” I sputtered, head buried deep in the big bosom of my new Hungarian APRN. My arms were straightened stock-stiff at my sides.

“Oh, Dr. J, do the relax!” the enormous blond woman laughed, mirth jiggling through her mighty chest as she hugged me tightly. She nearly had me pulled off my feet as I stood there in my office that Monday morning, her strong arms encircling my head, shoulders and upper back. I’d been waiting for my coff-…my m-…my warm morning beverage and the meeting Melissa had wanted to have but had been summarily assaulted - this counted as the twelfth one - by the “Good Morning Hugs” of my staff as they’d come one-by-one to greet me. New office policy, it had been announced, I guess: Dr. J gets a hug every morning, from everyone. 

Julia had been here with hugs, Bobbi and Brittni and Bianca and Bessie as well, all thanking me for such a fun weekend and being so cool and nice to them on Instagram. Wait what? Shanette had come early and lingered long, feeling especially soft and had purred motherly greetings. Katarina had, with a peculiar giggle, offered to fill my mug if I’d been waiting too long for Melissa to appear with my warm milk. Josie didn’t stop at a hug and gave me kisses, while Randi and Katie had each started flat-out making out with me. Angie nearly had me out of my pants and it was only Aubrey showing up for her hug that saved me from an early-morning, non-consensual handjob. Lakshmi had left just a few minutes ago, after helping me clean the lipstick of all these other from my face and finally showing me on her phone what all the girls is had been mysteriously hinting at and talking about: the Instagram posts made to my account after my own phone had been hijacked on Saturday night, before its demise at the bottom of Melissa’s pool. Good god! I remembered so little of the weekend, had I really been a part of all this…this…debauchery?

What a way to start a week!

“I hear you have the exciting weekend,” Morgan was now purring to me, her basso profundo rumbling through her chest as she held me captive at her monumental breast. “Morgan sorry she not there, she the busy. But happy you have the good time. Many orgasm, I can know!” 

At that, she released my face from the depths of her bosom and - god help me - held me out at arms reach. My feet were six inches off the floor! My mouth gaped: Morgan was huge! Enormous! Maybe not quite as tall as Melissa but probably outweighing her by sixty pounds, at least. Jesus Christ the size of her! Yes, whatever my mystery affliction was had been reducing my stature (I really have to get this checked out…) and changing my perspective, and I knew Morgan was a big lady, but - holy crap! What had happened to her?!? I’d seen her just last Friday, working with patients, and she was nowhere near this size, was she?? She was a house! Thick curves threatened to burst forth from her stretchy pants and overmatched, overstretched blouse whose buttons seemed ready to -

“Haha button go pop,” she laughed as - yes - the top button of her blouse flew past my face.

My eyes just goggled as her cleavage bulged forth and then, slowly, she began to lift me up, up, up until we were eye level. Good god this woman wasn’t only huge, but hugely strong!

“Because you, the breasts of me are so bigger now,” she said, cryptically, “Tell me, what the happen? What you do on the weekend?”

Oh my god what did happen this weekend?

I remember, of course, getting in a little late this Monday morning with Melissa driving me to work. I’d stayed the night, again, the third in a row at her place. She’d helped me get ready and had clothes for me - these new, XXS unisex scrubs she’d found at the mall. I normally didn’t like wearing scrubs at the office as it made me look, well…like the rest of the staff, the medical assistants. But today I had little choice. So while this morning’s memories were clear as day, the day before, however, was a little fuzzier. Though with a little effort I pretty much recalled the whole thing.

“Um,” I told Morgan, as she held me aloft like a rag doll, “M-Melissa and I just sort of relaxed yesterday…”

Of the events of the weekend, Sunday afternoon’s were clearest in my mind. It had turned out to be a lazy day of napping in and out and cuddling on the couch. Melissa spent it pampering me, barely letting me lift a finger, keeping me couchbound in her arms, or pinned underneath her, or with her head in my lap. She’d apparently wanted to spend most of the day in penis worship, and wanted me also adulating her breasts. It was Sunday, after all. Time for church. And so we honored the occasion with either me sucking on her or by her sucking on me ‘like a piece of candy’, tending to the every whim of the insatiable beast between my legs, barely letting it leave her mouth for hours on end. I don’t know how many times her skilled lips, tongue and throat had brought me to climax there on the couch - it was a lot. But it was right before the dinner of Mac n Cheese she’d made for me that I finally had to stop her. I was sore, I was actually really sore, my balls tender and shaft raw from so much overuse this weekend, a sex marathon that did a number on my privates. She’d cooed and clucked in amused pity, offering ointments and creams 'to make it all better', but they only served to get me ready for another round in her mouth or tender grip. It was finally with a laying-on-of-hands, a strange cooling sensation that her palms brought my groin with no liniments or salves, that in the end miraculously healed my pain. Had she done something like that before? On…Saturday night, to a bruise on my neck? I was a little weirded out, as that moment brought back flashes of other memories. Was I just imagining some of these things? I remember her, and the other girls doing…stuff. Like, I knew Melissa was really strong, but there was no way she used her breath to blow me across the pool, was there?

“I heard you almost the drownded,” Morgan said, watching my face as I continued to try to recall the weekend. 

“Who? Me? Oh, um…”

Yes, I had woken Sunday morning and found my busted phone. Did I get it from the bottom of the pool? Or was that Melissa? Wait, did she actually save me from, like, almost drowning? I shivered, recalling it now. Yes, I felt it again - the fear, the near-death experience at the bottom of the deep-end and then suddenly being safe in her arms. Anyway, I remembered intimacy with Melissa in the pool, in the shower, at breakfast. Jeez we were horndogs!

“...yeah, I uh, had a little accident Sunday morning,” I admitted to Morgan, “but it was a f-fun little party the night before. Too b-bad you couldn’t come.”

Saturday was, for sure, more of a blur. There were girls over at Melissa’s, lots of them. I must have been drinking that afternoon because I barely remember that time at all. Later on into the evening I recall a little more - time in the hot tub? Sushi for dinner was it? A movie, some warm milk? Bedtime was more easy to recollect, with Shanette sharing the bed with Melissa and me for a while. 

“Sound so the fun,” Morgan smiled, the twinkle in her eyes telling me she knew more than she was saying. 

“Yeah,” I agreed. Realizing now why I already felt so exhausted: I had the sex lives of twenty men. Yes, I’d slept like a rock last night, after Melissa had taken me to her bed and put me under by humming sweet lullabies that reverberated throughout my cock, hips and spine to settle in my mind and rock it to sleep. But I felt like I’d need to sleep another week to recover from what I’d been through. I hadn’t even stepped through the door of my apartment upstairs this morning, having come straight into the office, and I was already looking forward to collapsing in my bed tonight. 

But first I needed to get through today. Still held aloft by the shoulders in Morgan’s strong hands, I was reminded of that by a knock on the door. Melissa, maybe, I hoped? We both turned to see who it’d be.

Aubrey, peeking around the doorframe. Back for more hugs? Apparently not. 

“Gianna needs to talk to you,” she said. 

===================================

thanks to RiF for editing help

[bcolfanfic]

can u… can u say anything more about wyatt showing up to the bucks’ house…

me to rachel "jesus one young vets kid having a crisis at a time" lmao. but wyatt. geez. he wins god's little lamb most likely to be slaughtered by theee longest long shot. poor thing. to your actual point.

does very much just. show up. ran out of a *burning house* and has been running through rural wyoming on very shoddy memories of where he is at like 10pm. got very "lucky" in how horribly close that house actually was to the buck's in that it was close enough for him to even make it there on foot in the shape he was in, and alive.

he does end up collapsing on their front porch though. doesn't have the energy to ring the doorbell or knock but john is in the living room reading and hears the thud outside and is like !?!?. is a little freaked out at first, glances out the window, recognizes the kid's hair immediately and. then freaks out in a different way. just about rips the front door off the hinges opening it and the second he sees his face and knows for /sure/ that it's wyatt he starts yelling for gale. at this point he's been gone for about ten months, and no one wants to say it but the he might not be alive thoughts are. starting to spread 'through the camp' more.

as luck (?) would have it the kids aren't home, josie is at her own apartment and micah is at a friend's house. which is honestly for the better that night at least with how chaotic everything is. wyattt throws up in bucky's arms, has clearly been hurt horribly in a lot of different ways and both john and gale's minds are pretty much just alternating volumes of fuckfuckfuckwhathefuckwhatthefuck. can't get him to say much of anything, he's just crying and freaking out and it's. a mess. they do end up texting josie bc in the panic think maybe a familiar face that's not a big grown man would be less scary. give her very strict instructions to not tell micah yet and she speeds through every red light in sheridan getting to that damn house. she does help though. less scary to wyatt than the bucks are and is able to get him calmed down enough that they don't have to worry about him outright passing out in their living room.

they don't call ev until they're able to get him to the hospital and he has a bed and the whole mess is. at least a tiny degree less chaotic. in his panic at the house john almost calls him right away but gale is like ??? don't do that yet jesus christ, one thing at a time.

[walnut-sisterwives]

Hello, I am Delilah.

I am a 29 year old mother of 2 beautiful babies (Oakley, 2 years old, and Brighton, 4 months old). I have been a part of the Jesus Christ Church of Latter-day Saints for 5 years and married to my lovely husband, Norman, for 4 years as of 2024. I escaped my old life to find new life with him and my sister, Josie. After being wrongfully banned from Facebook, me and my sister are moving here to help spread the word of our Lord and hopefully help those who desperately need Him.

Ask us anything! There is no judgement here.

~~~✞~~~

Hello, I am Josephine.

I am a 36-year-old mother of Triplet Boys (Nicholas, Patrick, and Richard) and A girl (Dawn). I grew up in The LDS church, where i met my Husband, Norman. We have been Married for 18 years. I have joined this Site with my Sister, Delilah, to promote traditional, and Correct values through Motherhood and Devotion to Christ.