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figtreeandvine · 5 months

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I want to write a movie that is sort of the flip side of a Hallmark holiday movie. Not an anti-Hallmark movie, just like the other side of the same coin.

It starts with a well-dressed professional woman driving a convertible along a country road, autumn foliage in the background, terribly scenic. She turns onto a dirt road/long driveway, and stops next to a field of Christmas trees, all growing in neat, ordered rows, perfectly trimmed and pruned to form. She steps out of the car--no, she's not wearing high-heels, give her some sense!--and knocks on the door of a worn but nice-looking farmhouse. An older woman, late fifties maybe, answers the door, looking a bit puzzled. The younger woman asks if she can buy a Christmas tree now, today. The older woman says they don't do retail sales--and the younger woman breaks down crying.

Cut to the two women sitting at the kitchen table with cups of tea. The young woman (Michelle), no longer actively crying, explains that her mother loves Christmas more than anything, but is in the hospital with end-stage cancer. Her doctors don't think she'll live to see December, let alone Christmas. Nobody is selling Christmas trees in September, so could the older woman please make an exception, just this once? The older woman (Helen) regretfully explains that they have a contract to sell their trees that forbids outside sales. The younger woman nods, starts to stand up, but the older woman stops her with a hand and asks her what hospital her mother is in. After she answers the older woman says that "my Joe" will deliver a tree the next day. "Contract says I can't sell you a tree, but nothing says I can't give you one."

Next day "Joe" shows up at the hospital in flannel and jeans, with a smallish tree over her shoulder. Oh, whoops, that's Jo, Helen's daughter, short for Joanna, not Joe. Jo sets up the tree and even pulls out a box of lights and ornaments. Mother watches from hospital bed with a big smile as Jo and Michelle decorate the tree. Cue "end of movie" type sappiness as nurses and other patients gather in the doorway, smiling at the tree.

Cut to Michelle sitting in her dark apartment, clutching a mug of tea, staring out at the falling snow and the Christmas lights outside. Her apartment has no tree, no decorations, nothing. She starts at a knock on the door, goes to open it. Jo is standing there, again holding a tree over her shoulder.

Plot develops: the second tree is a gift, because Michelle might as well get it as the bank. The contract for the tree sales was an /option/ contract, which prevents them from selling to anyone else, but doesn't guarantee the sale. The corporation with the option isn't going to buy the trees, but Helen and Jo can't sell them anywhere else, and basically they get nothing. They'll lose the farm without the year's income. Michelle asks to see the contract and Jo promises to email it to her.

Next day at a very upscale law firm, Michelle asks at the end of a staff meeting if anyone in contract law still needs pro bono hours for the year. No one does, but a senior partner (Abe) takes her to his office and asks about it. She says the contract looks hinky to her ("Is that a legal term?" "Yes.") but contract law's not her thing. He raises an eyebrow and she grins and pulls a sheaf of paper out of her bag and hands it over. He reads it over, then looks up at her. "They signed this?"

More plot develops. Abe calls in underlings--interns, paralegals, whatever--and the contract is examined, dissected, and ultimately shredded (metaphorically). It's worse even than it looks--on January 1st Helen and Jo will have to repay the advanced they received at signing. The corporation has bought up a suspicious number of Christmas tree farms in previous years after foreclosure, etc.

Cut to Abe explaining all this to Helen and Jo while sitting with them and Michelle in a very swanky conference room. The firm is willing to take on the case pro bono, hopefully as a class's action suit for other farmers trapped by the contract--but there's no way it can go to court before January. Which will be too late to save the farm's income for the year. They might get enough in damages to tide them over, but….

After Michelle sees Helen and Jo out, she comes back and asks Abe if there's anything they can do immediately. Abe looks thoughtful for a long moment, then gets a really shark-like grin on his face. "Maybe…."

Cut to Helen wearing a bathrobe, coming into her kitchen in the morning. She looks out the window…and there's a food truck stopped in her driveway. She pulls a coat on over her robe and goes out--two more trucks have pulled up while she does this. Driver of the first truck asks her where they park. Another truck pulls up behind the others. Behind that is a black BMW--Abe rolls down the window and waves. Helen directs the trucks to the empty field/yard next to the house. Abe pulls up next to Helen's car and Jo's truck and parks. He and Michelle get out--Abe wearing a total power suit, Michelle in weekend casual.

The case will be easier if the corporation initially sues them for violating the (uninforcible!) contract, rather than them suing to corporation (damn if I know, but it's movie logic). So they're going to sell the trees now, and rounded up some food trucks and whatnot to draw people in.

Cue montage of Jo and Michelle running around helping people set up while Abe and Helen watch from the kitchen table. The table starts out covered in file folders…and slowly gains coffee cups and plates of cinnamon rolls. It becomes increasingly clear here that Abe and Helen are becoming as close as Jo and Michelle.

Everything gets set up and a very urban, very motley crowd appears--tats and studs and multiracial couples and LGBTQ parents and everything--and everyone is having a wonderful time eating funnel cake and choosing their tree so Jo and a bunch of rainbow-haired elves can cut it for them. At which point someone shows up from the corporation (maybe with a sheriff's deputy?) and starts yelling at Helen, who's running checkout. And suddenly Abe appears from the house and you realize why he's wearing that suit on a Saturday….

Cue confrontation and corporate flunky running off with their tail between their legs, blustering about suing. Cue Jo kissing Michelle. Cue Helen walking over and putting a hand on Abe's shoulder and smiling at her.

I want the lawyers to be the heroes because they are lawyers and know the law. I want a lesbian who lives in the country with her mother. I want urbanites to turn out as a community to help someone who isn't even part of their community. I want Michelle to keep working at her high-power job, loving Christmas and grieving her mother.

#hallmark #anti-hallmark #movie plot

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saetoru · 7 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ speak of the devil

synopsis. satoru and his father don’t quite get along—you don’t think it would help that case if his father walked in on you fucking on his desk right now, but satoru doesn’t seem to care at all

FIVE PLACES RB! GOJO SHOULDN’T FUCK YOU SERIES

length. 3.4k words (why did it take all day sobs)

contents. fem! reader, minors do not interact, college au, rich boy! gojo, as always it’s shameless satoru, you sit on satoru’s lap, brief fingering, dry humping, desk sex <3, clothed sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, perfect girl)

notes. to everyone who kept asking when i was gonna update this series: here it is. now don’t ask again <3

the one time you decide to surprise satoru with a visit is the one time he’s nowhere to be found—it takes you ten minutes and the help of two maids to finally find satoru in his house. as it turns out, he’s in his father’s office—the only room you’ve never been in yet.

“hey,” you murmur, “been looking for you everywhere. way to ruin my surprise.”

“baby!” he grins, perking up from his spot at the chair, setting the pen in his hand down. “you came all the way here to surprise me? you must love me so much. and think i’m hot too, right? and funny? and smart? and—”

“i’m leaving,” you tease, rolling your eyes. and then you notice the papers in front of him, peeking over his shoulder as you read over them. you understand nothing. “what’s this?”

“paperwork,” he grumbles, “old man says i have to start being more responsible for stuff if i’m gonna take over someday. what a geezer.”

you snort—satoru never runs out of insults for his father. normally, you wouldn’t encourage his comments, but….well, his father deserves them. quite a bit, in fact.

“my poor businessman,” you say sympathetically, smoothing back hair from his forehead as you cup his face. he pouts, leaning into your touch as you rub over the swell of his cheek with your thumb. “you deserve a break.”

“i know,” he whines, “i’ve been doing these for like an hour. i could’ve been playing video games with suguru. or fucking you.”

“satoru!” you gasp, pressing a hand over his lips as you eye the door and listen for any signs of anyone nearby. you turn to him and hiss, “you have too many people wandering your house for you to say that so loud.”

“not like they’ve never heard us before,” he shrugs.

well, that’s satoru for you—as shameless as ever. not only has he probably traumatized the poor maids with his insatiable horniness, but he’s not even got the tact to at least seem embarrassed. not even slightly ashamed. you scoff, shaking your head as he grins up at you cheekily.

“you’re a real case, you know that?” you say in disbelief, “i think the only surface you haven’t fucked me on is your parent’s bed. and that’s only because you love your mom enough not to do that.”

“if it was just the old man’s, i’d have fucked you on that too,” he snickers. and then he hums thoughtfully, “actually, i think i have fucked you everywhere. it’s like a bucket list.”

“satoru, you’re sick in the head.”

“the showers, the guest rooms, the kitchen, the living room, the movie room, my room, of course—oh, the game room too. and we can’t forget the backyard and the pool either. i think we got it all—wait.”

he sounds serious. you look at him with furrowed brows as you tilt your head. “what?”

“we didn’t get this room.”

oh god. he’s absolutely ridiculous—and not only that but a complete idiot, too. not only do satoru and his father not get along, but his father couldn’t disapprove of you any more than he already does. the last thing you both need is for him to walk in on his son fucking the girl he probably wants to hire a hitman to assassinate.

“oh my god,” you say exasperatedly, “toru, have you not one ounce of shame? you can’t possibly think—”

“why didn’t i think of this sooner?” he wonders out loud—and oh no. satoru has that look in his eyes, the one that’s locked in on something he wants. the spoiled side of him isn’t going to let this go. the weak part of you is probably going to have a hard time fighting him.

the unwise part of both of you will probably get you both into a whole lot of trouble.

“because it’s a bad idea. you’re a smart guy, toru,” you try to butter him up—it doesn’t seem to do much, though. “the smartest. so, so genius and intelligent, so you know this is a terrible idea, so let’s just drop it—”

“i should’ve done this way sooner,” he chuckles, looking at you in awe, “bend you right over this desk and fuck you over that fossil’s papers.”

his words are so shameless and so, so wrong. but for some odd reason, your clit aches a little at that.

“no, absolutely not—”

“can you imagine? he’s signing papers right where i had you drooling for me? he’d be so mad if he knew,” satoru cackles.

god—this should not be as appealing as it sounds. you try to throw on your best stern look, but satoru is as smart as he is sly. he can see the way you shift on your feet as he smirks up at you, and he’s already got that determined look in his eye that you know well enough.

it’s the same look he has when he decides he’s hungry—for you, that is. the same look that paints his face as he eyes you like you’re his next meal. the same look that tells you he wants you—and he’ll stop at nothing to have you.

and….well, you’ve never been good at saying no to satoru. it’s your fatal flaw.

“satoru, we should definitely not be doing any of that in here, and we definitely should not be risking making your dad—who hates that we’re dating, by the way—any more angry with us than he already is—”

“sweetheart,” he chuckles, pulling you by the wrist to fall onto his lap, “you worry too much, y’know that? i should fix that. fuck you dumb over this desk so you don’t overthink in that pretty little head you have.”

you glare at him, but he’s already got you straddling his hips, arms looped around your waist as he kisses your jaw with a hum. he’s already hard from what you can feel—the bulge pressing against your heat is hard to miss.

“satoru—”

“save the part where you say my name for later. i haven’t even done anything yet,” he winks—and then he’s kissing you. he’s clever, you think, because kissing you is the fastest way to get you to melt against him, arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls you closer.

so close, in fact, that you can feel his cock practically twitch in his pants as you shift on top of him, dragging your clothed cunt over his aching bulge.

“this is such a bad idea, toru,” you whisper in between kisses—but not one part of you fights his touch or even attempts to pull away. he hums, pressing wet kisses along your jaw as his hands dig into your hips, moving you to grind along his hardened length.

“yeah? you sure? let’s check, shall we?” he raises a brow, hand slipping past the waistband of your pants and brushing past your folds—wet. dripping and messy and needy, just how your pussy always seems to be when you’re with him. he grins in satisfaction and throws you that knowing look as he mumbles, “sorry, baby. this pretty little pussy of yours disagrees.”

“toru,” you gasp as he toys with your clit, rubbing slow enough circles that you whine and roll your hips, trying to get more. but satoru is a brat—always has been, right from the day he was born. he pulls his fingers away and looks at you smugly as he kisses your curled lips while you frown at him.

“want more, don’t ya?” he asks—he’s too cocky for his own good sometimes. too ridiculous and annoying and troublesome, but you’re aching to feel something, anything. preferably him, so you nod.

“just hurry up,” you huff. your hips push against him, dragging your cunt over his cock—it’s throbbing in his pants, confined under the fabric and needy for the tightness of your walls. you gasp when he rubs against your clit, and he groans, guiding your movements with a tight grip on your hips.

“fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps, “c-could cum jus’ like this. see what you do to me?”

“‘s not me,” you tilt your head as he nips at your neck, hand trailing to cup the back of his head and keep him in place as he nibbles at the skin and pecks along the marks he leaves, “this is all your fault.”

“all my fault, huh?” he chuckles, “you make it sound like this is a bad thing.”

his hips buck up, rolling against yours and building the friction up until your both panting messes, his lips against yours as you drink in each other’s moans—your clit rubs along his length with every stutter of your hips, and his tip leaks with more pre cum every time you press harder against his cock. it’s desperate—the way he chokes on your name and the way you cling around his neck. it feels good, and the way this is all so wrong only makes it feel better.

“‘m close, toru,” you mewl, whining as his hand slides under your shirt to massage your tit, his eyes trained on you as he hums.

“good,” he grins, eyes dark and glinting with a sick satisfaction you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before, “cum for me, sweetheart. right here—right on this chair,” he says lowly.

so you do—head falling back with a sharp gasp and your nails digging into his shoulder as you come undone with a loud whine. the gojo estate is big—very big. you’re sure your voice isn’t carrying through even a fraction of the place, but still, you can’t help but clamp a hand over your mouth in case anyone is nearby.

satoru doesn’t like that, though—his hand rips yours off as he ruts his hips upwards faster, harder, pressing against you closer. “no, baby,” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a breathy moan when you press harder against his cock, “make sure you let me hear how good you feel. feels good, huh?”

“yes,” you whimper, “yes, feels so good—need more, toru. please,” you pout, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes.

“here?” he mocks, raising a brow, “you want me to fuck you right here? in my father’s office? where he does his work? right on his desk?”

“yes, here,” you sob, “right here—please. want you so bad. need it.”

“see?” he laughs, “now you’re getting it—not so much of a bad idea, is it?”

that’s the thing about satoru—he’s too used to hearing what he wants. being told what he likes to hear. getting what he asks for. you say no, and he’s determined to change it to a yes. but yes is never enough—it’s more. always more, more, more. it’s like all rich people, you suppose.

they just always want more.

there’s a small, reasonable voice in your head that tells you this is a bad idea. a disrespectful one, even. sure, satoru’s father has never been kind to you, let alone polite. he looks at you like you’re an eyesore, and he’s certainly said less than appropriate things about your upbringing. but that doesn’t mean you have to stoop to his level of low and do something equally as spiteful, if not more…but you’re only human. and satoru always just fucks you so well, and cumming around nothing just isn’t enough, and…well, you think it’s just karma.

the way the world works.

the way you and satoru work.

so you grin, huff out a little snort before pulling him into a kiss and reaching to free his hard, leaky cock from its confinements. he whines a little into your mouth as you smear the arousal coating his tip along his length, stroking down and squeezing at the base.

“okay,” you whisper against his lips, “fuck me toru. right here—right on his desk.”

that, evidently, is all it takes—one second you’re comfortably sitting on his legs, pants soaked with his bulge pressed against your core, and the next second you hear his hand swipe papers off the surface to fall to the floor as your back is pressed against the cool wood. he doesn’t even bother with your clothes, just tugs both of your pants down your thighs that it’s enough. satoru has always been impatient too—doesn’t like to wait for anything when he can take it when he wants.

you can feel him close, hovering over you. he’s warm—where his cock presses against your thigh, where his breath fans over your lips, where his hands grab your wrists and pin them over your head. he’s warm, and your head spins, and you need him filling you to the brim right now.

“anything you want, you get, sweetheart,” he murmurs, grinning sickeningly sweet, “can’t say no to my baby. what kind of boyfriend would i be?” you feel him bump his tip against your clit, making you gasp before he drags the head of his cock along your folds—they’re wet and slick from your arousal, coating his tip before he’s slowly pushing in. you gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck as he groans lowly. “can never get used to this,” he breathes, “never get used to this pussy. just takes me so well. fit in like i was made just to fuck you.”

“toru, t-toru—oh,” you squeal when he slides the rest of his length to fill you, buried to the hilt as your walls flutter around him. it’s nothing new, but it’s never something you’re prepared for all the same. how thick he is, how perfectly he hits that spot in the back of your walls, how full he makes you feel. it makes your legs wrap around his waist and pull him forward, closer, deeper. “more, toru—move, please.”

“nuh uh,” he drawls, kissing your cheeks, “first you gotta tell me how much you love me.”

“satoru,” you hiss in disbelief, “are you kidding—”

“c’mon, say it,” he giggles, “love you, toru. love how you fuck me so good everywhere in your house and make me feel like a princess. you’re the best boyfriend ever and i’ll die without your cock—”

“i love you toru,” you smile sweetly, “you know what i love more, though? when you’re too busy making pretty sounds for me instead of talking so much.”

that makes him shudder—makes him curse under his breath as your walls flutter impatiently around him. he’s aching—hot and swollen in your dripping cunt, balls heavy with cum that he needs to empty into your pussy because it was made to take him. every inch of him.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he breathes out shakily, “know that? gonna kill me one of these days.”

“good,” you hum before rolling your hips and making his breath hitch, “now move, baby. wanna feel you.”

he does—pulls his hips back so that he’s just almost pulled out completely before he slams back into you, pressing against your sweet spot with his tip in the way only satoru knows how. only he knows you this well, only he knows your body so well. he knows where to kiss and hold and touch to make your eyes flutter shut, and your mouth fall open, wanton moans falling past your lips without a care in the world who can hear.

“so tight, baby,” he whines, “god you’re so perfect—my perfect girl.”

“so full,” you gasp, clawing at his shoulders, pulling at his hair, pulling him closer and closer and closer until not even air can fill the space between you. “feel so good, toru—fuck.”

“look at you,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “‘s a shame you can’t see what i see. then you’d know why i can’t keep my hands off’a you—’s impossible.”

you can’t speak—all you can offer him as he’s bullying his thick girth into you is a pathetic whine as his veins drag along your walls, as his navel bumps along your clit and has your head thrown back against the table. there’s slick smeared along your inner thigh, the wet sound of his cock fucking into you ringing in your ears along with his deep groans as he pants harshly against your ear. you can feel his breath against your skin, can feel the goosebumps and the flutter of your walls every time he makes a pretty little sound for you as you squeeze around him.

“love you, toru,” you mewl—you can’t help but say it, can’t help but remind him when he pushes into you like he was always meant to fit right there, like he was always meant to feel you as you feel him too. and if his rotten, greedy, stuck-up father with a receding hairline can’t see that you love satoru, maybe you’ll just have to fuck him right where he can find you just to drill the image into his mind.

“love you too,” he says between moans, face digging into your neck as your hand cradles the back of his head, keeping him right there, keeping him close against you like he should never be anywhere else, “love my perfect, perfect girl. feel me? feel what you do to me?”

you nod between sharp gasps and soft cries of his name—he looks down at you in wonder, at the way your lips look when they murmur that sweet little cry of toru!, at the way your pussy sucks him in and hugs too tightly around him, at the way you look so good with the slight sheen of sweat on your face.

his hips roll, a little sloppy in rhythm now, but still just as hard and deep as before. he can sense it—the way you’re just about to fall apart on his cock, just like you always do. so he presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing harsh circles that make you cling to him tighter as you cry out another sweet string of toru, toru—more!

“you close, sweetheart? gonna cum for me? ‘m close—gonna fill you up. want that, don’t you?”

“yeah,” you breathe, kissing him with hot, open-mouthed kisses that he returns, “yeah i wan’ you to fill me up, toru—gonna cum. ‘m so close—f-fuck, so close, baby.”

you know he is too, the way his cock twitches and the way his hips are desperate in the way they roll into you tells you he’s just as close to falling apart as you are. you push your hips up to meet his thrusts, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt before you feel the coil snap as you cum—hard. your walls flutter around him, spasming and squeezing around him that his bottom lip is tugged between his teeth as he inhales sharply.

“f-fuck, baby—’m gonna…” he doesn’t get to finish before you feel his cock twitch and the first drop of cum fills you. it’s hot and thick, every rope he fucks into you, leaking past his tip and painting your walls white. you can feel the mess he makes—can feel the drops leak and smear along your inner thighs as he slams into you with choked whines of your name. “g-good—’s so good, you feel so good,” he says breathlessly, face digging deeper into the crook of your neck as his arms tremble over you.

the wood is hard against you, makes your back ache slightly—but it’s not nearly as bad as satoru is good. you can’t think of anything else but the way he fucks you both through your highs until your legs are begging to press shut from the oversensitivity.

it’s silent for a bit once you’ve finished—save for the harsh, labored panting as you both calm down and catch your breaths. satoru is still buried with his nose pressed against your neck, your hand rubbing over his back slowly.

“your maids must hate us,” you mumble, “and if your mother hears? we can never show her our faces again.”

“she’s probably dead to the world and watching her reality shows,” he snorts, “we’ll be fine.”

“well, we should clean up and leave before your dad—”

“oh look, speak of the devil. he’s just in time,” satoru snickers as he cuts you off, looking over at the window as an expensive car drives up to the house, “think we can get these papers organized before he comes up here? maybe we should just leave ‘em to make him mad.”

“you’re crazy,” you say in disbelief. and then— “i think we should leave them there. make them his problem.”

you think you’ve just watched satoru fall in love with you all over again at that.

i hate this fic but hopefully i come back one week later and reread it and think wow i ate w this. sometimes i do that. but if i don’t: if all of you donate one dollar to my family they can afford my funeral for when i drink bleach

#teepods.writings #fics.#thirstee!#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you

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bigguyenthusiast · 2 months

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141 and their captain’s assistant

- it all started with a comment made by Laswell, she mentioned to John how tired he seems, how his eye bags are growing heavier each day passing

- she recommended him to get an assistant, John declined the offer and tried to get back to work, but laswell already made the call, she knew how annoying John can be when it comes to getting help

- then enters a pretty little thing, your hair in a messy bun, glasses neatly resting on your pretty face, short pencil skirt hugging your curves perfectly

- John couldn’t help himself from staring, gawking at you like some horny teenager

- the boys began seeing you scurrying around the base more often, the first to approach you was Johnny of course

- his deep voice partnered with his thick Scottish accent made you subconsciously bite your lip, staring up at him with your big doe eyes, you don’t even mean to, it’s just that more than half of the people in here were 6feet+

- Johnny’s flirtatious nature made you giggle, lightened up your day, but not your boss’

- every time the Scott decided to drop by your desk to accompany you, he’d get scolded by his captain

- “don’t need you distracting her from her job”

- “it’s her break, cap, plus, she’ a good lass, I’m sure she’s on top of…all her work” the scott would throw you a wink before his captain orders him to run laps around the base

- next came gaz, since he’s always visiting his captain’s office for reports, he saw you at the new desk in the captain’s office, the aura around you not matching anything in the dim, old and boring office, you gave him a slight smile before returning to your paperwork

- but gaz wasn’t going to let that be the end of your interactions no no

- he’d walk up to you in the mess hall, as you’re loading your plate up, striking a conversation with you, making last long enough for him to lead you to a table with his other teammates

- you shyly but politely sit down and introduce yourself to the masked man who sat opposite of you, his brown eyes staring into yours as his arms stayed locked, he just nodded and replied “ghost”

- you figured he’s not a social one, the Scot and the Brit both kept asking you questions, some may have been a bit intrusive but maybe they’re just being friendly !

- “so why ar’ ye here?”

“Kate laswell requested that I work for John price for a few months to ease the paperwork load on him”

- “I’m sure there’s a different kind of load he’s trying to get you to ease off of him”

- the three of your heads snap to the silent man, his brown eyes seemed to be crinkled, suggesting he was grinning or smirking underneath that mask

- “OI! LT’s got jokes, but he doesn’t mean anything by it” Johnny tried to reassure you, glaring at Simon as you looked down at your food

- you excused yourself as you made your way back to price’s office, you saw him still there, no signs of him moving at all “captain ? Did you eat today?” You asked sweetly

- oh what this man wouldn’t give to have the honours of eating you for every meal of the day, to have you sprawled on his desk, papers sticking to your sweaty skin, your chest rising and falling as you try to quiet yourself so nobody hears what your captain is doing to you

- “captain” fuck he’d love to hear you moan his rank, begging him to be gentle, but he knows deep down you’re a dirty girl and you want your “captain ?!”

- John snapped out of his daydream, he looked up at you, you were leaning to the side trying to check on him “have you eaten today?” You asked again, a worried look in your eyes

- John nods, not looking you in the eyes “yeah yeah” he cleared his throat as he tried to get back to work, but your soft, smaller hand stopped him from grabbing his pen, his brown eyes looked up, ab eyebrow raised as if to ask ‘what are you doing?’

- “I’m sorry, captain but I can’t allow you to get back to work if you haven’t had food” you stated, your body trembling as you stood your ground

- truthfully, price can easily launch you across the room with one arm, he knows his limits, and you’re nowhere near it, but you were right, he does need to eat, and although he wishes he could order you to spread your pretty thighs for him and let him have his fun, he doesn’t want to lose such a pretty sight so fast

- he let go of the pen, leaning back on his office chair “I haven’t brought any food”

“The mess hall still have some food there”

- “I don’t eat that rubbish”

“Well too bad, you need to eat”

- ooh… I guess his little kitty got claws now

#call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #ghost x reader #captain price #ghost #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell #john soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz x reader

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milo-is-rambling · 10 months

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Apparently you have to eat more than half a serving of Mac and cheese, two shots of daytime cold medicine, and half a can of monster when you’re recovering from a cold or else you feel worse

#eating some Mac and cheese left overs from this morning and took some bites of the pizza my brother made and only ate two pieces of and then #didn’t want any more like >:(#HE CHOSE WHEN IM SICK TO MAKE THE PIZZA I LIKE #I grabbed two pieces on a plate and they will probably stay on that plate until tomorrow #maybe I’ll pick at them idk #I took four bites of pizza and a couple bites of Mac and cheese and now all I want to do is nap #I am exhausted I hate being sick I hate being sick and on my period I hate being sick on my period and trying to go to work anyways #I am embarrassed !!! I was literally talking to a customer and then was like hey jasmine im gonna go take five in the break room I just got #really dizzy and she said you can take 15 that’s fine and I apologized to the customer and then was miserable until my body relaxed and I #went back up front and went hey how badly do you need me tonight and she was like let me get two things done and then you can head out #I love my new job #📤#my old job was so understaffed that I was the only person in the building like if I felt sick I went in anyways it was miserable #I feel bad for calling out and leaving early two out of three days I work this week like gahhhh I hate myself for it but obviously I need it #my body is literally like bitch if you will not rest I will force you to fucking rest #I have just been knocked on my ass this week I am so exhausted but my brain is awake but it’s not all here like it won’t shut up but nothing #makes any since I think that’s the caffeine I think I made everything worse thinking I could just power through it #but I was so close to falling asleep before work #you see looking back there were many signs I simply ignored bc I didn’t want to call out again

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lizzobetumblin · 15 days

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Melissa hated her feelings.

She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift could’ve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings.

“Feelings.” Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ‘cry babies’ and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name,

‘MELISSA!!!’ Emotionless, she’d get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, she’d go through her check list:

1.) Don’t cry.

2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate

3.)Don’t take anything personal. This isn’t about you

She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking,

‘she broke rule number 1’. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.

‘Rule number 2’. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion.

‘Its not your fault’ Melissa wanted to say ‘You just didn’t follow the rules… you’re loved.’ But she couldn’t say that because she’d be breaking rule number 3. It wasn’t about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,

“VANESSA, YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DAD—YOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOW… THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!”

Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry.

9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasn’t about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasn’t until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow.

It’s okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.

Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. She’d carried the stones of her family’s traumas uphill for years. She was strong.

When men began to befriend and reject her, saying ‘you’re too good for me’ but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that.

When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, saying ‘We can’t be friends anymore’. She carried that.

When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like they’d never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didn’t know if she’d see them again.

She carried that.

Dying was never an option though sometimes she didn’t mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things she’d desperately yearned and hadn’t felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:

‘Why can’t I break the rules?’ She’d seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didn’t just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darkness—it hit her.

‘Is my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?’

She cried.

She escalated.

She took it personal.

But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music.

‘Music is my boyfriend’ she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose.

The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasn’t gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too.

Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow.

So... She broke rule number 1 on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didn’t listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks.

Rule number 2 was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified.

And one day when she finally fell in love, she broke rule number 3. No matter how much training she’d done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power.

Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They weren’t always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moon…They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her.

And she finally loved them back.

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msgexymunson · 2 months

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Brand Spanking New

Description: You unlock a new kink with your boyfriend Eddie: Spanking.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI or I will clobber you (and not in a good way), established relationship, sub fem reader x dom Eddie, spanking, hair pulling, p in v unprotected sex, rough but aftercare

A/N: My phone keeps changing the word ‘spanking’ to ‘Spanish’. Don't you know me at all???? Also just trying to break writer's block by slamming out a lil smutty smut. Enjoy!

Reblogs and comments supply the oil that keeps the cogs and springs in my steampunk heart running.

1.2k words

Masterlist

Grinding hot and heavy in his lap, your lips slip against his, sucking at the bottom one to attempt to satiate the need to have something of his inside of you. He’s groaning loud in your mouth, firm hands gripping into the flesh of your bare thighs for dear life, need radiating out of every subtle thrust of his hips.

It's too much for him suddenly, the need spilling out as he taps your leg to silently ask you to lay down. If you feel the slight tap, you don't let it affect you, continuing your harsh grinding motions over his heavy bulge.

His lips lose contact with yours, trailing burning kisses to your neck, as he whispers deeply in your ear.

“Lay down baby girl.”

How can you when it feels this good? When the shape of his dick is rubbing against your panties, the gusset sodden with your slick.

His hand leaves your thigh, but only briefly. The crack of sound happens first, bursting in the air. The pain shoots up your leg moments later. Then, the realisation hits your brain. He hit your thigh. Hell, he spanked you.

And you liked it.

Time seems to stop as you gasp, locking eyes with him.

“You liked that, didn't you?” That age old self satisfied smirk of his tugs at his face muscles as you pull your lips into a tight line, attempting to hide the raw desire that simple gesture had ignited in you.

“What makes you say that?”

Without a further word, his hand cracks down again, your thigh jiggling with the force. A desperate, ragged moan pushes out of your chest.

“That.” He says smugly. “Hands and knees. Now.”

The spell of his words have you acting without thinking, bending to his will with an empty mind and parted knees.

“Just like that, good job baby girl.”

Crack! His large hand lands again, this time on the supple skin of your ass, body nearly falling with the shock of it. Eddie's fingers dig into your hips, forcing you back into position.

Crack! This time on the other cheek, a pornographic moan expelling from your chest so fast it hurts your throat.

“Fuck, you do like that, don't you,” he says as his fingers rub at the wet spot on your panties. Moaning, you arch your back, moving into the touch of his fingertips.

Crack! Again, a stinging blow that rips another groan from you.

“I asked you a question,” his voice is hard, but the faintest sign of amusement clings to it like a gossamer web.

Y-yeah, yes, I do Eddie, please-”

Fresh air hits your cunt as he pulls down your underwear, strings of your arousal refusing to let go of them.

“Fuuuuck,” he says, fingers whispering through your wetness, spreading it around, “didn't know you wanted it like this. Was trying to be all sweet with you.”

The next thing you hear is the jingling of his belt as he slips off his jeans and boxers. Wiggling in anticipation you back up a little, begging to feel the tip of his length.

“Hey, stay still,” he says, using his swollen dick to tap at your clit, “or I'll just cum all over this ass instead. Understood?”

“Yes Sir.”

The sharp intake of breath and the sudden feeling of him crowding your back tell you all you need to know.

“If I'd known all it took to get you obedient was a few spanks I'd have been smacking you around for months… Wait, no, that doesn't sound right.”

You can't help but giggle, but it's swallowed whole by the feel of his member swirling around your entrance, gathering slick. Then, he pushes into you, mutual moans dragged out by the feel of him sliding against your quivering walls.

Rough fingertips hold you steady as he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“You OK baby girl?”

“Uh huh,” you manage, eyebrows knitted with the sheer stretch.

“You know I really care about you, right?”

“Yeah?” You respond, nearly a question as you tilt your head to try and get a look at him over your shoulder.

“Good, ‘cause I'm about to fuck you like I don't.”

There's no further warning, just the harsh grip of blunt fingernails denting into your hips and powerful thrusts forcing you closer to the mattress with each push. Each move makes your eyes roll back and whimpering sounds spill from kiss bitten lips.

“Come on, stay up, atta girl.”

His voice is steady, just a few puffing breaths like he's on some Sunday morning jog and not pounding you into next week. Its punctuated by a fiercer slap to the side of your ass that makes your pussy convulse.

Arms shaking with effort, you try to stay up, but the pounding rhythm is too much. There's just too much Eddie. Eddie, forcing his fingers into you hard enough to bruise, Eddie, grunting meanly with each thrust, Eddie, his cock grinding into your sweet spot so hard it almost hurts. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

You don't even realise that you're chanting his name over and over until you hear him chuckle behind you.

“That's it, keep saying my name. And. Stay. Up.”

Each word is punctuated by a drive forward that ripples through your body in waves, the sound of him gritting his teeth while he says it making you wetter by the second.

“I- I can't, y- you're making me- fuck.”

He laughs mirthlessly, humping into you even harder somehow, and winds his fingers into your hair, pulling it by the root.

“Aww, have I fucked you dumb princess? You gonna come?”

Words are beyond you, not even able to nod your head due to his tight grip. Seconds later you're screaming your release so high and loud you'd be surprised if no one called the police. It certainly felt like a near death experience, your vision darkening and fuzziness expanding through your limbs.

It's not long before Eddie's yanking you upright and groaning into your ear as he looses his load deep in your cunt.

He sits back on his heels, pulling you close so you can perch in his lap. Gone is the dominant, mean side. Your Eddie is back; stroking your hair and making soothing noises as he wipes stray tears you didn't even know had fallen.

“You OK sweetheart?” He asks, voice brimming with concern.

“Hmmmm.” It's nearly a purr, still incapable of speech.

“You just lay down right here, that's it, arms here, lemme grab a cloth.”

Coming back moments later, he cleans you up and offers you some water.

“Sorry if I went overboard princess.” He sounds almost sheepish as he says it, a blossom of embarrassed colouring tattooing his cheeks.

“No, you didn't, honestly. I think I could sleep for a week though.” Giggling, you lace sleepy fingers with his.

“Good, ‘cause there's other stuff I think you'd like.”

You're not even sure you heard him right, eyes drooping already.

“Other stuff?”

“Shhh, sleep baby girl, I don't wanna scare you just yet.” he chuckles, kissing your temple as you drift off to the feeling of his fingers carding through your hair.

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #dom!eddie munson #dom eddie #dom eddie x sub reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x fem reader #eddie my beloved

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avis-writeshq · 16 days

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Hi! Can I request track one? :)

Spencer Reid being so shy to ask Fem! Reader out so Morgan flirts with them to push him to do it?:(

pairing: early seasons!spencer reid x bau!fem!reader genre: friends to lovers warnings: not proof read :( a/n: thank you for requesting lovely <3 wc: 700

Spencer isn’t entirely sure why he’s so upset. He’s got his lips drawn to a pout and his eyes are set on the computer in front of him. He chalks it up to the fact that his contact lenses have been drying out. That must be it.

“Stare any harder and you’ll break the screen.”

You’re giggling at his unhappiness, but he doesn’t feel an ounce of annoyance. In moments you’re placing a steaming cup of tea onto his desk with a tiny pitcher of milk, before swiping a few of his files off his pile.

“You don’t–”

“Hush, Spencer. You probably have filled more overtime hours in the past week than I have in the last four years. Let me take these off of you, okay?” You smile at him before leaning down to murmur into his ear, “They’re probably Morgan’s anyway, so don’t worry about it.”

Spencer flushes, his cheeks warming to a pretty pink at your closeness and he can smell your vanilla perfume. Every thought in his brain vanishes and he’s pretty sure that he won’t be able to think for the next hour or so. His mouth opens and closes like a broken hinge and you walk away to sit at your own desk.

“When’s the wedding?” Derek asks through a snicker, reaching a hand out and ruffling Spencer’s already unkempt hair.

“Wh– stop,” Spencer manages weakly, pushing his bangs out of the way and huffing. “Keep your voice down.”

“Didn’t you say that you wanted to ask her to see that Russian film festival or something?” Derek asks, unrelenting. He gestures to the two tickets poking out of one of Spencer’s book. “You already bought them?”

“I won them,” he corrects, scowling. “Stop laughing!”

“Dude, you have to ask her out,” Derek tries again. “Kid, I’m serious. A girl like that isn’t going to wait around forever.”

Spencer’s annoyance is quick to dissipate into flusteredness, and he avoids his friend’s gaze. “She shouldn’t have to.”

“Come on, don’t beat yourself up. Just go talk to her.”

His efforts are in vain as Spencer huffs again and turns back to his paperwork. Morgan shrugs, flexing his arms. It’s far too early to be dealing with Spencer’s shyness and pining. Morgan watches as he sneaks yet another look in your direction, and it takes a lot in him to not throw the two of you together. Emily keeps reminding him to be patient. Penelope keeps informing him that ‘they’ll get together in their own time’. Hotch would spare him a stern look.

They’re not in the room, though.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

Morgan’s call out is enough for you to raise your head and for Spencer’s face to morph into look of genuine betrayal. He’s frantically moving his hand across his neck as a very obvious sign to cut it out. Morgan pays him no mind.

“What’s up?” You ask brightly, finishing your sentence before turning to look at him. “Did you need something?”

“You’re looking particularly gorgeous today, you know that?” Derek wears a lazy smirk as he looks at you up and down, and you only manage to laugh.

“Ha ha.” You roll your eyes, glancing briefly at Spencer who could have been mistaken for a cherry. “What are you playing at, Morgan?”

The man claps his hands together, rubbing his palms. “Are you free tomorrow night? I’ve got a bottle of wine that has our names on it.”

Spencer looks aghast. He recalls the information on the tickets he had won, and– tomorrow night. That’s when the film festival is happening.

“She doesn’t drink,” Spencer butts in before you can respond, snatching the tickets from the inside of his book and getting up from his seat to make his way over to you. “I was um– I’ve got these tickets for a film festival tomorrow. It’s in Russian, but I can whisper the translations to you so you understand. You don’t– you don’t have to go. I know it might not be your thing–”

“I’d love to go, Spence.” You smile at him, plucking one of the tickets from his hands. “A whole evening with you? Who wouldn’t enjoy that? Sorry, Derek.”

Derek raises his hands in surrender, and when you aren’t looking, shoots Spencer a thumbs up. Penelope would be proud.

reblogs are always appreciated !

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #golden : a milestone event #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x reader fluff #criminal minds fluff #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler x reader fluff #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg x reader fluff #mgg fluff #derek morgan

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