#thanksgiving x reader

[bloatedandalone04]

Every Breath You Take

➪the one where it’s the one year anniversary of the rightmart massacre and your boyfriend is hellbent on keeping you safe.

Warnings: spoilers for thanksgiving 2023, angst, fluff, mentions of death, death, mentions of kidnapping, descriptions of death, mentions of blood, swearing, think that is it..?

Word Count: 2k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Come on, Ry, please?” You begged as you tugged on your boyfriend’s arm. You were standing outside your high school’s doors as you pleaded with him in hopes he’d actually agree to be part of the parade with you. “Things have been really scary lately and I really want you to be up there with me. It’d make me feel a lot better.”

Ryan sighed as he looked down at you. His eyes searched yours before dipping down to your lips that were curved in a pout. He shook his head as a smile ghosted on his mouth. “It’d really make you feel better? To have me up there with you?” His tone held a hint of teasing to it, but he wasn’t at all making fun of you. Truth be told, he was pretty fucking scared, too, despite him not being part of the RightMart massacre. He didn’t really want to be away from you right now, either, but only because he was terrified to think about what may happen to you if he were to leave you alone for more than a few hours, since you had been in the store at the time of the stampede. 

You nod and move closer to him as various students rush around the two of you. “It really would,”

Ryan slipped his hands into your jacket pockets and pulled your body right up against his. “Then I guess I’ll be joining you and your friends on that dumb RightMart float in the parade,” he caved and was helpless to stop the smile from forming on his lips when you grinned up at him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He kissed you quickly, his hands sliding up your back as his lips meshed with yours. “And I don’t want you feeling scared, okay? Nothing will happen to you as long as I’m here, I promise.”

You smile up at him and gently massage the back of his neck with the tips of your fingers. “You don’t need to protect me, Ryan,” you murmur. “I’m partly responsible for what happened last year, I mean, I was there, I was in the store, I-”

“Y/n,” he cut you off sternly, pulling away so he could look you in the eye. “You had nothing to do with any of it, okay? You weren’t even supposed to be there, you-....This John Carver guy has no reason to go after you, alright? And he won’t. I promise you that.”

“Ryan-”

“I promise, baby,” he reiterated, refusing to break eye contact until you gave him a hesitant nod. “Okay?”

You nod again and move to rest your head against his chest. “Okay,” you agreed. “But I need you to promise me that you won’t do anything reckless in order to protect me or something. The second things go wrong or bad or whatever, we leave, okay? We get the fuck out of there, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt for me, especially since you weren’t even there when things went down at RightMart.”

Ryan kissed the top of your head and ran his hand up and down your back, comforting you wordlessly. “I promise,”

-

You hold onto the edge of the box you were sitting on as the RightMart float slowly makes its way down the street. Ryan was sitting in front of you but lower down, his legs draped off the side of it. Scuba was in the same position across the float with Jess sitting behind him, also on a box.

Without meaning to, your eyes flicker all over the street, as if the killer would be dumb enough to show up to the parade wearing the John Carver costume and wreak havoc. 

You lift your hand and wave at the people of Plymouth, forcing out a fake smile as you acted like everything was okay. Having Ryan so close helped a bit, like you knew it would, but now you felt like you were putting him in danger since you had to stupidly agreed to follow in after Evan and Gabby when they decided they just had to get him a new phone last year and get into RightMart before everyone else. 

Sure, you stayed by the back door for most of the time, and the second you saw Mitch’s wife, Amanda, get some of her hair scalped off you were screaming bloody murder as you and Jess held onto each other. 

It was then when you wished you had said yes when Ryan had offered to take you to the Thanksgiving party earlier, before you ever walked into that store. You weren’t even together at the time but you were both crushing hard on each other, why didn’t you say yes? You could have prevented yourself from being on the killer’s radar if you had just pushed aside your thoughts and left with him when you had the chance. 

Now your life was in danger, and Ryan’s was, too, by default and association. 

You drop your hand onto his shoulder as you make eye contact with a man in a John Carver mask, completed with the full pilgrim outfit. Fear fills your body and you squeeze Ryan a bit more, making him look up at you. He and Scuba had ditched the hats so they wouldn’t be obstructing your view, so you were able to clearly meet his eyes. “What? What’s wrong, baby?” His deep voice asked you, dropping his own fake smile and nearly getting out of character completely as he turned towards you.

You look away and at the spot where the John Carver rip-off was standing a few seconds ago, finding him gone. With your heart loud in your ears, you look back down at him with a so clearly forced smile. “Nothing, Ry,” you tried to assure him but you knew he would be able to see right through you. “I just thought I saw him.”

Ryan leaned closer to you and took your hand in his. “I don’t think he’d be dumb enough to show up here,” he was much better at comforting you. “You heard the sheriff’s plan. This will work.” 

You nod down at him just as Mitch moves to protest against RightMart. The float comes to a haunt, making your grip on Ryan tighten a bit as you both turn to look at Mitch. 

After the deputy pushed him off the road, the float began to move again and you lifted your hand in an embarrassed wave, as did Ryan and the others. 

You keep your other one locked in his as you whisper, “I don’t like this,”

Ryan glanced up at you. “We’re fine, babe, really. He won’t do anything with this many people around-” he was cut off when a person dressed in a clown costume cut the head of the person in the turkey mascot clean off. 

You let out a surprised scream as the float came to a skidding stop, sending the prop boat you were on sliding forward until it went through the back window of the truck. The sudden stop had Ryan’s hand slipping from yours as he fell off the side of it, as did Scuba. 

The sounds of screaming filled your ears as you leaned over the side to check if Ryan was okay. Your head was spinning a bit as you watched him stand back up and grip his forehead with one hand, his other reaching out for you. 

You take it and allow him to help you off the side of the float, and it was then when you saw how the front of it went straight through the driver’s face, surely killing him instantly. “Oh, my God,” you gasp out as Ryan pulls you into his side and tries to shield your eyes. You look up at him and notice the large cut he had on his forehead. “You’re bleeding.”

But he wasn’t concerned about it at all. “Come on,” he said as he pulled you away from the chaos. “We need to get out of here.”

You follow him along the street as various clouds of smoke invade your sight. “I can’t see,” you say over the sounds of screams. “Ryan, where are we going? What the fuck is happening?” 

“Just hold onto my hand,” he called back as he pulled you through the crowd. “Don’t let go, okay? Whatever you do, don’t let go of me.”

You nod and grip his bicep as he pulls you into the alleyway between two stores. Blue and green smoke still surrounds you as Ryan ditches the pilgrim shirt and you take it from him immediately with your free hand. “Stay still,” you murmur as you wipe away the blood from his face with the shirt, successfully staining it. “He just killed someone, Ryan. He killed that guy right fucking in front of us.”

Ryan gently pushed your hand away and dropped the shirt to the ground, his hands tightly gripping your forearms. “We need to get out of here,” he said sternly, looking over to see if the smoke cleared enough to be able to make out where he was going. “Now.”  

“Wait,” you call out as he begins to guide you away from the chaos. “What about Jess? And Scuba? We need to find them.”

Ryan shook his head as he turned to face you. “In this mess? Baby, we can’t see a fucking thing right now. Let’s just get out first then-” he cut himself off when the sound of a siren was heard, which was followed by a cop car speeding past the two of you. “Serve and protect my ass.” He muttered at the fleeing car before he resumed his task of getting you away from this street. 

“We can’t leave them,” you tried to say but he wasn’t having it. 

You are his top priority at the moment and you have been since the second things became official between the two of you a mere year ago. Actually, maybe even before that. “We can’t worry about them right now,” he mumbled as you and he finally made it to an area that had very little smoke in it. “We have to get the fuck away from all of this first.” 

“But, Ryan-”

“But nothing,” he cut you off as he came to a stop, finally giving your arm a break. “We can’t go back for them, okay? Not when he might still be back there somewhere. The police aren’t doing fuckall to keep you guys safe, clearly. I’ll do it myself by getting you away from here.”

He tried to get you to go with him, but the guilt was slowly taking over your body. “They’re our friends, Ry, we can’t just leave without knowing they’re okay,”

“I’m not losing you,” he nearly yelled as he turned back around to face you. You almost bump into him at the abrupt stop but his hands on your biceps steady you instantly. “Someone was just fucking decapitated in broad daylight, Y/n, why the fuck would we go back there? This isn’t a game, he wants everyone involved in that night dead, and that includes you. I’m not losing you, okay? I won’t. Especially not to some prick in a fucking John Carver costume.”

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you looked up at your boyfriend, who was clearly running on pure adrenaline right now. While you desperately wanted to go back and find Jess and Scuba, you knew it was a bad idea when it could be you who gets killed next. 

Ryan was just trying to protect you, like he said he would back when things began going down hill. And he was right. Gabby and Evan were already missing, you could be taken, too, at any given second. You needed to get away, save yourselves, first. Then maybe you could help once everything settled down again. 

You reach up and grip his white tee as the first of many tears fell from your wide eyes. “Okay,” you weakly agree, taking his hand in yours. “Okay, we need to go.” 

Ryan gave you a conflicted smile as he pressed a hard kiss to your forehead and tightened his hold on your hand before leading you even further away from the destroyed parade.

[boypied]

STUFFING [thanksgiving special]

pairings: henry cavill x male reader x chris evans.

summary: his father’s best friends; chris and henry, visit for thanksgiving dinner, and at the end, the readers' fathers get drunk and passes out. Leaving the reader, Chris, and Henry to get down and dirty.

requested by: @dangerousstrawberryshark

word count: 1,081

warnings: threesome, anal sex, double penetration, dirty talk, praising.

It's that time of year again, the time of year when your dad invites all of his hot dilf-y friends round for Thanksgiving. You try to make small talk, but the majority of them just kind of ignore you or actually just don't hear you because of how quiet and timid your voice is when they're round. Except something is different this year. Your dad only invited two of his friends round, and they've never been round for Thanksgiving before, which is strange because they get invited pretty much every year.

"Henry! Chris! Come in, come in" your hear your dad shout out from upstairs as you see two cars park in your driveway, you slowly make your way downstairs and you turn the corner to be met by two greek fucking gods. Perfectly chiselled jawlines, your mouth gaped open practically drooling over them right before their very eyes. You slowly wipes your mouth and walk closer to them "H-Hey" you say quiet and timidly as you face them both, "This is my son" your dad says introducing you to them.

"Don't worry he does have a life even though he still lives at home at twenty-five" you dad's snarky comment causes you to roll your eyes as you smile softly at them as you walk past them and into the dining room where all the food is set up. You keep mumbling things under your breath as your dad embarrassed you in front of the two hot dilfs, "so what if I still live at home at twenty-five" you mumble to yourself as you place the knives and forks down at the table.

"You guys didn't need to dress up" you hear your dad's loud booming voice echo from the hallway all the way into the dining room, after them chatting in the hallway for about ten minutes they all finally make there way into the dining room taking their seats. Your dad is at the head of the table and your next to him whereas Chris and Henry are on the opposite side to you, "I'll be back, I need to go serve up dinner" your dad says as he places his napkin down and he walks out of the dining room leaving you alone with the two hot men.

The awkward silence was deafening, but you couldn't take your eyes off of them. You wanted them. The way their suits clung onto their bodies was proof of how they must be muscular, and you wanted to see their sexy body's as they pounded into you. Fuck..you could dream. Your dad strutted in with plates of food, placing them all down, and you started to eat. Even though you were eating, you were watching Chris and Henry, the way the forks filled with food were placed into their wet mouths.

After dinner and a couple of games and a lot of alcohol at least on your dad's part, the day was coming to an end. Your dad passed out from the amount of alcohol he had drank, Chris and Henry helped you carry your dad upstairs to his bedroom, covering him up to keep him warm so he doesn't freeze. You slowly close his bedroom door, and you come face to face with the two men, "I guess that's it for tonight" you say in a soft nervous tone as you look up at the two men but they both just smirk down at you.

Henry steps forward and grips the back of your neck, pushing his face against yours and pressing his lips against your soft ones, your eyes widen in shock but slowly close as you enjoy this touch of passion. Henry and you both stumble to the side, pushing your bedroom door open, and you both land on the bed bouncing slightly but not breaking the kiss. Chris slowly walks in as he watches this unfold, your body laying on top of Henry's as you both passionately make out, Chris slowly pulls down your smart trousers and your underwear just enough so that your tight pink hairless pucker is on display.

Chris leans in and begins lapping up your hole, rimming you to the best of his ability. His tongue slowly pushed inside you, curling and flicking against your soft, warm walls. Once your hole is all soaking wet and slowly opening up with Chris' hot breath against it, he leans away and strips off naked and presses his pre-cum soaked tip against your hole slowly pushing it in. You throw your head back breaking the kiss, you gasp out in shock and pleasure as your feel his cock completely fill your hole.

Henry manages to unbutton his shirt opening it up exposing his hairy chest and ripped abs, your eyes dart down and you gasp out at his reveal. Chris grips onto your hips as he continues to slowly pound into you faster and faster, whereas Henry's hands travel down to unbuckle his belt and he manages to get his thick uncut cock out. Chris stops pumping into you for a moment and helps you both strip off fully naked and you get back into the position you were just in.

Chris slips his cock back into your gaping hole and with the help of Chris' hand, Henry's cock slips into your tight hole. You gasp out in slight pain that eases away in pure sultry bliss as your hole accommodates to the size of both their cocks. Henry bucks his hips up into you and Chris digs his nails into your hips as he pumps himself back and forth into you his cock rubbing up against Henry's thick member. Your eyes roll back as they pound away into you relentlessly as your cock spurts out cum as they both stretch your hole to an orgasmic size.

Your hole tightens against Henry and Chris' cocks as they stop pounding into you and both feel your muscle ring tighten around them, their cocks can't take it anymore and they spurt out cum inside your asshole giving you the ultimate cream pie. "I think I know what I'm thankful for this year" you say in a soft tone as you feel both their cocks slip out of your hole and they pull you under the duvet to warm you up. "Happy Thanksgiving" Henry and Chris say in unison and they both place a kiss on either side of your cheek as your naked bodies rub against eachother.

Happy Thanksgiving. 🦃

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold

[machveil]

Maybe Konig and a very tired reader?..... someone who just needs him to help her get up in the morning and lay back down in the night. In return, she's the most affectionate towards him.

I also love (I mean obsess over) your works with him thank you so much<3

I am Sleepy!Reader, Sleepy!Reader is me - I feel them in my tired bones😔✨

König adores slow mornings with you - even if it’s a weekday, he’ll pause and hold you before needing to get up. his heart flutters when you ask for, “Jus’ a couple more minutes…”, squeezing when you tug the covers up over your head. he doesn’t have the heart to disturb you so he gets up, abandoning the warm sheets. he’ll get started on his morning routine while you doze, prepping breakfast, reading a couple pages from his latest book

König who gently stirs you from sleep, one big hand cupping your face, thumb smoothing over your cheek. his mama always woke him up like this as a kid, cooing softly that it’s time to start the day, opposed to his father who would just knock loudly on his door. he wants you to wake up relaxed and happy, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you yawn. you look so soft, pillow lines on your face and hair a little messy. his own Briar Rose, and he’s your Prince Charming bringing you something to drink - be it coffee or tea, water or juice, it doesn’t matter as long as you like it

König really shines with you after a deployment. achy and sore, he’ll collapse on the couch, tugging you down with him. early morning? midafternoon? dusk? I hope you’re ready for König, human furnace that he is, to cuddle up to you. he’s in a state of exhaustion and hunger after being in the field, half asleep and eating something. he runs incredibly warm, and being tucked against him? it’s nearly guaranteed to have you drifting off. the combination of his steady heartbeat and the warmth radiating off of him is wonderful, he takes his job as a pillow very seriously. if you fall asleep on or next to him he won’t move. does he have to use the bathroom? he can hold it, he doesn’t want to disturb you

once it’s time to actually get ready for bed he’s making sure you’re nice and relaxed. are his hands rough and calloused? yes they are, but if he puts a little lotion on them and gives you a massage? oh, it’s lights out for you. if you let him, König will work his hands from your shoulders to your feet, concentrating on making you go boneless. he’ll get you a cup of water in case you get thirsty in the middle of the night good luck getting to it if he has you locked against his chest. he lives for pampering his sleepy little Maus, tucks you against him while playing with your hair. combing through your hair with his fingers, gently scratching your scalp, it soothes him as much as it soothes you

König absolutely adores how clingy you get when you’re drowsy, butterflies fluttering in his stomach when you seek him out. he doesn’t have the heart to push you away, he never will. his lap is always available to you, whether you want to use his thighs as a pillow or straddle them and lay against him. he’ll let you absentmindedly toy with him, enjoys the feeling of your hands messing with his hair or kneading his muscles. he lives for the way your eyes droop, eyelashes hanging low as you fight off a nap. if you want, he’ll let you dumbly suck on his neck or fingers, the soft repetitive feeling relaxing the both of you - he doesn’t mind a little drool, don’t worry Schatz

CW: Fem!Reader, safe, sane, consensual somno, sleepy sex, cockwarming, fingering (fem!receiving), handjob, no condom - wrap it before you tap it, manifesting needy gentle big guy König (my heart— [explodes])

König loves soft sex before going to bed or early in the morning when you wake up. if you need a little extra warmth, other than his body enveloping you, he’ll gently prep you before sinking into you. it always feels better when you’re both relaxed, König’s barely-there thrusting and your halfhearted grinding. delightfully full, warmth pooling in your gut, sometimes you both fall asleep before anything really gets going. it’s not something you can really escape in the middle of the night, König’s thick arms secure around your waist, his face pressed to your neck. he can get a little twitchy, lost in his dreams and breathing against you, he can’t help the way his hips jolt a little every once in a while

he’ll make it up to you in the morning if you’re in the mood, soft groans and choked moans leaving him as he gently works himself into you again and again. between your sleepy moans and how warm you are against him he doesn’t last long, overstimulated from being snug inside of you. he’ll go until you orgasm, muffling his whines against the crook of your neck. helps you clean up, sweetly kissing your thighs while gently cleaning up your slick skin. he’ll help you to the shower, both your heads a little fuzzy from a blissful morning. he’ll shampoo and condition your hair for you if you want, careful not to be too rough. it makes him smile when you yawn, leaning into his touch as your eyes flutter shut - warm water lulling you back into a comfortable headspace

König who’s apprehensive about touching you purposely in your sleep - even when you tell him it’s okay, that you’d like him to. he just doesn’t want to hurt you, doesn’t want to ruin your beauty sleep and accidentally wake you up. “You don’t have to, you can if you want, König.”, your tired smile easing his nerves. nothing happens for a couple days, business as usual as you go about the normal routine. until one night, the cold air outside forgotten with the temperature of your room, the blankets draped over you warm and cozy. König stares at the ceiling, aching cock restrained by his boxers. five minutes, five horrible minutes of waking up and not moving, thinking about taxes and deployments - anything to get his early morning wood down. when you shift beside him he glances at you, heat rushing up his neck to his face

he’s quiet when he tugs his underwear down, wincing when the mattress dips as he shifts. his gaze lingers on your face, soft and calm as you breathe out. he doesn’t think he can properly fuck you, not like this, but he’ll make it work. careful as he shimmies your underwear down, breathing a little heavier as he runs his index finger across your slit. he’s a little mesmerized as he works his digit into you, gaze switching between your cunt and face whenever you make a small noise. his middle finger slips in too, coaxing you open as you sleep. honestly, he gets a little caught up in it, momentarily forgetting about his weepy cock. you’re just so pretty like this, body limp and relaxed, letting him touch you like glass. pulling his hand away, the moves a little closer, slowly rubbing his tip against your clit

he’s carefully, a little nervous as he presses himself to you. shuddering when he bullies his head into you, little, controlled bucks of his hips making him whine softly. he doesn’t want to push his luck, stilling himself as he breathes out. he can do it, he’ll make sure you don’t wake up. swallowing thickly, he moans quietly as he pumps his cock, shallow little movements as he fucks his tip into you. you feel so warm, slick around what he’s worked into you. just a little faster, he’ll be quick - jerking himself off with his leaky tip snug inside of you— you’ll wake up with him leaking out you. that’s what you want, right? your half-lidded eyes looking up at him when you told him, voice low and raspy from the nap you had taken, sleepy smile on your lips. it’s okay if he uses you a little, liebling, he’ll make it up to you when the sun rises, eat himself out of you if you want

the thought alone has König shuddering, his hand gripping himself a little firmer as he works just a little more of himself into you, nerves searing up his spine as he gasps. it’ll keep your tummy nice and warm, maybe you’ll thank him with a dopey little smile, soft spoken praise for doing a good job. he’s quick to pull out afterwards, gently tugging your underwear back up. chest raising and falling, he sits back, eyes glued to the little damp spot on your crotch. you were so good for him too, sleeping through his depravity and dreaming. he’s careful as he settles back under the covers, tucked himself back into his boxers. he’ll worship you in the morning, kiss you like porcelain and handle you with care. his sleepy girl deserves to be comfortable

bonus thought because the voices won’t shut up

CW: still Fem!Reader and sleepy sex, stuffed animal

König buying the softest, cutest stuffed animal. he knows you like them, and he thought it’d be a nice gift. it’s good to cuddle with at night, especially when König is on a deployment and can’t be there for you. it’s hardly a replacement for the behemoth of a man, not nearly as warm and firm as he is, but the little stuffie does it’s job. and, oh, is it worth it to come home to you padding around with it, tired little yawn leaving you as you hug it to your chest. he’s tired too, kicking off his boots as you happily approach him, a little lethargic and dreamy as you hug him, your precious little stuffie squished between him and you

it’s not his fault you look adorable, taking his hand before leading him to bed. resting sounds amazing, compared to the piss poor cot he had to sleep on while deployed, your shared bed is a luxury. but he isn’t lulled to sleep when he gets into bed, and it’s not too long until you’re moaning prettily for him. eyes fluttering closed and clinging to your gift from him, you look so soft. he’s a little rougher than usual, murmuring soft apologizes that are in one ear and out the other. he’s filling you up so nicely, his pace is still comfortable - a consistent rocking that leaves you dizzy and blissful. you’re sure that you’ll be drifting off as soon as you’re done, mind already foggy. content, his chapped lips pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead as you moan, stuffie held close to your chest as you nod off, König slowly pulling out and petting your hair

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤBOSTON FOR THANKSGIVING * CHRIS STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N goes back to Boston with Chris and his brothers for Thanksgiving.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The crisp November air bit at Y/N’s cheeks as she followed Chris up the stone walkway leading to the Sturniolo family home. The familiar house with its neatly trimmed hedges and warmly lit windows looked just as welcoming as it had last year, but this time, Y/N felt more at home. It was her second Thanksgiving with Chris and his family, and she already knew what awaited her inside: love, warmth, and a fair bit of chaos.

Chris shifted the bags he was carrying and glanced back at her.

"You ready?" He asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Y/N nodded, her own smile spreading wide.

"Always."

The front door swung open by Nick before Chris could even reach for the handle. A blur of caramel fur darted out, running between the boy's legs while barking excitedly.

"Trevor!" Y/N squealed, dropping her own bags instantly. She knelt on the porch, arms open wide as the family dog launched himself into her embrace. His tail wagged furiously, and Y/N giggled as he licked her face with enthusiasm.

Chris stood above them, shaking his head with an amused chuckle.

"Guess I know where I stand." He teased, adjusting the straps of the duffel bags on his shoulders before bending slightly and taking her dropped bags, throwing it over his free arm.

Y/N grinned up at him, scratching behind Trevor’s ears.

"You know you’re second to Trevor." She quipped before pressing a kiss to the dog’s head, inhaling his comforting Dog Shampoo scent.

The sound of hurried footsteps approached, and Mary Lou appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

"There’s my crew!" She exclaimed, her face lighting up at the sight of her boys. She rushed forward, pulling each of them into tight hugs.

"Hi, Mom." Matt said, his voice muffled by her embrace.

"Missed you, Ma." Nick added, smiling fondly as she kissed his cheek lovingly.

When Mary Lou turned to Y/N, her expression softened even more.

"Oh, my sweet girl!" She said, pulling her up and into a hug so warm and tight, it could melt the chill of a Boston winter.

Y/N’s heart swelled.

"I missed you so much." She murmured, squeezing her back.

Mary Lou pulled back just enough to cup Y/N’s face, her eyes bright with affection.

"Missed you too, honey. How’s everything? You’ll have to catch me up on all the details."

"I have so much to tell you." Y/N replied eagerly, already feeling herself slip into the comfort of their mother-daughter dynamic.

"Well, come on then!" Mary Lou laughed, tugging Y/N’s hand and leading her toward the kitchen without so much as a glance back at the boys or their luggage.

Chris watched them go, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

"Every time." He muttered, stepping inside with the bags still slung over his shoulders.

Nick snickered.

"We’re chopped liver the moment Y/N shows up."

"Facts." Matt added, grabbing his duffel and heading toward the living room.

As they piled the bags near the staircase, footsteps creaked from upstairs. Jimmy appeared at the top of the stairs, adjusting his glasses as he surveyed the scene.

"Hey, boys!" He called, his voice booming with warmth.

"Hey, Dad!" They chorused, looking up at him.

Jimmy descended the steps, grinning. But when he noticed the absence of Y/N, his grin widened knowingly.

"Let me guess, your mother already stole Y/N, didn’t she?"

Chris laughed, tossing a jacket over the banister.

"Yep. She didn’t even give us a chance to finish saying hi."

Jimmy chuckled, clapping a hand on Chris’s shoulder.

"Sounds about right. That girl’s practically her daughter at this point."

"Don’t we know it." Matt said, rolling his eyes playfully.

In the kitchen, Y/N perched on a stool at the island, recounting stories to Mary Lou as Trevor curled up at her feet. The smell of freshly baked pies filled the air, and the warmth of the room seemed to wrap around Y/N like a blanket.

Mary Lou hung on her every word, her eyes sparkling.

"You’re such a delight." She said, reaching out to squeeze Y/N’s hand. "I hope you know how much we love having you here."

Y/N smiled, her heart full.

"I love being here."

The sound of Jimmy entering the kitchen snapped them back to reality, his steps light but deliberate, making a beeline for Mary Lou, planting a quick kiss on the top of her head.

"Hey, hon." He greeted warmly before turning his attention to Y/N. "And there’s our star guest." He said with a broad smile, extending his arms for a hug.

"Hi, Jimmy!" Y/N replied, returning his embrace with the same warmth she always felt from him. "How's that cabin going?" She asked, remembering the small cabin that Jimmy mentioned during their last 'family call' - how Chris liked to call it, one that he'd been building himself.

"It's finally getting somewhere." He smiled proudly, receiving a gaze full of joy and love from Mary Lou.

"Oh! I just remembered that we need to make a quick trip to the supermarket." She folded her towel, looking up at Jimmy. "I thought we had everything, but we’re out of thyme, and I need more butter for the turkey."

The oldest nodded, already heading toward the door.

"I’ll grab the keys."

"Y/N, you okay holding down the fort?" Mary Lou asked, her voice tinged with both apology and trust.

"Of course." Y/N replied immediately, rolling up the sleeves of her green Harry Potter sweater. "I’ve got this."

Mary Lou smiled, her affection evident.

"Thank you. I'll be back in no time."

As the front door closed behind them, Y/N found herself alone in the kitchen. The comforting sounds of laughter and basketball from the living room filtered through as she turned her attention to the stove.

She moved with ease, stirring sauces, seasoning vegetables, and now chopping fresh herbs for the stuffing. Her movements were precise, her mind immersed in the rhythm of cooking.

"Hey, chef extraordinaire." Chris’s voice broke through the quiet.

Y/N glanced up briefly, spotting him leaning against the doorframe, his grin wide and teasing.

"Need something?" She asked, arching a brow before turning back to her task.

"Yeah." He said simply, stepping into the room. "You."

Before she could respond, she felt his long arms slide around her waist, his warmth enveloping her as he pressed gently against her back. His fingers interlocked over her stomach, and his lips brushed against her cheek in a lingering kiss.

"Chris." She murmured, her voice soft with a mix of exasperation and fondness. "I’m trying to cook."

"I know." He whispered against her ear, his voice low and velvety. His lips trailed a slow path along her jaw and down to her neck, leaving a series of soft kisses in their wake.

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her hands stilling on the cutting board.

"You’re impossible." She said, her tone betraying her amusement.

"I’m thankful for you." He murmured, completely ignoring her comment, his lips brushing against her shoulder. "So, so thankful."

Her heart melted at his words, and she turned her head slightly, her cheeks flushed, but her smile unrestrained.

"You’re ridiculous." She said softly.

"And yet, you love me." He replied with a grin, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"I really do." She whispered back, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes, enjoying his gentle touch and soft perfume.

Their moment was interrupted by the slam of the front door and Mary Lou’s cheerful voice.

"We’re back!"

The sound of grocery bags being set down and Jimmy’s voice joining the mix signaled their return. Moments later, Mary Lou bustled into the kitchen, her sharp eyes landing immediately on Chris.

"Christopher Owen." She scolded, her tone firm but playful as she placed her hands on her hips. "What are you doing? Let that poor girl work!"

Chris straightened but didn’t release Y/N, grinning like a mischievous child caught in the act.

"I’m just showing her some love, Ma. There's nothing wrong with that."

Mary Lou swatted him lightly on the back of the head.

"Out! Go join your brothers in the living room and let her focus."

Y/N laughed, her cheeks still warm.

"It’s okay, Mary Lou. He wasn’t bothering me too much."

Mary Lou shook her head with a fond smile.

"Don’t defend him, sweetheart. He’ll take advantage of it."

"He totally will!" Nick's voice yelled from the living room, causing laughter to escape Y/N's mouth.

Chris sighed, finally letting go, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender.

"Fine, fine. But for the record, I’m still thankful for you."

He winked at Y/N as he left the kitchen, his retreat punctuated by his brothers’ teasing from the living room.

Mary Lou sighed, her affection for her son shining through even her exasperation.

"That boy." She muttered before turning to Y/N with a warm smile. "You’re a saint for putting up with him, you know."

Y/N paused, her knife hovering over the herbs before glancing toward the door where Chris had disappeared. A soft smile spread across her face, one filled with pure affection.

"I don’t think of it as 'putting up with him,'." She said, her voice warm and sincere. "Loving Chris is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. I'm very thankful for him."

Mary Lou’s expression softened, her eyes glistening just slightly.

"Oh, sweetheart." She said, reaching out to squeeze Y/N’s hand. "He’s lucky to have you. We all are."

Y/N smiled bashfully, her cheeks flushing as she returned to her task, but her heart felt lighter than ever.

© vanteguccir

[fandomnerd9602]

Natasha: ready?

Y/N: not really. All my brother knows is that I’m bringing my girlfriend for Thanksgiving

Natasha: it’ll be fine. Whatever happens we’ll face it together

Y/N takes Natasha’s hand…

Tony Stark walks out of his house, smiling…

Tony: (Y/N)! Happy Thanksgiving!…why are you and Romanoff holding hands?

Gif belongs to @natashagifs

[drewsephrry]

everybody moved on, help im still at the restaurant

[kiwriteswords]

Something To Be Thankful For

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: With Thanksgiving in the US next week, I could not help myself! Started writing this one last week and debated on posting, but here we are. Enjoy! Grateful for this community! (Also needed to post this before I move onto writing some Christmas content, lol!)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags/Warnings: Thanksgiving, fluff, domestic moments, holiday traditions, family dynamics, slow burn, new relationship, found family, mentions of grief, mentions of wine/alcohol, and food TW.

Sypnosis: When you accept an unexpected Thanksgiving invitation from Aaron Hotchner and his son Jack, a simple holiday dinner becomes something more. Through shared laughter, heartfelt moments, and the warmth of a home-cooked meal, you discover the beauty of connection and the quiet joy of being exactly where you belong.

You were shuffling papers into your go-bag when you heard a knock on the edge of your desk. Glancing up, you were greeted by Hotch’s warm smile, softer than the one he wore in the field but still undeniably him. It was a smile you’d only recently gotten used to—the kind of smile that reminded you things between the two of you were no longer strictly professional.

The bullpen was quieter than usual. Most of the team had already left for the extended Thanksgiving break. Morgan had been the first to bolt, teasing everyone about having a “real” meal with family, while Garcia had dragged Reid out the door, insisting he couldn’t spend the holiday with nothing but his books for company. Rossi had a feast he was looking forward to slaving over, and you could still hear Emily groan at having to see her mother. JJ, however, was looking forward to the domestic Thanksgiving she was hosting. Now, it was just you and Hotch left, lingering in the familiar silence of the BAU.

“You’re not headed out yet?” Aaron’s voice broke the silence, low and thoughtful, drawing your attention away from your bag. He stood near your desk, hands in his pockets, his tie slightly loosened from the day.

“Just tying up some loose ends,” you replied, zipping your bag shut and brushing a stray hair from your face. “You?”

He hesitated, his gaze shifting from your bag to you and then back again. His expression was softer than usual, but his shoulders still carried that ever-present weight. “Actually, I wanted to ask what your plans are for Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, nothing special.” You shrugged, keeping your tone light and breezy. “My family’s out of state, so I’ll probably just stay in. Maybe I’ll cook something small and watch some cheesy holiday movies. You know, the usual.”

Aaron frowned slightly, the crease between his brows deepening, and you immediately regretted how casually you’d phrased it. His concern was unmistakable, and it made your stomach flip.

“You’re spending it alone?” he asked, his voice a touch lower, softer.

“Well, yeah,” you said lightly, trying to shrug it off. “I didn’t think traveling back for just a few days made sense. Plus, it’s not like I’ve never done it before.”

He didn’t respond right away, and his silence made you look up at him. There was something unreadable in his expression, a quiet thoughtfulness that always made you feel like he saw more than you ever intended to show. His lips pressed together briefly, and then his shoulders relaxed just a fraction. When he finally spoke, there was a quiet determination in his tone.

“Then join me and Jack.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Join us,” he repeated, stepping closer, his voice gentler this time. “It’ll just be the two of us. Jessica is with Haley’s family, and Sean… well, who knows where he is. There’s plenty of room at the table.”

“Oh, Aaron, I don’t want to intrude—”

“You wouldn’t be,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. He stepped closer still, and now his eyes held yours with an intensity that left no room for doubt. “Jack would love to have you there. And so would I.”

Your throat tightened at his sincerity, and for a moment, you could only stare at him. This was Aaron Hotchner—stoic, composed, sometimes impossibly guarded. But now, he was standing in front of you, asking you to spend Thanksgiving with him and his son. It was more than an invitation—it felt like a gesture, an opening to something you hadn’t dared to hope for.

The two of you hadn’t discussed Thanksgiving before this. Your relationship was still new, so new that you’d intentionally avoided bringing up the holiday, not wanting to impose or create any kind of awkward expectation. But here he was, offering exactly what you hadn’t dared to ask for.

“You’re sure?” you asked, your voice quieter now, hesitant.

“I’m very sure,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. “You shouldn’t spend the holiday alone. And honestly…” He paused, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. “It wouldn’t feel right without you.”

Aaron could see the uncertainty flickering in your expression, but he also saw the moment it gave way to something warmer, something that made his chest tighten. He hadn’t planned to ask—not until he saw you standing there, zipping up your bag with a casual mention of spending the day alone. The thought of you sitting by yourself, piecing together a small meal, felt wrong in a way he couldn’t ignore.

You nodded, the weight of his sincerity breaking through your hesitation. “Okay. I’ll come.”

The relief that washed over his face was subtle but unmistakable, and his small smile made your chest feel impossibly light. “Good. I’ll pick you up tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you said, unable to stop the smile spreading across your lips. “Sounds perfect.”

As the two of you walked to the elevator, silence filled the space, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You felt his presence next to you, steady and sure, and your mind raced with the implications of spending Thanksgiving with him and Jack. It was new territory, uncharted and a little daunting, but the thought of sitting at his table—laughing, sharing stories, carving turkey—filled you with a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

Aaron glanced at you as you both stepped into the elevator, catching the faint trace of a smile on your lips. For him, the idea of having you there wasn’t just about avoiding loneliness; it was about inviting you into something that mattered to him. Jack needed to see that warmth, that joy again. And, quietly, so did he.

The morning of Thanksgiving arrived, and your kitchen looked like a crime scene—a deliciously fragrant, pumpkin-filled crime scene. Flour dusted the counter, a rolling pin was haphazardly balanced against a bowl, and the golden-brown crust of your homemade pumpkin pie was cooling on a rack, mocking you with its imperfect edges.

“This has to be perfect,” you muttered, frowning as you adjusted the spices in the filling for the third time. Despite your best efforts, doubt lingered like a stubborn stain. You didn’t want to bring just any dessert to Aaron and Jack’s Thanksgiving table; it had to be flawless.

But the pie wasn’t your only problem.

Your bedroom was a disaster zone. A few blouses were draped over the chair, rejected dresses lay in a heap on the bed, and a pair of black heels you’d pulled from the back of your closet sat mockingly on the floor. Every outfit you tried on felt wrong—too formal, too casual, or just not you.

After tossing yet another top onto the growing pile, you grabbed your phone and hit Aaron’s contact. The second you heard his warm, familiar voice on the other end, you started rambling.

“Hey, okay, so, uh, what’s the dress code for today? Like, should I wear a dress? Or maybe a nice top and jeans? Or should I do something fancier? I don’t want to overdo it, but I also don’t want to look like I didn’t try—oh God, what if I look like I’m trying too hard? Are we doing photos? Do I need to plan for that? Aaron—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, a soft laugh threading through his voice. “Take a breath.”

You paused, clutching the phone tightly as you exhaled. “Sorry. I’m just… overthinking.”

“I can tell,” he said, still chuckling. “But you don’t have to. Trust me.”

“How can I not overthink? It’s our first holiday together, and I don’t want to mess it up,” you admitted in a rush.

“You won’t,” he assured you, his tone gentle. “Honestly, you’re adorable when you get frazzled like this.”

Your cheeks heated at his words, and before you could protest, he added, “Jack’s still in his pajamas. And as for me… well, I’m not exactly pulling out a suit for dinner at home. Something comfortable is perfectly fine.”

“Wait—Jack’s still in his pajamas?” you asked, blinking in disbelief, looking at the clock on your nightstand.

“Yes,” Aaron said, clearly amused. “And he’ll probably stay in them until I convince him to change for dinner. So, whatever you’re comfortable in will be perfect. You don’t need to try for us.”

His words sank in, melting some of the tension in your chest. “Okay,” you said quietly, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “Thank you. I think I needed to hear that.”

“Of course,” he said softly. “Now, how’s the pie coming along?”

You glanced toward the kitchen, where the scent of nutmeg and cinnamon lingered in the air. “It’s… well, it’s not going to win any awards for presentation, but I think it’ll taste good.”

“That’s all that matters,” Aaron said. “We’re looking forward to it—and to seeing you.”

Your stomach fluttered at the warmth in his voice. “Me too,” you murmured, suddenly feeling a lot calmer.

“Good. I’ll be there soon to pick you up. Take your time finishing up.”

“Okay. Thanks, Aaron.”

After you hung up, you felt the lingering anxiety dissolve. You ditched the fancy outfit idea and settled on your favorite pair of jeans and a cozy sweater. Then, you went back to the pie, focusing on getting the filling just right while you waited for him to arrive.

When the familiar black SUV pulled into your driveway, you took a deep breath, balancing the still-warm pumpkin pie in one hand and a bag filled with carefully packed containers in the other. You barely had time to lock the door behind you before Jack jumped out of the car and bounded up to meet you, a wide grin on his face.

“Hi!” he chirped, his excitement palpable. He glanced at the pie in your hands. “Is that dessert?”

“It sure is,” you said, crouching slightly to meet his gaze. “And there’s more where that came from. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Oh, I’m always hungry,” Jack said with a dramatic sigh, making you laugh.

Aaron approached a moment later, his brows lifting in surprise as he took in the scene. You were balancing a picture-perfect pumpkin pie in one hand and a bag in the other, your face flushed with a mix of excitement and nerves.

“Pumpkin pie and—what’s in the bag?” he asked, his tone light with curiosity.

You straightened, holding the bag up with a sheepish smile. “Homemade stuffing. And a couple of bottles of wine.”

Aaron blinked, his lips curving into an amused smile. He had expected you to bring the pumpkin pie you raved about, knowing how thoughtful you were, but this was above and beyond. “You didn’t have to go all out.”

“It’s Thanksgiving,” you replied, shrugging. “It felt weird to show up empty-handed.”

“And the wine?” he asked, his tone teasing as his gaze flicked to the bottles tucked in the side pocket of the bag.

“One red, one white,” you said, grinning. “You like red, I like white, and I’m not driving, so… why not?”

Aaron chuckled softly, shaking his head. You’d thought of everything. “Fair enough. Why not?”

Jack reached for the bag, eager to help, but Aaron gently intercepted it. “Let me carry that,” he said, taking the bag and pie from you. “You take it easy. We’ve got this.”

As he walked back to the car, his thoughts lingered on you. He’d always admired your attention to detail, but this? This was another level. It wasn’t just the food or the wine—it was the thoughtfulness behind it. You’d taken the time to think about what would make the day special, not just for him but for Jack, too. It tugged at something deep in him, quiet gratitude that he wasn’t facing this day alone anymore.

The drive back to Aaron and Jack’s apartment was quiet and peaceful, the kind of stillness that only came with holidays. The roads were nearly empty; the world seemingly paused for the day.

Jack filled the silence, animatedly telling you about how his dad had let him help with the turkey that morning.

“Well, I didn’t really touch the turkey,” Jack admitted, grinning. “But I got to pick the seasoning!”

From the driver’s seat, Aaron couldn’t help but smile. Jack was practically beaming, his excitement contagious. Aaron found himself glancing at you in the rearview mirror, the way your eyes lit up as you listened to Jack’s story.

“You’ve got a good sous chef there, Aaron,” you teased, glancing at him. He gave you one of those small, subtle smiles that you were quickly learning to adore.

The warmth of your voice settled something in him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been dreading this day, how empty it had felt knowing Jessica was away and Sean was off doing who-knew-what. But now, with you in the car and Jack’s laughter filling the space, it felt… full. It felt right.

“Well,” Aaron said, his lips twitching into a faint smile, “he might be better at seasoning than I am.”

Jack let out a laugh, and you joined in, the sound weaving through the quiet hum of the car. Aaron’s chest tightened for a moment—not in discomfort, but in recognition. This was something he hadn’t allowed himself to hope for in a long time: the beginnings of a new kind of family, one that made the holidays feel like home again.

When you arrived at the apartment, Aaron carried your things while you shrugged off your coat. He set the bag down carefully and returned to you, his hands outstretched to take your coat. His gaze lingered a little longer, studying your face before trailing down to your outfit. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice low and warm. The sincerity behind it made your heart skip.

You glanced down at your outfit—a simple pair of jeans and a soft sweater—and flushed. “This? It’s nothing fancy.”

“I know,” he replied, his smile growing slightly. “That’s why I like it. You could be wearing sweats, and you’d still look great.”

Your chest fluttered at his words, and you smiled shyly. “Thanks, Aaron.”

He hung your coat with an easy familiarity, glancing back at you as if he wanted to say more but chose to keep it to himself. For a moment, the quiet in the room felt heavy with something unspoken, but then Jack broke the silence, bounding toward you with the same enthusiasm he’d shown when he first greeted you.

“Come on! We’re setting the table,” Jack said, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the dining area.

“Lead the way,” you said with a laugh, letting him guide you.

Aaron stood by the doorway to the kitchen for a moment, watching the two of you go. Jack was chatting animatedly about napkin folding techniques he’d learned from his Aunt Jess, and you were smiling, nodding along with genuine interest. Aaron turned back to the kitchen, his chest tightening—not from stress, but from something softer, more hopeful.

The next half hour passed in a warm flurry of activity. While Aaron focused on the turkey, you and Jack worked together to set the table. Jack insisted on folding the napkins into what he called “turkey shapes,” even though they looked more like triangles, and you encouraged his efforts as if he were crafting masterpieces.

“You’re a natural,” you told him as he carefully adjusted a plate.

He grinned up at you, his pride clear. “Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely,” you said with a playful wink, and Jack’s grin widened even more.

From the kitchen, Aaron glanced over at the two of you. His hands stilled on the turkey baster as he watched Jack eagerly showing you his handiwork, your laughter mixing with Jack’s excited chatter. The sight made something settle in him, a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time spreading through his chest.

He shifted his focus back to the turkey, his mind wandering to how easily you’d fit into their dynamic. It wasn’t forced, wasn’t awkward. Instead, it was natural, like you’d been part of their little family all along. He shook his head slightly, the faintest smile lingering on his lips as he resumed preparing dinner.

The apartment filled with the warm, savory aroma of roasting turkey, the clinking of plates as Jack adjusted the table settings, and the soft hum of conversation. Occasionally, you glanced toward the kitchen, where Aaron worked with quiet efficiency, a faint smile playing at the edges of his expression whenever he caught your eye.

Jack’s laughter echoed brightly, and Aaron chuckled softly in response, the sound grounding the space in warmth and comfort. It had been a long time since Thanksgiving had felt like more than just another day, but with you here, it felt different. It felt like something new, something he wanted to hold onto.

The table was set, the food was ready, and the apartment buzzed with a warmth that felt almost tangible. Jack had insisted on lighting the small candle centerpiece he’d picked out, proudly declaring it “fancy.” You couldn’t help but laugh as he adjusted the napkins for the third time, clearly taking his job very seriously.

Aaron carried the turkey to the table, the golden skin glistening perfectly, and Jack’s eyes widened in awe. “Whoa, Dad, it looks awesome!”

“Thanks, buddy,” Aaron said, his lips quirking into a small smile. His gaze flickered toward you for a moment, something softer lingering there before he gestured for everyone to take their seats.

As the three of you settled in, Jack’s excitement bubbled over. “Can we eat now? Please?”

Aaron shook his head, chuckling. “Not quite yet, Jack.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze warm as he looked between you and his son. “Before we start, I think it’s only right that we share what we’re grateful for.”

Jack groaned, though his grin betrayed him. “Dad…”

“Come on,” Aaron said with a faint smirk. “It’s tradition.”

Jack sighed dramatically, but you could tell he didn’t mind as much as he pretended. Aaron turned to you, a slight tilt of his head. “Would you like to go first?”

You blinked, caught off guard, but quickly smiled. “Sure.” You looked at Jack, then at Aaron, and for a moment, your words caught in your throat. “I guess… I’m grateful for this,” you said softly. “For being here, for both of you. This is the kind of thing I’ve always dreamed of—a warm meal, good company, and moments that feel like home.”

Aaron’s expression softened, his gaze steady as he nodded. Jack beamed at you, clearly pleased by your answer.

“My turn!” Jack piped up. “I’m grateful for… um… pie!” He grinned mischievously before quickly adding, “And Dad. And you,” he said, looking at you shyly. “And for not having to eat Brussels sprouts this year.”

That earned a laugh from both you and Aaron, and Jack grinned, proud of himself. Aaron’s smile lingered as he turned his attention to Jack.

“Well, I’m grateful for you, Jack,” he said, his tone soft but steady. “And for this… for today. It’s been a while since Thanksgiving felt like Thanksgiving.”

His gaze shifted to you, and there was something unspoken in his eyes, a depth that made your breath catch. “I’m grateful for you,” he said simply. “For being here.”

The words were gentle but carried a weight that settled over the table like a warm blanket. Jack didn’t notice the brief pause that followed, busy trying to decide what part of the turkey to claim first, but you felt it—the quiet sincerity of what Aaron had said.

As the meal began, the conversation flowed easily, laughter punctuating the clinking of plates and utensils. The food was incredible, each dish perfectly cooked and seasoned. You found yourself marveling at Aaron’s skill in the kitchen.

“This is amazing,” you said between bites of turkey. “I can’t believe you pulled all of this together.”

“Dad’s a really good cook,” Jack said proudly. “He always lets me help.”

Aaron glanced at you, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks at the praise. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he said quietly, his tone tinged with modesty.

The meal stretched on, each bite more delicious than the last, but it wasn’t just the food—it was the atmosphere. The apartment felt alive in a way it hadn’t in years. For Aaron, this was the first Thanksgiving he hadn’t spent alone with Jack since Haley passed. The ones before that—when he and Haley were divorced—had been different, fractured in a way he tried not to dwell on.

But tonight? Tonight was different. It wasn’t just the food or the laughter; it was the way you fit so effortlessly into this moment. It was the way Jack’s eyes lit up when you praised his napkin folding, the way your laugh softened the edges of his own grief, the way you leaned into this space like it was where you belonged.

Aaron leaned back slightly, watching you and Jack talk animatedly about the pie, his heart aching in a way that wasn’t painful but full. It had been years—years—since he’d felt this kind of warmth during a holiday. Not since Jack was a baby, not since he and Haley had been on the same page. This wasn’t just a good Thanksgiving. This was a piece of something he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing.

For you, this moment was everything you’d dreamed of when you thought about falling in love someday. Not the grand gestures or big declarations, but this—the little moments. The laughter shared over a meal, the warmth of a family gathering, the simple joy of being wanted somewhere.

As the evening wore on, Jack began to nod off at the table, and Aaron scooped him up, promising him a slice of pie tomorrow. You helped clear the dishes, and the quiet rhythm of the task ground you both in the moment. Aaron glanced at you as you set the last plate in the sink, his expression soft.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“For what?” you asked, turning to meet his gaze.

“For being here,” he said simply, the weight of his gratitude clear in his voice.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest as you replied, “Thank you for having me.” And for the first time in a long time, you both felt like Thanksgiving was exactly what it was meant to be.

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[solarismoons]

Ride

Ryan Baker x Fem!Reader

Summary: A year after the chaos at Rightmart, you find yourself locked in a supply closet with the one person you hate the most.

Warnings: 18+, dry humping, enemies, slight edging, pure smut w/little to no plot.

a/n: you guys asked, and I delivered ;).

────────────

The sound of your feet slapping on the linoleum floors echoes off the walls of the dimly lit hallways. Your lungs burn, your feet hurt and your throat is raw from screaming. Every time you breathe in, it sends bursts of pain through your chest, leaving you whimpering. But you know you can’t stop. 

For the past 10 minutes, you’ve been swerving through the halls of your high school, trying to escape from the wrath of a killer. Plymouth, Massachusetts very own, John Carver. 

Well, not actually John Carver. Exactly a year after the ‘incident’ at Rightmart during Black Friday, a psychopath decided to dress up in a plastic John Carver mask and go on a spree. He’s already claimed 2 victims in the past week alone. And, unfortunately, you’re next on his list. 

His victims (so far) were each featured in the video your dumbass friend, Evan, posted online during the incident. He stood on a cashier counter and recorded the chaos of the shoppers around him, killing each other over 20% off waffle makers. Of course, you had your very own cameo. That video alone might earn you an axe in the head.

You turn a corner, skidding to a stop as the sound of the killer's footsteps completely ceases. The school is eerily quiet, the only sound you hear is your own blood pumping loudly in your ears.

Just as you begin to relax, assuming he left, a hand wraps around your hoodie, pulling you into a dark closet.  A sharp gasp slips from your lips, filled with surprise and fear, but it's abruptly stifled as a strong hand clamps down over your mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut, worried if you open them the first thing you’ll see is the cool metal of an axe pummeling towards your face.

Instead, as you muster the courage to peel your eyelids apart, the world slowly comes into focus, revealing Ryan Baker mere inches away from your face. Seeing how close he is, you’d honestly rather take the axe.

It has been a year since Ryan abandoned you in Right Mart, a day that still haunts you. You still remember the cold tile beneath you as you sat, paralyzed, while screams echoed around you and chaos unfolded. Ryan, your ‘best friend’, vanished when you needed him most, leaving you shaking on the cold floors, blood pooling around you. So, you vowed to never speak to him again, let alone look at him.

You try to fight against his hand, but he pushes it further against your mouth, his leg trapping you against the wall. He looks through the slit in the door, and you squint, following his line of sight. Footsteps echo past the door, the sound of metal scraping against the wall vibrating through the thick wood. 

The realization hits you like a semitruck. Ryan just saved your life. The killer must’ve turned the other way and looped around. Had Ryan not pulled you into the closet, you would’ve run headfirst into the man. 

The footsteps disappear, and the only sound you can hear is the front door to the school swinging open and slamming shut. The fear and anxiety bleeds out of you once you know you’re safe, those feelings being quickly replaced with anger. Your hand finds his and you pry it off your mouth, taking a deep breath. 

“Why are you sitting in a closet like a creep?” 

He scowls, genuinely appalled at your lack of thankfulness. “I just saved your life and that’s all you can say to me?” 

With an exaggerated sigh, you roll your eyes in a mix of annoyance and reluctant acceptance, knowing he’s right.

“Would've been nice if you did that last year.” You reach for the doorknob, fingers wrapping around the cool metal. The knob doesn’t turn, instead, it makes a horrible grinding sound that reverberates through your bones. Ryan doesn't seem to notice, instead opting to run his mouth like usual. 

“Are you seriously still fuckin’ mad about that? I already told you why I left-“

“Ryan-“

“No- I’m talking! You’d be fucking dead-“

“Ryan! The door is stuck!” You yell, stopping his rant.

He finally pauses, and glances over at the knob. He turns it, the grinding sound filling your ears, making you wince. His eyebrows furrow in frustration as each turn of the knob brings the same conclusion. 

He throws his shoulder against the sturdy door repeatedly, each hit resonating with a mournful groan. Despite his efforts, the door remains in place, holding its ground.

Fuck.

────────────

He’s way too close to you. The closet is small and stuffy, leaving both of you barely any room to move. Ryan is sitting across from you, his knees pushed against yours. After sitting on the hard concrete floor for what feels like hours, you begin counting the different things that line the shelves. 27 toilet paper rolls, 18 paper towel rolls, and 3 dirty rags...  A mop, 2 brooms… Okay, you’ve officially gone off the deep end. 

Your train of thought is interrupted by Ryan. He hasn’t even moved, nor made any sounds in the past 10 minutes. It's his cologne. It fills the small space, and it makes you dizzy. The fragrance is expensive, musky. Fucking intoxicating. 

Right now, when you’re supposed to hate him, it just makes you fucking furious. He has no right to smell like that... And look at you like that. And look like that. God, why does he look so good? 

He clears his throat, his eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Scoffing, you pull your knees closer against your chest. “Because I’m mad at you!”

Ryan runs his hand through his thick brown hair, a few strands falling in front of his eyes. Shaking his head in frustration, he lets out a laugh. “I can’t believe you’re still mad about that! You’re so dramatic.”

Your face drops, and you stare at him blankly. His audacity is genuinely astounding. “Are you serious?”

Ryan opens his mouth for a second, his voice dying in his throat as you interrupt him. “You abandoned me in the middle of that fucking store. You- You left me to die, Ryan!”

The boy shakes his head, laughing bitterly again. God, he’s infuriating. “You know what? You seemed pretty protected already,” He scoffs, resting his arm on his knee. You raise an eyebrow, wondering what the hell he was talking about. Countless times, you’ve argued with him over this. It was always the same excuse: “I couldn’t find you in the crowd, so I left.” But, this? This was new.

“The fuck does that mean?”

He pauses, seemingly recounting that night. “Bobby. He was all up on you. You seemed fine, so I left,” he mutters, his voice laced with bitterness and… Jealousy? Something you can’t place.

Utterly dumbfounded, you laugh in surprise, fingernails digging into your palms. “Are you fucking kidding me? Bobby?!” It was the lamest excuse you have ever heard. Last year, he abandoned you in the middle of the purge for god's sake, because he saw Bobby ‘Golden Arm’ Di Stasi breathe within 2 feet of you.

Ryan scoffs again, his 20th within the hour. “I don’t get why you care so much! You’re fine! He seemed to have it all covered.”

“Because I wanted you there! Not fucking Bobby!” You yell out, voice reverberating off the walls.

Startled, Ryan recoils, eyes widening in shock. A brief flash of guilt crosses his face before he quickly hardens his resolve, transforming that guilt into a simmering anger. “You seemed pretty fuckin’ comfortable, princess,” he volleys back, voice laced with venom.

“I’m sorry he was actually there for me, unlike you! Seems to me that someone got jealous because they saw an attractive guy on top of me,” you blurt out.

Ryan’s face twists into purse disgust. “Attractive?? Stop dick riding for one fuckin’ second!”

“What’s with you and dicks? You wish it was you?” In all your years of being friends, you never were at the point of making sex jokes with him. Now, they seem to keep spilling out.

“I don’t know, you seem to know a lot about them!” He leans against the cool surface of the wall, tension radiating from his posture. His eyes, sharp and narrow, pierce through the dim light, filled with accusation.

“God, fuck you!” You let out a derisive laugh, a sharp sound that hangs in the air, as you avert your eyes from him.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He leans forward, his voice getting deeper. You still refuse to look at him. “Me taking you, right here in this closet?” His tone is teasing, dark. It’s meant to be a joke, played off as something just to get under your skin. But his eyes gleam with challenge.

You turn your head back to Ryan, your lips almost brushing against his, the tension heavy. He slid closer during the chaos of the fight, his body trapping you in. Cologne envelopes you like a blanket, your heart hammering in your chest.

“And what if I did?” For just a split second, Ryan’s eyes widen, his pupils blowing.

Just as you’re about to fight your own words, you suddenly feel the warmth of his lips pressing against yours. A firm hand grips your waist, drawing you closer until you find yourself nestled between his legs. Instinctively, your hands push against his chest, seeking balance as your heart races. The kiss breaks, and his eyes meet yours—glossy and unfocused.

You’re nestled between his legs, the warmth radiating from him grounding you as your fingers rest gently on his broad chest. His hands cradle your face, thumbs brushing softly against your skin. “Shit—I'm sorry—” he stammers, just as shocked as you are, even though he’s the one who started it.

Confusion swirls within you as you try to grasp the reality of what just happened. Your eyes search for answers, but all you find is a wide-eyed stare that mirrors your own bewilderment. His lips part slightly, as if he might speak, yet silence continued to hang heavily between you.

Within a few heartbeats, you pull his lips back towards you, teeth hitting his. The kiss is all teeth, desperate and intense. He gasps against you, hands wrapping around your waist to steady your body against his own. Underneath you, he crosses his legs, pulling you into his lap, causing you to yelp.

Hands finding the back of his neck, you tangle your fingers into the thick hair at his nape. He groans softly, tongue flicking across your bottom lip, seeking entrance. Obliging, you part your lips, inviting him in. With another groan, his tongue finds yours, tasting toothpaste and something sweet.

You whimper softly, eyebrows pulling together. He pulls at your hair, giving himself access to the side of your neck. Tongue sliding against your jaw, he peppers kisses along the sharp bone. Shaky breaths escape your lips with each press of his lips. For years, a part of you wondered what the curve of his mouth would feel like against your neck.

But, now, in the present? It was better than anything you could ever conjure up in your head. A nip of his teeth at your pulse point pulls you out of your thoughts. “Fuck…” Soft whines and whimpers leave your throat, matching the rhythm of Ryan’s lips against you.

All of your movements cease as he wraps your legs around his waist, pressing his hips against yours. You pull back, blinking down at him. Through all the fabric, you feel something pressing against your core. Your gaze is drawn to where your bodies meet, as you gape at the noticeable bulge in his jeans. 

“See what you do to me?” Ryan groans out, grinding his hips up slowly, the friction making you bite your lip. In real time, you can feel him harden beneath you. Despite your many fantasies, you’d never imagined this. Ryan was just your best friend. The kid who used to bathe in pink bubbles. Never once did the thought that he even had a dick crossed your mind.

Now, sitting right on top of him, knowing you did that to him, your brain goes fuzzy. All thoughts are thrown out the window, your head filling with pure lust. Testing the waters, you grind against his jeans, watching each twitch of his face. 

Large hands slide down your body, grabbing a handful of your ass. Ryan pulls you harder against him, guiding your hips with his hands. Each movement causes fabric to rub against your clit, your fingers digging further into his bicep. He readjusts, spreading his legs apart for you, his hand bracing on the floor behind him. 

The feeling in your stomach tightens with each calculated roll of his hips. As much as you want all of him, the feeling is intoxicating. Neither of you can bring yourself to stop—even to strip. Ryan’s groans fill the closet, mixing with your escalating whimpers. The coil within you twists into knots, your hips jerking with each movement.

Ryan keeps you steady, making sure he’s hitting all the right spots. You feel your panties sticking to you, soaking straight through your too-tight shorts. Looking down, you see the denim on Ryan’s jeans darken. He doesn’t seem to mind, instead nipping at your collarbone.

“Ryan- Please,” you whimper, legs beginning to tremble softly. He leans back to look at you, grunting as he rolls his hips harder.

“Please what? You wanna come, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice mocking. All his movements stop, his fingers digging into your ass. You sneer at him, your eyebrows knitting tightly together in frustration. Heat throbs uncomfortably at your core. “Use your words.”

“Fuck you!” You spit venom at his face, your forehead pressed against his as your chest heaves. A low chuckle rumbles in Ryan’s throat, his fingers squeezing your hips. His bruising grip foils any attempt to move. 

“Come on, I know you have it in you,” he urges, rolling his hips slightly, bringing you teetering over the edge. Whimpers leave your lips, frustration bubbling deep within you. He wants you to beg? Fine, you’ll fucking beg.

“Please,” you breathe out softly, biting your lip, eyelashes batting. Ryan shakes his head, seeing right through your little act. He holds you still for what feels like hours, not satisfied with any of your answers. You can tell he needs a release too, but it’s obvious how much the ‘sick fuck’ is enjoying it.

“Please, Ryan,” you whimper, desperation leaking into your voice. Your resolve crumbles as you lose yourself in a blind desperation.

“Please, please…” you repeat, over and over, pure lust crowding your vision. Never in your fucking life–especially not in the last year–did you expect to be pleading with Ryan Baker to make you come. But here you are, panties soaked, face painted with crimson, planted right on top of his dick.

Finally, he deems your pleading good enough and he continues his movements, this time moving deeper. Slower. Within a few moments, your legs tighten around his waist almost painfully. You throw your head back, your mouth open in a silent scream. He watches you tremble with a smirk on his face, your body jerking on top of him violently. 

Obviously, his teasing was too much for you. Each time he brought you close to the edge, it just increased your sensitivity. Still, he rides you through your orgasm, his hips chasing yours, seeking his own release. Face twisting, he bites down on your neck, marking you as his. As he bites down, he groans through his teeth, hips jolting up. Wetness spreads beneath your ass, the evidence of his orgasm clear, even through his jeans.

You pull back to look into his eyes, still catching your breath. In the dim light of the closet, he looks fucking gorgeous. Strands of thick black hair fell over his forehead, his lips plump and smeared in lip gloss. Inside the walls of the closet, it’s only him. No Rightmart, no Bobby, no John Carver. Just him.

Basking in the moment for just a second, you press your lips softly against his. Maybe you’ll never forgive him, but as your legs continue to tremble, your feelings inevitably begin to change. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, sneakers slap on the floor just outside the closet.

Both your heads snap over to the door, pure fear cascading down on you, pulling you out of your fantasy. The doorknob twists, the harsh sound reverberating deep in your soul. Neither of you makes an effort to move, frozen in fear. What can you do? Beat him with a wet mop?

Suddenly something snaps and the door swings open, causing the person on the other side to stumble slightly. As the fluorescent light pours into the stuffy dimly lit room, your eyes widen. On the other side, your entire friend group gapes, way past dumbfounded.

Jess stares down at you both, her jaw hanging open. There was no getting out of this.

Eyes flicker over Ryan’s tousled hair. His lips, glistening with Cherry gloss, draw attention like a magnet before the group's gaze settles on the large damp patch spreading across the fabric of his jeans. As if your being caught sitting on his fucking lap wasn’t damning enough, they continue to stare blankly at you both, inspecting you like Sherlock fucking Holmes.

In a few heartbeats, chaos erupts. 

“Ew! What the fuck!” Gabby yells, her voice rising by almost 4 octaves.

“I thought you hated him!” Jess says, tearing her eyes away, obviously too uncomfortable to even process what’s going on. “Does getting chased by a fucking serial killer turn you guys on?!” Evan runs a hand through his hair, genuinely shocked, a state you’ve never seen him in before. “Y’all are fuckin’ freaks!” Scuba laughs wildly, clapping his hands as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen.

Yulia just stays silent. You knew always liked her the best for a reason.

As your friends continue to hound you both, you slowly stand up, Ryan following suit. He follows behind you like a puppy, earning a clap on the back by Scuba. Jess shakes her head at you, too lost to even be disappointed. 

You both do the walk of shame through the hallway, pants uncomfortably soaked through. As you shuffle your feet, your friends laugh and elbow you in the ribs. Ryan steals a few glances, sporting a smug smirk.

Dick.

Still, you can't help but smile back.

[multi-stays]

Whipped Cream

Paring: Bf Bang Chan x Gf FemReader

Genre: smut 18+, fluffy

Summary: Channie is awoken with a craving for some Whipped Cream but has nothing to eat it with……….. or does he?

Note:Happy Thanksgiving Y’all

✨💜warnings below the cut💜✨

_________________________________________

Warnings: oral sex!F receiving!, food play, straight kinky, smut 18+, reader is smol, is set after Thanksgiving

Proofread:still no sorry, if there’s an error comments are appreciated, only because I just thought about it Happy Early Thanksgiving 🍁

P.s I know there’s a few days still til Thanksgiving but it’s close enough, right? WHO cares

Walking over to the fridge wasn’t something you’d ordinarily be doing at 3 AM but knowing there was leftover pumpkin pie with your name on it made you dying for a slice.

Sneaking out of bed wasn’t an easy task, you knew better then anyone that your boyfriend Chan was a light sleeper. If you were caught you’d be forced to share and never would you hear the end of how tired he was. Being as quiet as possible you snuck out, making sure you closed the door behind you so the fridge light wouldn’t disturb him.

A few floor boards squeaked and the clock on the wall chimed causing you to jump. You were in the clear, you got out your pie and squirted a generous amount of Whipped Cream on top. Sitting back in your chair you enjoyed the sweet flavors of the pie Han made with you on Thanksgiving.

Only a few minutes had passed and the pie was already gone, thinking about how long it took you to make, it seemed pointless for how easily it disappeared. You adored every second of it tho, all the members at your place hanging out, eating to their hearts desire and not caring about their idol image.

Channie decided it was a good idea to get together every year on thanksgiving and come to an agreement about what to write on a thankful leaf to have as a “personal keepsake”as he so calls it. Some of the members thought it was a great idea, being able to look back and see what they all were most thankful for that year, others not so much.

Deep in thought you didn’t notice your boyfriend creeping up from behind you. His little face peeked at you from where he stood in the hallway. You turn to face him surprised by the way his face looked, awake and not like someone who had just been sleeping.

“I thought you were sleeping” you got no response from Chan, instead he walks over and put his arms around your neck slipping his hands down to your boobs, cupping underneath them like they were hand warmers.

“Something wrong?” You ask with a giggle but still no response, he pulls you from your chair and turns you by the chin to meet his gaze. Looking at him you see he’s staring not at your eyes but your lips, you hadn’t even noticed the Whipped Cream still on your lips from minutes ago. To nervous yet curious as is to why your boyfriend was acting so strange.

He swipes his thumb across your lip and finally answers with a soft “no”, before taking it in his mouth, moaning as he sucks on his finger. His eyes were shut and you could now tell he had a motive for his actions.

His movements were subtle but precise, like a lion stalking his prey he was trying to be sly and not startle you with his plan to make you feel good and have some fun at the same time.

“I was just not tired anymore and was awoken by the sound of the Whipped Cream bottle”

“I’m sorry babe I tried to be quiet, I know it’s hard for you to sleep” you said in a whine

“I was invaded with a thought” he said putting his hands around your waist.

“I don’t know just thought maybe I could eat some Whipped Cream, ya know?”

“You want some Whipped Cream?”

“Yea” he said in an instant, almost proud of himself.

Turning towards the counter to grab the bottle you can feel his hand slide to your thigh, the other still on your waist not letting you go from his hold.

“Here then silly have some” you said squirting some on his lips.

He giggled “I’m not the silly one, silly i need something to eat it on”

“There’s no pie left so you’ll have to get something else”

He licked the cream off his lips and rested his forehead against yours, now mere inches away from your face, you could smell his minty breath blowing into your nose.

“I want to eat it off of you Puppet”

Your breath hitched in your throat, flustered and probably beat red. The confidence in Chan’s voice making it harder for you to keep your composure.

Pulling you closer, Chan placed a sloppy wet kiss at the corner of your mouth. Slowly he crept his hand up to your neck and leaned into you further, desperately trying to deepen the kiss. He pushed you back into the wall and kept you there, pressing his body against yours.

You don’t know from where but you found your confidence again, probably from realizing even tho he’s incredibly hot and the most sexy human being you’ve ever placed your eyes on, he’s still just Chan. The same Chan you go on long car rides around town with belting out your favorite songs together. The same Chan that kisses you to bed every night and says “I’ll see you tomorrow Puppet” making you feel safe and comfortable with him at all times.

You broke away from the kiss and teased him, taking of your top and spraying a small amount of Whipped Cream on your nipple. Quickly you knew you had to run, especially after that stunt you just pulled Chan was prolly rock hard and you haven’t even touched him yet.

Once inside, you laid down on the bed and made yourself comfortable while awaiting Chan’s next move.

“No need to worry Puppet, tonight’s about you and making you feel all good and taken care of, I promise”

He said it like he needed to reassure you, like you would run away if he didn’t say it. You knew Chan and reminded yourself of that, all nervousness and anxiety gone by his lil side smile and messy bleached curls that fell in his face.

Chan went to the cavern between your boobs, licking the sweet remains of the Whipped Cream that melted and slid there. Your foot found its way to Chan’s hard member in his pants, a reassuring smile against your skin as you rubbed it ever so slightly.

“God Puppet you taste so sweet” he said in between sucks.

You were squirming underneath him barely able to keep your composure with his big cloud like lips attached to you.

“Off” was all you could get yourself to say as you pulled at his shirt, he obliged pulling it over his head in one swift motion discarding it somewhere across the room. The satin feel of the skin on his pecks sent quivers down your spine, thinking of what other parts of your body would feel like dragging against it as your finger so effortlessly did now.

One breathy kiss on your skin led to the next, Chan slowly making his way down to your clothed cunt. All you had on was underwear so Chan could have easily slipped it off, but no. He did it oh so gently, delicately placing his fingers under the thin fabric and sliding it down, like you would brake if he hadn’t done it so excruciatingly slow.

He spreads open your folds pumping two fingers in, your tight walls surrounding him earning a breathy moan to escape from his lips.

“Fuck Puppet your so wet for me and I haven't even touched you yet”

Topically you didn’t want to look, to shy or embarrassed to do so but tonight was different in so many ways. You desperately wanted to see Chan pleasure you, watch him as he pumped his fingers inside you. Watch as the rings on his bony fingers disappeared and reappeared wet and glistening in the soft light. See Chan’s visual approval and the shudders that leave his body when he knows it feels good.

When Chan feels you are ready he pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, savoring your essence left on his skin, something you’ve only ever seen him do so seductively.

He cocks his head and looks at you with a devilishly cute smirk, almost to cute especially when having sex “you had your late night snack now it’s my turn” grabbing the bottle of Whipped Cream from the bedside table he sprayed a small dollop on your clit. The feeling was cold but soft and you were already so wet and so desperate for friction you could care less what was on you as long as Chan accompanied it.

Chan stared at your vagina for a few seconds smiling like an idiot, felt like hours to you just laying there all worked up and horny whilst your boyfriend admired his work.

“What is it baby I’m wasting away” you whined, clawing at his arms in desperate attempt to make him move, blink even.

“I’m sorry Puppet your cunt is just to cute, your glistening folds and an adorable bundle of nerves now fashioned with a cute dollop of Whipped Cream.”

Feeling ashamed for having whined at him, you hid your face in a nearby pillow and tried your best to stay still as Chan drug his finger over your clit, pushing some of the Whipped Cream down your slit.

He then snaps, waisting no time diving nose first into your sweet wet pussy, devouring every inch of you, sucking the Whipped Cream off you and lightly flicking your clit with his tongue.

His large frame towering over you despite him being between your legs. You were always short and small, called a runt sometimes in school, but Chan swooped in and made you feel safe, with being so large and as muscular as he is it was easy to feel so. Accompanied with all his praising words he sorta became like your safe haven.

You were a mess head flung back and your eyes sealed shut, hands roaming for something to pull. As Chan prodded his wet tongue at your hole, your hands bolted to his hair, softly tugging at his roots trying to make him go further in your sex.

His movements were sloppy, your bed was a mess, your breathing was out of control, but you felt hot, rocking your hips into Chan’s face practically suffocating him between your thighs.

Chan knew you were close before you did, was probably very easy to tell from where he was “I know your close Puppet so just move me where you need me and I’ll help you.”

You pawed at Chan’s chest as he sprayed some more Whipped Cream on your soaking cunt, couldn’t even tell cause of how wet you felt. He pushed your legs up and started again, reattaching himself to his little bundle of nerves, sucking and licking in all the right places as you rode out your high.

After you cummed all over Chan’s face you were completely out of it, unable to move from how hard your orgasm hit you. All you could feel was Chan’s soft kisses around your groin and occasionally the warm feeling of a wet washcloth. Water slowly turning cold as he gently washed away all the Whipped Cream that may have been left on your fragile and sensitive skin.

Chan flopped down beside you pussy drunk and almost completely incoherent, staring off into space.

A small “cold Channie” was all you could mutter out, still high on your orgasm and tired from being up so late.

“Ok” he huffed while pulling you into his chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist, wetness from your oozing cunt now all over his bare stomach. Noticing he didn’t mind you snuggled closer to him, breathing in the musky smell of his faded cologne.

You let yourself be put in a trance by Chan’s small touches, flicking your hair back out of his face, rubbing small circles on your back with his soft fingertips, and the small gruff groans that he would make when you tried to move in closer, if that were physically possible.

The small up and down movements from Chan breathing and the moonlight coming from your open window soon sent you to sleep. You couldn’t tell if Chan was actually asleep or not, his eyes were shut but usually it takes him a couple agonizing hours of staring at the wall before he’s sleeping.

You felt safe like this with Chan so you didn’t let yourself worry too much. Could that have been selfish………. probably yes, but you just enjoyed his slow breaths as he rocked you soundly to sleep.

[phefics]

ryan (thanksgiving 2023) x fem!reader blurb

ryan is rich and pretentious.

he thinks music sounds better on vinyl, and that you look twice as hot wearing lacy lingerie he bought you.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he mutters, hands running down your thighs. “knew this would look good on you, sweetheart. saw it on the mannequin and thought how sexy you’d look in it.”

it’s not uncommon for ryan to give you random gifts: he pays for your nail and your hair appointments, will order whatever you’re craving from a restaurant.

“you deserve to be spoiled,” is what he says whenever you tell him it isn’t necessary.

it makes you feel so special, walking around with his initial on a necklace he bought you, with hickies from him hidden underneath your clothes.

he fucks you hard, the panties he bought you pushed to the side for easy access.

“you like your present, sweetheart?” he asks.

“yes,” you whimper. “thank you.”

“good girl, thankin’ me,” he says, breathless as he gets close. “always so good for me, so pretty—”

while ryan is rich and pretentious, there are moments where he is so down-to-earth, so undeniably sweet and generous and human. like, when he pulls out of you before he cums, fumbling to get it on your body and not your sheets, his cheeks flushed and his hair messy.

in his clumsy state, he managed to get his cum all over the brand new panties, and you both couldn’t help but laugh at the mishap.

“i can always buy you another pair,” he teases.

[konigsluv]

Dirty Secret for D (ABC series w/ Sukuna)

contains: modern day sukuna, somnophilia, non-con/dub-con, sleeping reader

Time and time again you wake up, feeling sweaty and sticky. You look around with a dumb confused look on your face and see your boyfriend, Sukuna, sleeping soundly beside you, lying face down and practically suffocating in the satin pillows on your guys' shared bed.

This was the third time this week and you genuinely didn't know why this kept happening. Sitting up fully, you run a hand down your face, rubbing your eyes before walking over to the bathroom.

Turning on the light you look at yourself in the mirror. Something was off, you just didn't know what. It wasn't until you pulled your shorts down that you found a large damp spot smack dab in the middle of your panties. A blush crossed your face- did you have a wet dream and not remember?

What was this from?...

Ryomen Sukuna, that's what. But it's not like you know that.

"mmf... fuck," a soft groan left his soft lips as he dragged the tip of his cock up your inner thigh. Sukuna hovered over you in the dark room, one of his hands spreading your thighs as the other guides his throbbing cock along your skin.

He didn't know why, but it was always when you slept, vulnerable and with your guard down that he always got so turned on. It started with him waking up at night after having a lewd dream and looking down to see a large tent in his sweats. At first, he contemplated going to the bathroom and relieving himself but as he shifted to get out of bed you sighed softly.

Sukuna almost forgot. He was in a committed relationship now, which meant sharing a bed with another person.

His red eyes darken as he leaned over the bed, one of his hands reaching over and brushing your cheek with the back of his knuckles. At the feeling of your warm soft skin under his hands, he didn't hesitate to position himself between your sleeping legs and rub his clothed erection against you.

Ever since then, he has been waiting until you fall asleep before initiating physical intimacy. And whenever it happens, he always pushed just a bit father to test the limits. All he could do was thank God you were a heavy sleeper.

"so pretty with your eyes closed, hm?" he hums quietly to himself as if he were mocking you; the soft sounds of his breaths and fapping filling the room. Sukuna was feeling grateful you decided to go to sleep tonight only wearing your panties and one of his shirts, no bra.

Now he was between your legs, your thighs up and over his as he slid your panties to the side and slowly rubbed the head of his cock between your folds.

Sukuna pauses for a moment when your face stirred, and a soft breath left your lips as if you were moaning. Smacking your lips, you fall right back to sleep and a sly smirk creeps onto his face.

"so fucking clueless," he hissed before slowly moving his hips to keep sliding his cock between your pussy and underwear, "and so fucking hot,"

His brows pull together as his hips jerked forward- at this point not even caring if you woke up because it felt so good.

But no, his favorite thing about using your body when you slept was the fact that you, though unconscious, liked it. Or maybe it was more so your body that did.

Your cunt would always get sopping wet, coating his thick cock in your substances and letting lewd squelches sound from between your legs.

"you like that baby?" Sukuna asked while leaning down and pressing his hand into the mattress beside your shoulder, "yeah you do- so fucking wet, ngh," his red eyes narrow as he stares at your sleeping face. Your nose crinkled and small curt breaths escaped your lips.

"'bouta make me cum all over this pretty stomach," his free hand moved down, lifting the shirt you wore above your breasts so he could see more of your soft skin, "ah- shit-"

Sukuna clenched his teeth and shut his eyes as hard as he could to prevent from moaning to loud as his cock twitched and spasmed in his hand, his white seed shooting all over your stomach in quick spurts.

For a moment his body is tense and in shock, but he becomes a whimpering mess as his hips snapped forward, rocking your body as he tries to ride out his orgasm to its fullest. With one last drip of cum from the tip of his cock he lets out a shaky breath and sits back, trying to regain control of his head as he sees his cum on your stomach and the mess he made in your underwear.

Your cunt was throbbing with need, pretty and pleading as he stared at it- desperate to go again.

Maybe one more time. Maybe on more time he'll see how far he can go without waking you up....

"What the...." your voice was quiet as your mind reeled. Once again you woke up, feeling flushed and oddly aroused just to see your panties soaking wet and the sheet beneath you damp. You swallowed thickly, embarrassment filling your veins as you stare down at the mess 'you' made.

With a quick glance to Sukuna who was sleeping on his side, faced away from you, you get up and head to the bathroom- needing to relieve some of this arousal.

Sukuna opened his eyes when he heard the bathroom door shut and your soft moans muffled from the door, "...clueless," he murmurs with a sadistic grin before closing his eyes, actually going to sleep.

Masterlist

please do not copy or repost on any platform without my permission

LIKES AND BLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

[czl4t]

Happy thanksgiving,

I’m grateful for Patti Lupone. 😩

(and for everyone feeding me with those scrumptious fics)

YALL DONT KNOW HOW CRAZY I AM FOR THIS WOMAN

[berriwritertingz]

the summer i wrote | one

content: future smut, fluff, angst, basically all of it

pairing: milo manheim x afab!reader & ross lynch x afab!reader

summary: every summer, you travel to dahlia's beach to reunite with your mother's closest friend and her son. but this year he unexpectedly brings a friend along. caught in the gentle waves of affection and longing, you find yourself navigating uncharted waters where the boundaries of friendship blur.

notes: this is loosely based on the summer i turned pretty. i just watched the second season and lawwwd i wanted to make a ff soo bad. plus milo and ross have absolutely none anywhere.

masterlist

You loved Dahlia's beach. It always smelled salty with a hint of expensive barbeque if you were in the city. But near the countryside there was the sweet smell of honeysuckle. That's where you would rather be, where the tall grass met the sandy dunes. The sounds of hooves on pavement and bustle around the farmers market on a hot weekend afternoon.

This summer was no different. Your stomach churned, rumbling in excitement as you neared the beach house. It was huge. Five bedrooms with enough bathrooms. Too many patios surrounding it. Turquoise colored pool with a small waterfall. The house was a blueish gray color with white accents. Calm and minimalistic, much unlike the other grand colorful houses on the street. It sat like a diamond around other stones in a non normal way. The most priceless of them all. Placed directly in front of the beach but not close enough to tourist spots so it was always quiet. It was always such an amazing way to spend the three months in between school. You looked forward to it every year.

But that wasn't all you looked forward to.

Your mom honked as you guys entered the driveway. A wide smile plastered on her face. Your mom seemed to love this place more than she loved you, even if she denied it when you asked. You knew the truth. Summers at the beach house were the only time she got to see her best friend, Camryn.

"Hey!" A voice squealed from the porch. You shuffled out of the car, legs aching after a long 5 hours. As you stretched you were met with Cam, arms spread jumping for joy. Practically knocking you over. They were best friends from high school. Going to college together and even sharing a dorm room. With how they acted every time they met, you were convinced they had separation anxiety. They didn't get to see each other throughout the year. Other than here of course. For they lived states apart, Dahlia's being a quiet beach town that was located in the middle.

Camryn engulfed you in a bear hug first, gushing about how pretty you are. Making you do a spin in your dress. Once she pulled away she did the same to your mom whose high pitched voice could be heard from the beach. As they talked about how ‘different’ each other looked. You watched as they walked inside hand in hand when your eyes met his.

Milo.

He radiantly smiled as he trotted over to you. The classic hands in pockets, ruffled hair, and expensive glasses. It was like he had a glow up every year whether it was him dressing better or maybe getting a bit taller.

"Hi" He cooed embracing you in a tight hug. The smell of his overpriced cologne filled your nose. It reminded you of sugary trees and cool waves. Much like the beach house. He was another reason you loved the beach house so much. Without him you were stuck with two middle aged ladies whose celebrity crush was Liam Neeson and only watched tv shows made by Shonda Rhimes. He was fun. He never made you feel left out or alone. He was everything any girl could wish for. Tall, smart, rich, and incredibly good eye candy.

"Hello, Milo." You smiled as he let you go.

He ran a hand threw his hair looking down at you. Eyes trailing down your body strangely. His expression was unrecognizable. Your face heated up turning your head to avoid his gaze. He touched the bottom of your dress. Yanking the fabric gently.

"This is a little short isn't it?" He questioned eyes meeting yours. Lips curled up in a sly smile. Rolling your eyes you scoffed slapping his hand away. He acted like a big brother sometimes. Especially with your clothes. Every summer complaining about how short your shorts were or how revealing your bathing suit was.

"Oh shut up you do this every-" The sight of someone else on the porch caught your eye. "Who's that?" You questioned raising an eyebrow.

Milo turned around and nodded in acknowledgement as the boy made his way down the stairs. Bleached blond hair slightly overgrown and wide smile on display as he made his way towards you two.

"Y/N this is Ross, Ross Y/N. He's staying the summer with us this year." Ross reached his hand out to you. Clad in silver rings that looked a bit out of your price range. Does Milo have any Middle Class friends? It was unusual. No one ever came to the beach house from back home. It was like a unsaid rule between everyone. Written in big red letters 'No Strangers'. The dads didn't even bother coming even though Milo's paid for it.

"Nice to meet you." He looked you up and down a tongue swiping over his lips. "Milo didn't tell me how pretty you are."

"Dude!" Milo exclaimed punching his shoulder rolling his eyes.

"Thank you." You beamed softening your voice. Milo scoffed walking towards the trunk slightly bumping into Ross. But he didn't seem to mind, hazel eyes still trained on you.

"So where are you fr-" Ross was cut off by a slightly pissed off Milo. "Are you guys serious? C'mon Ross help me with these bags." Ross walked away backwards eyes still focused on you with that addicting smile of his.

"See you inside?" He whispered loud enough for you to hear him.

You didn't respond. Only nodding as you strolled inside.

a/n: soooo what do you guys think? im still trying to figure out this tumblr writing stuff im so used to just reading ive never written and posted anything on here lololol. pls be patient with me! a few tips and tricks would be greatly appreciated!!

taglist

[ovrgrwnivy]

i want to wear his initial. . ryan baker

to celebrate thanksgiving finally streaming, take this idea that’s been rotting in my head for weeks since i saw this ad.

warnings: 18+, explicit language, suggestive conversation, afab!reader, unprotected sex ( please don’t do this? ), smut!, pnv, my literal first time writing smut be nice to me or else.

your eyes lit up the second it came across your tiktok for you page, you knew ryan would question the charge on his card from a website other than your usual haunts but explaining it away as a small business you found on your explore page seemed to be good enough for him.

you were known all over your campus for your fashion sense, your 2000’s inspired outfits drawing the attention of everyone you passed by, more specifically the ‘whale tail’ that was never missing from an outfit, the strings of your usually neon coloured thongs peeking above the waistband of your low rise jeans.

today was no different, your low rise jeans and white baby-tee, the neon pink strings high on your hips with the custom sparkly letter charms adorning the back; ryan.

“hey, baby” ryan greeted with a smile, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips after spotting you from across the courtyard, blissfully unaware of what everyone was double taking to read.

“hi” you giggled against his lips, pressing another quick kiss to them before pulling away “you got class?”

different degrees, same campus. it was actually how you’d met ryan, some sorority party during your first semester.

“not for another hour..” his voice trailed off, eyes looking past you at the pair of girls that had pointed at your back “turn around for me, baby. think you got something on you..”

you play dumb, turning your back to him and looking over your shoulder. you revel in the look on his face, how his eyes can’t look away from your ass, how his eyebrows have raised and his mouth is agape, and how he tries to subtly adjust himself in his jeans but fails miserably.

“is there something there?” you ask, like you don’t know exactly what it is he’s staring at.

there’s a second of silence, ryan’s brain short circuiting as he struggles to catch up with the real world continuing around him. he shakes his head before grabbing your arm, leading you towards the library without a word and ushering you into the bathroom.

“ryan, i have a class” you giggle, making no attempt to stop him when he pushes you against the door and latches his mouth to your neck.

“don’t care,” he mumbles against your skin, a hand creeping under the fabric of your shirt and towards your breasts, groaning when he realises you aren’t wearing a bra “fuck, baby, think this is the hottest thing i’ve ever fucking seen.”

his free hand slips a finger around the band of the thong, pulling it away from your body and releasing it with a snap. ryan’s mouth swallows your gasp as its back on yours, kissing you roughly like he’s trying to consume you entirely.

your hand trails down to the waistband of his own jeans, feeling his hard on pressing against your lower stomach as he presses you against the door, his tongue roaming around the inside of your mouth.

“easy, baby.” ryan chuckles, pulling your hand away with his own. in a fluid movement he has you bent over the bathroom sink, reaching round to unbutton your jeans and shove them down your legs “don’t remember putting you in charge.” his middle and ring fingers tease your clit through the bright pink fabric, watching your reaction in the mirror as your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

ryan applies a little more pressure, rubbing slow circles as his free hand frees his cock from his jeans and teasingly runs it back and fourth along your folds.

“quick teasing,” you huff, hooking your thumbs around the band of your underwear to remove them when ryan lands a light slap to your clit in warning.

“these stay,” he speaks matter of factly, moving the fabric to the side and groaning as he pushes into you “wanna see my name every time i look down at my cock filling you up, princess.”

[coc0amocha]

🍁🍂Thanksgiving disasters || "your child calls me daddy too"🍁🍂

Nanami accidentally responds to "daddy" at the dinner table infront of your entire family... you were talking to your father.

Husband!Nanami X Gn!reader

Word count: 609

Every year Nanami spends Thanksgiving with you and your family. He comes over the day before to help your parents cook and on occasion you two will stay the night. Waking up on Thanksgiving morning to help them prepare for the rest of your family to start flooding in.

Setting the table, doing dishes, cleaning the house. Making sure everything was perfect, Nanami loved doing it–he really did. He loved your family–and your family loved him. so that made it more enjoyable. He viewed it as more of a calming activity than a chore.

At the table Nanami always made sure to have good manners around your family. Not that he was ill mannered, he just really wanted to make sure he didn't embarrass you or himself. He says grace most years and he takes his time to make sure he doesn't mess up. Like really focuses. Again, he doesn't want to embarrass you or himself infront of your entire family. He's been at countless holiday celebrations with your family and he still puts alot of effort into not messing up. He can't help it, it's a habit at this point. He vowed to be perfect for you after all.

|And yet he still made the oldest and most embarrassing mistake in the book.|

"Daddy, can you pass me the napkins please?" You said casually as you gestured over to the napkins that were too far across the table for you to bother attempting to reach

"Of course sweetheart" both your father and Nanami responded simultaneously as they both reached for the napkins

This might just be the year you end it all.

Nanami slowly gazed up at your father the second he realized what he just did and he pulled his hand away from the napkins just as slowly. He just stared at your father sheepishly, he wanted to say something like 'sorry sir' or 'it's not like that' or even 'I think it's time for me to go home' but the words got caught in his throat and he just gave an embarrassed and awkward smile

"Kento.." You murmured, your voice being low and dangerous as you glared at him out the corner of your eye "you can't be serious.." you whispered to him in irritation and embarrassment. Your dad handed you the napkins, giving you a questioning look. All you could do was give him a quick smile before nudging Nanami and giving him a 'I'm going to end you look'

Nanami swallowed thickly and looked over at you "I'm sorry darling" He whispered as he picked up his cocktail and began to down it to try and distract himself from the fact that he can feel your entire family's gaze on him. He could see your aunties whispering to eachother in his peripheral vision and it made him a little nervous

"Kento, son," Your father started, clearing his throat a little

Nanami almost jumped, putting his now empty cocktail down "yes?"

"What was that about?"

"What was what?"

"What you just did"

"What'd I do?"

He had panicked and resorted to playing dumb. Probably a bad idea, yes. Because he's really horrible at playing dumb. But it was worth a shot.

Your father was about to continue when your momma saved the day by intervening with "okay boys, that's enough. Anyone want pie??"

"Yes, please." Nanami quickly nodded, thankful for the change in discussion.

Despite everyone swiftly moving on, your father glared at Nanami pretty much the rest of the night. And while Nanami could say he couldn't wait to go home... You were gonna totally whoop his ass the second you two got there.

[hellfire--cult]

It was your first ever thanksgiving with Eddie, and you sadly had to work the day before and part time on the same day of the festivity. You were completely destroyed you couldn't cook anything at all for Eddie and Wayne, but--

Eddie outdid himself.

He made the turkey the day before, the smell of it filling up your nostrils when you entered your small apartment. The pumpkin pie was ready to be put in the oven the next day where you worked in the morning.

When you came back from work in the afternoon, there were mashed potatoes with gravy on the table as well, a green bean casserole, and the turkey, and Wayne brought in homemade bread and a pumpkin pie for the fridge.

You could almost cry from how amazing Eddie was to you, knowing you would be stressed from work, and going out of his way to get recipes and follow the steps like a soldier. When you chewed on the turkey, your eyes filled with tears from delight, because it was delicious, and emotion, turning to talk to him,

"We could of ordered stuff, you didn't have to do it all alone." And he was confused at your comment but smiled, kissing your shoulder.

"You don't deserve a pizza for Thanksgiving. You deserve this and if I wasn't running out of time, I would of cooked more things for you." Wayne was only rolling his eyes at the sweet filled interaction and you were just looking at your boyfriend with adoration in your eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I love you and like I said, you deserve the best and I will be the one to bring that for you. Now shut up and eat."

Oh, but another feeling surged through you. This man wanted to take care of you, love on you, dote on you, protect you, pamper you, and just make you the happiest person in the world. You looked down at the stuffed turkey on your plate--

You were impatient now. His laughter and his voice when he talked, his mannerisms of giving a squeeze to your hand or your thigh, and you didn't want to be mean but-- You needed Wayne to go. Your love for Eddie was exploding in other ways, keeping it romantic, but you were in need of showing it to him.

So when Wayne finally left, Eddie sighed and started picking the left overs, but you immediately slammed your hands on the table, making him squeal from the scare.

"Sweetheart, what the actual fu--"

"Take off your pants."

The comment echoed throughout the small living room, with the plate of mashed potatoes in his hands while he stared wildly your way. If he squinted enough, he could see your nostrils flaring and probably steam coming out of them.

"What did you say--"

"You fucking heard me. I need to show you how grateful I am or I will lose my goddamn mind." Your voice was coming through your teeth while Eddie was putting down the plate on the table again and he raised his hands at you as if taming a wild animal.

"Baby, you don't need to do anything, it was a pleasure--"

"I swear to god Eddie, I want to suck your dick until you are dehydrated and I want you to stuff me like you did with that fucking turkey. So... Get. Those. Pants. Off."

Who knew you could get rid of pants in 1.2 seconds? Not Eddie.