#put some butter on him and he could be a little potato
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gojo learning what a home smells like, mentions of food, not much dialogue except for the ending, kind of selfship coded bc this was supposed to be a talk post but then i kind of rambled and this came out so it’s not proofread and that’s that
each home has a specific scent to it.
you know, the one that builds over time, the so-called occupant odor that fills the air after a while of people living in it. it’s the aroma of the ingredients you use and the spices you often put into your dishes, the freshly washed clothes and especially that one detergent that is always a must, the cleaning products you use, and the scent of those who inhabit the house all combined that sticks behind and makes it so distinct. makes it smell like home.
but satoru’s house smelled empty. too empty in fact. it smelled clean, too clean for someone who’s lived there for years now. almost like a newly renovated apartment that’s been deprived of human presence for too long and it’s just the sharp scent of paint and construction materials that hits your nostrils when you walk in. a housekeeper would come by once in a week to take care of the place, not that there was much to do around — it was pretty clean. nobody cooked there — his fridge was almost empty, only water bottles in it. nobody did the laundry — everything was sent to the dry cleaning. nobody was there enough for their scent to sink in, even he himself. his house never felt like home to him. it was simply a place for him to shortly crash at. like a hotel of some sort, a place he’d only use to shower and sleep while for the rest of the time he’d be out going on missions, putting his life in danger.
that was, until you came into his life.
at first it was only short stayovers. you would spend a night or two at his place each week. but it was enough for it to start layering and spreading around — the scent of you, of him, of you together. when you came into his life out of literally nowhere, he would start going out of his way and take on less missions so he could be with you, more — so you would stay over and make dinner, ask about his favorite dish and then cook it for him the next time.
you would make pancakes in the morning. you would get your favorite ingredients and put them in his fridge. you’d get some blueberries and bananas, little bit of feta cheese even. you would place jars of powdered sugar and honey into the empty shelves in his kitchen. and little bit by bit the room would start to fill — some oats and cinnamon for autumn days, peanut butter because it goes so well with apples, a little bit of oregano for when you make baked potatoes, a little bit of garlic because it makes any dish taste better, some olive oil and lemons because that’s your go-to dressing for when you make salads, and some tahini for when you’re feeling posh but then realize it doesn’t taste quite right in some meals but eat it anyway.
little bit by bit his house would start feeling less empty and more like home.
you’d bring extra clothes for the day after the stayover and then forget the old ones there. he would buy you pajamas for when you come by so you don’t have to bring yours every time or wear a shirt of his when you don’t or sleep naked (not that he minds it). you would wash them all in the laundry, together with his clothes and yours, the ones you had left behind from before. but you would always need that one softener, you know, the one you absolutely refuse to wash your clothes without because it smells so good, and then you would put your pajamas and his next to each other on the bed and the clothes — in his wardrobe, and the room would smell so good and it would start feeling like home to him.
but.
no matter how much of yourself you left behind, it still felt kind of empty, especially on days when you weren’t around tiptoeing quickly from the bedroom to the bathroom in the mornings for a quick pee before coming back to bed and nuzzling into his chest, when you weren’t around dancing in his kitchen experimenting with a new salad dressing once again, when you weren’t around asking him to open jars, when you weren’t around for his eyes to see and his arms to embrace in the morning.
it was then when these four walls felt so foreign and nothing like home to him. the house still smelled familiar but not completely. just like a bland dish — you eat it and it gives your body the needed nutrients but doesn’t quite fill you up because there’s just something missing.
and tonight he decided to chase after the missing ingredient.
“so, listen”, he said while casually grabbing some greens through the salad with his chopsticks, “i am going to make you an offer you can’t refuse”
“if it has anything to do with me doing the dishes tonight and you folding the laundry tomorrow, i am out”
“love”, he paused, “who washes dishes by hand when there’s a dishwasher?”
“rich people like you might not know of this, but we, ordinary people, do not use the dishwasher for just three plates. we use our hands, a sponge and a dishwashing liquid”, you flashed a polite but sarcastic smile at him.
“okay, ordinary person that i love so much, then how about this”, he swallowed his bite and continued, “you move in and start being extraordinary with me?”
“we’re not using the dishwasher for three plates”, you raised your chopsticks and brought them threateningly close to his face, “but okay. i can move in here and start using your credit card more reasonably”
#ઈઉ — ai writes#[ ♡ ] — satoru#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk x reader
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jude helping you in the kitchen because you’re hosting his family for dinner and youre running around at 100 miles an hour trying to find that damn stick of butter, it was just in your hand come onn
all while jude is having the time of his life taking his time gingerly cutting potatoes into neat little squares (roasted potatoes are a must)
"am i doing good?" he pipes up, already done with 3 Potatoes, youre so proud of him
you scramble over to him with a pound of meat in your hand, "yes love youre doing great."
he beams, wiggling his shoulders happily, "what do i do with them?"
you set down the meat on the counter while grabbing what you can from the spice cabinet, "the potatoes? just put them into a big bowl and ill worry about them."
he hums, going to get said big bowl while you run back to the fridge. you need asparagus how could you forget!
he manages to get the squares off the cutting board and into the bowl without much hassle, and you’ve started getting your pans out for the meat and asparagus. the squash is in the oven all ready, you need to make room for your lamb when its time though, desert also needs to get started, oh your mini quiches you completely forgot.
you slide back over to the fridge, the dough you made this morning, grabbing it and some flour. the lamb can wait while you get the crusts in the oven.
by the time jude looks back over at you, your covered in flour.
he snorts, "looks like you lost a fight to a baker."
"very funny jude, get the asparagus in the pan please and keep an eye on the squash for me while i finish getting the dough ready."
he puts the cutting board to the side, wiping his hands on a paper towel "yes ma'am."
you feel like gordan ramsey, barking our orders and running around with enough stress to last a life time. and you tell people you love cooking. pfft. sure. poor jude only follows you, doing what you ask. hes even worm a silly apron with big red words "kiss the chef" plastered on them. he thought it was the funniest thing ever. it was pretty funny you admit.
you spend too much time balling up little wads of aluminum foil for the crusts but jude keeps everything else in order, and before you know it in they go, out the squash comes, and you get started on the meat.
you love lamb, you hate the amount of pans and pots it takes though. first you sear, then you transfer to the oven while you sear off vegetables in the same pot, in they go with the lamb, pull them out, blend them with left of lamb juice at the bottom of the pan, boom you have a little gravy.
jude gasps and for a moment you think he'd burned himself, but he turns around with a stick of butter in his hand.
you light up, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "i love you," taking the butter and adding it to the asparagus.
somehow, someway, all your courses get done just on time, the deserts in the fridge, jude cleaning up the last of the kitchen while you get changed.
you come back down to greet the family, plating their food and basking in the praises they sing after every bite.
you love cooking !
#jude x you#jude fluff#jude bellingham blurb#jude bellingham#jude x reader#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham x you#jude bellingham one shot#jude bellingham imagine#bellingham#jude bellingham fanfic#jude bellingham fluff#football fanfic#footy fic#bahr footy#bahr blurbs#this totally isnt based on when i cooked thanksgiving pfftt whaaa#jb5 blurb
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Evidence that Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish is not what he seems-Lt. SR:
Soap smells like rain, it took a while to put it together because it's not Soap himself that emits the odor, it just follows him. It's less potent inside and when it's sunny outdoors but if you concentrate it's always there.
He has never been observed touching a gun or grenades without gloves. Almost every other explosive he handles with no regard for his own safety gloves.
HE EATS WEIRD SHIT. While he doesn't eat much of the food on offer from the cafe, he does eat consistently when outdoors, usually plants or flowers. Things he has eaten: dandelions(edible), garlic(edible), thistle(edible but he ate it with the thorns), foxglove(toxic, showed no adverse reaction), Several unidentified flowers and berries, grass(technically edible?) Etc.
Will sometimes refuse to enter a place before abruptly going in. The data is not consistent between different buildings or locations. Further research is required.
Sharp teeth.
Groups things in nonsensical ways. He will only fill a magazine with bullets that total a multiple of 7 or 3. The same for what weights he uses in the gym. When drawing or eating he sorts by 4s. He traded his room to get #13 (right next door, coincidence?).
Cameras will not focus on him, whether photo or video he is never in focus regardless of distance or conditions.
He has never once been in medical for more than half an hour, usually much less. Even though his hands have light burns on them almost constantly.
Dogs hate him. He seems ambivalent towards them and he's never been bit that Ive seen. Cats adore him as do birds.
John MacTavish does not blush. Not for lack of trying even when genuinely flustered or hot, his skin does not flush.
Ghost sets down the small notebook with a minute sound of frustration. The evidence is all there but looking at it, what does it really say? Other than that he's an obsessive creep. A series of quirks and coincidences compiled by a paranoid son of a bitch into a fucking stalker journal. But still, Simon can't help but feel like he's right and he'd be dead a million times over if he simply disregarded his intuition. Even if it is something batshit insane.
At this point however it seems that it'll drive him mad far before it yields any answers. After scouring what little resources were comprehensible on the internet he'd started growing out his hair, intent on tying it in knots to prevent charms. Leaving him with a problem he'd not encountered since he'd first donned the mask: unruly curls and balaclavas don't mix well at all. He'd also kept a piece of stale bread in his pocket for days as he'd read it was a repellent to- and he can't even believe he's considering it-fairies. It backfired, if anything Johnny had been more attached to him and even more touchy than usual. He'd left a small deli cup full of coffee creamer outside his door overnight and found it neatly placed upside down where he'd left it with not a drop left. Ghost chalked that up to some wise guy playing a joke or an exceptionally dextrous cat and firmly shut the door on any other possibilities in his mind. His next test had been a gift of clothing mixed with complements, he'd read that both were likely to drive away any Other. It hadn't been a very extravagant gift, a new pair of gloves and a gruff "well done Johnny" but at the time it had seemed to be the final nail in the coffin as Soap had gone white as a sheet(he can do that but he can't blush???) and scurried off. A quiet dread had filled his stomach the whole day until Soap turned up at dinner, a little quieter than usual but wearing his new gloves and eating more than usual(a scoop and a half of mashed potatoes with 4 packets of butter and 2 packets of sour cream as well as a cookie. The main course of spaghetti and meatballs went untouched though Gaz snapped it up before it could truly go to waste). Though when Ghost returned to his room late that night after trudging through hours of paperwork he found a pile of tiny, aromatic, pink flowers on the floor in front of his door and on top of them a shiny metal comb. Simon's tired brain hardly stopped to think of any of the dire warnings he'd found on forum posts and folklore sites alike, crouching and tenderly retrieving the piece from its bed of flora, careful not to crush any of the tiny blooms. Well... With all the knots in his hair-purposeful and otherwise-he's going to need a sturdy comb anyway.
#fae!soap#superstitious bastard!Ghost#little does Ghost know that Scottish fairies actually favor bread instead of being repelled by it#meanwhile the whole clothing trick would have totally worked if it weren't for the fact that Soap took as a courting gesture#also the idea of Ghost leaving out two ounces of hazelnut coffee creamer and Soap just feeling his heart beating out of his chest#but he doesnt want to be presumptuous so he waits until hes got absolute confirmation that Ghost wishes to court him#and he gives him gloves...so he can touch him and not be burned by the iron#Soap is simultaneously three steps ahead and six steps behind#cod mw2#ghost x soap#ghostsoap#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#fae!au#and to think i wanted to upload this to ao3 😑
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a short (1,089 words) rivals duo fic about food as love and friendship for @sixteenth-day-event's love month.
Dream didn’t cook.
He had lived on golden apples and pieces of beef that could only charitably be called ‘steak’ and ‘cooked’ and then later he had lived on potatoes, raw and mealy. It had taken months to get the taste out of his mouth. Months of Techno encouraging him to eat until Dream was able to keep down more than a few bites at a time.
It had to be frustrating. Dream had been frustrated, knowing that he needed to eat and knowing his stomach and mind would rebel against it. There had been times he had lashed out and had swept the dish off the table and Techno had rolled his eyes and called him a toddler and a baby and cleaned up the mess.
And he still cooked for Dream, despite it all.
This is so stupid, thought Dream with a groan.
He gripped the edge of the counter and looked down. Half the ingredients of Techno’s pantry sat out: carrots, mushrooms, onions, even potatoes. There were herbs that Dream didn’t know but had passed his sniff test and raw beef that he had dug out of the ice chest.
He had no idea what he was doing.
If Techno was here, Dream would ask him but he was out all day with Phil doing something that was supposed to be secret but Dream knew about anyway because Techno talked and, besides, this was meant to be a surprise.
“How—How hard can it be?” Dream asked the empty kitchen, trying to hype himself up. Outside, the sun was just a little below the halfway point in the sky. “It’s just fucking vegetables and shit in water.”
It was a lot harder than Dream thought.
His hands shook trying to chop the vegetables evenly, the missing fingers making it hard to grip the knife properly and there was one moment where his hand slipped and he grazed his finger, a tiny drop of blood welling up, and Dream had to sit down until he stopped feeling as if his head was full of static. But he had done it.
He had chopped the vegetables (even the potatoes) and then had cut the meat into chunks and had to stop himself from thinking about how easily a person could be carved up. As soon as he was done, Dream had tossed the knife into the sink and refused to look at it again.
Wiping his sleeve across his forehead, Dream began to season his stew. He smelled each herb, tasted some of the spices, dumped a little too much salt into the water and scrambled to scoop what he could out and then tried to mask it with a little more pepper and rosemary. He found dandelion greens and added those, too.
It didn’t taste anything like the stews that Techno made. Dream frowned.
He needed something.
In the back of Techno’s pantry, there was a dusty bottle of beetroot wine, labeled with Phil’s handwriting. That would work. Dream carefully scooped out some more of the water and then poured in half the wine. He added more herbs and spices but stayed away from the salt.
It still wasn’t right and Dream went to the ice chest and pulled out the butter and added a chunk.
Then he put the lid on the pot and let it simmer until Techno got home.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Steam rose off the bowl of stew sitting in front of Techno.
Across the table, Dream was watching him intently, his own bowl untouched, hand on the spoon, waiting for Techno to take the first bite.
“Y’know, you really didn’t have to do this, Dream,” said Techno, stirring the stew a bit.
“Yeah, I know but—but you always cook and I thought—I wanted to cook for...” Dream trailed off, shifting in his seat, finally looking away. “Whatever.”
Techno smiled.
“Nah, I appreciate it, man,” he said. “It looks good.”
That wasn’t a complete lie: the vegetables were clearly painstakingly cut into chunks all of a similar size as was the meat and the broth had a hearty, deep red color to it. Unfortunately, it colored almost everything with a reddish-purple tint to it but that was fine.
It certainly looked better than it smelled because it smelled like Techno’s entire spice rack had been dumped into the pot.
But Dream visibly perked up at his words.
“Yeah? I mean, I didn’t have, like, a recipe or anything.”
I can tell, thought Techno. He said, “Listen, Dream, the secret to cookin’ is you’ve got to cook from the heart, alright?”
A blush, pink and splotchy, colored Dream’s cheeks.
“Ugh. Just—Just eat the stupid stew,” said Dream, not moving to pick up his own spoon.
Techno took a bite.
It wasn’t awful though Techno would have never called it good. There was an odd lack of salt and an even odder mix of herbs and spices, not all of which went together, and a buttery taste that he wasn’t expecting. The beetroot wine was a bit overpowering.
He took another bite.
“Is it—is it alright?”
There was an eagerness on Dream’s face, nervousness in his voice, as he watched Techno.
Techno hadn’t been lying when he said the secret was to cook from the heart. The fact Dream had gone out of his way to cook anything when food had been such a sticking point for him, the fact he had willingly used potatoes when there had been a point he would gag at the mere sight of them, meant something.
It meant a lot.
Techno took another bite, bigger than the first two, and spoke around the mouthful.
“It’s amazin’. You wanna do all the cookin’ from now on?”
Dream scoffed but the blush had deepened and a pleased sort of relief had settled on his features. It softened some of the harshness left behind from the prison.
“Hell no.”
“I’m teasin’ you, Dream,” Techno said, still eating.
Dream pushed his spoon around his own bowl. He was quiet for awhile as Techno ate.
“Yeah—Well, to be—to be fair, you do all of the cooking and I know I’m a pain in the ass,” he said, finally, and finally lifted a spoonful of stew to his mouth. Dream’s features twisted in disgust. “This is fucking awful.”
Techno snorted, reaching across the table to pat Dream’s hand.
“I don’t mind.”
One of Dream’s eyebrows jerked upwards.
“Really?”
“Really.” Techno pushed his chair to back to stand. “Now, I’m gonna get another bowl.”
#technoblade#dreamwastaken#rivals duo#dsmp fanfic#dream smp#rivalsblr#sixteenthdayevent#disordered eating mention
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Random question, but how good do you think the ‘Bots and ‘Cons would be at cooking? Does the Matrix happen to have any tips or knowledge of the culinary arts? Would the kids be of any assistance to the ‘Bots, or would they also fail at cooking? For some reason I think Miko would be really bad at making anything with more than 5 steps but make a really good grilled cheese sandwich. You think they would fare any better at baking?
Heck yeah this is funny.
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Cooking on Earth
As a general rule, cooking is not really a thing on Cybertron, at least not as it is on Earth. The process of creating energon based fuels and treats is more of a purification than any real chemical bonding or serious alteration as commonly seen in human culinary works. As such, when the team brought the children under their care and were then hit with the realization that they needed to fuel their small wards, issues arose immediately.
Arcee could hardly process normal energon, much less cook anything to save her life. The only human food she is capable of putting together is boxed macaroni and cheese. Even then, it still isn't all that good. She either adds too much butter or none at all. Her milk additions make dish look more like cereal than anything else and quite frankly she somehow manages to burn the noodles despite that fact that it should be nearly impossible. The children don't like her attempts at cooking, but if pressed, they will consume her noodle dish. She has attempted baking but has only succeeded in burning the wall in an attempt to quote "make sure the cake was fully baked".
She is not allowed in the kitchen alone. Ever.
Bulkhead has been met with limited success in all things gelatin. He can't make much else unless he is putting sauce on pre-ordered food, but gelatin he can do. On Cybertron he was known amongst the Wreckers for his banger jellied energon, even earning minor praise from Ultra Magnus. Thankfully for everyone, the same general concept applies to human jellied treats, and so Bulkhead is able to make gelatin without killing anyone. Of course his flavor profiles are rather... off. He has no clue what actually is constituted as good food for including in gelatin, but he tries his best.
Smokescreen and Bumblebee can make a mean grilled cheese, but only if they are working together. One must have their optics on the food while the other plays music in the background while grating cheese. If either of them get distracted or only one is present, the results are wild and worthy of a fire extinguisher. Bee has attempted soup before, and surprisingly, once in a blue moon he can make a really good potato soup. It is close enough to preparing energon rations that he can manage it occasionally. Smokescreen though? He has been given a lifetime ban from the stove. He somehow manages to make a really good salad despite that. It is largely just him throwing random green things in the fridge into a bowl, but it works generally.
Ratchet does not cook. Optimus has forbidden him to cook despite the Doctor wishing to figure out the strange science. The only time he tried cooking, he made actual poison and almost fed it to the kids thinking it was a nutrient dense supplement. Since then he has been confined to the realms of baking, which thankfully, is not too foreign since he can and has made spectacular energon goodies in the past. He knows how to work heat related tools well enough to make really good cupcakes. He can't do frosting though. Its always chunky or pure liquid sugar. Miko still eats them, even if they are a little burned sometimes.
Ultra Magnus can cook, on both Cybertron AND Earth. He just refuses to do so. Period.
Optimus for his part, despite his knowledge, can cook in theory. He knows how it should work, and so largely depending on the resources given to him and his level of focus, he can make a mean dish on Cybertron and Earth. His specialty on both worlds is a variant of shepherds pie, something he lived and vented back on Cybertron due to how cheap it was at the local restaurant. Of course the names of the dishes and the ingredients differ, but the concept remains the same. And so as long as the dish requires no decorum, Optimus can make it fairly well. However if asked to bake, the Prime physically cannot. The singular time he made the attempt, he came away covered in soot and with a lifetime ban from the baking items.
When it comes to the Decepticons, Megatron does not cook, period. On Cybertron he was a fantastic brewer of high grade, but that skill does not translate over well. On the Nemesis, he has a small personal brewing station where he will occasionally whip something up for himself. But that is a rare treat. He has taken the time to study human brewing methods though, largely out of a desire to mock their efforts. This of course led to some experimentation on his end, which in turn resulted in better high grade than what he was capable of producing before. He will never admit where the jump in skill came from.
Knockout and Breakdown love to make cake specifically. They can't even eat the stuff, but they like seeing how big and how grand they can make it. Hours are spent dutifully baking cakes to perfection, molding them, and then decorating them. Usually its done after Cybertronian sites, but off an on they will make human tourist locations out of cake. Breakdown also experiments with chocolate and has become relatively good at making realistic chocolate molds. These, along with Knockout's cakes, he takes to different places around the globe to donate. He may not be fond of humans, but waste is not acceptable.
Starscream is by far the best chef out of all present Cybertronians, and that is only because he fragging hates that Gordan Ramsey is better than he is at it. Starscream has devoted a ridiculous amount of time to cooking JUST so that he can curse right back at the human chef and prove himself superior. No, he does not know where it stemmed from. No, he cannot even eat what he makes. But frag it all he will get that beef wellington right or he will die trying. However against all expectation considering his considerable cooking ability on Earth, he can't cook on Cybertron to save his life. He never needed to, so he never learned.
Shockwave doesn't cook. He makes purified energon and that is all. He doesn't even bother learning anything else. Why would he? Its not like he can taste or appreciate anything complicated. Arachnid does not cook either, and that is largely because she sees it as beneath her. Soundwave is in a similar boat and does not bother... unless it comes to making cat treats. Those he will go through the pain of working with tiny human tools to manage in order to lure in the furry creatures.
Dreadwing can only make noodles. And only from the box. He has no explanation.
#transformers#maccadam#transformers prime#team prime#optimus prime#ratchet#bumblebee#megatron#soundwave#shockwave#smokescreen#bulkhead#arcee#starscream#knockout#I aint tagging the rest#crack#enjoy yall
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Role Reversal AU Part Two - Oliver's Songbird
In a world where Oliver, antique vampire running an antique bookstore, took a human Alexander under his thrall...
Previous Masterlist
September 1925
TW: mind control, captivity, blood drinking
Lex was twenty-four today.
He woke up slowly, curled into his small cot in the warm apartment above his master's bookstore. It was an unexpectedly cold day, and Lex would just as soon remain bundled under his pile of wool blankets. Unfortunately, it was already past noon, and he had errands to run before opening the shop, so he couldn't dawdle long.
Not that his master particularly minded if the shop was open late. But money was always a bit too tight for Lex's liking, and neglecting to open up the shop wouldn't help. Besides, he enjoyed the work.
Lex stretched and yawned. His master was sound asleep in the shadows of the top bunk, so he could open up the side window without disturbing him with sunlight. A quick rummage of the pantry and icebox turned up little worth eating, so he contented himself with an apple for lunch. He definitely needed groceries, and counting out the money he'd been given, he had enough for a few extra treats.
He washed in the sink and dressed in a heavy wool suit, making his way down the creaky stairs, through the darkened bookshop, and out onto the street.
It was always jarring to exit the bookshop into the bustle of the city in mid-day. The shop was so dark and quiet, even when it was open, the kind of place where you could clearly hear the ruffle of pages or the squeaky plank near the history section. It had been his home ever since the day his master had taken him, and he felt a lot of affection for it, even if it was...
Small.
And quiet.
He had books, though. Books to help him fantasize about what lay beyond a packed shop and a cramped apartment and a few blocks' worth of city streets where he normally ran errands. Books about far-off countries, faefolk and merfolk, gods and heroes and even the heavens. Books about the adventures that could be had for young men who weren't kept in confinement by a vampire.
He shook the thought from his head. Oliver had been good to him, had taken care of him. His master needed his blood. His master needed him.
That was enough, wasn't it?
Lex stopped in front of a musician on a street corner playing a high-spirited tune on a fiddle. Several of the crowd watching him were tapping their toes and dancing along. The musician's instrument was crude, but he played with skill and love. Lex was captivated, closing his eyes and nodding his head to the music.
He missed music the most.
Counting out the money in his wallet, he reasoned that he could afford to part with a nickel, and deposited it in the can in front of the fiddler. It was the least he could do.
Lex greeted the grocer, looking over the daily sales. It was his luck that canned salmon was cheap today -- he could make a fine meal with that, some fresh broccoli, potatoes and butter. Milk, eggs, fruit cocktail, coffee -- plenty left over for a trip to the swine butcher's. There, he bought a few chops and a decent quantity of bacon.
He needed something hearty to eat tonight, anyway. His master's feedings were like clockwork, and tonight was the night.
He didn't mind the feedings, of course. His master was always kind and gentle, the feedings painless, comfortable, familiar.
Their life together was quiet, and good, and he didn't mind.
He returned home, put away his food, and propped the door open for customers. A few trickled in. One was looking for pulp novels, apparently missing the 'rare books' and 'antiques' written on the clapboard sign. Lex obliged anyway, pointing him to the shelf of cheap horrors and thrillers that he'd convinced Oliver to let him stock after the fourth or fifth customer had shown up looking for them. With how sparse business often was, every dime was worth making.
At least one customer actually bought a true, valuable antiquity. Lex rejoiced inwardly while politely handling the transaction. A few more sales like that, and he'd be well over the amount he needed for the new winter boots he'd been saving for.
Just as the sun spread its last rays through the open window and Lex went about lighting the gas lamps, the smallest of creaks on the stairs indicated the awakening of his master. Oliver was always so quiet that it had taken Lex a long time to be able hear him coming without getting startled out of his mind.
"I sold that alchemy book - the one with the red leather cover and the embossed gold symbol on the front instead of a title."
"Oh, excellent. I hope the book found a good home," said Oliver, taking his place behind the desk. "How are you? Are you having a good day?"
It seemed like it should be a good day. He'd had enough money to get all of the food he wanted and had made more besides. He'd enjoyed a musical performance. And he had spent the time in-between customers reading a particularly engrossing mystery novel.
But even though it should be a good day, he still ached with a melancholy he didn't fully understand.
"It was a fine day, if a bit cold," he said.
"Glad to hear it." Oliver put a cold but comforting hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you go and make your dinner? I can take care of the shop counter."
Lex had eaten little more than an apple all day, and the mention of food set his stomach rumbling, so he took his master up on that offer, slipping back upstairs. Soon he was frying up a pork chop on the little stove, the smell of sizzling meat filling the tiny dwelling.
Really, the apartment was only enough for one person, too small for two. It only worked out because they were vampire and thrall. Oliver seemed to want for little other than books and blood, and Lex had never required much.
As he sat down at the table for one and ate his pork chop and broccoli, he wondered if he had wanted for more, back before his master's book had claimed his will. It all seemed so distant, his childhood home, the music rooms of his university.
Oliver seemed to be in high spirits when Lex descended the stairs. Was he excited about the feeding? No -- although his master clearly looked forward to feedings, this mood had a different feel to it. He seemed as if he could barely contain himself with some secret knowledge -- and when Lex rounded the corner behind the counter, he could see why.
There, laying on a shelf, was an object that had certainly not been there when Lex had taken his leave. It was a black case tied with a blue ribbon.
An instrument case?
"Is that --"
"It's a birthday gift for you," said Oliver encouragingly. "I've been saving for it. Go ahead, open it."
"Thank you, sir," said Lex. Oliver had given him a birthday gift each year, but never -- "A violin!" Lex called out as he untied the ribbon and flipped open the case.
It was a secondhand violin in excellent condition, shining varnish accentuating the rich wood. Lex picked it up and cradled it to himself. It was so beautiful, and he could already imagine just how it would sound.
"It's okay for me to have this, sir?"
"Of course! It's a gift."
"But the quiet..."
"I think the shop could use a little music now and then," said Oliver. "Go ahead, try it out."
Lex glanced at the time, eager to play but worried. "Don't you need to feed, sir?"
"It can wait until later,. It's your birthday, Lex. Play."
"...I have to make sure it's strung properly first, sir, and tune it."
The bookshop was so silent that every little sound that Lex made while tuning the violin seemed to reverberate. Oliver sat and watched him with curiosity, as he often did, even when Lex wasn't doing anything in particular. Before long, Lex had the violin in a condition fit to play.
It had been a long time, but he still easily recalled one of his favorite pieces from when he still studied at university, when he thought he might ascend to play in a grand hall, roses thrown at his feet. A lifetime of creating music that resonated with people's souls, that brought them comfort and joy and sorrow.
The proof that he was never actually meant to be silent.
He played for a long while. His fingers and arms were sore from the long neglect of his instrument. His music filled the lonely, quiet store, and when he finally finished, satisfied, there were tears in his master's eyes.
"Bravo," he said, with a clap so soft it was barely audible.
"Thank you for the birthday present, sir," said Lex, sitting down in the plush chair and picking up his favorite of his master's enchanted books, the one that would put him under a spell of sleep and submission so that his master could feed. "I expect you'll take your meal now?"
"My last."
Lex looked up in shock. "Your last, sir?"
"My last of you. I'm setting you free," he said.
"Are you serious, sir?"
"Someone like me doesn't need to keep a songbird caged in the dark forever. I can find another thrall."
"Sir, you can't mean that. If I've been displeasing to you --"
Oliver held up a hand. "No, you haven't, not in the slightest. In fact, it's my fondness for you that has led me to make this decision. You're only objecting now because of the spell I've been casting on you each feeding. Once it's fully lifted, you'll be more than happy to fly free."
Lex felt a tug at his heart, glancing briefly at the shop window. Was he actually going to be free? He shouldn't want that. He shouldn't want to leave his master alone. And yet...
"You'll be able to stay here as long as you want, working in the bookshop, until you can get back to your studies," he said. "I have acquaintances at the university. I can put you back to where you should have been. I've already started making inquiries."
"Sir..."
"Read, Lex," said his master, gesturing to the book on Lex's lap. "Read and go under my spell one last time."
Lex swallowed hard, his throat dry, his mind swirling with a mix of conflicting feelings. His master was sending him away. He would be free. What had he done wrong?
His master's book would make him feel better as it always did.
If he was truly only going to experience this one last time, he might as well pick his favorite passage, the one he first read almost four years ago, of a vampire enthralling a hapless young man just like him. Before he had even finished the third paragraph, he was fast asleep, and dreaming of music.
Previous Masterlist
@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives
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Thanksgiving at the Bradshaws | H.C
Click here to see the master list
Happy Thanksgiving, Besties! For those who celebrate, be safe and i hope you have a great day! Whether you celebrate it or not, I just want to let you all know that I am BEYOND grateful for each and everyone of you. Thank you for being here with me 🥰 I love you all so much! ❤️ Happy reading and enjoy! 💕
*Can be read in conjunction with the HLG series! 🦃
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You and Bradley planned a low-key Thanksgiving for the family. It was going to be a laid back and cozy night.
All the kids were asleep while all the adults started to make dinner. It was going to be an early night since everyone had to work early the next morning.
Austin made his famous stuffing. He had brought it the year prior and it had to be the best stuffing you and Bradley had ever had in your lives.
Phoenix made a a potato casserole along with some green beans.
Hangman worked on the turkey, making sure it was pure perfection. (Like himself)
You made mashed potatoes, gravy, and Mac and cheese.
Bradley started to set up the table. He put out the best cutlery you and him had in the house, as well as the best looking plates. The ones that weren’t stained nor microwaved burned from the men of the house.
Bradley wrote name tags for everyone and set each of them on a plate at the table. He grabbed a jar and labeled it “What I am Grateful For.” And placed it in the middle of the table.
“Thanksgiving dinner for brunch is the best idea we’ve ever came up with.” Hangman laughed as he was basting the turkey with broth and butter. “This baby is almost ready!”
Bradley laughed and smiled. “I am so ready to eat. I missed dinner last night so I could be an endless pit today.”
Phoenix scoffed as she finished laying out her dishes she repaired. “You’re always and endless pit, Bradshaw. You and your kids!” She slapped his shoulder as she set the dishes onto the table.
You came over and looked at the table. Bradley had set out some little pumpkins left over from Halloween. He lit a couple of candles, he set put the nice silverware and plates. He put out 2 variances of wine glasses. (Plastic ones for the kiddos) Each plate had everyone’s name on it. It was so cute and simple.
You kissed his cheek. “Thank you for setting the table, Brad.” You placed the Gravy onto the table as Bradley went to grab the mashed potatoes and Mac and cheese.
As everyone started to lay their dishes onto the table, you and Bradley went upstairs to get the kiddies ready. Everyone decided that Thanksgiving themed pajamas were the move.
The boys wore matching turkey onesies, Leia wore a “bring on the leftovers” pajama, Bradley wore a pajama that was full of turkeys, you wore a pajama set that was covered in cute coffees, lattes, pies, and pumpkins.
You and Bradley brought down the kids. The boys were strong enough to start sitting on their own in their high chairs. So you and Bradley placed them into each of theirs. Leia pranced around and looked at all the food that was laid out for everyone.
“GOSH I AM SO HUNGRY!” Leia was so excited. “You and me both, sweetheart.” Bradley picked up Leia and kissed her cheek over and over again.
Everyone started to make their way downstairs.
Phoenix wore an oversized pajama set that said, “official pumpkin pie tester.”
Austin wore a grey pajama set with pumpkin pies all over it. (Hehehe)
Gunner came running into the kitchen with a onesie that had turkeys, pumpkins, and “happy thanksgiving” written all over it.
You all started to take a seat at the table. Bradley sat at the head of the table. You to the left of him. Next to you was Phoenix followed by Austin and then little Bradley in his high chair next to him. On the other side was going to be Leia, Jake, and then Luke in his high chair.
You were all seated and Bradley looked around for Jake.
“Seresin. Hurry the hell up!” You slapped Bradley’s arm and shook your head. “Sorry, sweetheart.” Bradley cleared his throat. “MOVE YOUR ASS, SERESIN!”
“IM COMING!” Jake yelled from the top of the stairs. You could all hear him making his ay down.
“HO-LY. SHIIIIIT.” Bradley, Leia, and Phoenix all said at the same time as Jake made his way down.
Hangman was in a big turkey onesie. He had the hood on and everything.
“That is one big Turkey.” Austin laughed as he looked at Jake.
“Gobble Gobble these nuts, Bradshaw.” Jake laughed and Bradley spit out his water.
“MY CHILDREN ARE IN THE ROOM.” He lunged for Leia’s ears.
Once you all sat down every one took turns writing what they were grateful for and placed it into the jar.
Bradley jumble the jar and everyone took turns asking out a paper and reading what was on it.
You were first, “I am grateful for being able to spend this holiday season (and everyday) with the people I love.” You smiled and looked around. Austin raised his hand. “Mine. I’m grateful to have you all in my life. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
You passed the jar to Phoenix. “I am grateful for being alive and being around those I love the most.” Phoenix looked straight at Bradley. Bradley smiled and nodded at Phoenix. “That be me. I love you guys.”
Phoenix passed the jar to Austin. “I am grateful for food.” Everyone looked slowly at Leia. She started to turn red and giggle. “I AM HUNGRY, OKAY!” She crossed her arms and scowled at everyone as you all laughed.”
Austin gave the jar to Leia. “I am grateful for all my friends and family.” Leia looked up at everyone. Phoenix put her finger up. “Me. I’m grateful for all of you. Life would have been lame if I wasn’t here with you all right now.” She looked at Hangman, “That includes you too, Bagman.” They both laughed.
Leia gave the jar to Hangman. “Here, Uncle Jakey.” He kissed her cheek and pulled out one of the folded papers. “I am grateful for the beautiful family I have been given.” You smiled, “I don’t know where i would have been if I hadn’t met or created any of you. I love you, guys.”
Jake reached over Leia and gave the jar to Bradley. “WELL. We all know who is left.” Jake laughed.
Bradley pulled out the last folded paper. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” He looked down at it and his smile softened. He looked at Jake and gave him a little nod and he nodded back. Bradley sighed. “I am grateful for saving the man that saved me. Thank you Bradshaw for taking me in as one of your own after all these years. I don’t deserve you, buddy. I am thankful for being able to be a part of his and y/n’s family.” Bradley folded the paper back up and smiled at Hangman.
Jake pushed his lips together and smiled. “Of course you’d get mine. But it’s true. I’ll forever be grateful and thankful that you both have allowed me to be a part of your family. Thank you.” You got up and gave Jake a kiss on the cheek. Bradley smiled, “I couldn’t imagine a life without you, Turkeyman.”
Leia gave Jake a kiss. “I love you, uncle Jakey!”
After all the thanks were given you all ate together reminiscing on what the year had been so far. You were all grateful for everything you were given in the last 11 months.
After dinner, you all cozied up on the couches and Leia chose to watch ‘Addams Family Values.’ Her favorite part was when Wednesday sabotaged the play and burned down the thanksgiving set.
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Happy Thanksgiving, my loves! I promise to be posting the next chapter of HLG this coming week. Everything has just been so hectic! But it will be up soon! Thank you for your patience and love. See you in the next one! 🫶🏼
Dinner party guests are in the comments ❤️
#His Little Girl Bradley Bradshaw x Reader#Bradley Bradshaw x Reader#Rooster Bradshaw x Reader#Rooster x Reader#Happy Thanksgiving!#Turkey#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw#Jake Hangman Seresin#Natasha Phoenix Trace#HLG#HLG Universe#Holidays#Holidays With the Bradshaws#Bradshaw Twins#Bradshaw Boys#Top Gun Maverick#TGM Cast#Top Gun#Roosterscockpit Originals#Milesdickpic
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✧.* grow as we go; svt smau.
entry #6 quit!
synopsis: over the past ten years you’ve fallen in love many times. one day someone happens to stumble across your journal sitting out on your nightstand and started posting your entries online. after all of your secrets are leaked it’s clear things would ever be the same again.
𐦍 paring: svt members x afab! reader.
𐦍 feat: non-idol! svt, (g)-idle minnie&soyeon, oc’s
𐦍 genre/s: reader is super angsty low-key, fluffy, sexual themes.
𐦍 content: swearing, bullying, crazy ex’s, mentions of sexual , reader talks about parental death, sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃
word count: 2.8k
masterlist ▸ 5. 005. chronic memory keeper ▸ 007. snake in the grass
Stepping into her kitchen was the most relaxing feeling ever, it had been a while since y/n had the chance to dine in with a recipe she carefully put together or found on pinterest and craft something nice. Spending hours on end not thinking about her own problems and just focusing on a hobby she enjoys.
After her overly embarrassing text messages hinting to Minghao that she slightly hoped he was single had her desperately wishing they wouldn’t come back to bite her in the ass.
Cleaning out the insides of the chicken and placing them in a bowl saved for her next soup stock, she massages pads of butter or seasoning onto it’s skin and placed it in her hot oven, before moving onto the thinly silenced potatoes and root vegetables she had prepped that morning, boiling and simmering them.
A chime from her doorbell stole her away from her stress free time in the kitchen. She was excited to see Minghao but it wasn’t him who was waiting at her threshold. opening it to reveal a small package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a matching twine bow.
No note was attached on the outer side revealing who may have left the wrapped item for her to find. So she decided to ignore it, just for now at least and get back to preparing her meal for a friend.
An hour had passed since the last time someone was ringing the doorbell and left waiting for her to quickly wash her hands.
“Y/n?”
Minghao.
“Sorry, one second I just need to wash my hands.”
She yelled, leaving the water running and rushing herself to the guest bathroom next to the door, making sure she looked alright and didn’t miss an out of place hair or swipe of flour on her face.
Opening her front door, she revealed Mingaho standing with a paper bag in his hand as well as a bouquet of her favorite flowers, Hydrangeas swinging to his side.
She looked him up and down forgetting she invited him here and still not inviting him in. He was dressed in a perfectly ripped pair of jeans and matching long denim coat, underneath she caught a glimpse of a white button down top missing the clasps of the top three buttons revealing his chest. He looked incredible.
“Can I come in?”
“Oh, shit. Sorry. Yes, please.”
“This is for you, some wine and snacks for after dinner. I picked them up from the chinese market near my gallery.”
“That’s so thoughtful of you, thank you. The flowers are beautiful, how did you know I liked hydrangeas?”
“I saw on Seokmin’s instagram that he took you to a flower farm last year, I just assumed.”
“Ah. Well you assumed right, they’re really gorgeous.”
“What are you making? It smells so good.”
“Roast chicken and root veggies, with some wild rice and my mom’s very special, very secret recipe sauce.
Minghao was amazed watching y/n move around the kitchen with ease, seemingly like she was dancing around the marble floor.
“I have to admit, I really thought you were joking when you told me you could cook. I almost expected you to order food and make it look like you were the chef.”
“Ouch. That hurts my pride a little bit. Actually, my dad was a chef. He used to own a restaurant. I spent a lot of time there as a kid helping him.”
“Was? What happened if you don’t mind me asking?”
“He passed away when I was a teenager. It’s a long story.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s okay, I miss him, but cooking helps me feel close to him.”
“Now I’m very sorry I ever doubted your skill.”
Your laugh made Minghao happy, he knew he probably struck a chord in you but it was nice that even when you were sad you could still find humor in anything.
“Need my help with anything?”
“Just for you to either open that bottle of wine or make me a cocktail, dealer's choice.”
“Got it.”
Y/n’s dining partner strode off to the chrome bar cart and twiddled his fingers around the various bottles of liquor, some full and some half empty, giving him an indication of the things she chose for herself.
“Here you are, chef.”
“Wow, thank you bartender. What is it?”
“Try it and find out.”
Y/n took a sip from the slightly pink cocktail glass, swishing it in her mouth for dramatic effect.
“Okay, so.. Gin, Campari, a splash of grapefruit bitters, and lemon?”
“Wow, are you like a weird super taster or something? What the fuck.”
“No, just a girl who loves gin old fashioneds.”
“You are one surprising specimen.”
“Shut up. Come on, let's eat.”
After basically finishing every edible thing on the plate, Minghao offered to clean up for you as a thank you for the efforts of you cooking him one of the best dinners he’s had the pleasure of eating.
Y/n switched into her role as bartender and opened a beautiful bottle of red wine for the pair to sip on as their night continued on.
“Thank you for cleaning. I’m sorry again about the whole weird ass texts I was sending you. I was way too drunk to be alone with my thoughts and access to the internet.”
“I told you it’s alright. I actually found it sort of cute.”
“Cute? Maybe you are crazier than I thought you were.”
“No, come on. You know you’re cute. Everyone tells you all the time, I agree with them.”
“Shut up, THE Xu Minghao thinks I’M cute? I’m so flattered.”
Minghao playfully slapped y/n’s hand off of her chest, knocking the red liquid around in her cup, causing it to fall onto the white fabric of her pants.
“Shit. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s ok, I can just go throw them in the wash. One second.”
Y/n departed into her room, changing into a pair of pink pajama bottoms, not removing her corseted tank top in the process, fleeing quickly into the laundry room at the end of the hall to wash the stain out.
Minghao in the meantime caught a glimpse of the twine wrapped package on her coffee table and went over to see what it could possibly be. In the time he spent inspecting it he didn’t notice his female counterpart entering back into the room.
“Someone left that for me at my door. Weird right?”
“Yeah, sort of. Should we open it?”
“I’m kind of scared to be honest.”
“Okay, I have an idea.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“Trust me?”
“Maybe.”
Minghao stepped back to the now familiar bar cart and grabbed a bottle of whiskey that had been left unopened until this night, placing two shot glasses in front of them both.
“What does taking shots have to do with us opening the package?”
“What doesn’t it have to do with the package? It’s brown, similar to the wrapping. It’s sealed, maybe because you don’t like it or it’s not something you’re sure of. And it’s interesting. So we take two shots, then we open it, then regardless of what it is, we play a game. The game selfishly is for me to get to know you deeper. I feel like I’ve spent so much time with you and I don’t know that much about you, other than what was exposed. So, you in?”
“Yes.”
Y/n and Minghao cheered to their now growing connection and he placed the small package in her lap, holding onto her knee, getting the feeling that she needed moral support based on mutual gut feelings.
“Okay.”
“I’m sure it’s not bad.”
As y/ns hands ripped apart the brown paper and untied the rope around the mysterious box, it revealed a soft purple journal, now torn apart, pages basically falling out from end to end all over the couch between them.
“My journal.”
Her voice shifted, she was no longer happy or full of anticipation, she was confused and slightly disappointed as her precious and private life fell out in front of her, photos, entries, and shards of her life.
“Oh, y/n. I-”
“No. Don’t say sorry, please.”
“Why the fuck do people care? Just like why am I someone's target? Especially if it’s someone I know, what is so bad that you can’t just fucking talk to me about it? Sorry, I don’t know if that makes sense at all, but I just don’t get it.”
“I think some people are just scared of genuine conflict, so instead of asking they make things about themselves and take the other person's feelings out of the equation to feed their own.”
“Why give it back now? Am I expected to just ignore my privacy being invaded and be like well it’s over good? This makes me feel even more uneasy.”
“Maybe they left you a clue or something by giving this back?”
Minghao collected the various contents that were left as ashes for you, feeding you more alcohol and not talking while he did so.
“y/n? Here.”
A small envelope, matching the shade of purple of the cover of your journal was tapped inside the cover, inside a typed note.
‘Just because it comes back to you, doesn’t mean it’ll always stay the same. See you soon. Xo.’
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“I guess they’re trying to tell you more will come out? And that they have no purpose for keeping the evidence anymore.”
“Can we.. maybe, just for the rest of the night ignore this? I cannot focus on this anymore and it’s ruining my chance to have fun with you.”
“Please. Let me distract you.”
“Do you want to change? Or need clothes? I know Seokmin and Joshua left some stuff here in case they ever stayed over.”
“They wouldn’t mind?”
“No, of course not. I’ll be right back.”
Y/n ran back into her room, gathering various styles of t-shirts and sweatpants to make Minghao more comfortable.
“Here, there's some options. I know you care a lot about your style, so pick what you want.”
Mingaho grabbed a black t-shirt with a logo from Joshua’s coffee shop on the front and an odd pair of Seokmin’s disney character pajama pants, just to make the air go back to it’s lighthearted space.
“Oh my god, you look amazing.”
“ I just wanted you to smile.”
“Mission accomplished, Mickyhao.”
“That is an awful nickname.”
“Shut up, don’t be a dick.”
“Got it. Okay, so let’s play a little game, y/n. I’ll ask you some questions, if you don’t want to answer you can drink and you can do the same for me. Got it?”
“Got it. You go first.”
“Okay, so what stops you from going after the things you want?”
“Hmm, I’m shy, I guess? I don’t want to risk changing how things already are any more than they have changed on their own. I think confessions and love declarations are unnerving, I could ruin something good just for a single chance. Not knowing shit freaks me out.”
“So you’re a control freak, got it.”
“No. Not a control freak, just a loser.”
“That’s accurate.”
“You’re stupid. Okay, Minghao. What made you want to pursue art?”
“I guess it was just always something I was good at? I loved being able to tell the truth about stuff without having to say it outloud, people can perceive anything they want, but I know how I truly feel and nobody can take it away from me. The truth, I mean.”
“How are you so certain that its the truth?”
“Well, it's my truth.”
“Touche”
“Why didn’t you tell Minnie about Seungcheol? Were you ever going to?”
“Yikes. I guess, I didn’t feel like it was important. We hooked up way before they ever dated, he was just helping me out with something that scared me, which I didn’t think was a big deal. I knew she liked him, but she told me she’d never confess. I guess I didn’t think it was as big of a problem until it was. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah it does, how did it happen?”
“No, no, no. One question at a time. How did it happen for you?”
“My virginity? I was at a party, junior year before college and I met a girl. She was nice, really pretty, and she seemed to enjoy my company. I guess I just asked her if she wanted to fuck and she agreed, but after she told me she had a boyfriend and that was that.”
“So she cheated on her boyfriend just to fuck you? Alright, good for you I guess. Bad for the boyfriend.”
“Have you ever cheated on someone?”
“Me? God no. I haven’t even had the chance to be with anyone that seriously considers sleeping around cheating. I don’t think I could do that. Why? Have you?”
“Nope, but I guess I’ve been the person someone used to cheat, so it feels sort of like cheating.”
“Since we seem to be two overly honest people for this game, want to drink just for fun as well?”
“Please. Cheers.”
“Okay y/n, I have a question.”
“Yes?”
“What was it about Joshua or Mingyu that attracted you to them?”
“With Shua it was how kind he was, everyone knows it and can see that. It just sort of radiates around him. I mean he’s beautiful, they both are. In such different ways. I’ll probably always view him as that first boy I loved, he’s really special to me. As for Mingyu, I guess I never knew why at first. He was just my hot friend that I hooked up with sometimes, but the more and more we hung out the more I realized how smart he was and how intriguing his character is.”
“Do you still have feelings for them?”
“I’m not sure what my feelings are for anyone at this moment, no.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?”
“Would you ever consider me the way you consider them?”
“Can I take a shot?”
“Sure, but you still have to answer the question. Come on.”
“Yeah, I would. I like getting to know you, I appreciate how fiercely committed you are to riding for the people you love. I like that you’re artistic like me, that we can laugh about wild stuff, but also be honest and talk about anything and everything in between. You’ve really made me happy even in the short time of knowing you. And to say that I’d have to think about considering you is silly, because I definitely already have. Seokmin and Jun think I have a crush on you.”
“You don’t?”
“Nobody needs to know.”
“I do.”
“You do what? Need to know if I like you?”
“No, like you.”
“Wait.”
“A lot actually. More than I ever considered I would. I think you’re actually a really spectacular person despite everything.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yeah. You can.”
The smell of whiskey on Minghao’s breath made the hair on Y/N’s arms stand up as she fell into his touch, the kiss exploded into more and more touching and exploration of the pair's bodies. And continued on through the night, more than once.
The next morning y/n woke up with a headache, checking the clock on her phone revealing it was almost time for Joshua to come and whisk her away from her new found bliss in bed next to Minghao.
“Going somewhere?”
“What?”
“You have a suitcase in the corner and you keep checking your phone, is everything alright? I wasn’t that bad was I?”
“No, but I’m going to see my mom this weekend with Joshua, I almost forgot. He’s on his way.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. I’ll just shower quickly and sneak out. You can stay as long as you need, I have an extra key in the blue jar next to my door, just lock it up for me?”
“Sure, but come here quickly.”
Minghao pulled y/n in for a long sweet kiss, before she ran into the warm water of her shower.
Minghao propped himself up in her bed, collecting himself before making an attempt at a small getaway. Coming face to face with the unlocking door of the same apartment he spent his night in before.
“Y/n, hey can I- Oh, Minghao. Hey.”
“Joshua, Hi. Sorry I was just leaving.”
“Without saying goodbye?”
“What?”
“To y/n, she’s in the shower, you’re just leaving?”
“I don’t need to explain myself to you, for your information we already said a very thorough goodbye. Have fun on your trip, take care of her.”
“Hah. Alright.”
“I’m serious. Make sure she knows I’ll miss her.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.”
Minghao grabbed his jacket and slid out of her front door, looking behind him before walking away from y/n already feeling jealous she’d be spending her weekend with Joshua and not him, but he had things he couldn't tell her. Not yet.
"Oh, Joshua. I didn't think you were coming yet. Sorry, let me just grab my stuff."
"No it's fine, I just wanted to grab some snacks, hope that's okay?"
"Of course, take whatever you want. Give my five?"
"I saw your overnight guest on his way out."
"Yeah, he stayed over. I made him dinner, we just got drunk I didn't want him to have to drive home like that. Unsafe, you know."
"Right, well I'll meet you in the car."
"No need, I'm ready. I cannot wait to have the Boston Creme Pie from Boi's, I'm literally salivating thinking about it."
"We should go when we get into town and order an entire one."
"I see why we're friends now. Come on."
Joshua grabbed y/ns luggage, waiting for her to lock up her apartment and the pair headed to his car waiting outside.
bonus:
note/s: y/n love triangle era starting fr. srry this took a second and is a lil chaotic, I've been a lil busy. but!! I already have the next part on hand and will be posting v soon, some shit will be going down at minghaos show, but I didn't tell u that. xoxoxo. ily.
taglist: @sun-daddy-yoriichi,@hipsdofangirl @kissesfrmwonwoo, @minhui896, @wonwooz1, porridgesblog,, jasssy051, @soonyoungblr, @saucegirlreads, @musingsofananxiouspotato, @young-adult-summer, @punkhazardlaw, @bibs-world @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @wonuulvr @woozixo
#❃ - duffytalks#seventeen fluff#seventeen scenarios#seventeen headcanons#seventeen x reader#svt reactions#seventeen imagines#svt fic#svt texts#svt imagines#svt scenarios#svt x reader#svt fluff#svt fanfic#svt smut#svt smau#seventeen smau#seventeen smut#seventeen au#seventeen fic#seventeen fake texts#svt fake texts#seventeen x y/n#seventeen x you#seventeen x oc#svt x oc#svt x you#svt x y/n#svt ff#svt sns
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Scars and Souvenirs
Chapter 2
Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.
Pairing: Sy / OFC
Word count: 2,324
Rating: NO MINORS, NSFW under cut. Police yourself please, mentions of war, being a POW, death and animal abuse. A little more detail in this one. More abused animals rescued all happy endings I promise.
Sy texted Debbie for the tenth time. His Ma was still talking and didn't look to be slowing down anytime soon and he didn't want her doing all the work herself.
Sy: Sugar, come back to the house. Ma's still ramblin' a mile a minute and showing no signs of slowin' down. Got steaks marinating for dinner. We can put the round bales out tomorrow and I'll help you finish brushin' everyone down then.
Deb: You spend time with your mom. I got dis! I have one more thing to do and then I'm comin' to the house. I haven’t been alone all day anyway. I have a friend.
Sy: oh?
(Not my dog or my pic)
Deb: she said you better have some steak for her too!
"Austin, are you listening to me?" Sara Syverson scolded.
"Sorry," he told her sheepishly. " I'm trying to get Deb to stop for the day. She's been out there for hours."
"Well honey it's hard work taking care of animals, she needs to know that."
Sy's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "What?"
"This animal rescue stuff is all her idea. She's spending your money and using you as a workhorse," she fussed. She loved her son and it broke her heart to see him used like this.
"Wait just a minute here, ma. I don't know what you're going on about but you are very wrong! This ranch was my dream and I asked her to join me. When we heard about the horses being abused and sold for meat we BOTH wanted to rescue them, not just her." He moved to sit by her on the soda and took her hand. "I don't know why you don't like her or what's going on with you but you're blaming her for things that aren't her fault."
"You are with her 24/7. Is it too much to ask that you spend some time with your momma?"
Sy cringed, "No of course not. I'm sorry," he hugged her as he tried to blink the tears from his eyes. "I never realized," his breath caught in his throat. "I'll do better, I promise."
The screen door banged open and Aika came bounding in jumping up on Sy sensing his anxiety. Debbie came in a few seconds later. "Wheew it's hot out there." She stopped in her tracks as she picked up on the heaviness in the room. "Is everything ok?"
"Yea," Sy got up and hugged her. "We've just been catchin' up." She gave him a concerned look but didn't push. "Will you fix your famous potatoes for the grill before you take a shower sugar?"
Deb laughed. "Are you trying to say I smell, Sir?" She teased as she headed to the kitchen squeaking when he playfully smacked her ass.
"Ya reek sugar," he smirked as he got the foil out for her.
She could feel Sara's eyes on her as they moved around the kitchen, perfectly attuned to each other without even having to speak. She scrubbed her hands good then put some butter in a dish to melt in the microwave before moving to the sink to scrub the potatoes. Once that was done she retrieved the melted butter and started tearing off sheets of foil for each one. Brushing the potatoes all over with the butter she then sprinkled them with sea salt, Italian herbs, garlic and onion powder then wrapped them all up tightly. "You sure that's all you want me to do?"
"Affirmative, get outta here." He smacked her ass again then grabbed her wrist and pulled her flush against him kissing her when she started to walk away. He took advantage of her soft gasp and deepened the kiss exploring her mouth and getting lost in the feeling of her pressed tight against him. They both nearly jumped out of their skin when his mom's voice rang out loudly. Deb hid her flushed face against his neck.
"It's getting late. Shouldn't you be starting dinner?" Sara sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"I'm gonna go clean up," She said, still blushing wildly. She didn't miss the disapproving look Sara shot her as she rushed out of the room.
~~~~~~♡~~~~~~
Sy watched as Deb flopped face first across the bed still fully dressed. He toed off his boots and laid down on his back beside, her resting his hand on her ass.
" Mmmmm mmmmhm hummm." He laughed, "can't understand you with your face smashed in the mattress sugar." She turned her face toward him. "Your mom hates me"
"No, it's not you sugar, it's me. She's not been the same since I got stateside," he shrugged. "Guess her baby boy is too broken now." If the word 'D'fuq??' had a face Debbie was using it on him now and he couldn’t help the big belly laugh that escaped him.
"Austin Lee Syverson, that woman loves you more than life itself." She got to her hands and knees and straddled him pressing soft kisses on his lips and jaw. "And you, my love, are not broken. You are handsome, loving, passionate, strong, a leader, a hero." She punctuated each word with a kiss or a nip to his neck as she reached under his shirt and lightly ran her nails over his chest and stomach.
"Fuck", Sy moaned as she ground her core against his now hard bulge. "Way too many clothes," he growled before quickly stripping them both. This time he crawled on top of her with a wicked grin. He kissed his way down her body only stopping when he reached her shaved mound. "Mine," his growl was possessive. Since his return he was extremely possessive of her and didn't want anyone else even near her. He wanted the world to know she was his so he had started marking her by sucking or biting places and today it would be here.
He bent her legs and pushed them up to her chest, opening her beautiful flower to him. "So wet for me sugar. Look at you, already clinching, needing my cock."
"Please Sy," She mewled as she bucked up trying for his touch.
He quickly thrust three fingers knuckle deep into her while taking his left hand and exposing her hidden pearl before diving in and licking and sucking it.
"Oh fuck! Sy!" She circled her hips thrusting against his hand and mouth seeking that pleasure starting to build in her belly. The scruff on his face was leaving beard burn but she didn’t care Sy's mouth was a national treasure and the way he used suction and even a light scraping of teeth could make her cum in an instant. "Oh god!" She reached down and pushed his face harder against her throbbing pussy fucking up against his face until she cum with a scream, her body clenching and quivering, her legs shaking. As the throb started to die down she felt Sy's teeth sink in gently against her bare mound marking her causing her to his and yelp.
He licked the mark he'd made to soothe the ache before placing a kiss on the red mark already forming then crawled back up her body. "Mine."
"Only yours, always," She pulled him into a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue.
He kept her legs hitched up by his arms and rubbed his cock over her still sensitive folds before he started pressing inside her. They both moaned at the sensation."So fuckin' tight. Your body is made for me, sugar. Fits like a fuckin glove."
Debbie clinched around him as he filled her almost to full, the final push making her feel like she was going to burst leaving her panting. "So big baby. So full." She was beyond the ability to string words together at this point much less form sentences.
Always the best at what he does, Sy moved slowly at first. Slow, languid thrusts while he circled his hips. After her third orgasm clamped down on him he couldn’t hold back any more and started pounding into her. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, the wet sound of her juices leaking out around him and the cock drunk look of bliss on her face and he felt his balls start to draw up tight and his dick swell even more. "One more sugar. Give me one more. I wanna feel you milking me when I cum!" Reaching between them he started rubbing her clit and soon they were both falling apart crying out each other's names as he collapsed on top of her. He laid there a minuet before slipping out of her and rolling to his side pulling her against him. "I love you."
Deb snuggled to his side and pressed a kiss to his chest. "Love to Sy."
~~~~~~♡~~~~~~
A few days had passed and things were normal on the ranch. Deb had been researching an upcoming auction while Sy was trying to find a home for a mare and her foal that were ready for a family. "The Winston's are going to take them," he smiled happily.
"That’s wonderful. Their little girl will have a ball with the foal."
He walked over to her desk and sat on the edge of it. "Any prospects? "
"A few, sadly. There are a lot of rumors about a stallion that was beaten and abused to the point no one could even approach him then left uncared for. I read that his hooves are so overgrown they are curled around his feet."
"Damn," he shook his head. "I'll have the farrier and the vet on stand-by for Friday morning. Hopefully we can get him calm enough to give him some help right away."
"Sometimes I just really hate people."
He kissed the top of her head and hugged her. "There are a few good ones out there still."
"So What you're saying is I can't break 'em all and make' em snap like glow sticks or push 'em down the stairs like slinkies?" She asked innocently.
He flashed his crooked grin. "Just a few of the many reasons I love ya."
"Life will never be boring with me."
"That’s for damn sure," he chuckled. "Do we have everything we need in case this storm front is as bad as they think it's gonna be?" It was that season where bad weather could knock the power for days due to floods, wind and debris and they were calling for a bad one to start late tonight or early in the morning.
"Animal's food and backup water supply is safely stored and ready. Aika had plenty of food and treatos. I stocked up on food and supplies for us yesterday and incase shit really hits the fan we gave the lovely MRE's hidden in the closet." They both cringed at the thought. "We filled the sandbags and got them ready the day before yesterday and we picked up three gerri cans of fuel for the generators. We are about as set as we are gonna be." She could see the crease between his brows and that he was chewing at his bottom lip which were all warnings of anxiety building in him. She reached over and put her hand on his thigh giving it a gentle squeeze. "You worried sweetheart?"
He took her hand in both of his. She could always tell if even the slightest thing was off with him. She and she alone was the reason that he made it through his POW recovery and the loss of his men. She spent weeks just holding him while he screamed and cried fighting tortures who were no longer there physically but in his mind were electrocuting him, beating him, breaking his bones, stabbing him, burning him, trying to drown him and killing his men and torturing them in front of him because he was an officer and they wanted information. He shook the thoughts from his mind when he felt her hands on his face and saw her standing in front of him. "No, I'm not worried about the storm sugar."
"Then what's going on up here? " She softly tapped his forehead.
"Ma needs me to come by and put some sand bags by her back door and put the shutters on her windows."
"Ok." She wasn't sure why he'd be upset by that. "I'll grab my shoes."
"She wants me to come alone."
Ah, there it was. Sy hadn't spent more than 20 minutes without Debbie where she could get to him quickly since he landed in Germany. She was his anchor. According to the army shrink, just the same way that sounds, smells and other things could trigger PTSD her voice, her scent and her touch helped ground him and pull him back. "I can go and wait in the truck," She offered.
He pressed his forehead against hers. "No. It's just Ma's place right? What could possibly happen to trigger me there? Besides, I've not had a flashback in months. I'll be fine."
He tried to sound convincing but she could tell he felt anything but. Protectiveness told her to demand to go with him but she knew she couldn't. Sy was a grown man making astounding strides in recovery and she had to show him her faith in him. She smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I'm a text or call away if you need anything."
He gave her a kiss and a hug before calling for Aika and heading to his moms.
@shellyshellshell
@enchantedbytomandhenry
#henry cavill#syverson fluff#syverson x you#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill smut#henry cavill x reader
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cant get over protective but slightly (slightly is a stretch) dark knight nikolai oh GOD
playing on the Grisha Disney princess power I mentioned in a previous post— VERH SHORT BUT JUST LOSTEN
Like imagine you’re dating a knight. Lets call him….idk. Kyle. HAHA
So this Kyle fellow is paranoid of Grisha. Sir Nikolai was around during the time that women were accused of being witches for their Grisha power SO, because you have that lovely Disney Princess Grisha power where you can speak to and befriend animals, your boyfriend is scared of you.
Meanwhile Nikolai dotes on you as much as he can. He isn’t afraid of your power—never has been—and if anything is completely enamored with the way you have deer, bunnies, and cute birds absolutely wrapped around your finger. You’re like a girl from a fairytale, you know? And he’s your brave knight.
At least he wants to be.
The day he found out that his fellow knight and your boyfriend was going to attempt to kill you—witchcraft is a horrible misconception for Grisha power—Nikolai has never ridden so fast to your adorable little cottage in his life.
You’ve barely gotten your glass of wine to your lips—you planned a romantic dinner complete with all of Sir Kyle’s favorites: roast lamb, baby potatoes, greens straight from the garden, fresh baked bread with butter, the whole nine yards—when your front door just slams open and Nikolai lunges for you.
Your shriek of surprise is enough time for him to yank your glass out of your hand, his nose immediately flying to the rim. Oh god. Then his head is turning slowly—so slowly—towards Sir Kyle, the other knight staring at his superior with a pale face.
“Drink it.” Nikolai says, offering the wine glass to the knight.
“I—Sir, I—”
“I said drink it. Did I fucking stutter?”
When it’s clear he won’t comply you’re beyond confused. Even more so when Nikolai grabs the man and makes him drink it, one hand prying his mouth open while the other works at his throat, triggering the muscles for him to swallow.
Works every time.
But then.
But then Sir Kyle is gagging and shaking, foaming at the mouth as whatever poison he put into your drink kicks in. Nikolai immediately has you by the arms, holding you to him, ignoring your gasping and shocked cries for help.
“He tried to kill you.”
“You don’t know that—!”
“He wanted you dead, Y/N.” He’d grab your face harshly in one hand and force you to look at him. “You’re telling me that being able to talk to bunnies is an excuse to kill you? Look around, Y/N.” He’d grip your chin harder and force you to acknowledge the weapons and religious memorabilia your boyfriend had stored around the cottage.
Nikolai forced you to realize your boyfriend had tried to kill you. The same man that had insisted that your gift for whispering to birds is creepy and—
Hold on.
Imagine one morning Nikolai is planning to visit you (how could he not, you’re the sweetest girl he’s ever met) and he sees you reading a fairytale to about six baby deer. They’ve got their heads on your lap, your legs, cuddled up against you, your powers allowing them the ability to understand as you rub their velvet ears and giggle whenever they nibble at your dress. So freaking cute I stg.
Nikolai knows you aren’t some evil witch. He cares about you so much you don’t even know it.
But when he sees you crying over a man that tried to kill you he has no patience left. He’s digging his fingers into your cheeks and staring down at you—his love—and insisting this was the only way.
Sure enough, weeks later, you’re sitting on the ground in the forest.
Omg WAIT—DRABBLE—
You’re sitting alone, one hand running over the snoozing fawn that’s head is in your lap as you relax in the meadow, surrounded by trees and flowers as you enjoy the forest. The mother of the baby deer lays just beside you, her nose touching your leg as she dozes in the Sun.
You love these animals more than your fellow humans at this point.
The knowledge that your former lover tried to poison you is hard to ignore. You’d trusted him—loved him—and he’d wanted to kill you all because of superstition.
Not Nikolai.
You heard the sound of footsteps and looked up to see Sir Nikolai, Captain of the guard, walking slowly towards you with a basket in hand. These days the animals barely react to him. At first they’d needed lots of reassurance; since he couldn’t understand them as you could this resulted in lengthy debates over your safety, knights in general, and whether they’d be killed for sport. You’d assured them that no, they’d be fine.
So now the baby deer is snoring softly, it’s head on your thigh, your fingers trailing gently over its ears as you smile at Nikolai. He’s so sweet. So sweet. He asked you to try to teach him to talk to animals but you explained it was a skill somehow woven into your DNA. He laughed every time dozens of small birds landed on his shoulders. He grinned when your deer friends nudged him with their heads, earning boyish laughter from the knight.
He was so sweet with them.
And with you.
He sits beside you now, chin propped casually upon your shoulder as you read the story aloud. Even though your cheeks are pink and hot you continue, barely flinching when he reaches out to run his fingers through your soft, silky hair. It’s long now at this point—long and woven with flowers. When he leans in to breathe in the scent of one you pause, turning your face to look at him.
He’s so close.
God.
His grin is so utterly attractive you find yourself smiling back, one hand on the fawn’s head as you pause your story. The only reason why he doesn’t kiss you is the irritated noise the deer makes, it’s little head lifting to shoot an almost annoyed look at Nikolai.
You smile.
“They’re impatient.” You explain, tickling the fawn’s head. It’s mother is nudging your thigh with her head, making a small noise of complaint. “Such sweet creatures. You know they—”
You’re cut off when he kisses you, one hand touching your face as he leans in, pouring all of his love and devotion into the single gesture.
Of course you respond.
How could you not?
STOPPP NIKOLAI WITH BABY DEER RUNNING AROUNF HAS ME GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET
#shadow and bone#nikolai lantsov#nikolai lantsov x reader#wattpad#nikolai x reader#shadow and bone imagine#fluff#knight nikolai lantsov#sir nikolai lantsov#sir Nikolai
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KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Three
RIMMING / FINGERING/HANDJOB / DRY HUMPING
(Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader)
Summary: It's Day 03 of @absurdthirst's Kinktober! Frankie becomes the first of the four boys to have you for the evening.
Rating: Mature 18+
Warnings: Mention of food, drinking, language, light spanking, fingering, choking, no use of Y/N
Word Count: 2.4k
Frankie thought it must have been a fluke.
With the way everything was going at the moment, juggling fatherhood, jumping through hoops to get his license back, the rehabilitation, he needed a break. All the boys started arguing about who got you first, Santiago thought it should be him because he suggested the whole thing, Benny thought it should be him because he never had the initial meeting. Him and Will just wanted you and that was enough to get them riled up.
It was childish to pull straws but he couldn’t complain with the outcome.
For the first time ever, Frankie had come first.
He wasn’t ever a man who would go big, there wasn’t going to be a fancy restaurant or flowers though he knew how to cook a damn good meal. Of course, he’d blitz his place clean, packed away the majority of the kids toys from view, changed the sheets. He dressed the table as best he could, stuck on the lamps to get some ambience before chewing his lip over the set up.
The knock interrupted his train of thought.
You’re behind the door, smoothing out your dress when it swings open. Startled, you compose yourself with a smile and Francisco’s expression softens.
“Hey,” his voice cracks.
“Hey.”
He steps back and lets you in, you bump his hip as you pass.
“Well, ain’t you a lucky boy.”
His head drops as he laughs, scratching his scalp.
“Guess I am, yeah.”
Your eyes fall to the tea towel thrown over his shoulder, your hand stretches and you gently pick up the corner.
“Are you making me dinner?”
He looks back to you, eyes big, “It’s nothing special.”
The smell of his cooking reached your nostrils.
“Whatever it is, it smells delicious.”
You watch his shoulders relax, his breath finally releasing.
He hated that he was this nervous, it’s been a while since he’s tried to impress a lady and he’d admit he wasn’t the best at it. Sometimes he came off a little cold, it took him a while to warm up to someone and though your first meeting was brief, you melted him quicker than usual.
“I’ll admit being skilful with my hands has it’s perks.”
You hum, “You better put those to good use later.”
Frankie feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, the shiver running down his spine, he’d make sure to hold you to it.
He cleared his throat, “How do you like your steak?”
“Medium well.”
You didn’t know what he thought to that, he just nodded and moved towards the kitchen.
Settling onto his dining table, he handed you a beer from the fridge, apologising at his lack of wine. He didn’t seem like the type to have a bottle stashed away, saying that, he didn’t seem like the type to have a soft patterned shirt in his wardrobe yet he did. He even went to the effort of protecting it with an apron when he started to fry the meat.
Watching Frankie was like seeing a cookery show live, he was perfectly juggling the food in the oven and on the hob, barely breaking a sweat. He chucks a wedge of butter into the frying pan, tilting the pan towards him as he throws spoonfuls over the steak. You try to remember the name of the technique but his smooth wrist action is distracting.
This meal was more than special.
The plate in front of you was beautiful, a sliced steak coated in garlic butter with a perfect cube of dauphinoise potatoes and greens. You questioned where to start, your mouth watering as the fork in your hand floated until you finally made a decision.
“Oh my god, Frankie,” your voice was muffled from the meat falling apart effortlessly in your mouth.
“Good?”
You nodded, already stabbing more onto your cutlery.
After cleaning up, Frankie found you sprawled on the sofa, eyes closed with a hand rubbing over your stomach. He considered pressing the cold beer glass to your bare skin but decided against it, maybe another time.
“You better not be falling asleep on me,” he huffed.
You open one eye, “Just resting my eyes.”
He shakes the bottles in his hand and you scramble to straighten up, leaning over the back of the sofa to take one.
“Thought I’d stick on a movie.”
The corner of your lips curl, he didn’t quite say watch.
“Sure.”
He flopped to the sofa, opening his body up for you to come closer. You shuffle, bringing your knees to your chest before snuggling into his frame. Unlike the others, he was softer, his physique not the same as it once was though all you could think about was getting that shirt off. Your free hand stroked his chest.
The pair of you settled further into the sofa, the film Frankie chose nothing new so you mostly sat and talked.
Frankie listened to you as you rambled, an arm gently hugging you closer, a broad hand laying on your thigh. His eyes roamed your face as you talked, catching the lines that appeared when you laughed, how your eyes glistened even in the soft light.
“I’m sorry, Frankie, I feel like I’m talking you to death.”
He blinked, wondering how much time had passed for you to say that.
“Not at all,” he said, taking a swig of his beer. “I prefer to listen.”
His hand had unconsciously moved further up your leg, fingers playing with the hem of your dress.
“Did you have something else in mind?”
He laughed, “I’m not quite as smooth as the others.”
You smile, brushing your hand over his patchy beard, fingernails catching in his whiskers. His tongue flicked over his bottom lip. It’s like you could read his mind, you spread your legs just enough for him to slip a hand in between.
His breath runs ragged when a fingertip grazes your soaked underwear.
“Fuck me,” he sighs.
Your teeth sink into your lip before he looks at you, eyes darker than usual. Your cunt twitches, your arousal dampening the fabric more.
He smirks.
“Stand up and take your panties off.”
His tone was stern, completely different in manner than usual. You find yourself following his order immediately. Hiking up your dress, he hungrily watches as you hook each side of your underwear with your thumbs and slip them seamlessly to your ankles.
Closing his legs, he wraps each hand behind your knees and draws you to him. You straddle him, his palms warm against your skin as he roams your thighs. He continues up, palming the plumpness of your ass, his mouth slightly agape, eyes still meeting yours.
There’s a quick slap against your butt cheek, a little yelp escaping your mouth. His expression remains unchanged, hand soothing the patch before he did it again. This time, you bite your lip, stifling your giggle as your inner walls clench.
His hands move back round, fingertips grazing the creases between your legs and hip.
You bunch your dress in your fists, displaying your wetness to Frankie, his eyes dropping to take a look. Your head tilts, attempting to view his expression.
With two fingers, he follows the line of your mound and brushes featherlight over your clit. He notes how the goosebumps raise to the surface, how your breath falls heavier. He draws his fingers up and down your inner lips, scooping the juices over your clit before applying more pressure.
You sigh, head falling back, elongating your neck. It was a temporary distraction, he’d sink his teeth into that later. He continues to circle the bundle of nerves, watching in adoration as you gradually unravel.
“Fuck, Frankie.”
It made him smile wider than he had in a while, the sweet sound of your whine as he stopped your hips from pushing deeper into his touch. He moved his two fingers lower, slipping them into your opening with ease. You moan as you feel them push between your folds, the digits stroking within.
Pumping in and out at a leisurely pace, Frankie rolls his wrist to ensure he touches as much of your walls as he can. Your eyelids flutter shut as your mouth relaxes, your breaths and moans overwhelming his senses, the television no longer audible.
The sweat was beginning to cling to your hairline, the knuckles that held onto your dress turning white. He felt your legs lock against his and with a free hand, he pressed a thumb to your clit. You choke, your features scrunching tight as you grab for him, one hand coiling around his wrist, the other to his shoulder.
He stops moving as you try to breathe.
“I don’t know how much longer I’ll last.”
You finally manage to speak.
Removing his thumb from your clit, he picks your head up to face him, drawing circles on your flushed cheeks.
“It’s ok, querida,” his smile had you melting. “I know you aren’t.”
Your single laugh was released in a staggered breath.
“Think you can take three?”
Three?
No one had ever really asked you before, you don’t think any of exes had tried. He feels your walls twitch, your arousal dripping down his fingers.
“Hold your dress up for me.”
The desire was heavy in your stomach, a warmth spreading through your entire body and tingling in your fingertips. Your hands shake through pure excitement as you bunch it a little higher than last time, your navel now on display.
Pulling his slick coated fingers out, your pussy squelches and you whined at the emptiness.
Frankie didn’t say another word, cementing another finger to the other two before guiding them to your entrance. Looking to you, he brushed his fingertips back and forth to which you gift him a feeble nod.
He’s careful, pushing his fingers to the first notch and analysing your face. You blink slowly, moving slightly to get yourself into a more comfortable position. He stops as you take a few more breaths then nod assuringly.
He carries on, watching as you stretch with ease, the sound of how wet you are reaching his ears. Your walls pulsate around his three digits, adjusting to the change in size. You release a honeyed moan as his knuckles reach your weeping cunt.
He gives you a chance to get used to the sensation.
There’s something more filling about having three fingers inside you. It’s like they’re managing to reach areas that have gone untouched only moments ago but your mind can’t process how.
You shiver as he pulls back to just the fingertips, humming when he carves his way back in.
It doesn’t take long for his once gentle motion to become rough, adding his thumb to nudge your clit. The noises you and your pussy are making are borderline obscene yet Frankie relished in them.
“Told you I was good with my hands, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” you choked. “Oh my fucking god, yes!”
The skin across your chest was burning, his hand that was holding onto your jawline loosening and moving along your throat. Your legs were shaking, vibrating your hips as he worked against the suction of your inner walls.
Frankie had already calculated his next move. He had grazed that sweet spot just enough times to know that when he sunk his fingers in, you’d cum. He applied light pressure to your neck and your whole body shuddered in response.
“You gonna come for me?”
You grunt, eyes closed but he needed to see them, he squeezed a little harder around your neck. Your eyes flutter open to see him looking at you intensely, eyes blown, lips now in a straight line.
“I want to hear you say it.”
Your tongue whips over your lips.
“Yes, Frankie,” you bring a hand to his wrist, coaxing him to tighten his grip on your throat. “Please let me cum for you, please.”
With the last thrust of his fingers, he brings them towards him and pushes on your g spot. At the same time, his hand takes more of a hold on your neck.
It sparks like a firework, igniting from low within your stomach before shooting up your spine until you’re screaming his name. Eyes snapping shut as the overwhelming pleasure takes over you. Your tense muscles go limp and your body drapes over Frankie’s.
His fingers loosen, holding steady inside you as your walls pulse around them. His other hand lets go of your throat and trails over your shoulder, running up and down your spine as you shudder from the aftershocks.
You breath him in, the scent of fading sandalwood against the crook of his neck, whiskers catching your hair.
“I’m gonna pull out, ok querida?”
He feels your head bob.
Taking his time, he slips his fingers from your cunt, the drag against your walls causing you to whine. What he does next surprises you, sinking two of his fingers into his mouth and sucks your juices off.
“You taste so fucking good.”
There’s a gristly tone in his voice that only brings your excitement bubbling back to the surface.
You push against his chest and look at him drunkenly. Taking his hand in your, you bring his fingers to your lips. Tentatively, your tongue licks the one fingertip he missed then you slowly swallow it whole.
Your tongue sweeps over his digit, your tang on your tastebuds. Sucking hard, you release it with a pop.
Frankie is dumbfounded.
You giggle, “What?”
The tips of his ears go pink.
“Nothing.”
If he wasn’t hard from watching you cum over his hand, he was now, feeling the strain on his jean’s zipper. And he knows you can feel it too, purposefully rocking your hips to hear him groan deep from his chest.
Your arms come over his shoulders, fingers playing with the back of his brown curls.
“How about, I go and get us another drink and you,” you purse your lips, your index finger running down his chest, “can take me to bed?”
With an outstretched arm, he pats around for the remote he threw away earlier, not taking his eyes off you. The living room gets a fraction darker, the television no longer emitting a blue glow and you wriggle to climb off him. You walk around the space with such confidence, it was like you’d lived here for months. Plucking two fresh bottles from the fridge, you slam the door shut with the sway of your hip.
And all he could do was watch you because for Frankie, he was the fucking luckiest guy in the world.
#kinktober 2023#triple frontier#triple frontier x reader#frankie catfish morales#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#kinktober
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Bedtime with the Boys - Jason Todd x Roy Harper x Reader
Part Two
Requested by Anon - I wanna RoyxJasonxreader! fluff
Requested by Anon - Bedtime fluff with Roy and Jason
***
You peeked into Lian’s room. Her Batman nightlight cast enough light for you to see she was fast asleep with her stuffed monkey under her arm. You resisted the urge to go in and kiss her forehead. She was a light sleeper and you didn’t want her up when Jason and Roy got home.
Both men were out on patrol, taking over due to Batman and Robin’s recent injuries during a Justice League crisis. You knew they would be tired from patrolling every night this week. Silently shutting Lian’s door, you went into the kitchen and pulled sandwich stuff out of the fridge.
You turned on the little radio, humming along to the music. There were no news breaks, so it must be a slow night. At least you hoped. You made Lian’s lunch for school, making her a peanut butter, jelly, and banana sandwich. You used a star shaped cookie cutter to make it fancy.
The living room window clicked open. You tensed, listening. Two sets of feet stomped inside somewhat quietly. You smiled, recognizing their whispers. Roy came into the kitchen first. “Hey sweetheart,” Roy said, coming up to kiss your cheek and steal the crusts of Lian’s sandwich.
“Hey yourself.” You rolled your eyes at him, carefully packing Lian’s star sandwiches in the bento box before making it pretty with some grapes, carrots, potato chips, and a string cheese stick. “Slow night?”
Roy hummed, watching you as he chewed. “You’re spoiling her with those lunches.”
“I can make yours this pretty too.” You looked over your shoulder, frowning when you didn’t see Jason. “Where’s Jay?”
Roy hopped onto the counter, swinging his legs. You put Lian’s bento box in the fridge before starting to make sandwiches for Roy and Jason. They were always hungry when they came back from patrol. You didn’t blame them. “He had to dive into the Gotham River after a jumper,” Roy said, leaning on his knees. He licked his lips as you added all the fixings to his sandwich.
“He okay?” You frowned, slapping Roy’s hand away when he tried to steal a pickle.
“Yeah, just cold and smelly.” Roy smirked as you finished and handed him the sandwich. Roy took a big bite. “He went straight for a shower,” he mumbled with his mouth full.
You sighed, shaking your head at him. “Luckily Lian isn’t awake to see you talk with your mouth full.” You made Jason’s sandwich with roast beef. “Maybe I’ll heat up some soup as a side for Jay’s. He’ll need the warmth. The river is freezing this time of year.”
Roy swallowed. “You take such good care of us, babe.” He grinned as he finished his sandwich. You shook your head, moving to take out a can of soup.
“Well someone has to.” You laughed softly. Roy hopped off the counter and grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. He opened it, watching you as you heated up the soup.
“The shower is free, stinky,” Jason said, coming into the kitchen with only a towel around his waist. Roy and you ogled him before sharing a look with each other. “Go.” Jason tried to hide the smirk on his lips. He pushed Roy toward the doorway.
Roy stuck out his tongue before kissing Jason’s cheek and slipping away. “I heard you and the Gotham River had a fun time tonight.” You puckered your lips for him.
Jason pecked your lips with a quick kiss. “Yeah, lots of fun.” He shivered before taking a seat at the table. You did your best not to ogle him too much. “Lian’s asleep?”
“Out like a light.” You set the bowl of soup and the sandwich in front of him. Jason’s eyes brightened. You ran your fingers through his damp hair. He took the first bite. Even after all these years, he still got excited at the sight of food. “You okay?”
Jason hummed, swallowing before he answered. “I’m good. You? How’s your headache?” He reached up to touch your temple. His hand was warm. You leaned into his touch.
“Barely there. I took my meds.” You gave him a smile. A bad hit on the head during the last mission left you with bad headaches. Until you could manage, Jason and Roy insisted you stay home. “Lian was content to have movie night with all the lights off for me.”
Jason nodded, studying you before going back to his food. You sat next to him, folding your arms to watch him. The two of you sat with only the sound of Jason’s chewing to break the silence. Your eyes started to get heavy. “Go to bed, sweetheart. I’ll meet you there,” Jason said, smirking when you jerked.
A yawn slipped past your lips. “Right.” You kissed the top of his head and left the room. The shower was still running in the bathroom. You shook your head and turned down the covers before climbing in. The bed was cool. You wiggled your legs to warm up, feeling yourself doze off.
Suddenly, a warm body pressed against your back. You flinched, jerking your elbow back on for it to meet a hand. “Sorry, it’s just me,” Roy whispered, kissing your neck soothingly.
“No, it’s my fault.” You relaxed, melting back into him. “Where’s Jay?”
The bed dipped as you spoke. You felt a third hand rest on your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m here,” Jason yawned. You rolled over in Roy’s arms and kissed his lips. Over Roy, you caught the top of Jason’s head. He was spreading out on his side of the bed. Jason liked his space for the most part, leaving you and Roy to cuddle and share one side of the King sized bed. Only on bad nights, you found Jason cuddling up.
You sighed, burying your face in Roy’s chest. His shirt was soft. Your nose tickled with the scent of soap and that musky sweet Roy scent. Roy tightened his arms around you. “You’re a little cold.”
“Warm now.” You closed your eyes, letting your hands curl up to your chest. “Good night, loves.”
Roy kissed your forehead, resting his chin on the top of your head. His feet nudged their way between your legs. You smiled, letting yourself drift off again.
“Good night,” Jason mumbled softly from his side. The bed shifted as he settled down. You felt Roy’s breathing even out. “Love you both.” You smiled as sleep tugged you back under.
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#red hood#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#roy harper#roy harper imagine#roy harper x reader#arsenal#arsenal x reader#arsenal imagine#red arrow#red arrow x reader#red arrow imagine#jason todd x roy harper x reader#dc comics imagines#dc reader insert
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Fantasies
Summary: You discover that Andy has been harboring a secret fantasy.
Warnings: Secret Fantasies, Smut, Kink Discovery, Lactation Kink, Hand Jobs, Slightly Dominant Reader, Minors DNI
A/N: Prompt is courtesy of my friend @stonerlaur4. Part of my Growing Pains Series. Thanks for reading everyone and I look forward to your feedback. All mistakes my own.
___
“You’re doing it again.” You tell him from your spot opposite him at the dinner table. The girls were down for the night, which meant that you and your husband were finally able to share some quiet time together.
You’d even cooked up a special meal for you both to enjoy. Homemade crab cakes with a your special remoulade sauce, paired with crispy roasted garlic rosemary potatoes that had been slathered in butter and olive oil, along with his favorite cucumber, tomato, and onion salad.
Your Big Man smiles at you as he takes another bite of his crab cake. “Doing what?”
You roll your eyes and go back to eating.
“Is my girl blushing over there?”
Exasperated, you duck your head to hide your flaming cheeks. “No. And it’s certainly not because you keep looking at me the way you are. So cut it out.”
Andy leans back in his chair and graces you with a perfectly innocent smile.
“But honey, they’re just so beautiful. And they’re right there, just begging for my attention. What kind of man would I be if I denied them like that?” His mischievous blue eyes stray back to your chest.
At five months pregnant with your twins, not only were you most definitely showing, but your breasts continued grow on what seemed like a daily basis.
And just like with each of your previous pregnancies, your husband was fascinated with your increasingly ample chest. Just like with all of your other curves, he was always looking for any excuse to put his hands on you - kiss you, massage you, stroke you.
But there was one thing about Andrew Barber that hadn’t made itself known until after the birth of your first child, Bianca.
He loved with watching you feed your babies. In fact, you could almost say he was obsessed with it.
You had been blessed enough to be able breastfeed both of your little girls without having to resort to formula unless it was an emergency.
And while you’d fed both your girls throughout the day whenever they were hungry, their bedtime feedings always took place in bed with you snuggled next to your husband.
In the early days of taking care of a newborn BiBi, he would often ask if she was “getting enough”.
You had laughed before encouraging to lean down and listen for himself. So he had. Your big, sweet husband had held himself suspended in the air listening intently to each tiny gulp as his baby girl ate her dinner. But it hadn’t stopped there…
You would eventually learn that your husband craved more.
___
A Little Over Six Years Ago…
You stare down at your precious baby who had fallen asleep in your arms after nursing. Smiling, you smooth a stray curl from her tiny face as she coos out a tiny breath.
For some reason, BiBi hadn’t eaten as much as she normally did. She usually took both breasts with ease, but when it had become time to shift to her to the second one, she had flat out refused.
Andy emerges from the shower clad in nothing more than a pair of black, form fitting boxers. He quickly slides into bed next to you. Today had been a late one at the office, so he’d only just gotten home.
“Is she still eating?” He asks hopefully.
“Afraid not, honey. We’ve lost her to baby dreamland.” You lean over and kiss his shoulder.
Mmm…your man smelled good. Like sandalwood and vanilla.
“Aw. Well, did she at least eat well?” He strokes one large thumb across her little lips.
“Nope. She only took one breast tonight. Guess that means I’ll be pumping.” Your tone filled with resignation.
It wasn’t that you hated pumping…you just sometimes kind of hated pumping. But hey, it brought relief, so oh well.
You smile over at your husband. “Wanna help me put her down?” You ask him.
“What kind of question is that?” Andy hops out of bed, gently plucks her from your arms and gazes down at her. “Swear to God, this little one grows more beautiful everyday. Just like her Mama.”
He shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts.
“Bedtime ladies.” He murmurs softly. Resting your hand on his firm, broad back you make your way to BiBi’s nursery where Andy places her in her crib.
“Good night, little love.” You whisper to her slumbering form.
“Sweet dreams.” Your husband tells her, before stepping back to check under crib.
Oh God, you think to yourself, not this again.
“Andy…” You resist the urge to laugh at him. He does a complete scan around the room. And then he quietly opens her closet door and checks inside.
Yes. He was checking your child’s room for monsters. Just in case.
“All clear.” He tells you, his face completely serious. You hold your hand out to him. “You’re a lunatic.
“You knew this when you married me, Y/N. So no givebacks.”
___
Once your back in your room, Andy climbs into bed while you go about grabbing the supplies you needed for your pump.
“What are you, um, doing over there?” He leans over on his side to face you, his sexily bearded face propped up on his hand.
You give him a weird look. “You already know what I’m doing, Andy. I have to pump. If I don’t, is gonna get painful or start to leak or…
You trail off when you realize that yep…you were already leaking. “See?” You point to your left breast.
Andy’s gaze zeroes in on the slowly dribbling fluid. He’d always been too afraid to ask, but tonight…
“Baby?” He whispers softly.
“Hmm?”
“Can I maybe? Is it okay if I, um…”
“What?”
A warm hand goes to your still slightly rounded belly as his mouth goes lap at the drops of the translucent milk. And he doesn’t stop until he’s licked you clean.
Pulling away, he looks you in your eyes.
“Sorry, it’s just, um, I had always wondered what it tasted like - sweet by the way. And Laurie always thought I was weird for wondering but -“
“Hush.” You cut him off. “I’ll admit you took me by surprise, but…do you wanna try it? I mean really try it?”
“You’d let me?” His eyes stray back to your swollen bare breasts. This had always been a fantasy of his…
You scoot to the middle of the bed and motion for him to kind of curl up in your lap. Picking up your full breast, you offer one engorged nipple to his mouth, which he eagerly accepts.
“Okay, Big Man. Now, I need you to suck.” He gently begins to do so. “Apply a little more force.” You gently massage and squeeze your breast, hoping to aid in the flow.
And then you hear him swallow. “Are you getting any, Andy?”
“Mhm.” He groans as he takes another gulp. And then another.
You stroke your fingers through his dark brown locks, softly scratching his scalp, which makes him moan in bliss. As one hand continues to cup the back of his head, you allow the other to roam all over his big, muscled body. You stroke every inch of bare skin that you can reach as he continues to suckle at you.
This felt so different than the intimate moment when you fed your child. It was for sure a bonding experience.
But in it’s own unique way, so was this.
“Taste good?”
He nods, never letting up. His eyes remaining closed. You stroke a hand across his chin. And then you take note of bulge in his boxers. You knew, that he knew, that you had to have noticed it. Your man was the type who was big all over -
How could you miss it?
Not wanting him to feel embarrassed, you reach down to cup his impressive erection, giving it a light squeeze. His own large hand moves to cup yours.
He keeps suckling, never letting up. At this rate, you wouldn’t need the pump.
You gently begin to stroke him, applying various amounts of pressure each time. Andy was seconds from exploding and you both knew it.
His pull at your breast becomes harder as he gets closer to the brink.
“That’s it, Andrew. You’re safe with me, Big Guy.” He lets out a soft grunt. “Cum for me. Wanna see it.”
That’s all it takes for him to shoot his load directly into his shorts. After a few last suckles, he releases your nipple with a pop.
“You okay?”
Your husband nods still trying to catch his breath.
“You’ve been holding onto that fantasy for a long time, haven’t you, honey?”
He nods again, shame creeping into his features.
“Oh no! None of that. Like I said, you’re safe with me. Plus you’re not the only one who got a little excited here.” You dip your hand between your thighs and hold up two glistening fingers.
“You never have to be ashamed with me. Now go clean up. Now that you’ve, err, helped me out. I’m sleepy and I need cuddles.
Still blushing, Andy rolls out of bed to take care of business.
Well, it looks like your Andrew Barber was just full of surprises.
END
#cevansbrat007 asks#chris evans imagines#andy barber imagines#chris evans smut#andy barber smut#chris evans x you#andy barber x you#chris evans x black!reader#andy barber x black!reader#chris evans x woc!reader#andy barber x woc!reader#chris evans x black reader#andy barber x black reader#chris evans x wife!reader#andy barber x wife!reader#chris evans x pregnant!reader#andy barber x pregnant!reader#chris evans x poc!reader#andy barber x poc!reader#chris evans x female!reader#andy barber x female!reader#chris evans x reader#andy barber x reader#chris evans x yn#andy barber x yn#chris evans x y/n#andy barber x y/n#cevansbrat0007growing pains series#chris evans fanfiction#andy barber fanfiction
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Hi hello im a dirty American heres some friendsgiving headcannons for the sp character
Cartman:
That man aint bringing shit
Only there for the food
The type of mf to steal ingrediants while youre cooking something
Dives RIGHT for the pumpkin pie
Nobody is happy
He denies it but its do obvious hes stealing shit 🤬
Does not wait for a toast
Bro just dives in
Getting seconds, thirds, fourths
When hes done theres no left overs
If he were to bring something id be pie
His moms recipe
BUT THIS LITTLE FUCK EATS IT IN THE CAR
Kyle:
Sometimes hosts the friendsgiving at his house
Brings the sparkling grape juice/apple juice
And also the Kosher things
Only has one helping, tries to get leftovers for the family or for kenny
Helps his mom cook when hes hosting
Setting the table always
Tries to toast but ends up yelling at Cartman for eating before hes done
Helps Ike pack for those little kindergarten thanksgivings?
Yknow when you dressed as a pilgrim and ate food?
Was I the only one who did that??
Stan:
He panicks and brings what he can find
"Hey dude! What you bring?"
"Uhhh... leftover mash potatos?"
Hes TRYING
Downing the sparkling juices like no tomorrow
The eggnog too
Cartman encourages it
"CHUG CHUG CHUG"
Watching the football game
RESTRAINS himself when it comes to food
Like, he wants it but knows Kyles gonna be pissed
Plays catch with everyone else
Or pingpong
Doesnt give a fuck about the Macys parade
Kenny:
Brings canned stuff he got from the food drive
Like cranberry sauce
Sneaking leftovers for his family
Plays catch with the boys
Died from a football lodged in his eye
Oh and from the
"Macys parade"
Incident
You dont want to know
Butters:
Brings the sweet potatos
Suggest christmas music/movies be played
Cartman called him gay immediately
So that got shut down
Brings the extra pies and everything since Cartman eats his
Lover of cranberry sauce and other things most people hate on thanksgiving
"Oh that was good! Could I have more please?"
"Butters what the fuck who likes CRANBERRY SAUCE???"
"I do!"
Doer of the toast
Often gets hit in the face when they play catch and cries
Can't stay for long cuz his parents are strict but hes there on video call rest of the time
Craig:
The type of mf when you ask what he brought he says
"My presence"
MF-
No!!!
You need to bring FOOD
They have to kick him out
He comes back with bread rolls or crackers, cheese and olives
So hes aloud back in
Doesnt care abt the parades or catch or anything
Just kinda there for Tweek
If someone asks him to do sonething he'll do it though
Hes limited by meals thanks to his braces
He doesnt care
Thats future craigs problem
Flips someone off if they beat him in a sport
Or flips off the tv when someone does something stupid in football
Has restraint when it comes to food
Bro will just wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
And then devour his plate in seconds
Tweek:
Brings homemade cider or pumpkin spice
Panicked the whole time
Hiding upstairs half the time
At least until food
He looks like a sopping wet cat
Doesnt really eat that much
Convinced the food is poison
Dont try to reassure him either he doesnt trust you
Has to check a million times though
"Is this poison???"
"No???"
"GAHH!! I dont believe you!!"
Leaves after feasting
He can only handle so much
Arrives super late too which is ironic
Jimmy:
Brings the food over and makes a puns
Like puts devil horns on eggs
"Jimmy what is that?"
"D-d-d-deviled Eggs"
Bro is telling thanksgiving jokes every second
Does the toast some years
Its like a stand up comedy routine tho
He lets you eat during that
Sneaking food
Mischievous little bastard
Puts on family fued when he realizes the boys are too pissed at football
Also has brace limits
But does he follow them ever? Nope
Drinks sparkling juice from a wine glass
Able to keep the party going for a WHILE he has ENERGY
Card playing KING
Winning at Crazy 8s left and RRRRIGHTTTTTT
Clyde:
Brought mac and cheese
Either that or bread
Food sneaker
Thinks hes good at sports
Hes not
He gets hit in the face so often
And cries
Tried Tweeks coffee
Started coughing and gagging immediately
Hes a picky eater im calling it now
Like will not eat if he doesnt think he'll like it
Me too Clyde i get it
Likes the Macys parade
Fucking weirdass
Arrives a bit before Tweek but is still late
The mf to get seconds
Wont eat before the event either
Saving his stomach for yum yums
Tolkien:
Also hosts
Helps his parents with food
Makes the dinner table look like a whole buffet
When hes not hosting he brings stuffing or some expensive good food
Or like
Homemade dip?
Casserole?
Idk
Seems like itd change every year
Great at sports
Helps clean up too
Toasts sometimes
Very generic toast
Doesnt seem like someone who has much to say
#south park#southpark butters#southpark#sp butters#sp tweek#sp craig#sp headcannons#tolkien black#tolkien#south park tweek#craig x tweek#tweek tweak#craig tucker#kyle brovlofski#eric cartman#stan marsh#thanksgiving
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