#thanksgiving movie

[drewsephrry]

everybody moved on, help im still at the restaurant

[cozymaples]

(tags under the cut !)

ryan, who makes sure to bump into any guy who happens to hold their gaze on you for too long as you’re walking past. ryan who glances back at them with a smug grin, making sure they know it wasn’t an accident. ryan who didn’t need to bump into them that hard, but nearly knocked them off their feet.

ryan who has his mouth latched to your pussy, pulling you closer to him each time you try to writhe away from the overstimulation. his arms are hooked under your legs, holding you by the top of your thighs. he takes a moment to part from your aching clit, puffy and swollen, to revisit the situation. “looking at my fuckin’ girl,” he tsks. “what a world we live in! i mean,” he laughs with disbelief, “i should’ve knocked his fuckin’ head off his shoulders, baby-i’m serious.” it’s almost sadist, but he knows how bad you get off on it-pussy dripping every time he defends you. you’re panting above him, looking down as your head cranes gently forward. “i..” you respond through a whine, but you can’t manage anything else. your flesh is warm, hot all over with a thin layer of sweat. stray hairs stick to your face, your cheeks flushed from the amount of times you’ve orgasmed.

“my pretty baby. can’t talk, s’alright. s’right where i want you, hon.” he says, palms tapping your thighs with encouragement. “don’t think i forgot why we’re here,” he says, and you gasp as he slides two thick fingers inside of you, curving to brush up against your g-spot. “next time anyone looks at you, they’re only gonna see how fuckin’ good i made you feel. and only me.” a satisfactory hum leaves you, dizzy with lust as he tugs you towards him once more. kneeling at the foot of your bed, his cock strains in his jeans, knowing it’s true-that you’re all his. “look at me.” he instructs, and you oblige, looking down once more. “one more,” he says, inches from your pussy, “then you’re done.”

tags : @dat-crazy-fangirl , @barbie-munson , @citrinedream , @sweatycashranchmuffin , @sunlightaste , @miwagila , @wilwaren , @manheimdaily , @ludhayyy , @cb-02

[junkfoodcinemas]

Thanksgiving (2023) dir. Eli Roth

[manheimsmuse]

Could you write smut for Ryan Baker? Like he’s jealous or something and is trying to prove a point

BEHAVE ; RYAN BAKER

a/n; very loosely based on that one scene in saltburn because i havent stopped thinking about that movie since i watched it.

warnings; 18+, smut under the cut, afab!reader, fem!pronouns used, fingering, pnv, unprotected sex for the love of god do not to this, ryan is a little mean, degrading language, second ryan smut in a bathroom my subconscious is telling me something.

“look at me when i’m talking to you,”

ryan barks out, grabbing your chin and forcing you to face the mirror in front of you as he bent you over someone’s bathroom sink.

scuba’s party, like all his previous parties, was insane. his house was packed full of people, most of them you never saw before in your life. you knew evan, though, and apparently ryan did not like that.

it was a harmless conversation, ryan was wrapped up in his own with friends of his you didn’t know so when evan approached you you welcomed the opportunity to do something other than stand there looking pretty. you spoke about nothing in hindsight, laughed at some dumb jokes he made and let his flirty comments fly over your head with no acknowledgment.

ryan acknowledged them though, joining your conversation after evan’s second comment on your appearance. five minutes later he’d dragged you into the downstairs bathroom and was pushing your dress up around your hips.

“you think it’s cute, hm? letting some loser jock paw at you like that?”

he repeated his question, one hand remaining on your face as the other found home between your legs, his middle and ring fingers finding their way inside you easily.

you gasp in response, knuckles whitening as you grip the ceramic basin. you always knew ryan was jealous, always worried that someone better would come along and you’d drop him in a heartbeat.

“answer me, angel.”

ryan demands, fingers curling inside you and eliciting a moan from your throat.

“he - he didn’t touch me.”

you challenge, refusing to give in so quickly and give him the answer he wants.

“you think you’re fuckin’ funny, huh?”

he chuckles, fingers moving at a pace that has your jaw hung open and your noises becoming more frequent.

“i think you’re acting like a slut. couldn’t handle not having my attention for five seconds? that desperate that you’d let that neanderthal speak to you like that?”

“ryan, ‘m gonna — no, wait!”

you whine as he retracts his fingers, cursing yourself for letting him know that you were about to cum already.

“what? you think i’m gonna reward that behaviour?”

he laughs, not his usual sweet laugh, but a laugh that lets you know you’re in trouble. his middle finger comes back to slowly circle your clit as he releases his grip on your face to undo his belt.

“ryan.”

“are you gonna behave, angel?”

his voice is almost gentle as he shoves his jeans down just enough to free himself, applying the slightest bit more pressure to your aching clit.

“ryan, please.”

“i said. are you going to behave?”

as he repeats himself he teases your entrance with the head of his cock, grinning at the way your body reacts to such a small gesture.

“i’ll behave.”

you agree desperately, frantically nodding your head in the hopes your answer has satisfied him enough to give you what you want.

“that’s a good girl,”

he groans, pushing into with one motion that has you crying out loud enough you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard you.

“gonna fuck that attitude right out of you while i’m at it too.”

[phefics]

for my bestie @cozymaples bc she’s sick 💓

ryan is rich and pretentious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yes,” you whimper. “thank you.”

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

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

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

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

[hunnam]

Ty Olsson Thanksgiving (2023) dir. Eli Roth

[ladamarossa]

Thanksgiving (2023)

[littlenightma]

Hello. Could you write more about Sheriff Eric Newlon (if he's dark or yandere it would be great.) Your article about him was great.

Yandere!Eric Newlon Headcanons

• Eric comes off as a normal guy. Always has a smile on his face, greets everyone with warmth and is always there when someone needs him. His dazzling charm sucked you in. No one could have ever seen the darkness brewing beneath the surface of his nice guy facade.

• Eric thrives off of protecting you. He loves the way you curl into him with his coat wrapped around you as you two walk down the sidewalk or when you tighten your hold on his hand when you pass a group of unfamiliar people. You have no idea the lengths he would go to in order to keep you safe.

• No idea.

• And damn it what kind of man would he be if he allowed you to wander the world without him, alone, naive to the dangers that were lurking around every corner.

• Eric isn’t just in love with you. He’s obsessed with you. Everything about you Eric thinks about every waking hour of the day from your twinkling eyes, your gorgeous hair, down to your luscious body. He’s practically itching to get off his shift so he can drive home to find you curled up on the couch waiting for him.

• He has access to everyone’s files at the station, including yours. Especially yours. He keeps a copy locked in his desk drawer, tucked safe and sound, where he can pull it out whenever he wants to. All of the info he could ever want to know is right there within arm’s reach.

• He knew which cafés you preferred, which stores you liked shopping at, and where you got your car maintenaced. He knew everything about you before you even knew his name.

• You didn’t actually believe running into him as much as you did was all due to chance, did you? Silly one, you should know by now when it comes to Eric, nothing is ever just a coincidence.

• He pulls it out when he’s having a particularly bad day in order to run his thumb across the picture he took of you while you were out shopping with your friends. You’d stayed out longer than usual so he felt the need to check up on you and he got so enthralled by your beauty that he just had to snap a photo to remember the moment forever.

• You start noticing Eric’s paranoia emerge the longer you two are together and the more his feelings for you grow. At first, he comes as extremely protective, but then it progresses into something more darker, more…possessive.

• When he comes home to find you not there, he checks his phone. To his dismay there is no text and he becomes scared thinking that you were hurt. Call after call there is still no answer. Eric rarely shows himself so when you come home in the middle of his breakdown he is instantly in your face asking you question after question not letting you answer the first one. He chides you about not informing him of your whereabouts and berates you about who exactly you were with.

• You brush it off, believing it to be a symptom of being a cop for so long. You explain that you had to stay back at work to put finishing touches on a project and this seems to calm him some. He pulls you into a hug.

• “I’m sorry I acted like that, baby. I just get so scared when I don’t know where you are.”

• Puts a tracking app in your phone and on your car without you knowing. He can’t allow that to happen again. What if you had been hurt and what if he didn’t reach you in time? He can’t risk it.

• Black Friday shopping was always off limits to you, but when your friends invited you to go with last minute you decided to go. Eric had been constantly hovering and you yearned for space.

• What a stupid decision on your part.

• Eric is livid. He’s like a bull ready to charge as he’s driving out to find you. When he does, he is suspiciously calm. He asks you to come with him and you do and on the way home you apologize but he doesn’t say anything. His eyes are trained on the road. Inside the house though it’s like a matador had finally raised their red flag.

• He’s roaring. “I fucking told you not to be out on Black Friday! Why can’t you listen to me?! I’ve lost so much. So many people. I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you!”

• “Eric, you can’t expect me to stay home when everyone’s out shopping.”

• And then he snaps. He yanks your hair, his handsome face dangerously close to yours. “Don’t fucking do it again or I swear to God you’ll regret it.”

• And the worst part is that no one would ever believe that highly adorned and doting Eric Newlon would ever do something so horrible and so vicious.

• You’re stuck with no where to turn. If you leave, he’ll track you down with the plentiful resources he has at his disposal. You are trapped, forever his.

NSFW 18+

• You have pushed Eric past his limit. You are tied to the dining room table, legs spread and mouth gagged. He has presented you like an oven-baked turkey and he can’t wait to take a bite out of you. He runs his cock over your slick opening teasingly, preparing you to get basted by his cock.

• “You really don’t know what you do to me, do you? After everything I have done for you, all the love I have ever given and you still want to leave me.

• He thrusts exactly three times. “So. Very. Ungrateful.”

• You moan against your gag. Your body is betraying you. It accepts him with open arms, like he was meant to be inside you. You tried so hard to get away from him, but he always managed to reel you back in.

• Eric sees the turmoil on your face, sees the fight you’re having with yourself. With every snap of his hips he knows he’s closer to breaking you down and he’s desperate to do it.

• He pours cranberry sauce on your chest, letting it dye your chest maroon. He rubs the sticky liquid over your body and it looks like blood. Your blood.

• “I could fake your death so easily, you know. Then lock you up and keep you all to myself. No one would come looking for you. Or I could always find someone else who will appreciate my efforts.”

• You fight your binds, not liking that he was talking about someone else while he was rearranging your guts.

• “Ah, so you do care. What is it, dear? Want me all for yourself then?”

• Crawling on top of you, he unknots the gag and kneels over your face. He puts his cock to your mouth. “Why don’t you show me just how grateful you are.”

[tangerinesgirl]

Turfucken

(gif credit to Sony Pictures on tenor. can someone please make some HD GIFs from this movie, I suck at making them 😭)

**SPOILERS FOR THANKSGIVING (2023)**

AFAB!Reader x Sheriff Eric Newlon

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: explicit, 18+, no minors

Warnings: smut, feeding/food play/sitophilia, pregnancy, cream pie, daddy kink, some silly jokes, age gap but reader is legal

Summary: Sheriff Newlon is preparing for the best Thanksgiving yet, you have other plans. Set after the Black Friday Massacre but before the Thanksgiving the following year. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

You were greeted by the smell of sage and onion, cranberries and roasted potatoes before you even walked through the door. Eric liked to be well prepared for Thanksgiving every year, his favourite holiday. This year he wanted it to be the best yet, he had all sorts of new recipes to try, and you weren’t complaining.

As you walked through the door and unwrapped your scarf you heard him summoning you in the kitchen “Babe! Come here, you have got to try this!”

You throw your keys in the ceramic pot with a satisfying clink as you walk into the kitchen. Eric was practically dancing around the kitchen; thanksgiving themed apron and oven mitts on, removing a pot of cranberry sauce off the stove. He removed his mitts and slammed them down on the counter, a very small act but he made it look so hot. His hair disheveled from the heat of the kitchen, he shook his head to remove the stray hair that landed on his forehead.

He grabbed a spoon from the drawer and dipped it into the sauce, he blew on it to cool it down and beckoned for you to try it with a raise of an eyebrow and a look down at the spoon. You take the utensil and lick it clean with a pop. It was unlike any cranberry sauce you have eaten. Usually no one bats an eyelid at the sauce at Thanksgiving dinner, it always tastes the same. But not this one, it was sweet and sour with the perfect amount of umami.

“Holy shit what did you put in it, crack?”, you say, immediately going in for seconds.

“Ah ah no double dipping! And yes I put cocaine in the sauce, pros of my job”. You were pretty sure he was joking, but it was hard to tell the past year, ever since the Black Friday Massacre he was like a totally different person, and you fell for him, hard. You fooled around a lot, but never anything more, but you liked to test the water occasionally, maybe today is one of those days. It was difficult for him to get over Amanda, which was totally valid to you, she was your friend too and you were in this revenge plot together. You knew his plans this year and you both want it to be perfect.

You both were quite the town gossip, people kind of knew something was going on between the two of you, but your age gap of 32 years was extreme for a lot of people. You were perfectly within legal age though, and it was none of their business. You couldn’t help but admit it was kind of a turn on for you though, being a slut, and for the soon to be serial killer. 

The kitchen counters are covered with food, with foil on the top to keep warm, you think he’s been cooking all day while you were at work. You sit down on the kitchen island and admire the sight of him dashing around the kitchen, making sure everything is turned off.

He reaches into a dish of roast potatoes with his hands and puts some stuffing and sauce on the top and holds it out to you. You go in for a bite but he pulls back and smirks. You drag him towards you with his apron, your legs spread embracing him and passionately kiss him, his stubble tickling your face.

He still has the potato in his hand and stuffs it into your mouth between kisses. You put on a show and moan while you eat the best roast potato of your life. You grab his wrist and lick his fingers clean, looking him dead in the eye as you do so. He watches you, deciding his next move.

He walks to the counter and uncovers a whole roast turkey from behind him. You walk over too and watch him carve it, he gives you the first piece. After you eat it, you pull on his hair and whisper in his ear, “I want you to stuff me like that turkey, put a baby in me, or two, just call me a turducken… well, more like a turfucken really”. He laughs, but you see his erection, clearly turned on by feeding you and enjoying yourself.

He suddenly snaps and slams you into the kitchen island, empty pans flying across the room. He kisses you wildly, his hands roaming your body frantically. You remove his apron and his trousers as he removes your underwear from under your dress. He grabs your hands around your back, making you turn around so you’re bending over the island.

He slams inside you, impatient, like a man starved. You moan at the sudden intrusion, he is larger than average and always hurts so good as he reaches to your cervix. He pulls on your hair and you arch your back as he thrusts into you manically, the B word clearly a turn on for him. You cling onto the side of the island for dear life.

He stops and turns you around, kissing and nibbling on your neck. He lifts you up and walks you to the dining room table, and puts you down, facing him. He strokes your belly gently and says, “when I’m finished with you, I want you to stay put and lift your hips up. I can’t wait for you to grow so large and make everyone think you’re pregnant with quadruplets, be the talk of the town and make people on the street talk shit about us. And when I catch them I’ll put them in their place, as I’m the fucking town Sheriff ”, you are taken aback at his commands but god it was so hot, and whisper a “yes daddy”.

"Good girl", he starts pushing inside you again, the table shaking with the weight. He leans on the wall behind you to go even deeper inside you. You’re both close, you could have come at his words alone, so it didn’t take much to send you over the edge. He stops and you keep him inside you, wrapping your legs around his waist. He moans and strains as he unloads inside you, you can feel him releasing stream after stream, there’s a lot and it takes a while for him to stop, some of it leaks onto the table. He gives you some to try on his fingers that still taste of cranberry sauce. He stays inside you a little bit after he finishes, stroking your belly and looking into your eyes. You move a bit further down the table so you can lift your hips quicker as he pulls out of you. He watches you lift your body, nods, and leaves. He comes back later with a towel, some water, and a plate of trimmings to share.

If this is the sex before the John Carver plan, you can't wait for what’s to come next.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Editors note: I was going to include a pigs in blanket joke at the end but it turns out that's only a British thing and not a Thanksgiving food?? You learn something new every day.

[fanofspooky]

Thanksgiving

2023 • R • 1h47m

After a Black Friday riot ends in tragedy, a mysterious Thanksgiving-inspired killer terrorizes Plymouth, Massachusetts - the birthplace of the infamous holiday.

[clarks-letterman]

Even though Ryan didn't get a whole lot to do, he was REALLY doing it for me with his obvious displays of interest, so Ryan x Male Reader request where both are preparing for the Thanksgiving parade, he's expressed being attracted to the reader in the past, & has been heavily flirting while in the pilgrim costume with lots of holiday appropriate innuendos. When everybody else clears out, it leads to him fulfilling his promise of "stuffing" the reader.

sososo good omfg

a/n — brought to you by slotslights! would've been posted sooner if finals and holidays didn't exist ayyyy ... little late for the holiday im so sorry

summary — check the ask!

warnings — standard smut, jokefic cause this movie is unserious, spit as lube and this was rushed sorry!

words — 2.4k

~~~

You stood on top of a small, obviously fake ship. It was comical in design and size, being barely enough to fit you, let alone two people on it. There’s some kind of block—a wooden crate, you think—at the very back of the narrow space to stand. The ship was a bit taller than the rest of the floats, overlooking the living cornucopia of little kids painted to be greens and sweet fruits to your left, the dinner table with some townsfolk in pilgrim costumes sitting around it to your right, and your ship was spearheading the order precisely in the middle. Their costumes only reminded you how itchy yours was, being composed of spandex and knit cotton that caused the perfect combination of skin-hugging discomfort.

Behind all three was the large inflatable turkey, inconsistently staring at people as it bobbed and billowed. On the opposite end of things, in front of your float, were the marchers and mascot of the holiday. You envied him the most, as he stood out past the large opening in the building that housed the whole show with a thick, full-body costume on. He had to be as warm as being in a literal oven.

The organizers handed you two mic-packs with an earpiece for each rectangular receiver right before you boarded the ship, except it was just you on the deck. You started securing the receiver to your hip. Footsteps scaling up the warehouse stepladder drew your attention, and shortly after, the mock-Mayflower shifted a bit on its stand to make room for another voyager.

You turned, immediately recognizing the man under the Pilgrim hat. “And the king of putting his arm around people’s shoulders returns!”

“I said I was sorry.” He rolled his eyes, acting as if his blunt advances last week should be forgotten about.

“Don’t, Ryan.” Your cheap costume wouldn’t be the only pain in the ass on this boat. Unfortunately, they had already wheeled the mobile staircase that was your only escape away, making the only viable option to wait and ride this out at about three miles per hour.

If there was one thing about Ryan, that felt like it defined him entirely, was how forward he expressed himself to be. “Come on, stop playing cold turkey. I know you’re addicted to me.”

“Here.” He wore an identical costume that you got to eye up and down when you had to begrudgingly hand him his ticket aboard. His rite of passage to be putting-his-arm-over-your-shoulder-length away from you.

Ryan took it from your hands, a smirk on his face with his bottom lip jutting out in confidence. “Someone’s defrosting.”

The fleeting moment got away from your hands like a bird that could fly, unfortunate for the turkey that took its place. The revving of engines signaled that the parade was about to start. A messy collaboration of trumpeters, drummers, and every kind of walking noisemaker started to play in united dissonance. They marched, heading straight down the road. It only took a moment for your float and the ones on either side of it to start their slow roll out into the daylight.

The sidewalks were occupied with people and striped barriers made out of wood lined the street, separating the modern from the old. Old might not have been the right word to describe it—defunct, maybe? Something that was a dead mode of transportation and classified as primordial for a reason, because, as soon as the ship had to hold its own on the tail of a pickup truck, it was shaking and rocking against the bumpy main road. Even a small pothole rocked the ship, sending you stumbling towards Ryan. He held on to you, making sure you were on your feet. He looked back to the wooden crate, moving towards it as you pulled away from him. He sat down on it and extended his hand.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, occupying your hands with the divots of your elbows as you crossed your arms.

“Just swallow whatever mouthful of pride you have and sit with me. This thing is held together by tape and staples and a dream.” His eyes pleaded with the words he knew he couldn’t say.

Falling off this ship might not be lethal, but it sure is embarrassing. So is being in the arms of someone who so obviously wanted you, but at least one of these wouldn’t lead to a hospital visit… you think. Ryan was painfully right, you had to stomach your pride like a dish a family member got you to try that tasted like utter trash. From the slow roll of your parade float to the pace of your steps, it was like you were acting in slow motion. Thankfully, the crowd had the modern mindset that meant you could get a little historically inaccurate in costume. You placed yourself on the upper part of his thigh, legs pouring down into the space between his—indiscernible from the black cloth coating his legs down to his ankles as it covered yours, too.

You scratched at your neck, peeling a bit of the white ruff clawing at your neck away for a few seconds. Momentarily, you could breathe. In that breath taken, you spoke to Ryan, “I need this off me.”

“You don’t need to tell me.” His eyes lingered on the bare spot on your neck, ready to dive in if it weren’t for the lack of privacy. When the public was staring at you, he came in closer. Whispering, “Just a few more blocks, then you’re mine. I’ll tear this off you, yeah?”

“Like the skin on a turkey.” Your patience was like a meat timer that had popped. Your skin felt hot, and you needed this costume off as soon as possible. Ready to escape the open air and go somewhere more private, confined with an excuse to be pressed up to Ryan.

He never left your side, keeping his closeness while you were leaning into his hold. One arm running over both your shoulders was enough to send shivers down your whole back. His other hand waved so that it looked more natural like two optimistic travelers were on their way to discover already-found land. But when the hell were museums about American holidays rightfully celebrated the way they were meant to be? He added in his closeness, “And I’ll stuff you like one, too.”

The old firehouse in Plymouth was where the floats would go after everyone screamed their lungs out and waved their hands into the sky since it was big enough to store several of the old firetrucks that had all been moved downtown. It was a slow ride to your final destination. 

As each display of the town’s affection for the holiday pulled into the makeshift warehouse and parked, the worst part proved itself to be how slowly everyone filed out of the depot. There was an agonizing wait for the required assistance down from the float, meaning that you had to stay closer to Ryan longer, the attraction between you the both of you growing stronger each second.

When you did have to leave him, you almost missed his warmth and hands. Almost, because he was back on you in seconds of your feet hitting the smooth concrete in the firehouse. Pitter-pattering was heard as your buckled shoes tapped away from everyone and up the stairs to the second floor, being led to the spot by a knowledgeable Ryan. The second floor was an open area, helmed by a kitchen as you reached the top step. It was arguably only slightly more private than the parade float you were standing on moments ago, but the shuttling of the bay doors downstairs let you know that no one who belonged there would come up to see Ryan feasting on you. Sure, you and Ryan had no business wandering away from the organizers, but two heads leaving their sight wouldn’t do much now that the parade was over.

He had you backed against the dusty counter in seconds, lips to yours, and grabbing what he could through the cheap costume. You two ditched the hats on accident, knocking them off in your attempts to pull one another closer with your holdings. It seemed to be a large kitchen island of sorts, from what you saw before Ryan pulled your attention away, now cluttered with taped-up boxes and a thick layer of dust that was wiped away by you leaning against it. There was a stove on the opposite side of where you and Ryan were cooking with your own heat. Ryan made sure that people would know of your presence by lifting you up on the counter.

“I’m gonna explode if I don’t undo my pants, fuck.” Ryan complained, breaking away from you like a wishbone—his dream coming true as he had you at his mercy. He had done the hunting, the alluring, and now, he was ready to claim you.

“Can that drumstick even fit on my plate?” You asked when he dropped his pants and let them bunch at his ankles. The black fabric of his suit must have hidden what he was packing. “Looks a little too big for me. Maybe you should just butter stuff up instead of trying to fit that in?”

“Trust me, I’ll make it fit.” Ryan tugged on himself a few times before grabbing you by the hips. He slid you towards him. “Lean back, pumpkin pie.”

“You’re so funny,” you feigned a laugh and leaned back on the cold countertop. Ryan pushed your legs up so that you got the message to keep your knees tucked into your chest, giving him an easy entrance to your ass after he undid your pants just enough to see it clearly.

You didn’t have to hear him spitting in his hand to know that he was lubing up your hole with a quick solution. Wet, warm saliva was spread over your entrance and his fingers lightly dipped in with a tasteful slip of his fingers into your tightness. Not all of it went to preparing you for his massive girth, though. The hand he didn’t use to tease you was slicking up his cock with his own spit, a remark flying out of his mouth as he welled up another wad of spit in his mouth. “I don’t usually master-baste like this but…”

“Shut up…” You said softly, too inebriated by the feeling of Ryan’s hand playing with you. The only thing that could send you out of this comatose state of pleasure was the pain of him stretching you out. 

“Oh, fuck.” He moaned, feeling his tip be fought against by the constricting feeling of you constantly wrapped around him. His pleasure heightened knowing that he had effectively dominated you after you let him do this following his many, many advances. 

Ryan delved further, exploring your cavity in its entirety. He loved how he constantly felt the tightness around any part of his cock at any given moment, yet he was still being gripped by the rest of your insides—though, it was much softer, like a gentle hand tugging on him without any part of him left untouched. You liked it, too. For as much as it hurt, stretching you out beyond what you felt you could take, there was still this feeling of letting him hurt you in a way that caused pleasure. 

Ryan eventually bottomed out, pulling all the way out to regain that feeling of tightness along his entire cock. But, he noticed that you were gaping for him, your muscles relaxing for him like they wanted to welcome him back in. He let his cock sink back in, fucking you properly after getting to know the space he was dealing with and being accustomed to the pleasure.

It was almost ironic that last week, you wouldn’t have touched him with a ten-foot pole. But now, you wanted him inside. You needed him, like an addiction. His humor, his charm, and most importantly, his high-quality assets that he was more than happy to whore out to you. You figured that you should add his knowledge onto there, too, because he was handling himself like a champ. While he was losing his composure, his thrusts growing sloppier each time he forced all of himself into you, he kept up the pace like he was mashing potatoes—or, churning thick, creamy butter with each pump. And look, he was doing it with no hands! Well, excluding the ones he kept on your legs to keep you from sliding back or having your legs get too tired. He was still considerate, even when fulfilling his selfish desires.

That’s why he slid one of his hands down your thigh and past your pants, reaching into the small window formed by the stretching of the fabric between your legs and your ass. His hand went straight for your cock, playing with it as his thrusts shook your whole body. He wanted you to feel all of the euphoria entangled with pain that he experienced at that moment, his shaft feeling suffocated by your entrance, only to have wide walls to fuck and tug his dick along on the inside.

His hand was calloused and cracked from the cold weather, but he still felt good on your sensitive skin. Little maneuvers like rubbing his thumb over the head of your dick and keeping his grip tight when he moved his hand along your length sent you spiraling. Grunts and moans filled the air like the wafting scent of a momentous dinner being laid out on the table. The sight of you alone, but mixed with Ryan’s primal energy made this feel more fulfilling than any food could. 

Eventually, you announced that you were on the verge of coming, but it probably sounded a lot less clear in your head. Ryan was still jerking you off but stopped as felt sticky white spray over his fingers and he watched it cover the stomach of your cheap costume. As he saw you unfold, he finally came, leaving you with a mix of creamy white and meaty stuffing still filling you up. You enjoyed how full he made you feel a little too much, missing it as he pulled out with a softening cock coated in his own release. Some of it hit the floor as he was still leaking out the last bits of it. Your hole could barely contain his homemade stuffing.

You sat up, catching your breath. “I need two things from you. Some paper towels, and an invite to your family’s Thanksgiving dinner.”

[oliviassblog]

PLS CAN YOU WRTIE FOR RYAN? MAYBE HIM SAVING THE READER FROM THE KILLER???

I LOVE YOU

ryan baker x fem!reader

finally I been waiting for someone to ask for ryan

You and Ryan were in a warehouse running from whoever was chasing you.

This person has been tagging you in pictures and they have been killing people around town you had no idea who it was though all your friends suspected it was Ryan cause you both started dating and they don’t trust him that much.

But you didn’t listen cause Ryan was actually nice and at least he hasn’t ghosted you yet.

But you guys were running and heard footsteps getting louder.

“Get down!” Ryan said as he grabbed your hand and you two hid behind a car hoping the killer wouldn’t find you.

“Fuck what are we gonna do..?” You said quiet as possible. Ryan got closer to you to whisper “We just have to stay quiet and try to get the hell out of here.. we’re gonna make it”

You nodded but you were scared for your life and you were shaking tears were already streaming down your face.

Ryan grabbed your hand holding it tight cause he knew you were scared.

Footsteps get closer and you covered your mouth to not breathe loud and you saw Ryan trying to stay quiet to.

But the footsteps stopped you took your hand off your face thinking they were gone.

You were wrong because just then someone grabbed you by your hair and you screamed.

The killer had a right grip to your hair and was dragging you.

You were screaming for help Ryan quickly got up looking for something to beat this persons ass.

The killer the stopped and let go of you and pushed you on the floor they had a sharp knife in there hand you were so fucking scared.

The killer got on you and you tried to fight back and the killer stabbed you in your hip you screamed in pain.

“Fuck!” You yelled.

The killer was gonna stab you right in your face but you grabbed there hand trying to stop them you felt yourself getting weaker.

Just then Ryan came from behind and hit the killer with a medal rod he found the killer got off of you and let go of the knife.

Ryan grabbed the knife and stabbed him you looked at him and got up slowly whimpering in pain holding your fresh wound.

You saw Ryan just stab this guy and you knew that person deserved it.

Megan stopped cause the person was dead. He got up and had blood all over him.

He quickly turned to you “Fuck are you okay y/n!?” You nodded crying and he brought you in for a hug kissing your forehead.

“You saved me..?” You said looking up at him. “Yeah of course I did. I love you”

You smiled softly knowing he was the one “I love you too” you held him tight but looked back at the person you they had a mask you wanted to see who it was.

You looked to Ryan and then back at the person you bend down and took off the mask you couldn’t believe it.

It was your dad. Sheriff Newlon Eric. You gasped and looked back at Ryan he was also surprised.

You wanted to cry even more just then cops busted through a door saving the day.

You saw your best friend Jessica she went up to you “Oh my god you’re okay! Thank god”

You smiled and hugged her as she held you tight. “You okay?” She asked and you nodded.

She saw the body “Oh my god.. it was Sheriff Newlon.. your dad?”

You slowly pulled away from the hug as the ambulance came taking his body away and they went to help you with the stab on your hip.

But now.. it was finally over the only people left were you, Ryan, Jessica, Gaby, and Scuba but everyone else didn’t make it.

You were still surprised it was your dad but you lost everyone in your family even your mom.

But you still had the people you always loved someone like Ryan.

I HOPE YALL LIKED THATT I ADDED TO MUCH DETAILS BUT OH WELL?? imma need more requests of ryan more often cause he’s so pookie

[cozymaples]

i’ll beg u to write more for ryan

oh, anon..i am feeling these vibes rn.

any place, any time. | (ryan x reader)

contains: afab!reader, boyfriend!ryan, public intimacy, brief mention of seasonal depression, oral!f recieving

ryan is fully obsessed with you being his girlfriend. he takes the role of being your boyfriend very seriously,

winter has brought on your seasonal depression, a problem which he immediately tries to find a solution to. dates, movie nights, or just taking little scenic walks around the plymouth christmas fair. but, as he explains his logic, orgasms release a ton of dopamine, and he has just the fix for that!

he tucks you into a small alleyway, pulling you away from the bustling crowd and christmas shops. everyone who's at the christmas fair is too distracted to even glance away from their festivities, let alone pay attention to what you and ryan are doing in the dark.

that, and ryan is too cocky for his own good. so when he insists on making you feel good, no matter the time or place, who are you to deny him; or yourself? your head is lulled back against the brick wall behind you, and you silently ask for forgiveness from whoever owns the small business. ryan's hands are busy under your shirt, sliding his warm palms up your chest, kneading the flesh of your tits.

"if you can be quiet, no one's gonna notice, honey. yeah?" he asks, and you nod, agreeing. he lowers himself to his knees, tugging your tights down to your knees from under your sweater. the cold air hits your bare pussy, and you whine at the displeasure; only to be met with ryan's soothing mouth. it's warm and soft, and it makes your knees buckle, and he catches you with his arms. he guides your legs to rest on his shoulders, your back pressed against the wall as you nearly sit on his face.

"'ve got you," he slurs against your pussy, massaging your clit with his tongue. you gasp and whine in place of moans, trying your hardest to not make any noise. your hands rake through his hair, coming to a halt and tightening as he begins to lap at your pussy. the warmth of his mouth contrasting with the freezing air outside makes you see stars, your cheeks rosied with warmth granted by your approaching orgasm. "ryan," you warn, and he can sense that tone from a mile away.

"know you're gonna come," he coos softly, never letting up on his eased composure. you're thankful that he doesn't say anything else, desperate to come for him. the fact that he doesn't seem to mind the hundreds of people passing by the alleyway, just you, makes you nearly come on it's own. you gasp sharply, feeling your orgasm knock the wind out of you, throat rasped and scratchy from inhaling the frigid air so harshly. his tongue works faster, sucking and lapping at your pussy to help you ride your high.

"ryan," you breathe, trying to catch your breath. you feel like you can't think straight, and he takes the opportunity to slide your tights back up, pressing a final kiss to your clit before rising to his feet. you roll your eyes playfully at his smug grin, finally succumbing to his antics.

"okay, yes, fine. it helped." you confess, suddenly feeling giddy post-orgasm. he nods, laughing softly with raised eyebrows. "oh, really? it did? hmm, can't imagine why-" he teases, and you shove him playfully. he wraps his arm around your frame, tugging you into his side as you depart from the alleyway, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "like i always say, baby-any place, any time."

[br4inr0tx]

headcanons for dating sheriff newlon?

Yes ofc! Since I just watched the movie I have a pretty good grasp on him already, and I’m excited to write for him! I’m from Massachusetts so idk..I kind of resonate with this movie lol.

Tw - MASSIVE THANKSGIVING 2023 MOVIE SPOILERS, manipulation, loss of loved one, cannibalism(?).

Eric Newlon…

• Sheriff Eric Newlon. The good looking, friendly and dependable guy. He loves those who are close to him, and does anything he can to help a person out. He’s honestly, a great guy.

• Though as we all know, he has an intense sense of revenge from a woman he loved very much.

• No matter how you identify he at first would use you as a coping mechanism for Amanda’s death. It might be the smallest thing, like the same name, same laugh, same eyes, same personality..something about you just reminds you of a good time back in his life, and he can’t seem to let it go.

• The guy is manipulative, and it’s easy for him to pull the strings. If you don’t already like him, he can easily make you fall in love and join his side with the snap of his fingers.

• He’s genuinely charming, down-to-earth and caring anyway. Why wouldn’t you want to be with him?

• I’d assume you’d help him get through cases and cope with his loss in return. If he REALLY likes you that might not matter, but if it’s a genuine connection just someone caring about his well being is enough.

• I think Eric would also like someone who’s willing to talk about revenge. He’s bottled his feelings for so long, so someone that is willing to listen to and discuss harsher topics he’d enjoy; mostly for his own comfort

• He showers you in compliments pretty often. Sometimes he even babies you. It’s just a habit he can’t help but indulge in!

• Eric helps through hard times too. Though, watch out if it’s an issue with another person. I can’t guarantee they’ll make it out alive, especially considering how hellbent Eric is on the whole "revenge" gig. (I need a dollar for every time I say revenge.)

• He’s a pretty creative guy as we know. I’m not just talking about kills either. Dates and gifts are very creative and thoughtful, within reason an budget of course. I’d like to think giving gifts is as simple as you’d think either. He’d be the type of boyfriend to hide it in a funny spot or specific area for you to have fun finding.

• So, I’m not sure if this is just an act in the movie to get Jess in his side, but he seems really protective. Not just because he’s a cop either. If anyone talks shit about you he’d be one of the first people to stand up for you even if you don’t need it. Golden Retriever boyfriend mentality.

• Now..considering the more John Carver side of things..

• He wouldn’t kill you, he’d just let you enjoy the show. You’re technically a part of this now.

• Though be weary. Even if he acts nice and does nice things for you, he’s EXTREMELY hostile (pun intended) in his John Carver persona. Don’t do anything funny like escaping if he chases you, he won’t hesitate to hurt you just to put you back in place. Sometimes living with the pain is more harsh then just dying, remember that.

• Even if John Carver is a bit mocking, it’s in no way fake love. He’s simply giving you a happy thanksgiving with a glass of revenge, for the both of you.

• Also, remember how I mentioned he wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone that harms you? Well, they’ll be guests at the table on the livestream! Now everyone’s together, on the day of togetherness.

• Overall, you fill in the void he was missing after Amanda’s passing. That’s not to say he doesn’t appreciate you for you, I’m saying that you keep him from going absolutely insane and killing everyone in Plymouth there and then.

[manheimsmuse]

it was a very simple concept, a universally agreed upon rule even if it was an unspoken one. you don’t date the people in your friend group. it could only end horribly, even more so when your ex and ‘best friend’ end up together after your breakup.

it wasn’t a case of jess being interested in your boyfriend and ultimately stealing him, you and bobby were broken up for months before she told you bobby had asked her out. of course you told her it was fine, she was your friend and you didn’t want to be the one to kick up a fuss and tell her she couldn’t see him.

and that’s how you found yourself alone at a house party, leaning back against a counter as a beer bottle hung from your fingers as you unintentionally glared at the pair in the living room.

“would it be a dick move to say you’re making me feel better about myself?”

ryan baker, jess’s ex boyfriend, asked with a chuckle as he leant on the counter beside you.

“yes. it would be”

“okay, then i won’t tell you you’re making me feel better about myself”

your glare is redirected, now focused on the boy beside you as opposed to the reunited couple across the floor. you knew of ryan, but you didn’t know him. the only thing you did know about him for definite was the two of you were in the same boat.

“my bad,” he grins, raising his hands in fake surrender as you hold your glare “struck a nerve.”

“there isn’t a nerve there to strike,” you reply bluntly, not intending to be so hostile “she’s welcome to him.”

“tell that to your face.” ryan chuckles again, bringing his own bottle to his mouth as he took a drink “you look like you’re ready to tear them apart.”

“what kind of friend does that? i mean, seriously!” you begin ranting, finally having someone without current ties to either party “on what planet is that okay to do to your best friend?”

okay, so maybe you were a little pissed at jess, but how couldn’t you be!?

“wait, didn’t you and bobby get together after he broke up with jess?”

“a year after they broke up, not three months! besides, she moved on.” you huffed with a vague gesture his direction “who’s side are you on!?”

“i’m on my side” ryan nodded with a quirk of his eyebrow “i was an innocent bystander before all this, you know”

“weren’t you trying to fuck jess while she had a boyfriend?”

“that’s a rumour..”

“i was there!”

you can’t help but laugh at ryan’s avoidance, slowly beginning to forget all about jess and bobby a couple feet away. ryan laughs too, though he clearly isn’t as upset about the situation as you are, if anything he’s grateful because now he had and excuse to approach you, even if his opening line was about your ex.

there’s a silence between the two of you, well, as silent as it can be at a party. neither of you want the conversation to end, but you also don’t want to continue talking about your not-quite-ultimate-betrayal.

“do you wanna get out of here?”

ryan asks suddenly, making your brain freeze as it tried to process his offer. of course you want to leave, and leaving with ryan would be a bonus as you wouldn’t have to leave alone, or worse, with bobby and jess.

“that isn’t me trying to get in your pants, by the way.”

he adds when you take a little too long to answer, worried he came on too strong considering you were barely acquaintances.

“you couldn’t get into my pants even if you were trying.”

you joke, knowing in the back of your mind that you wouldn’t be entirely against the idea. but you didn’t need to contribute to ryan’s ego.

“yeah, okay y/n, we’ll see about that.”

[spookygirlsthings]

I hope someone else out there is obsessing over the slasher in the new Thanksgiving movie 🙏