#they’re growing up so fast🥺

[dreagine]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY 2 YOOOOUUU….

HAPPY BIRTHDAY 2 YOOOOOOOOOOU!!!!!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR INK SANS……

Happy birthday 2 you🥰

[internetaddict104]

MICHAEL CLIFFORD DILF ERA INCOMING

[marie-rosa]

Behold: 6 day old peacocks (or peahens… TBD)

Fucking hate ai bitches this shit is poisoning my search results just like that tumblr baby crow post fuck y'all for real

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 4- The Chase

Summary: You can only keep running from Frankie Morales for so long. At some point, he'll catch up to you, whether you like it, or not.

Word Count: 3.5K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Do I spy a hint of... ��feelings✨??? Yearning, a hint of teenage violence (Santi deserves it, it's okay), the appearance of the Miller Brothers, Frankie basically looking like this 🥺 for the last half of this chapter, banter because I live for it

A/N: I'm convinced that teenage Frankie and the Frontier Boys are the best characters to write for, period 😭 I never thought I would live to see the day where my chapters are less than 5K (?!?) but I'm really trying to be better about posting on a schedule- If you would rather have them be longer and wait two weeks between chapters instead of once a week, let ya girl know 🤷🏼‍♀️ Thank you for all of your kind words about this story, your kind comments literally fuel me and make my heart explode, ily 🥹💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Frankie, Fall of 2005, Age 16

For as much as he hates school, there will be two classes Frankie knows he’ll always pass with flying colors- Gym and Math. 

When he and Santi went to pick up their 11th grade class schedules before the start of the school year, you would have thought they’d won the lottery when they looked down on the crinkled half sheets of paper to find they were both in the same 6th period gym class. 

Five weeks into the start of Junior year, Frankie’s now convinced that Santi and his new friends, Will and Benny Miller, are in on some sort of scheme to make him fail the one class he’s guaranteed an “A” in. 

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, for the love of God, will you please slow down?!” 

Santi’s all but huffing at the pace Frankie had set for the four of them to run the two miles they’re supposed to finish by the end of class, only three of the eight laps they need to run around the track completed. 

“We’re not even going that fast, Santi, you’re fine.” 

Frankie can’t help but laugh at the way his friend is laboring behind him. Sure, Santi’s got football to thank for keeping him looking less like a gangly string bean than Frankie does, but even at 16, the boyish satisfaction of knowing he’ll always be faster than his friend is undeniable.

“Do you do like, cross country or somethin’, Frankie?” 

“Yeah man, I thought Santi said you swam not ran.” 

The Miller Brothers were a new addition to his and Santi’s long standing friendship duo. Will and Benny moved from North Carolina over the summer and had befriended Santi after a few weeks of preseason football camp that the high school held before the start of the school year. Of course, that meant Frankie became friends by proxy shortly after. 

Frankie was fond enough of the two, but the group was still stuck in the awkward dating phase of friendship where everything was just enough of a pissing match to prove that they were worthy enough of each other’s company. 

“Yeah, I’m on the swim team, I don’t do cross country or anything like that.” Frankie shrugs, rounding the curve of the track with ease as he leads the pack to their halfway point. 

“Then how the hell did you get so fast?” Benny pants, the straw blonde hair matted to his forehead with sweat scrunching as he pinches his brows in a mixture of confusion and unadmitted pain. 

“‘Cause he likes to go running with MacKenzie.” 

Santi’s lips curl to a devious smile as he watches Frankie’s face grow red from his sing-songy taunting. At least with the Millers, Frankie could pretend to chalk the hot, pink sting in his cheeks to the mile he’s been running. Unfortunately, he can’t assume the same with Santi. 

“Shut up, Santi.” Frankie grumbles, picking up his pace to the point he knows it’ll make Santi’s lungs strain just enough to keep him from rambling. 

“Oh shit, like, MacKenzie Anderson, MacKenzie?” Will’s face lights up, his less than lengthy friendship making him blissfully unaware of the history between you and Frankie, “She’s hot.” 

“Ew, n- no, she’s not. That’s weird.” 

The other three are surprised Frankie’s pants have yet to set on fire after such a bold lie. 

“They go run together every weekend.” 

At this point, it’s pure mockery the way Santi is teasing him, pushing Frankie to his limits to see how much he can get away with before his friend breaks. 

“So like, are you guys, dating or something?” 

“What?! No! No- She’s like, my best friend. I just- She plays soccer, so I go run with her to help her train and stuff. It’s good cardio, anyways.” 

Frankie doesn’t mean to snap at Benny for his question. It’s a secondary response to the way his chest is tightening and heart is racing as the eyes of all his friends stay peeled to him, like a guilty suspect in a courtroom everyone is waiting to catch in the midst of their lie. 

“Running’s not the only kind of cardio he wishes he was doing with MacKenzie, huh Frankie?” 

The boys are too busy snickering at each other to realize that Frankie’s completely stopped in his tracks ahead of them, turning around with arms outstretched to greet Santi with a brute shove to the ground as they collide. 

“I said shut UP, Santi!”

Frankie doesn’t intend for it to draw as much attention as it does, how the way he’s practically screaming at his friend he’s pushed to the ground has garnered the attention of everyone else in his gym class.

“Jesus, Frankie, it was just a joke! Chill out!” 

Will and Benny help Santi off the rubber of the track, leaving him and Frankie in a silent stare down of flared nostrils and gritted teeth, bodies boiling with teenage testosterone. 

Despite his rage, Frankie has enough self control to keep from saying (or doing) anything else he’ll regret, forcing himself to take off running in a frustrated huff of silence, heart in his throat and fists clenched, leaving behind his group of friends.  

“Shit. Is he always like that when you talk about her?” Will asks, still slightly stunned by the altercation he’s just witnessed, considering Frankie’s usual calm and quiet demeanor. 

“Yup.” Santi replies, popping the “p” at the end of his answer, “Well, not always this bad, but still,  ya know?”  

“Why?” Benny chimes in, the three of them slowly beginning their trot back around the track, lengths behind their fuming friend. 

“‘Cause they’re like, secretly in love with each other. They say they’re just friends, but they act like they’re fucking married.” Santi pretends to gag as he forces his eyes to roll as far back in his head as they possibly can. “He’s been extra pissy because yesterday he found out this guy, Nick Walsh, who’s some senior on the boy’s soccer team, tried to ask her to Homecoming.” 

“Did she say yes?” 

“No! That’s the thing! I don’t know why he’s got his fucking granny panties in a knot about it. Whatever, man. Not my problem.” 

The Miller brothers exchange intrigued glances, wondering how much more they can pry out of Santi as they mope around the track, hoping they can at least make the second half of their two miles entertaining. 

“If he’s mad about it, why didn’t he just ask her?” Will shrugs, offering up what seems like a reasonable solution to his new friend’s problem. 

“Ask him, dude. I have no fucking clue. They’re going with the same group of friends, so they’re gonna spend the whole night together, anyways. Honestly, if you want my opinion, I think he knows he doesn’t have the balls to nut up and ask her himself ‘cause he’s worried she’s gonna say no.” 

Despite the 23 other kids in the class who are also being forced to run circles around the track, there’s only one who makes the three of them freeze as he passes by, feeling the hole he’s burning through the back of their heads. Santi knows he’s too loudmouthed for his own good, and that there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that Frankie didn’t make out what he had to say as he snuck up behind him. 

And he's right. Frankie hears every word.

If he wasn’t at school, he wouldn’t think twice about punching Santi so hard in the gut it would knock the wind right out of him. But right now, all he can do is keep running, faster and faster, one foot in front of the other. 

Maybe if he runs fast enough, no one will be able to see the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, or the disappointment that’s drained every ounce of color he’s got left in his face. 

Maybe if he runs fast enough, he can outrun the cold, hard truth of the way Santi’s words ring in his ears and put bricks in his chest. 

Maybe, just maybe, if he runs fast enough, somewhere along the worn high school track he’ll find the courage to prove himself wrong. 

You, Present 

You’re convinced he’s following you. He has to be. 

All you wanted to do this morning was to go for a run to clear your head, to blow off some steam after the shit show that had been yesterday’s first interaction with Frankie in the past three years. You were confined to your room for the better half of the day, your dad keeping Frankie hostage in your home far too long for your liking. 

Unfortunately, it’s hard to deny a dying man whatever he wants, even if it’s Frankie Morales’s unwelcome presence in your living room. It also meant having to listen to your dad ramble about Frankie for the next several hours after he’d left, politely nodding at all the compliments and praise your father had to give him while your blood boiled in silence. 

Now, all you wanted to do was to run until your head was free of Frankie for just a little while.

It seemed like Frankie had other plans. 

You gave him the benefit of the doubt the first quarter mile, hell, you even tried to just play it off as unlucky timing at the half mile point. But now, you’re a mile into your run, turning on to Fuller Street with Frankie still trotting behind you. It’s clearly not an accident he’s chosen the same path for his morning jog. 

“There are other ways you can go run, you know.” You shout at Frankie without even turning your head over your shoulder, thinking that maybe he’s assumed you hadn’t noticed him and your not so subtle suggestion will get him to turn around. 

“It’s a free country. I can run where I want.” 

Part of you wishes you would have turned to look back at him so he could see the way your eyes met the back of your skull from rolling them so hard, but you keep your gaze glued to the pavement in front of you. You won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence.  

“Can you please just go run somewhere else? I’m just trying to enjoy my morning and you’re not helping, Frankie.” 

“Not trying to bother you, just trying to run. I didn’t have anything to say until you started talking to me.” 

You know if you turned around right now, he’d have that stupid little smug grin hiding in the corner of his cheeks. A battle of wits is his favorite game to play. He’s learned how to strategize, to stay calm, cool and collected in the midst of your chaos, waiting until you hit the breaking point of his crazy you can’t bear to tolerate anymore. Your jaw tenses with the long exhale you take as you prepare to go head to head. 

“I wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t been following me the past mile.” 

“How do you know I’m following you?” 

“You’ve literally been running ten feet behind me for the past twelve minutes.” 

“Who says I wasn’t planning on running this way to begin with but you just got a head start?” 

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, please just go pick a different way to run.” 

“Who put you in charge of the running police? Do I have to sign a permit before I go jog now?” 

“Go. Run. Somewhere. Else.” 

“No. You don’t get to tell me where to run. This is the way I wanna go, so I’m gonna keep going until-” 

“No! I know you don’t want to go this way!” You’ve accepted defeat, swinging around to storm towards Frankie, stopping dead in his tracks as he realizes the ferocity you’re approaching him with, “I know for a fact you don’t wanna run this way. You know how I know? Because you hate running down Fuller Street. You would run five miles out of your way before you even considered running down this street on your own free will. There hasn’t been a single time we’ve ever run down this street where you haven’t complained the entire way because of how much you hate the hill at the end of the road before we turn onto Wilson way! That’s how I know, Frankie! So stop pretending like you just happened to choose the same way as me by accident, and just leave me alone! Ugh!” 

You’re positive there’s a trail of steam streaming behind you with the way you’re absolutely fuming, turning back around to take off as fast as your body will let you. You can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but straight ahead, too afraid that if you turn around, those stupid, sad brown eyes will make you feel guilty enough to give him the last word he doesn’t deserve. 

Your feet are flying so fast across the pavement, you’re convinced he’s given up, shocked into submission by your anger that he’ll at least let you finish the rest of your run in peace. Your eyes are still locked on the horizon ahead. It’s the arrogance of your self-reassurance that doesn’t even let you contemplate the thought that several yards behind you, Frankie lets out a quiet “fuck me” before letting his hands drop from their place on his hips to chase behind you at full speed. 

“What the fuck are you doing!?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” 

It’s a stupid question. It’s obvious Frankie has said a prayer to hope his knees don’t give out on him as he runs as fast as possible to try and catch up to you. The rhythmic thump of his sneakers pounding against the concrete catches your attention enough to see how quickly he’s gaining on you. It only makes you run faster. 

“Jesus- fuck this hill- MacKenzie, will you fucking slow down?” 

You won’t admit you’re probably just as exhausted as Frankie from the way you’ve been sprinting up the steep incline at the end of the road, but his exasperated huffs are enough to keep you pushing through the pain, mental and physical. 

“No. Run faster.” 

You’re hopeful it’s early enough that no one is awake to see the comedic game of cat and mouse you and Frankie are playing in the middle of the road, chasing each other like you’re on the playground in a childish round of tag. You’d never admit to his face that you know he’s stronger, even faster than you, but the grip he settles around your arm as he finally catches up to you lets you know you’ve lost. 

“Let go of me, Frankie!” 

If the street wasn’t already awake from your wild game of chase, your scream certainly would have gotten their attention. 

“Jesus Christ, MacKenzie, will you just let me talk to you for two fucking seconds?! Please, just- fuck- please just let me fucking talk to you, okay? Please.” 

Even if you wanted to keep running, there was no use. Truth be told, it wasn’t the grasp he had around your arm that was the thing keeping you from sprinting off into the distance. What had you frozen in place was that pathetic pout you knew was splayed across his face, burning a hole in the back of your head. What’s worse, was that you could feel it burning a hole through your chest, too. 

The all too familiar pain that came with holding onto the same, shriveled shred of hope that maybe this time, he’d prove you wrong. Maybe this time, he wouldn’t let you down. 

“Fine.” You barely mutter the word loud enough to hear as you turn around to face him, eyes still looking everywhere but directly at him. 

“I’m sorry, Kenz. I'm sorry, okay? I fucked up.” 

Somehow, his second apology stings worse than the first. It still doesn’t mean you won’t deny how much it hurts. 

“Yeah, no shit.” 

You let your gaze lift just enough to see the way he’s gnawing at his bottom lip, chewing at it like he’s trying to digest his own thoughts before they come out of his mouth. 

“What I said that night at Santi’s wedding, I just-” He pauses, knowing you can hear it clear as day in your head too.

“Fuck you, MacKenzie. Fuck you for ruining my life. It’ll be better off without you fucking in it.” 

“I- I- Fuck. I didn’t mean it. Any of it. I regret ever saying it. I think all the time about how much I regret it. I just, I was in a bad place.” 

You’re not sure what to say. Fuck, you’re not even sure what to feel. Part of you wants to scream at him, kick him in the crotch and berate him for how badly the past three years have hurt you. Part of you just wants to stand there and cry, to say nothing and let your tears flow and spill your emotions down your cheeks. Part of you wants to hug him, to believe him, to have him hold you so tightly against his chest that his apology seeps into your skin until you’ve forgiven him. 

But none of those parts are strong enough to win out alone. Instead, they’ve formed together to create a strange sort of storm that brews in your belly, swirling it so violently, it makes you want to vomit. 

“But you still said it, Frankie. You still said it. If my dad weren’t dying, would you even be here? Would you have ever apologized? Or are you just choosing to apologize now because it’s convenient and you feel like you have to?” 

It’s the first time you can bring yourself to look him in the face. You can see how his brain is churning with the same type of vicious waves that are in the pit of your stomach, drowning out the brown of his eyes. You both are lost in the midst of the storm, but you’ve got a lifeboat. He’s sinking below the thrashing tides, looking for you to let him board your ship. You won’t let him on unless he fights his way through the current to get to you. 

“I should have apologized a long time ago.” 

“Then why didn’t you?” 

“I don’t- I don’t know. I was scared you’d never forgive me.” 

You swear you feel the grip he still has on your forearm tighten just for a moment. Now that he has you, he’s too scared to let you go. 

“Just- Jesus- Just because you apologized doesn’t mean I have to forgive you now, Frankie.” 

“Will you ever?” 

“Ever, what?” 

“Forgive me?” 

Your brain wants to say no. God, with everything in you does it want to say no. But that same stupid pain in your chest that lives and dies by that stupid shred of hope you’ll always hold onto just won’t let you. 

“I don’t know. I- I don’t know, Frankie.” 

You can’t ignore the way he’s still holding your arm. The shred of hope doesn’t want him to let go, even when you scowl at the way his fingers wrap around your skin. You scowl because of how his touch burns your skin, the way it ignites a fire in your gut from how tenderly he touches you. It makes you scrunch your face in frustration and confusion, trying to block out all the times he’s touched you like this before, fingers grazing against your skin in a desperate plea for affection, not forgiveness. He’s holding onto your arm to see if you’ll let him in the lifeboat- if you’ll offer him a chance to save himself. 

“I get it. I’m sorry, Kenz. I hope you at least know I mean it.” 

“I do.” 

You’re not sure what makes you want to offer him a last chance at survival. You’ve been separated by different sides of the same storm for so long- You can’t attest to the way he’s had to fight through it to stay alive, but if it’s anything like the side of the squall you’ve been stuck on, there’s a strange relief in finding in finding someone who knows the hell you’ve faced to keep from drowning in the undertow. You can’t seem to bear letting him drown right in front of you without even trying to help. 

“I still hate you, ya know.” You sigh, a defiant cry to prove to him you’re not happy about the path you’ve chosen. 

“Yeah, that’s fair. I deserve that.” 

It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh in so long. Even though it’s a muffled huff, trying to hide behind the raise of his eyebrows and nod of his head at the ground, you know it’s there, in that same corner of his smirk he gets when he knows there’s no point in arguing with you- there’s no denying it’s there. 

There’s no denying it makes you do the same. 

“You gonna let me finish the rest of my run in peace, Morales?” 

“Yeah, I guess. Only ‘cause I still hate this fucking hill.” 

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

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@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@kungfucapslock

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[vendetta-if]

How would Uncle Luka, Grandfather Pavel, Yvette, and we'll add our lovely father Viktor, and mother figure Aunt Cara, as a bonus react to the MC asking them to be their first dance at their wedding? I couldn't help but think about it when rereading the party.

Awww 🥺🥹 This is so wholesome…

Luka

Despite being a father figure to MC for a decade now, they’re still caught off guard by the request. Somehow, he still feels undeserving of such a great honour. Once MC has reassured him that they indeed want him to do it, then he’ll gratefully accept.

He’s touched by the request but also feeling wistful at the same time. He knows that he’s not good enough to replace Viktor — and he’s certainly not as good of a dancer as his big brother, but he’ll make sure to give it his all, to make it special and memorable.

Pavel

Honestly, he’s really surprised and taken aback. Him before Luka, who has been raising MC for ten years? He’ll probably make sure whether MC is sure and even suggest Luka to do the honour instead.

But after MC reassures him, then he’ll accept, albeit with a feeling of guilt. A small voice in his heart tells him he doesn’t deserve this, considering Viktor’s last wish was for MC to be taken care of by Luka instead of him and it was clear that Viktor didn’t consider him to be a good father figure for MC.

Yvette

Her?! Are you sure MC? Yvette is fully aware that she is probably the most undeserving person to have that honour in the whole city. Hell, even Sebastian (the butler) and Ivan and Boris deserve it more than her considering they’ve spent more time with MC growing up than she ever did.

She’ll probably try to talk MC out of it, but if MC still insists… Then she’ll guiltily and hesitantly accept. But over time, she’ll come to fully appreciate the gesture and she feels hopeful… She’ll see this is an opening or maybe some kind of forgiveness from MC.

Maybe it’s not too late for her to have a better relationship with her child in the future and this time, she’ll make sure to be active in MC’s and her grandkids lives, swearing to never make the same mistake she did ever again.

Viktor

Immediately becomes emotional. His eyes are probably tearing up as he immediately accepts. MC grows up so fast… Has it really been more than twenty tears since he first held MC in his arms? It certainly doesn’t feel that way to him.

And yet, here’s his precious child asking him to do one of the greatest honours there is for a parent. As he dances with MC, he finally fully accepts that his child is now an adult and no longer a little kid.

He’s proud of them and the person they’ve grown to be and he can’t wait to be the best grandpa ever to MC’s kids.

Cara

Wait, are you serious MC? If so, then she’ll gladly accept. She’s definitely touched and honoured for the opportunity and the fact that MC considers her a mother figure in their life.

But she’s usually not a sappy person, unlike someone (*cough* Viktor *cough*), so she’ll cover it with her usual confident and easy-going grins. And yes, she does know a good deal of great moves and she’ll be more than happy to show them to MC to inspire them. Overall, she’ll just keep up her energetic and upbeat spirit.

[spiteless-xo]

hiii for the nsfw prompts, can i request 274 + 72 with geto pleaseee? or gojo… whichever you like more bc i can’t decide 😫 it just sounds kinda funny and they’re both silly geese to me HELSODSK

eek, geto??? ok, i will try 🥺 i hope i do my baby justice. (also sorry but technically nobody says the second prompt, but geto thinks it 🙈)

my responses to these prompts keep getting longer and longer lmao sorry to everyone to requested early on and got little baby drabbles in response!!

list of prompts

╰┈➤ smut prompts - 72 & 274. “That is kinky even by my standards…” “I had no idea you were into this kind of thing”

ft. geto/fem!reader cw. unedited, explicit sexual content (restraints, oral, facesitting, ass eating, multiple orgasms), explicit language. 1,645 words.

being with geto is intimidating -- he's older than you, more experienced than you, and more confident than you.

and it doesn't help that gojo is always reminding you of these facts every time the two of you are alone together.

"suguru's last girlfriend was a gymnast," gojo had told you in a quiet, conspiratorial whisper. "you know what that means, don't you?"

no, you don't.

so you spent the night learning different ways to please him. you searched threads on reddit, found sex-positive blogs on google, and you even watched a few videos online. by the next day, you knew what you wanted to try with geto -- how to impress him.

"handcuffs?" geto asks, looking over at you from his seat on the couch. his lip twitches in amusement. "wow, that's kinky even by my standards," he says sarcastically.

you frown at him, crossing your arms over your chest as you childishly pout. "don't make fun of me."

"i'm not, princess," he purrs, leaning toward you to wrap his arms around your waist. he pulls you into his lap and smiles up at you as he relaxes back in his seat. "you know you don't have to do anything special to make me want you -- just being you is enough."

"but your last girlfriend was a gymnast."

"what? were you talking with satoru?"

geto sighs, cupping your face with one hand while he rubs at the crease between your brows with the thumb of his other, smoothing it down until your face relaxes from your frown. "we can try handcuffs," he says softly, "whatever you want."

"good, because i already bought them," you admit, feeling your face burn in embarrassment.

"my, you're full of surprises, aren't you?" he purrs, running his tongue along his lower lip as his eyes narrow.

you wrap your thighs around his waist and geto lifts you up from the couch, cradling your ass in his hands as he walks the two of you into your bedroom.

"in here?" he asks, standing in the doorway, and you nod excitedly.

"i put them in the nightstand."

he walks you toward your bed, crawling along it on his knees, before lowering you down onto your back with your head amongst the pillows. he presses a soft kiss to your lips before moving aside, pulling open your beside drawer and pulling out a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs.

geto send you a look.

"they were the only ones they had in stock," you admit, scrunching your nose in embarrassment as geto chuckles.

he returns to his place between your thighs, grabbing both of your wrists and dragging them up above your head. he pins them down to the pillows in one of his large hands, while the other fits them around the bars of your headboard.

"wait, no!" you say quickly and he freezes immediately.

he looks down at you, concerned, and loosens his grip on your wrists so you can squirm out of his grasp. "are we moving too fast?" he asks, worry evident in his tone.

"i want to use them on you, suguru."

his eyebrows jerk up in surprise and he blinks down at you, processing what you've just said to him until a sly smile grows across his face. "full of surprises," he purrs, biting back a grin as he lets you roll him over onto his back with your palm pressed on his chest.

you straddle his hips, grabbing both of his wrists with your hands, and lifting them up above his head -- just like he did with you. he watches you intently as you fiddle with the handcuffs, locking first his right hand, then his left, before sitting back to admire your handiwork.

geto looks up at his hands, tugging gently against the restraints to test their strength before looking back down at you. "i could break out of these pretty easily."

"yeah, but don't, ok?" you pout.

you climb off from geto's lap and onto the floor, standing off the side of the bed while he looks over at you curiously. he watches you hook your fingers into your pants, sliding them down off of your thighs along with your underwear, and geto's cock throbs against his leg at the sight.

he can't help himself from squirming on the bed as he watches you settle next to him, kneeling next to his chest as you look down at him curiously. before he can ask, you swing your leg over his head until your knee is pressed into the mattress next to his opposite arm.

pressing your palms against his chest, you shift your hips back until your pussy is hovering over his mouth and geto's eyes widen in delight.

"oh," he says, voice deep and husky. "this is what you want."

he tugs against the handcuffs, wanting to grab and a handful of your ass and pull you down against his face, but he's met with resistance. he makes a small grunt of displeasure, but he licks his lips and lifts his head slightly off the pillow, instead.

"come here -- take a seat," he demands.

"let me know if i'm hurting you," you say, and there's a small quiver to your voice that reveals your hesitance -- but it just makes geto's cock throb painfully against the confines of his pants.

"you won't hurt me, princess," he assures, breathing harder now that he can see the slick building on the lips of your cunt. "come down here, let me taste you."

with a shuddering breath, you lower your hips down onto geto's face, instantly feeling the warmth of his mouth engulfing you as his tongue flattens along your slit. you experimentally rock your hips against his face -- just like you saw in the video from last night-- and let out a stuttered cry when you feel his tongue against your clit.

pressing your palms against his chest, you let your eyes fall shut, grinding down on his mouth until each rock of your hips sends jolts of electricity shooting up your spine. this feels good -- better than you thought it would -- and you let your head hang back over your shoulders as you lose yourself from the feeling.

your slick is sweet and slippery against his tongue. he wants to wrap his arms around your thighs and pull you tighter against his face -- until he can't even fucking breathe -- he wants to be suffocated by you. his hips buck needily into the open air -- he can't help himself.

he groans into your pussy when you press down a little harder and his eyes roll back into his head. all he can taste is you, all he can see is you, all he's ever wanted is you -- and here you are, grinding your pretty little cunt against his face and gripping tight fists around the fabric of his shirt.

your legs start to tremble slightly on either side of his head and he knows you're close. you rock harder -- more desperately -- against his tongue until your moans fade into stuttered gasps of pleasure and geto feels your cunt pulsing around his tongue.

his mouth is flooded with the taste of you as you cum, and he fights against the restraints to reach down and just grab you, but the handcuffs are proving to be stronger than he had expected.

you lift your hands from his chest, reaching back behind you to grab your ass as you gently spread yourself open. geto's eyes widen in surprise as your hips shift just slightly forward until his tongue flicks against your small, puckered hole.

his cock leaks precum from the tip, leaving a sticky mess on his thigh as he gently kisses your asshole -- he had no idea you were into this!

from above him, he hears you whimpering from the feeling of his lips against you. he kisses you again and again, each time pressing his tongue a little harder against your hole until it finally slips past the tight ring.

"fuck -- suguru," you whimper, pressing harder against his face as geto licks into your ass.

god, he wants to grab you so hard right now. he tugs harder against the handcuffs, the metal digging into the skin on his wrists as he fights against him.

either you don't care or you don't realize geto's frustration as he groans into your skin, as you keep rocking against his face feverishly as he buries his tongue in your ass.

you slide a hand across your hips to rub quick, small circles into your clit and geto is fully fucking the air, now. he can't help himself -- he needs you to touch him -- why won't you touch him? his cock is thick and desperate against his thigh and he just needs something.

"sugu --" you whine, and he can feel your cunt twitching against his chin, coating him in slick. "i'm gonna cum -- please."

geto groans into your skin, fucking you with his tongue and burying his face between the globes of your ass as you touch yourself.

with a whimpering cry, you cum for the second time against his face. your thighs shake and you fall forward onto his body, hands bracing yourself on his chest as you keep rocking against his mouth. geto groans, feeling you squeeze around his tongue and he pulls so hard against the handcuffs that he can feel them pinching his skin.

his cock -- desperate and needy and untouched -- twitches in the confines of his pants. geto's body tenses, bucking one last time up into the air until he feels the white-hot pleasure of his orgasm shoot through his body.

he groans, fighting against his restraints as he spills his cum into his pants, making a wet, sticky mess on his thigh to match the one you're making on his face.

god, he is obsessed with you.

[lexirosewrites]

A Slick Sunday thought (if not for this week then for the future)

I really enjoy exploring the medical concepts related to the omegaverse but I also really love exploring them in the specific concept of the setting. And I have thoughts about 80s medical knowledge and diet culture.

Basically, I like the idea that Omegas need certain conditions in order to be healthy and fertile. I like the idea of them needing to feel safe (high adrenaline and cortisol levels functioning to basically pause their reproductive cycle) and I like the idea that (heat being a pretty physically demanding bodily function) Omegas also need a higher body fat percentage in order to have heats. (Heats also cease much more easily than normal female menstruation. An Omega can technically lead an otherwise perfectly healthy life without presenting or experiencing heats. Heats historically could prevent an Omega from being able to eat and expend a great deal of energy and thus Omegas adapted so that they could not go into heat without enough fat in reserve to survive fasting completely throughout. This is not a healthy practice but it is survivable.)

But I don’t think that that would be well understood in the 80s. Our understanding of hormones and nutrition have changed pretty dramatically over time and the common public perception has very rarely actually lined up with that understanding. And diet culture in the 80s was very much present.

Thus, a crisis for suburban mothers to clutch pearls over. Fewer and fewer presenting Omegas and heats few and far apart! What could cause this? The threat of nuclear war? A communist plot? (The diets. It’s the diets and the weight related bullying. And a little bit the threat of nuclear war. Give your kid an ice cream and stop letting them watch the news.)

Anyway, peering into this world we observe Steve Harrington. Who presents after he starts working at an ice cream shop. (Mostly because he was too stressed before. A little because he hit some ill-timed growth spurts. Male Omegas often present later because they stop growing later) But at Scoops he’s as relaxed as he’s been in a long time and he’s eating more and exercising less and as tall as he’s ever going to be. So finally conditions are right. And now Steve knows he’s an Omega. And then the Russians happen. And his heats stop. And he’s not entirely sure that it’s not something the Russians did to him. (Doctors said everything was fine. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be having them. (Except for the trauma. And stress. The stress experienced after the trauma. They haven’t really figured that one out in the 80s either.))

So Steve is pretty sure he’s just broken. And will just have to take out all of his thwarted Omegan maternal instincts on the Party. Who hate it. (They love it) And complain about it vociferously. (Because they’re teenagers) Especially to the super cool older teens they hang out with. (Eddie’s merry band of nerdy social outcasts) And Eddie is… intrigued. Eddie may also have gotten a little too into all the courtly love fairytale shit a few years ago. Eddie is determined to woo the babysitter with shows of chivalry and gifts of food. Eddie is not the least put off by the fact that Steve can’t be a “traditional Omega”. Eddie would love to share Steve’s heats and give Steve all the pups he desires, but he doesn’t need it. He mostly dated Beta guys before anyway. He’s the opposite of turned off by finding out that Steve is a monster slaying badass. He is down to make Steve the Eowyn to his Faramir.

Steve doesn’t fully get his heat cycle back until the Party have all flown the nest for college. But by the time they’re home for Christmas he and Eddie have an announcement to make.

YESSSSSSSS🥳🥵🥰🥺😮‍💨🔥🔥🔥

[marblepasta-creepyhornet]

Creeps x Lonely!Reader: PART 2

First part link 💙

Sorry if this part is literal cheeks, I’m sleep deprived :)

But who cares (I do, please validate me). Nah but fr, send me requests, I need to write more!

———

Toby:

The more you two hung out, the more you began to realize that you weren’t alone in the aspect of loneliness.

Anytime you needed him he was there as fast as lightning (he’s fast as fuck boi-) 🏃💨

Soon after, your trust started to grow with him and you found yourself being able to open up more easily. (He’ll never judge you 😤)

Man’s plans a whole day for you guys! First you’ll have breakfast, then go urban exploring (with Slendys permission), then go on a mission and end it with a nice dinner he’s prepared.

Once you’re comfy, you started showing signs of physical affection, hugs, pats on the back, hand holding-

It makes Toby’s heart flutter fr 🧡

Man’s just wants you to feel less alone. He’d go through hell and back if it meant you felt okay 🥺

Jeff The Killer:

Let’s say, Jeff isn’t the same as Toby when it comes to trying to help you feel more included and less lonely.

Let’s also say, when his ass cares he doesn’t verbalize it, rather does it through acts of service.

Because, it was slowly overtime he’s realized that he’s come out of his emo shell and wanted to help you (and himself 🫣)

So he’s taken it upon himself to stay distant and help from a distance

Mans literally killed for you and you ain’t even know it, baby 😉

He’s protected you on missions when you were sent alone (ain’t no way his ass is letting you get hurt! 🫢)

Overall, he chooses to help and support you from a distance, little does he know that you know what he’s been doing.

Ben

Ben finally had the mansion to himself for the day. So what better way to spend your alone time than playing video games.

Imagine the look on this man’s face when he realized he wasn’t completely alone and that YOU were now standing in front of him.

“(Y/N)!” He would shout with excitement making you giggle, “Never thought I’d see the day you come out of your room”

“Well, they’re all gone for the day, and you’re always so persistent on hacking into my stuff to talk to me, so when I heard they were gonna be out, I thought ‘why not?’”

Ben smirked, “Well, can you blame me? You’re cool and you’re also the only one who doesn’t find it off-putting”

Bro compliments your 25/8 366 btw 🥺

All he wants is a few rounds of Mario Kart with you

He handed you a 2nd controller with a smile, “Just a few rounds”

You totally kick his ass BTW (he rage quit)

“You’re just jealous that I’m better than you”

Overall, it’s a cute fucking time between you two; both realizing that this is what you needed.

EJ:

Little did he know that you treasured that little doll of himself. He was right, whenever you needed to talk, you’d pretend it was him.

Don’t get me wrong, you DID wanna talk to Jack, but the anxious feelings were holding you back 😭

But, you knew if you wanted to talk to him, you couldn’t put it off forever! So you marched down to his infirmary.

Mans was humming as he cleaned up his counter.

You clutched the little doll in your hand as you knocked before hearing a “come in”.

He turns to face you, not expecting you to be there, “Oh, (Y/n), right?” You nod.

You clear your throat, “Uh, thank you. F-for the doll…”

Jacks heart fluttered 💙 he didn’t think you’d actually use it

“I’m glad you like it” He smiled, “Truth be told, I was nervous to give it to you. But, I know these things take time, I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured to talk to me, or anyone else, until you’re ready”

G Y A T T D A Y U M this man has such a way with words 😭

And with that, you started talking more to him and getting to know him and his past and his as well with yours 💙

Along the way, he teaches you to crochet as well 🥹

[muldermuse]

can i get boy!dad butcher headcanons? i just had my son and can only find girl!dad ones 🥺

congratulations my love!!!! i hope your family are all well

your son is running butcher ragged, he crawls so quick like butcher will be on the phone to you, he’ll turn around to pour his coffee and turn back around and your son has crawled away, giggling the entire time. butcher goes silent on the phone, “butcher, have you lost him again?” IT HAPPENS ALL THE TIME, “he’s fuckin’ rapid darlin’, fuckers like a baby supe”

at the playground, he’s SCREAMING for butcher to push him as high as he can go on the swings. you have to tell butcher to calm it down because even though your son is hysterically laughing, you’re getting so nervous that he’s gonna throw up everywhere

on a quiet sunday afternoon, billy is lying on the sofa with your son sprawled on his chest with an old western playing in the background- they’re fast asleep. both snoring. looking IDENTICAL, with their mouths slightly open and their slow breathing in tandem. you take a picture and show it to butcher when he wakes up. “you’re like twins” butcher smirks, “poor cunt’s gonna grow up to be a old lookin’ fucker”

also just a random one: your son fucking loves trucks, whenever you’re out shopping and he sees something with a truck on he’s grabbing yours and butchers hand and pulling you over, pointing at the truck with a huge smile on his face like 🙂 butcher buys him a t shirt with loads of colour trucks on and he wears it all the time, sobs when it’s in the washer. fully sits in front of the machine until it chimes that it’s finished

[mountttmase]

A Mountain To Climb

The Christmas Special

Part One

Note - Merry early Christmas. This is a little different to what I’ve done before but it all leads up to part two that I’ll post in a week. Hope you all enjoy 🤍

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - n/a

Warnings - fluff

masonmount

liked by: y/n. benchilwell, declanrice and others.

masonmount Happy 3rd anniversary baby. So lucky to still get to do dinner and a movie with you 🩷

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y/n happy anniversary 🥺 the loml I swear

masonmount many more to come 😘

declanrice they grow up so fast. Proud of you son

masonmount thanks dad

Freyaaaaxo I still remember being on the phone to missy just before you picked her up for your first date. Time flies 🥺

masonmount wouldn’t be here without you Frey 🩷

y/n my wing woman ❤️‍🔥

benchilwell you used to carry me around like that

masonmount I still got you bro 😘

y/n

liked by masonmount, freyaaaaxo, lukeshaw23 and others

y/n Life lately

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masonmount ☹️❤️‍🩹

y/n need a cuddle

masonmount on my way 🦸🏻‍♂️

woody_ smile might be good

y/n nothing to smile about in my life

declanrice stop drinking leaf water you’ll feel better

y/n it’s peppermint tea you uncultured swine

Freyaaaaxo Parker watching the game with you at home is so precious to me 😩

y/n he’s a good boy 🥺 I’m glad you enjoyed the game and my ticket didn’t go to waste 🩷

masonmount

liked by y/n, lukeshaw23, declanrice and others

masonmount Good things are happening people. Thank you for sticking by us and stay tuned 👹

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y/n 🤭😉

masonmount 🤫😘

lukeshaw23 🤷🏼

rasmus.hoejlund good game today bro 🤜🏻🤛🏻

masonmount ⭐️👦🏼

lisandromartinezzz brother ♥️

masonmount miss you out there man ♥️

kobbie Money Mase 💰

masonmount parter in crime 🤝🏼

lukeshaw23 god you look good in red

masonmount 🤭

y/n

liked by masonmount, freyaaaaxo, lew.mount and others

y/n Parker is so excited to let you know he’s about to become a big brother 💛

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masonmount mumma 🩷

y/n daddy 😏

Freyaaaaxo Parker will be the bestiest big brother I just know it 🥺 congrats guys, how did we end up here 🥹

Y/n anntie Frey 🩷 and no idea, but I’m so thankful to have had you right next to me for the journey 🥰

sophiaaemelia STOP IT RIGHT NOW?!?!? Girl you’re GLOWING 😍 Congratulations you two, you’re gonna be the most perfect parents ever 🤍 miss you xx

y/n Soph 🥹 we miss you too. When bubba is here you must come for a cuddle ☺️

sophiaaemelia it’s a date. I can’t think of anything I’d want to do more 😘

kaihavetz29 I’m coming too 😌

masonmount of course you are 🙄

laurenfryer_ a bestie for Jude 🥺 congratulations guys this is so exciting 🩷 if you need any tips let me know

y/n calling you right nowwwwww

jazbenham we’re all honestly so excited to meet the new addition 🥺 but I think summer is the most excited out of all of us 😂

y/n bless her 🥹 it’s a big deal being a big cousin but we can’t wait for you all to meet them 🩷

masonmount

liked by y/n, woody_, sophiaaemelia and others

masonmount don’t be fooled, she just had a really big lunch

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y/n thanks Mase 🙄

masonmount ily 😘

declanrice let that bun cook 😤

masonmount oh it’s cooking 🧑🏻‍🍳 did you know they’re currently the size of a pineapple

y/n feels more like a bowling ball

benchilwell I’m gonna be an uncle 🥹

woody_ I’m gonna be the favourite uncle 🥹

lew.mount get in line you two

kaihavetz29 well how has this happened then. Congrats you guys ♥️

masonmount thanks bro! I’ll tell you later 😉

reecejames my boys turning into a man 🥹 forever proud of you

masonmount proud of you bro!

y/n

liked by masonmount, sophiaaemelia, woody_ and others

y/n A whole week of you, George 🤍 Merry Christmas everyone and thank you Santa for the most precious gift of all. We’re both so full of love for you 🥰

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masonmount that’s my boy 🩷🥺

y/n we love you sm 😘

Freyaaaaxo LOOK AT THAT CHUNKY BOY 😍 the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen 🙊 can’t even begin to tell you how excited I am and how PROUD I am of you and Mase. Georgie is so lucky to have you guys 🩷

y/n I’m too hormonal for this Freya but we all love you so much you have no idea 😭🩷

benchilwell congratulations guys 🤍 mason looks like a natural already

y/n another thing he can do perfectly 🙄

sophiaameila what a beautiful baby 🤍 so happy for you all and I can’t wait for cuddles 😭

y/n George and Parker can’t wait!

anouskasantos a new bestie for Reign 😌 he’s beautiful babe congratulations

y/n I sense some play dates incoming 😉

masonmount

liked by y/n, declanrice, lew.mount and others

masonmount To the love of my life, and the little boy that made me a dad. I’m so in awe of both of you and all the new things we’re learning together 🤍

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Y/n the kindness and patience you’ve shown us over this week is more than I could ever ask for. You’re the best dad in the word and we’re so lucky to have you 🩷

masonmount my absolute world 🌏💘

declanrice congrats brother!

masonmount uncle dec 🤍

woody_ Parker 😩 (also George 🥺)

masonmount he’s taking his protector role very seriously

manchesterunited a new red ♥️ got the shirt being printed as we speak. Congratulations Mase and y/n!

masonmount thanks all!

lew.mount the baby’s had a baby 🥺♥️ he’s perfect congratulations the pair of you I can’t wait to see him

masonmount soon bro 🤍

benchilwell mini Mase 😭 congratulations I’m so proud and happy for the pair of you

masonmount brother ♥️

[the-phantom-author]

because of the dilf!hasan mention the other day it’s all i thought abouttttttt.

like him doing things to take care of you or the babies while you’re pregnant like he’s bringing you your prenatal vitamin everyday because he knows you’ll forget it.

him putting the cribs together (insert that one debby ryan gif from radio rebel) he’s got his shirt off and in a pair of shorts, you’re sitting with him in the nursery but he’s not letting you do anything so you’re in one of the rockers. and with pregnancy hormones……. watching him has you like 🤤🥵🫦

him carrying both of the boys’ car seats…….. he’s already a big dude with big muscles but combine that with sweet tiny babies, you’re a puddle in the floor.

him folding their teeny tiny laundry (even though you guys lose all the socks and can never keep up with them because they’re so freaking tiny) while you nurse the boys, him standing at the end of the bed and just watching and talking to you.

getting him something funny for his first father’s day, like a hat or an apron that says worlds hottest dad or something.

and going back to the other day, you two putting the boys down for a nap and he grills out👁️👅👁️ still in swimsuit, you two in and out of the kitchen and stealing quick kisses and touches with the baby monitor nearby 🥹

Dilf!Hasan being dilf!Hasan, we love to talk about it

He's absolutely bringing you your prenatal everyday. It beings it to you at the same time he gives you your breakfast. Tbh, no matter how pregnant you are he spends the mornings kind of hovering around you help you twitch things. He's putting your shoes on, grabbing you your jacket, anything he can think really, he's doing.

Him putting the crib together by himself did start a little argument. You wanted to be involved, but he was like "I got it™" and told you to just sit pretty in the rocking chair. He makes some promises about what the two of can do after the cribs are put together that makes you be okay with just watching him, him being shirtless was just an extra bonus. He'll also mention that he can feel you staring at him.

The first few days at the hospital and house with the twins always had you melted, because look at him. Him carrying the boys out of the hospital in their car seat just makes you 🥺🥺. And just seeing him randomly through the day having one on one with each of the twins, he's just siting on the couch in the front room or in the nursery, shirtless with one of the twins sleeping on his chest.

He loves doing their laundry. He doesn't have an answer if you ask why, he just likes doing it. Hell always be surprised with the size of the clothes, like they were so small when they were first born, but they grow so large so fast.

I can see it being a thing that y'all just buy a new pack of baby sock everytime you go out shopping, just to replace the one that have lost.

He would totally want the "the words hottest dad" hat all the time tho. Like it quickly becomes a favorite of his. That's not to say you didn't do anything else for his first father's day, you made him all of his meals, he got a new jacket, you brought him flowers, and a couple more things.

After putting the twins down for a nap, y'all are just soaking up the extra attention from each other. It's not like you two haven't seen each other with this much skin showing since the twins were born, you have, it's just different to see each other with this amount of skin showing for this long without any kind of insecurity rearing it's head around. Hasan is so much more touchy this day, you literally can not be within arms reach of him and he not be touching you.

[nathandrakeisabottom]

Hiiii! I was re-reading your works the other day (all so great!) and decided I am gonna throw this in your ask box cos it's been floating round my mind, so just in case it sparks anything in yours, but no worries if not... Thoughts on Nate and/or Sam teaching their SO to climb? x

⋆ Nathan Drake with an S/O with a Fear of Heights Headcanons ⋆

Say that five times fast! Thank you, friend, for such a lovely request and representation of us Space Needle Scaredy Cats! Sorry for the long wait. Nathan explicitly has a scene in my probably-possibly-potentionally-one-day-released megafic where he helps a new team member scale a building, so apologies if you read this… and one day it feels familiar. 😉💙🧡

P.S. We got a very similar ask in the pink furry (in)box, so don’t think Sam will be left out just yet. 🙂

As we all know and love about him, nothing shakes the great, intelligent, impeccable, reasonably-endowed Nathan Drake.

He has a magical, well-learned way of keeping his cool and pushing forward in even the most dire, most dangerous circumstances. At least when it comes to himself. 

Most times, it doesn’t even cross his mind that a certain jump or climb or crawl would be difficult for his companion (It’s a miracle Sully’s eyeballs haven’t gotten stuck in the back of his head from their sheer amount of rolling). 

But he promises he’s trying his hardest to be better about it. 

He likes to have some sort of physical touch with his partner whenever the tension starts to pick up: preparing for a getaway, sneaking around a security-packed manor, a civilian-packed market, sporting scarves and shawls to blend into the crowd. He prefers a hand held, but he often makes do with a hovering touch to the shoulder or waist. Any more will make him seem too worried, and he knows he has to be the rock the second shit maneuvers off-plan.

He couldn’t live with himself otherwise.

And on one particularly windy mission morning, a Bolivian cliffside gap leaves you both between a rock and a hard place, Nathan’s hand immediately going to your waist.

“Who do you want to go first?” – You can mostly hear his concerned baritone over the wind.

After a lifetime of spontaneous jumps, he finally asks love first.

But, unfortunately, the answer comes easy— and you prod frightenedly at his shoulder for the go-ahead. Maybe it’s just stage fright when he jumps and lands with such casual presion that you barely have the courage to even reach for the rope once it backswings up to you.

“C’mon, shortie!” He calls with a smile, no matter how tall you are. 

“Nathan…” You inch, switching one hand for the cliffside when a slight breeze rocks your stance. 

Because what fucking idiot doesn’t tell their partner that they’re afraid of heights before scaling the goddamn Andes?

After a few moments too long, and with no movement to show for it, the wind only grows stronger and your legs: trembling harder, Nathan’s face finally screws up in understanding. He musters up a toothy, encouraging smile.

“Don’t worry about it, hun. Just… just start talking.”

What?

“What?”

 “Anything you can think of. Talk about how stupid I am, if you have to.” 

(Depending on your preferred dynamic with him:) “But then I won’t be talking at all. 🥺“ or “BUT THEN I’LL BE TALKING FOREVER!”

But as soon as another particularly strong breeze whistles by, your boot wobbling on the edge and sending a few pebbles skittering off the side, Nate’s eyebrows furrow and his eyes go soft. There’s no time for jokes anymore.

“C’mon, hun. Anything.” 

You think for a moment. 

And you really, really try.

“Did…” You wet your lip, and you can just barely see Nate’s chest rise with a soft, bated, hopeful breath. “Did you ever think Sallah in the Indiana Jones movies was hot?”

Nathan looks at you like you just spoke fucking Mandarin. Except he probably understands Mandarin ten times better than whatever the fuck you just said.

“What?” He asks incredulously, lips wide in a crooked, accidental smile.

“Sallah? He’s like the best friend guy? He wears a little red ha—” 

“Yes-I-know-who-Sallah-is-thank-you.”

“W-whatever! He’s nice, okay?! Closing statement.” 

But whatever embarrassment your flushed face portrays is canceled out by Nathan bursting out into melodious laughter.

And by some chance or miracle, your feet find themselves inching forward. Maybe just in the hopes of hearing that beautiful laugh just a little bit clearer.

“Oh, what?! Like you haven’t thought about it? You don’t think Indy has? Just the two of them together, digging holes on those cold, lonely desert nights…” You ooze dreamily, just to spur his giggles further.

“That’s my girl! Keep talking about diggin’ holes, hun!” Nathan rallies with clapping hands like he’s at a goddamn football game.

And now you’re joining right in on his laughter.

Your feet: forward. Forward. Forward. Nice and easy,

“Oh… wouldn’t you love me to keep talking about holes.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you love me to love you keep talking about holes!” He jeers right back, and your eyes are too crinkled with smiles to notice how his eyeline dips up and down between your own and the ledge below.

Somewhere above, a creature skitters. A mouse amongst the bush. 

A quick shuffling sound. A few pebbles fall.

Fall.

Fall.

Landslide.

And you gasp in fear when the movement has the rock ledge crumbling where your trembling foot was only a moment before. The only registerable sense is the sound of your own heart beating in your ear, your body reminding, begging you of its own mortality. Blood against its cage. You will fall. It’s already happening.

Holy shit… you’re going to die.

“It’s the beard, isn’t it?” But Nathan’s sweet voice snaps through the fog. 

“Huh?” You barely manage to warble out.

“It’s the beard! Sallah’s big, gigantic beard is why you think he’s so hot!” He gasps in facetious discovery, and a little bit of a careful smile shies out of the corner of your mouth. “Which means you secretly do want me to grow one! I knew it!”

You’re not sure if it’s joy or genuine terror that makes you reply as boisterously as you do. 

“You BETTER not!” But it doesn’t matter, because both make you break out into a laugh so hard it hurts, anyway. “I said he’s nice and that I like his stupid ha—!”

“No, no, you’re right! I didn’t think of it like that before. You’re just brilliant, honey.” 

How handsome he is only makes him that much more punchable. 

And in fact—

You just might—

“BEARDED MEN TELL NO TALES, NATHAN DRAKE!” You wail, and without even thinking, your body is pouncing, soaring through the air— the ledge behind crumbling into the sea and survival finding abrupt home in his arms.

The burning sweat at your forehead, your shaking arms, your noodling legs: you only feel them when you finally have no reason to.

Nathan’s smile: puffing air at your temple in a breathy, relieved chuckle. His hands: wrapped around every part of your body he can possibly manage, desperate to hold it, to protect it with his own.

And just when you think you’re about to suffocate against his pillowy barrel of a chest—

“I mean, his accent helps…” You mumble dumbly, flushed face squished against his (wonderfully) stank-smeared henley.

“Oh! Gotcha! So do you want me to—”

“Nathan, you talking in that accent is the last thing I want you to do.”

⋆⋆⋆

(Post sponsored by the Sallah lovers gang)

[lesinquietes]

I once wrote this longfic about Yandere!Professor!Levi who works out of a university and agrees to take you on as his teaching assistant in the first year of your grad degree…… and guys, the brainrot is back 🥺

Tw; coercion, degradation, dominant levi, dubcon (just a sprinkle), oral sex (levi receiving), slut-shaming, spanking

He remembers how much completing a master’s degree sucks. Rewarding? A little. But mostly just a waste of time keeping to the institution’s expectations of excellence. Originally, he only applied to see if he would get one of the scholarships they offered to the poor folk. He didn’t anticipate gaining entry to the program.

Fast forward to eight years later, and he’s cozy in his teaching position. The headmaster is his best friend, Erwin Smith. Life is good. He doesn’t have to teach much with the team of graduate assistants he has each semester. He lets them conduct seminars on course material to get “teaching experience”. As if that’ll help them find a job afterwards.

Although everything seems to have fallen into place for him, there’s still something missing. A void. A yearning. For what, he doesn’t know; that is, until you came along. You make him realize that life isn’t meant to be easy.

For every class he teaches, he receives at least one teaching assistant. Oftentimes, the flock he gets are new graduate students who don’t know their hand from their foot. They’re so nervous in their new role, that they cause more havoc than they’re worth. As such, he’s learned to be a hard ass. It turns out tough love works better than coddling.

But you.

You don’t respond well to either.

And it pisses him off how you’re not predictable. Growing up in the slums made his ability to read situations damn near immaculately. To some degree, he should be able to predict most common behaviours. He’s utterly confused when you don’t respond to reward or punishment. What kind of person are you? The fascination takes him faster than the alcohol did after Farlan and Isabel died in that car accident. Unlike the liquor, he lets his attraction for you bloom.

He treats you like an academic study. He writes down his hypotheses and then conducts an experiment to record data. He documents every method he tries, hoping to make a breakthrough, all while skirting under your radar; the subject can’t know her role in his field research.

Initially, he’s hard on you. He discovered a marking error on one of his students’ returned papers. Usually he doesn’t bother to check his teaching assistant’s work. With you, he’s been putting in overtime.

“The fuck is this?” He growled, tossing the paper onto your desk.

“What?”

You took the sheet onto your hands and scanned the lines with careful orbs. When you reached the bottom, you locked eyes with him. He doesn’t utter a word. You’re bright enough to understand the implicit message.

“I made a mistake,” you state. “I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful.”

You always act so diplomatic with him. He wishes you would let your guard down. You speak to your colleagues with less of an edge to your tone.

“I thought a master’s student would be able to handle bachelor’s level shit.” He antagonized you. “If you fuck up again I’ll scrap your contract for next semester.”

It’s a bluff. He won’t do that. He doesn’t want anyone else getting you as a teaching assistant, least of all that creep Miche. You’re too alluringly odd. Levi wants to lay claim to you.

“It won’t happen again,” you called after him. “Sorry.”

A lightbulb goes off in his head. His vivid memory of your nonchalance gave him a bright idea. You don’t mean your apologies because you don’t care. Truly.

Of course you haven’t been responsive to his rearing techniques; you aren’t interested in what he’s offering. He hasn’t been using the correct rewards and punishments. You’re in this teaching assistant position against your will; you needed to take it on so you could afford to pay your tuition. He bets you’re dying for stimulation.

With this in mind, he sends you an email, requesting your presence in his office tomorrow morning. If you want something to captivate your picky mind, he’s going to give it to you.

He can’t believe his eyes when you actually obey his request to bend over his desk. Your skirt hikes up, revealing your cute panties. They’re white. The way they don’t fit around the cheeks of your ass makes his cock twitch in his pants. The notion that you planned this crosses his mind. He dismisses it in favour of indulging.

Levi smacks his ruler against your ass, revelling in how your holes twitch each time he strikes. You respond well to this punishment. You moan and gasp when he goes harder, panting breathily like a desperate whore. He’s never seen so much life in your face. He only stops hitting your plump globes when the skin feels tender and worn beneath his palm; even then, he gives them one more clap before standing up to tug down his trousers.

You suck his cock next. Who knew you were such a champ at giving head? He helps you along with a firm hand glued to the back of your skull. You choke and slobber when his rip slams into the back of your throat. He doesn’t let up. Tears are streaming down your face until he decides it’s time you worship his balls. He shoves your nose and mouth into his sack, shuddering when he feels your tongue lavish each sphere with your love. It’s almost enough to make him cum.

He can’t take much more of your teasing. He forces himself down your throat a second time and shoots his load. You cough and sputter, but he doesn’t let you off. You’ll only have the privilege of air when you swallow. Once you do, he’s happy to permit you to breathe.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and tilts your head up. His steely orbs are filled with wanton lust. Your makeup is smeared and your eyes are glossy. You’re in a daze. This is what you wanted all along; to be used by your professor.

Well, if that’s what it’ll take for you to maintain an interest in grading for his class, he’s happy to do it; the next time you need some proctoring, he’ll be sure to claim that wet pussy of yours.

[tennessoui]

I'm begging on my hands and knees for more Twilight au, and those are words I never thought I'd say! Anakin being able to resist compulsion, and Obi-Wan seeming instantly obsessed, and poor Shmi! Pretty please 🥺🙏

hey!! sure! here's some more!

(2.5k)

Having a sheriff for a mom sucked a lot when he was a kid growing up in a small town. There was probably nothing Anakin was rebelling against more at eleven, at thirteen, at seventeen than the rule of law his mother represented. 

All things considered, she was pretty good at separating her home life from her worklife. It was Anakin who was bad at respecting the separation, Anakin who couldn’t keep son out of delinquent.  There’s only so many times he could be pulled out of wreckage and bars and buildings with Keep Out No Trespassing signs on them before he got The Sheriff at home and out in public.

He’d hated it growing up and had come to grudgingly respect it later and in fits and starts. His dad dying had, terribly and ironically, helped a lot. His mother had had a stroke just before and then Anakin had been faced with the possibility of being an orphan, and the terror of that had mellowed him out.

Sorta.

He still hates a lot of things about his mother’s job. Especially the fact that she’s the sheriff of a very small town.

And when people talk, she listens.

The thing about small towns is that everyone’s always fucking talking. And other people are always fucking lsitening so they can talk later. One big fucking community, which means when Anakin comes home from his weird doctor’s appointment with Dr. Kenobi, a few hours later because he took a detour biking along the edge of the seaside cliffs just to spit in the good doctor’s metaphorical face, Shmi Skywalker already knows more than Anakin ever planned to tell her.

Like, for instance, “Sheila says that Dr. Kenobi thought it would behoove you to spend some time at the local library volunteering.”

Anakin pauses, backpack half-slung off his shoulders. He hangs his stuff up slowly, careful to keep his tone very light. “Did Sheila say what I told him after he said that?” 

His mom’s silence is very loud.

“I don’t want to do i—”

“I asked the new librarian about it on my way home from the station. She thinks it’s a wonderful idea. Apparently we used to have a program like that in the forties but it died out during the war.”

“Mom, come on—”

“It’ll look good on resumes, saying you created and supported a local reading program.”

“Yeah, but I’m a bit too old to be applying for babysitting positio—”

“It’ll look good for me as well,” Shmi says in her sheriff voice. “Elections are coming up soon. It’ll be good, if my kid was involved in the community.”

Anakin’s glad that his back is still turned to the living room, where his mom is sitting. “Are you gonna run again?” he asks, paying special attention to his tone this time.

“Why wouldn’t I?” his mom replies. “I’ve been sheriff for a decade and a half.”

Anakin lets his eyes fall closed for a second, knowing that his face can’t be seen. This is how they end up half the time: Shmi’s ardent belief that she is invincible, going up against Anakin’s desperate desire for her to be so.

And they just don’t talk about it. As if they’re actually in agreement.

He knows how this is going to shake out.

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?” His mother asks.

Anakin’s eyes remain closed. “I guess so,” he says.

—--------

Mrs. Kenobi—call me Satine—is sort of scary up close. She’s tall. She glides between bookshelves. Anakin’s never met someone who glides before. And she’s so intensely, incredibly, blindingly perfect that Anakin would rather be anywhere but in her vicinity. There’s something incredibly unnerving about the symmetry of her face, the sharpness of her cheekbones. She’s obviously an absolute knock-out, just drop-dead gorgeous, but it makes Anakin’s skin crawl and his heart beat fast, but not in a good way or a normal teenage boy way.

Anakin tries to keep the unease off his face as Satine leads him through a tour of the library, a gentle hand on his forearm. That’s another thing Anakin doesn’t really like. She’s wearing satin gloves. He doesn’t know anyone who wears gloves anymore.

It’s just all a bit…unsettling.

“I put in a few words around the school yesterday afternoon,” Satine tells him. They pass by the mystery section, the fantasy section, and take a hard right into the young adult section. The shelves are smaller here, and Anakin feels rather stupidly gigantic as he and Satine walk through them. “To some parents picking their children up after school. They agreed it would be good exposure to bring them to the library for an hour or so of reading before supper.”

Anakin highly doubts it will be, but Satine hasn’t really asked him.

She sweeps past his figure and pushes open a pair of double doors with a flourish better suited for a Russian tsarina hosting an elaborate ball than a small town librarian showing off a small, cramped, and dusty room filled with padded seats and threadbare rugs.

And then, as if she has been waiting to put the last nail in the proverbial coffin, Satine adds, “A few students from the local high school will be here as well.”

“Sorry,” Anakin says, “are you saying I’m going to be reading to high school students? Can’t they do that themselves?”

After all, Anakin went to high school here. Academics hadn’t been too rigorously challenging, but they’d taught the fucking basics.

Satine raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow in his direction. “They’ll be volunteering as well.”

Oh. Right.

“It looks good on their college applications,” Satine waves a hand through the air and the words linger there. Anakin looks out the rather dirty window, jaw clenching. “I’ve already chosen a handful of books I think the young ones will enjoy.”

Anakin, committed to his fate, pads over to the titles placed carefully ontop of a short, stout side table. 

“Peter the Rabbit,” he reads off the top. “Peter Pan. Alice in Wonderland. Treasure Island. The Prince and the Pauper—look, you’re the librarian here, but don’t you have anything written this century maybe? Harry Potter, even.”

“These are classics,” Satine tells him, her nose raised into the air as if she has encountered something particularly foul-smelling. She turns away, presumably to return to the front desk so she can welcome half the fucking town inside the library so Anakin can read them fucking Anne of Green Gables and become a better person.

“These are fucking boring,” he mutters to himself, flicking the cover of the first book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz open. Publication date: 1900. “I’d rather be in Kenobi’s office getting lectured at.”

There’s a sharp noise of disapproval from the doorway, and Anakin’s head snaps up to see the tail end of a very heated look from the librarian before the door closes behind her.

He shivers, alone in the emply room, and it takes several long minutes for his heart to settle back into its normal pace. 

—----------

After the fourth kid sneezes, Anakin closes his book with a snap and stands from the very small chair they’ve got him sitting on. “Come on,” he tells the cluster of children he’s been assigned to. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Are you kidnapping us?” One of them, a snot-nosed kid who’d started the sneezing says, rubbing at her cheek beneath her glasses. “Cause mommy says that’s not allowed.”

“I’m not kidnapping you,” Anakin snaps back, barely holding in his natural follow-up to the sentence which is of course, I don’t want to be around any of you in the first place. “Also, just for future reference, you shouldn’t ask if someone’s kidnapping you after you already start following them.”

The girl scowls and reaches up her hand to hold onto Anakin’s. 

For the love of Christ.

“We’re just going to go into the main part of the library,” Anakin tells his children, all six of them. “They have windows out there.”

They have windows out there and they also have parents. Parents who absolutely should be doing other things with their lives and precious hour of extra freetime.

Parents who are clustered instead around the library’s front desk as the town’s newest librarian holds court.

“Is reading time over?” one of the kids asks him, turning his head to look up at Anakin.

Anakin thinks about it. “Do you want reading time to be over?”

The kid thinks about it back. “Yeah,” he decides. “You don’t do the voices good.”

“It’s a boring book,” Anakin tells the kid. “Voices aren’t going to make it better.”

“Voices always make it better,” another kid says. “They make everything better.”

“Oh look,” Anakin says. “Is that your father?”

He gestures vaguely towards the cluster of drooling middle-aged somethings focused on Satine.

The kid peeks around his thigh and then shakes his head. “No,” he says. “That’s Dr. Obi.”

“Dr. Obi!” The kid holding Anakin’s hand says, and she lets go.

Anakin gets a bad feeling about this, a feeling that only doubles when he turns around to see Dr. Kenobi sauntering towards him, hands tucked into the pockets of a long dark jacket that makes him look even more pale than he already is.

He scowls automatically as the man gets closer. “Dr. Obi.”

Dr. Kenobi spares him a look that’s far too amused for Anakin’s pleasure before he crouches down to the level of the kids. “Hello there, young ones,” he says, opening his arms to accept a hug from the traitor of a girl Anakin’s just spent thirty minutes reading to. “Are you eating all your vegetables? Even the brussel sprouts?”

“I like brussel sprouts,” one of the kids reports sounding proud, and that starts a cacophony of opinions about brussel sprouts from all around Anakin.

“Wow! One of mine just absolutely hates them,” Dr. Kenobi says. “She refuses to eat them, so you’re very brave, Michele.” He lets go of the girl and turns his golden-brown gaze up to Anakin. “And what does Mr. Skywalker think?” he asks, raising a hand for Anakin to take. It’s very obvious he’s asking for a hand up and Anakin is obeying before he thinks about it. He snatches his hand free almost too soon, but Dr. Kenobi doesn’t even have the grace to lose his balance and fall over. 

His hand is like ice in Anakin’s, and Anakin stuffs his fingers into the pocket of his jacket automatically a second later.

“Do brussel sprouts help with circulation?” he’s biting out before he can stop himself. “Cause you may need some then.”

Kenobi’s head tilts very slightly to the side as his eyes catch and hold onto Anakin’s. “Oh?” he asks lightly. 

“You’re cold,” is all Anakin mutters in return. He swipes his other hand against the back of his neck. “”S poor circlutation, isn’t it? Something in your diet maybe?” Dr. Kenobi blinks at him and then breaks into a wide smile. “I can assure my diet is very…circulation-mindful,” he says. “Blood health positive.”

Anakin’s mouth thins into a line. He guesses that’s what he gets for trying to give health advice to a doctor, especially a doctor like Kenobi who just so happens to be devastatingly attractive and also smart.

And also an asshole. And also married.

Speaking of which. “Are you here to fend off your wife’s admirers with a scalpel?” Kenobi’s eyebrows raise. “Young ones,” he turns his head away from Anakin, down to the children.

The strangest feeling breaks of Anakin the second Kenobi looks away, almost as if a strange pressure he hadn’t even realized had been building was suddenly dissolved.

The very small beginnings of a headache begin to thrum in his temples.

“Young ones, it’s time to find your parents, isn’t it?” Kenobi says, and like fucking magic, the crowd of six children around Anakin disperse, children swarming away from him towards the group of adults surrounding the front desk.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Anakin blurts out, even though he’d meant to ignore Kenobi now that he doesn’t have to make nice in front of small kids. Not that he was really making nice in the first place. But now he definitely doesn’t have to.

Kenobi gives him a half-smile, eyes heavy-lidded. “It’s a special sort of skill that takes, above all else, much practice.”

Anakin scowls. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Does Kenobi think he can’t commit himself to something even as mundane as a fucking commanding persona? Does he think he doesn’t have it in him to be–-

Kenobi’s eyebrows go up again. “Has anyone ever told you that you are exceedingly defensive?” 

“You’re extremely nosey,” Anakin snaps back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t you have better things to focus on right now anyway?”

He gestures loosely towards Satine, who has started playing with one of the mother’s bracelets as the other woman stands and looks at her rather dumbfounded.

Kenobi follows his gaze and then lets out a huff of laughter. “Satine can take care of herself,” he says, even though it hadn’t really been Satine that Anakin was worried about.

He’s about to open his mouth to say so when Kenobi turns back to him. His eyes are piercing, a dark, captivating sort of gold. 

“Do you find my wife beautiful, Anakin?” he asks.

Anakin blinks. His headache is getting worse, which is probably down to what can only be a trick-question fashioned to look like a grenade lobbed at his feet. “I don’t think there’s a good answer to that,” he mutters, rubbing absently at his forehead. “What the fuck.”

“An honest answer is a good one,” Kenobi says lightly. “Tell me honestly.”

The words feel pulled from Anakin’s stomach, and he’s opening his mouth before he realizes it. “No,” he says. 

Kenobi’s eyebrows crinkle together. “No?”

Anakin curses his stupid impulse control. “She’s beautiful,” he adds quickly. “Really. But…it makes me uncomfortable.”

Kenobi’s lips purse, and then there’s something like disappointment in his eyes as he examines Anakin. “Ah yes,” he murmurs. “I’ve been told my wife can make countless young men feel rather uncomfortable. It’s normal in men your age, Anakin. Sexual ar—”

“Uncanny,” Anakin blurts out. He doesn’t mean to, but he also doesn’t want to listen to  Kenobi trying to lecture him on fucking arousal in the public library. When it’s not even relevant. “She’s so beautiful, it’s uncanny.”

“Uncanny.”

“Yeah, like. Monstrous.”

Kenobi’s mouth falls open, pink lips parted in what looks like honest surprise.

Anakin’s own eyes widen as it hits him that he’s just called Kenobi’s wife a monster to Kenobi’s face.

“Shit,” he says. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m going to go.” 

He throws a look at Kenobi, whose eyes are lit with something a lot like interest and then across the library to where Satine’s head is turned, cocked, and eyebrows up high on her forehead, as if she’s just heard everything he’s said.

He decides rather immediately that he’s going to take the backdoor exit.

[yb-cringe]

ramon and fit msging LMAOOO… he says ramon had a cellphone now and that they’re texting. ramons old enough to have a phone they grow up so fast 😭🥺

[bam-bi-buck]

911 8x05 Spoilers

The Han-Wilson family pic 🥺

They’re besties and family

Karen wanting Hen to go trick or treating with them because it’s Mara’s first with them 😭

Speaking of, we know that Mara is back with the Wilsons & that they got their foster license back but have they gotten to adopt her yet? I hope we get to actually see that

Then the haunted house - the 126 (I see what y’all did there 😉)

The Hen & Eddie talk about closed doors 😭 I’m just an aunt and I still get it, they grow up so fast

Love Hen & Chim being scary but not Eddie lol

You didn’t sell it man!

Buck is so good with kids… except on holidays 😭🤣

Called him Billy Boils - I see what y’all are doing there

“Home safe” “Home safe” 🥺

“This is not my fault”

I absolutely agree baby it’s not your fault

The dude with the pumpkin on his head

That family is so sweet 🥹

It’s still a little funny - Chim 🤣

Awww Chim missing Jee’s first trick or treat 😭

“Lube flying in” 🤣

The rotting pumpkin 🤢

Buck getting hurt just as he mentions dumb ways to get hurt 🤕

Eddie being so nonchalant while Tommy’s looking at Buck like 🤨

Stop laughing at my boy! Both of you!!

Karen & Hen’s argument 😭

I get Karen’s frustration

The big moments are important 😭

The sadness in Karen’s voice 😭😭😭

I get what Hen’s saying though, it’s not really fair if only one could get off but I think it would be slightly more fair if it was Chim because then Denny and Mara would have Karen and Jee would have Chim but I get that they’re bffs and wouldn’t feel right doing that to each other 🥺

Buck’s web spiral - the man’s got the ADHD

I really want canon ADHD Buck this season

“Isn’t that how it usually happened?” Really got my mom lol she repeated it like twice

“Evan don’t feel out!”

Like you just did?!? Come on, man you’re a first responder don’t they teach you to tone down your responses? 😭

Defile his corpse seems a bit much

To bad juju? 🤣🤣🤣

Both me and my mom giggled at lot at that

Buck going off while Eddie & Tommy are trying to be rational

You’re gonna lose that $5, Eddie

Maddie’s cat ears 🥰

Josh’s mustache

“The suns down” “Buckle up”

Love the Maddie - Josh Besties

Buck going off on Eddie and staring him DOWN

Eddie grabbing the five before Buck even says he owes him 🤣

Those two scenes together were so funny

I’m surprised Buck wasn’t sent home by Bobby

Omgod the clown car

How many clowns were in that thing?

Did you eat peanuts too? 🤣

The dude calling to say I’m chasing children because they egged my house

What is wrong with you??

DENNY!!!

Denny pushed Mara out of the way 😭

Karen’s trying so hard to be strong

Internal bleeding - god damn it

The soft little “moms” I’m legit crying

Hen freezing and Karen getting her out of it 😭

Karen and Denny are the same blood type 😭

Declan’s, Aisha’s, & Tracie’s acting was heartbreakingly good, my chest actually aches 😭

The field blood transfusion and the upright compressions 😭

Chim’s pain when he says the pulse isn’t registering and the pain in Hen & Karen’s eyes 😭

9-1-1 really said y’all got your laughs now here’s a god damn sucker punch to the gut 🥊

Everyone at the hospital

“This is just my face”

“I wasn’t picking” “you were picking” 🤣

Everyone’s immediate relief, they’re a family your honor 🥹

“I know how to beak the curse”

Eddie’s reaction 🤣

Karen, “I knew that the only reason you didn’t pick up was because you were answering another call”

“This isn’t a curse but a cry for help”

Eddie’s house still being decorated even though Christopher isn’t there

Buck really is so kind but sweetheart don’t join a dead criminal’s posse, please

Tommy: “please lift it”

Me and mama, “oh! Thought you didn’t believe it!”

I’ve missed the voice overs, I hope they continue to do that

Promo: are they trying to put that kid down there without a harness?