#this boy loves his taters

[snowfolly]

✨Wip Wednesday✨ (I barely made it)

I was tagged by @pursuitseternal - thank you so much for the tag!

One day I’ll eventually finish my character sheet for Tali but today is not that day lol

Tagging (if you haven’t already done it and only if y’all want to do the thing ofc!) : @sweetmage @tallymonster @vixstarria @tragedybunny @shanaraharlyah @wingsy-keeper-of-songs

[a-lonely-tatertot]

william and his mom. william wisp is a mama's boy and he loves her so much, and she loves him, and he is constantly convinced he is disappointing her or upsetting her. william wisp loves his ma so much, he doesn't realize that nothin he could do would make her stop loving him

[localcanadiancreature62]

AUGHHHH HE'S A DAD HE'S SO HAPPY TO HAVE A FAMILY AFTER YEARS OF BEING ALL ALONE. FUCK. This is ALSO gonna make me cry from how wholesome it is. Thank you

Tate Pines AU One-Shot: Never Forget

Context: Total AU, Extra Info Post

One-Shots: Goodbye

Rating: Teen+/Mature

Summary: Stanley Pines has been alone for a little over seven years, but one day that changes.

Deep in a dark, dangerous, dirty, and some other d-word back alley, Stanley Pines struggled to get back onto his feet.

“I am…. never drinking tequila again.” Stan groaned, muttering painfully under his breath as he forced himself to stand up, hastily buttoning and zipping his jeans as best as he could with only one hand free “Ow, ow, ow-.” 

He had to lean on the wall for support and his hands were shaking, but he finally managed to get himself covered up again after a few fumbles. At least no one saw him, or heard him- well, them.

Tiredly he looked to the bundle he held in his other arm - an undersized baby boy wrapped up in his maroon hoodie. The babe was quiet now; he’d come into the world with one loud cry to announce his presence, and then settled down into whimpers before immediately tiring himself out and falling asleep. Stan was relieved that his face and skin was pink and lively, and not blue or gray like he feared would happen. 

“You just… couldn’t wait for me to get within walking distance of the hospital, could you?” Stan asked, more to himself than the baby; his heart was racing. He absent mindedly adjusted the hoodie around the baby to get a better look at him - he hadn’t had the chance earlier when he was too preoccupied with literally not dying in childbirth.

Impressively full head of hair for a newborn - still sticky and damp despite Stan's efforts in drying him off, but the wispy strands were the same dark brown as Stan’s own hair. Didn’t seem to have the trademark curls of the Pines family.

His eyes were closed now but Stan remembered they’d been a murky blue colour - he wouldn’t be surprised if they changed to brown as he got older, though.

Heart still pounding in his chest from his efforts and the novelty of this situation, Stan carefully pulled the baby's hand from under the hoodie, keeping the tiny palm propped up with his own much larger pointer finger so he could study it.

Five fingers. 

He sighed in- not exactly relief, but at least that was one less problem the kid would have to deal with-.

The tiny hand suddenly gripped his finger, and Stan felt his pounding heart practically melt.

“L-Let’s get you to the hospital and get cleaned up, al- alright?” He said to the baby- his baby, softly but shakilly. He felt light headed. Not just from the blood loss, pain, and hours of unmedicated labor- but the realization that this was his baby. At twenty-five years old, Stan was a father.

He limped his way out of the back alley. 

---

Stan’s family was always weird in the sense that his father held these deep-rooted beliefs in gender roles and what he expected a man to be. How he expected a man to act. And how failing to meet these expectations would be punished severely.

Filbrick Pines had absolutely no qualms with kicking his then seventeen-year-old son out of the family home and out into the world on his own with absolutely no support or assets besides his car.

But he apparently drew the line at transphobia.

As soon as he could talk Stan let everybody know he was a boy. And his family had no issues with this - they had three sons, and that was that. He was Stanford’s twin brother, Stanley Pines. It was so unproblematic and such a non-issue within the family that Stan himself didn’t remember what his birth name happened to be. Because it didn’t matter; he was Stanley, and Stanley was male. 

Did Filbrick get Stan new glasses after he broke his childhood pair? No. But he did always manage to get him the pills and shots he needed to be his authentic self. 

Stan supposed he appreciated that his father did the bare minimum of respecting his gender identity, but if he could have not kicked Stan out over a mistake, that would have been great.

But damn did he hate explaining his biological quirks to others. Medical personnel included. Especially medical personnel. They like to harp on how because they understand anatomy, physiology, and genetics, Stan must clearly be wrong about being a man. But he knew he wasn’t wrong, and those quakes just needed to shove their bigotry-disguised-as-education where the sun doesn't shine.

“He’s perfectly healthy, miss-”

“Mister.” Stan gruffed, interrupting the nurse, who paused briefly before continuing.

“-Pines. We thought he was premature because of his size but it looks like he’s full term, just small. All of the vitals are exactly where we need them to be.” She continued, and Stan nodded along, looking to the trolley next to his bed that held his now-swaddled, properly washed, infant son. “I’d highly encourage you to consider nursing him right away."

“I can’t.” Stan told her simply. Stan’s family could never afford to get him top surgery, but even if they could he doubted they would’ve; he was naturally heavy set so it was easy to assume that his weight was to blame for his full chest, so growing up no one assumed anything. He did eventually get top surgery himself but it was by a shady 'doctor' in Colombia. “I don’t… have any of that… stuff, left.” He explained, and when the nurse looked at him confused, he motioned towards his chest “Milk factory’s been chopped off.”

The nurse shuffled and hummed in thought, Stan knew she was uncomfortable and trying to hide it, he couldn’t bring himself to get mad at her right now, not when him and his baby needed medical attention. 

“Alright… I’ll have one of the neonatal nurses bring you a bottle and some formula. And they’ll show you how to properly bottle feed.”

Stan nodded again, keeping his eyes on the sleeping infant.

“Now there’s the matter of his birth certificate. What is his name?”

“Hmm?” Stan looked back at her.

“A name? What’s the baby’s name? He can’t just remain ‘Baby Pines’.” She said, wheeling over a small table with the birth certificate set on top.

Well.

Shit.

Stanley literally never once thought of a name. He found out (or rather, confirmed after months of denial) about this pregnancy less than two months ago, he was so caught up in the fact he was having a baby that it slipped his mind that he was having a baby who would need a name.

He looked around the room quickly for inspiration - outside of the hospital window, he could make out a billboard. He couldn’t make out too many details, because he didn’t have glasses to fix his poor sight, but he could vaguely make out the outline of a man playing a saxophone, and big bold white letters spelling out 'The Buddy Tate Quartet'.

“Buddy- no. Tate, uhm-” Stan blurted out before he could properly collect his thoughts.

“Tatum?” The nurse questioned.

That didn’t sound bad, so he just nodded “Tatum.” He confirmed. 

“Are you giving him a middle name?”

Stanley’s middle name was Romanov- a slightly different spelling of his mothers maiden name. Stanford’s middle name was Filbrick, their fathers name. He was fairly certain Shermie’s middle name was the same as their fathers-. 

But would Stanley really give his own name as his sons middle? It would make him a bit too similar to his Pa…

“Stanford.” Stanley finally answered, feeling his chest clench up at the thought of his estranged twin. He missed him so much, but…

“Okay, so; Tatum Stanford Pines?” The nurse asked, holding the pen above the certificate, waiting for Stan’s confirmation before she wrote anything down.

Stan nodded “Tatum Stanford Pines.” He repeated. 

---

Once the nurse was gone and all that was left was to wait for the neonatal nurses to show up and teach him to bottle feed, Stan carefully drew the curtain around his hospital bed for privacy and picked up the baby out of the trolley.

The activity woke the boy up but he wasn’t crying- he was just staring at Stan with blurry, milky blue eyes. 

“Hey- Tate.” Stan greeted awkwardly, almost cautiously. He knew how to handle babies just fine, because back when he still lived at home his parents often had his nephew, Shermie’s son, over. But it was different now. This wasn’t just some baby. This was his baby. This was his son. It’d be a little hard for Stan to believe it if he hadn’t pushed him out himself. Tate was so quiet, were babies always this quiet? From what his Ma told him, Stanley certainly hadn’t been a quiet baby.

Carefully, Stan placed Tate’s head against his shoulder, leaning back in the hospital bed as he rubbed the infant's back. Tate made a tiny little noise, and Stan- was he crying?

Yup, Stan was definitely crying. He didn’t know why, he wasn’t the type of person to cry. He didn’t even cry for the four or so hours he was in the alleyway in horrible pain. 

But now? Big, heavy, warm tears pooled in his eyes and fell down his cheeks, growing in more intensity as he hugged Tate in closer and lightly kissed the top of his head.

Stanley Pines was casted out of his family when he was seventeen years old, he was told by his father to not come back without riches, cutting Stan off from his parents, elder brother, and nephew. He didn’t have the courage to reach out to his own twin brother, someone who was once his best friend- not that Stanford made an effort to reach out either. 

For the past seven-odd years, Stan has been alone. For all intents and purposes, he didn't have a family.

But now?

Maybe it was small. And the future was uncertain.

But now, with Tate, Stan had a family to call his own again.

“Looks like it’s just going to be you and me for a while, buddy.” Stan whispered to his son, who continued to drool on his shoulder in response, “As long as we’re together, I’ll never let anything hurt you; I’ll always protect you no matter what the world throws at us.”

Stan kissed Tate’s head again, allowing himself this moment to let the tears flow freely, and he added “I love you, and I always will; never forget that, okay?”

THE END... Go Home

[theygotlost]

Video description and transcript:

A skit by sketch comedy group Montessori Boy.

Diego walks into the foyer. JT looks up at him from a notepad he’s reading at the kitchen counter.

JT: Are you writing my eulogy?

Diego looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head.

JT: [reading from the notepad] “We are here today to mourn our dear friend James Helen Tsuchiya. I don’t know if he’s in heaven or hell, but I hope he’s burning”? What the fuck?

Diego: You don’t go through my shit!

JT: You’re the one who left it on the coffee table!

Diego makes mocking “muh muh muh” noises over JT. Julia walks in from another room.

Julia: Oh, is that my eulogy?

JT: You wrote one too?!

Julia: Did you go through my shit on the coffee table?

Diego takes the notepad from JT.

Diego: Stop reading that! it’s my first draft, it’s not good. I got like ten drafts here, and you’re gonna freak out.

Diego begins flipping through the pages. Julia holds up another notepad.

Julia: If he’s gonna read it, I— I’ve got ten drafts too, and they’re really good.

Diego: Okay, let’s do a reading!

Julia: A JT eulogy reading.

Diego: JT eulogy reading, yeah!

Julia: Okay!

JT: [shaking head in resignation] Okay.

Diego jokingly smacks JT on the side of the head. A funeral bell tolls loudly three times. JT, now seated on the couch, buries his face in his hands. The camera cuts between closeups of Diego and Julia reading their eulogies and JT’s reactions. The military funeral song “Taps” plays in the background.

Diego: “JT was impish like a concubine, and had arms like Zaboomafoo.”

Julia: [pronouncing both countries with an exaggerated Spanish accent] “I don’t agree with what he did in Uruguay, or Paraguay, but I think we can all agree on this: JT loved to laugh.”

Diego: “Of course we all know JT by that nickname he hated: Asian Louis C.K.”

JT: [shaking his head] No.

Julia: “JT did insist on an open casket, but guys, just don’t fuckin’ barf.”

JT: No one’s gonna barf!

Diego: “He leaves behind his loving wife Tater Tot, and his son, Chris.”

Julia: “He had a chode—”

JT: [shaking head] No!

Julia: “and it stunk.”

JT: Stop.

Diego: [whispering to Julia] You’re a good writer.

Julia: [whispering back] Thanks.

Diego: [speaking rapidly in a strained, high-pitched voice] “You know, uh, the thing— the thing about JT at the end of the day, it’s like, y-you just talk to the guy and you’re like, uh, y’know, he’s just got this, like, uh, he just, you wanna— you talk to him, and you’re like, ‘okay, well—’”

JT: Don’t read it if it’s not done.

Diego turns his notepad around to reveal his exact statement written as it is above. 

Diego: [normal voice] I— I got this whole thing written, I-I-I hadn't memorized this thing.

JT: …Okay.

Julia: “Honestly, I didn’t even really fuck with him.”

Diego: “Raise your hand if you think he was bisexual.” [raises eyebrows in surprise] Wow, all five hands!

JT: Have you guys ever been to a funeral?

Julia: “One time, JT and I were on this plane, in Paris—”

JT: Alright, stop right there. You’re doing the plot of Taken. 

Julia: [shouting emphatically] That’s not Taken! I’m telling a story about my fucking friend, JT!

JT: [shouting over her] Yes, you’re going to do fucking Taken! You’re obsessed with Taken!

Julia: “And I got the call that my daughter… was taken.”

JT: That’s fucking Taken! I told you you’re gonna do Taken!

Julia: [shouting over him] No, it’s fucking not! It’s not Taken!

Their shouting becomes unintelligible. The camera turns to Diego, who is waving his arms and making chimpanzee noises.

JT: Stop! Why do you guys think I’m gonna die?

Diego and Julia, in unison: Because of the way you sleep!

The camera cuts to JT sleeping with his head propped up against the point of a large knife, cushioned with a stack of folded paper towels. He snores. Cut back to JT sitting on the couch.

JT: It clears my sinuses.

End transcript.

[baby-dr1ver]

pairing: dad!lando x mom!reader

warnings: so much fluff, tooth rotting

a/n: hello all! thank you guys for your endless support and request I've been getting! I promise I haven't forgotten your fics, I'm working on them I swear. here's a fic I wrote a couple of weeks ago while you wait! btw this literally happened in a dream of mine so I feel like I just HAD to write it.

It was an early morning in Monaco, the sun had just risen, there were faint snores coming from beside you. You could make one out to be your husband having just got home from a long race weekend, and your little boy, Atticus. When Lando got home from a race weekend, he made it a habit to put him in our bed to sleep.

You watch the identical faces for just a moment more before jumping out the bed. You loved days after a race, everything felt like it was finally in place again. You especially loved the morning after, you and Lando created a routine that started before your little one was born. You’d wake up before him and run to the little breakfast nook at the end of the block to grab his favorite. 

After dressing, brushing your teeth, yada yada, you set off. You had a pep in your step, bouncing a little with each stride, feeling lighter and lighter knowing your other half was waiting for you at home, snuggled up with your little creation. You giggled to yourself, realizing how crazy you must have looked to the people passing by. 

 The bell rang above the door as you eagerly pushed it open. The owner saw you and smiled, knowing exactly what was coming. “The usual I assume?” She asked cheekily. You blushed and nodded, “Can you add some tater tots and an apple juice please? Atticus has been in a phase lately.” The owner simply nodded as you paid as she got to work.

As you sat in a small table in the corner, you could see a small group of girls looking your way, trying ti be subtle on the fact that they recognized you. You smiled and shyly waved causing the girls to walk over slowly. “Hi! Are you Y/N?” One of the girls asked. “I am! How are you guys this morning?” You were happy to make conversation with them, feeling better at the fact most of Lando’s fans didn’t despise you. After a few minutes of talking about the recent race, what they were excited to see, they asked for a photo. You had one of the workers take it before handing you the food. You waved goodbye to the small group of girls, smiling to yourself at the softhearted interaction. 

You couldn’t contain yourself as you worked your way through the door. You sat everything out on the counter and prepared it like it was a five star meal. You set Lando’s burrito out, eggs, bacon, cheese, on a plate. You scooped some tater tots in a bowl and poured the juice in a small sippy cup for the little one. 

Just as you finished, Lando came trudging down the stairs. He was dressed in gray sweats, no shirt and his hair sticking up in different directions with that sleepy look in his eyes. “Hi baby, welcome home.” You quietly whispered. He came around the counter to where you were standing and latched onto you. 

You stood there completely at ease with him in your arms, the feeling of his heartbeat against yours, his warm tan skin, the smell of his cologne-everything about him made your heart sing. He started placing small kisses on your cheek and jaw, no hidden intention behind it, just wanted to feel your skin under his lips. He pulls away with a groan, “I forgot the babe upstairs.” I giggled and pushed up towards the stairs, and watch him lumber up to your room to grab Atticus. 

You tuned back to the food for a moment before setting it on the island so everyone could reach it easily. Lando came down the stairs holding your baby boy, dressed the same, with identical looks of tiredness and you audibly cooed. “Hi my little star,” You grabbed a tot from his bowl, hid it behind your back, and walked closer to softly pinched the babes cheek. “did daddy dress you the same?” Atticus pulled his gummy smile, only a couple of teeth in the front, and rubbed his bright green eyes. Lando placed his hand around your waist to pull you closer to him. “It’s kind of unfair that I carried you for nine months but you’re a carbon copy of your dad.” You ruffled his curly hair. Lan huffed, “Could be worse.” You nodded in agreement and pulled the tot from behind your back and offered it to Atticus. His eyes lit up seeing his favorite food. His chubby fingers reached out and snatched it from your hand and tried to put the whole thing in his mouth. You and Lan laughed before he gently pulled it away. “My little duckling, you can’t just shove it like that, you’ve got to bite.” Lando tried to imitate a bite so Atty could do the same. Instead, he started to laugh and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. 

“Yeah, that’s your son love” Lando looked down at you with a disgruntled look, making you join in on the laughter. You lay your head on his shoulder and like it was a reflex, softly kissed your forehead. Atticus leaned down, sticky hand out to lay on your cheek, and tried to kiss your forehead just like his father did moments before. It ended up leaving a wet mark on your forehead, it’s not like he knew had to give his mom a kiss, he was just trying to copy his dad. 

You heard Lando take a big breath in, and without looking away from Atticus, 

“Let’s have another one.”

“Lando!”

[bitbugbites-re]

𝙿𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 | 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰

Headcanons on how different RE men would praise you

tumblr exclusive!

characters: Carlos Oliveira, Chris Redfield, Leon S. Kennedy

gender: gn! reader

cw: FLUFF // praise, love languages, nicknames/pet names // ktober

a/n: every time I give a rating at the end I feel like that one video of abby lee miller with the wall paper pyramid. also the love languages were so fun to do??? i might do another post expanding on it, maybe scenarios or smth :p

𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖔𝖘 𝕺𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖎𝖗𝖆 (re3r)

Do they praise you often?

Yes. He seems like he would praise you consistently whenever the opportunity arises -- both big and small scenarios. You got a promotion? Praise. You helped an old lady cross the street? Praise. You got out of bed this morning? Didn't squash a bug? Tied your shoes? You're a viable option for the Nobel Peace Prize in Carlos' eyes

Love language?

I'm gonna go ahead and Carlos' love language is probably either physical touch or quality time. Words of affirmation comes close as well

Likely, since this is how he perceives love, acts falling under these categories are what he's going to give you when he wants to praise you. I don't think he'd stray from them unless you told him you preferred a different love language -- in which case, he'd try his best to meet your expectations (although it might take him a while to become fully conscious of what you'd like from him)

So things like: petting your head, embracing you randomly, offering to take you on dates as a reward, complimenting you, etc.

Nicknames?

Literally anything and everything. Seriously --

Names relating to one of your traits (like an achieved status), for one. For example --Supercop (lol)

He's probably got nicknames for you if you're smaller/younger than him too: pipsqueak, tater-tot, chica/o, peanut, etc.

As for more general nicknames: baby, babygirl/boy, babe, sunshine, princess/prince, gorgeous, beautiful/handsome, etc.

(he'd probably use a lot of really corny nicknames when in a joking manner, too -- some shit like sugar plum or cuddle muffin, LOL)

What are their go-to praises?

"Good girl/boy"

"You're doing great"

"I'm proud of ya'"

Are they successful at praising you?

heuheuheuheuhe yup!

Overall, I'd give him a 10/10. I feel like he'd be really good at making you feel good about yourself and he'd never let your feats go unrecognized either

𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘 𝕽𝖊𝖉𝖋𝖎𝖊𝖑𝖉 (re: death island)

Do they praise you often?

mmmmmm. Occasionally. Like a very average amount?

Death Island's version of Chris would praise you every time you achieved something hard or did something really good (like you did good at a job interview or won an award) but other than that it's a little more occasional and random

Love language?

My guess would be acts of service, gift giving, and/or quality time

I don't think Chris would stray far from his ideas on what love is, either. If you wanted something different like physical touch or words of affirmation, you might have to tell him. He'd struggle with doing it in a smooth manner at first, but eventually, he'd get the hang of it.

His rewards to you will usually consist of: making you food; bringing you food; gifting you flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals, jewelry, etc.; watching tv with you; taking you on dates; etc.

Nicknames?

Nothing corny. I feel like a lot of nicknames he would cringe at and would be too embarrassed to say them

Generally, things like: babe, honey, hon, pumpkin

Not as commonly, he may use a shortened version of your name as well. Although, I still think he'd prefer like babe or hon more

What are their go-to praises?

"Good job, (nickname)"

"You did good"

...and a lot of very like. Flat kinda ones? like "Nice" or "Cool" (LOL)

Are they successful at praising you?

For the most part.

Overall, this version of Chris gets a 7/10. Not terrible, but not amazing either. ("you did good, I'm waiting for you to be great." HFHFH)

𝕷𝖊𝖔𝖓 𝕾. 𝕶𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖉𝖞 (re2r - re4r)

Do they praise you often?

...He's, um, he's gonna try!

I feel like at the beginning of your relationship, the re2r time period, he would very frequently try but it would be...well, not very smooth

By the re4r time period he's just given up on words of affirmation bro like. it is just NOT his thing (he'd replace it with diff love language acts tho)

Love language?

*rubs hands together deviously* let's see here...

I'm gonna go ahead and say this boy likes, and thus is prone to, spoiling you with acts of service and/or gift-giving. HOWEVER...I feel like he would actually differ from the other two men on this list, and he'd be very proactive in trying to figure out what you like specifically. Leon, to me, seems like the most empathetic on this list and while he's a little awkward in nature, he's always eager to do/be the best he can

You can expect a lot of: cleaning for you; making you breakfast and/or dinner; helping you with work/problems; bringing you food; giving you flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals, etc.

Additionally, I think out of all the characters on this list, Leon would be the best at giving you gifts that you actually like too. For example, it's not just gonna be a flowers-every-time type of deal -- if he knows you like games, he's gonna get you games. If he knows you like snacks, he's gonna get you snacks. If he knows you like clothes, he's gonna get you clothes. So on and so on

(side note: I feel like he'd actually secretly enjoy picking out clothes for you? considering how he's got that whole pretty boy vibe going on. I mean LOOK at his jacket in re4r. the man has SOME fashion sense, at least)

Nicknames?

At the beginning of your relationship, re2r timeline-wise, he's gonna try everything. And it's GONNA be bad.

Once he finally realizes he can't force shit like "sweet stuff" or "muffin" he'll move onto ones that come out more naturally -- like shortening your name

The general ones after getting comfortable are: babe, hon, angel(?), princess/prince(?) (not too sure about the last two, they're strong maybes)

I also feel like if you called him pookie or something else funny-sounding as a joke, he'd call you it back, LOL

What are their go-to praises?

"Good job"

"Nice"

"Cool"

...and more very generic ones. Words of affirmation are NOT his strong suit whatsoever

Are they successful at praising you?

In terms of actual words of praise, no. In terms of rewarding you in general? HELL yeah.

Overall, he's getting an 8/10 for effort. I feel like this kind of stuff wouldn't come naturally for him since he's more introverted, but INTROVERSION be damned, this boy has got mind-blowingly serious dedication to being romantically swag as FUCK !!! (sorry)

For the official and original Kinktober 23 prompts, check here. Credits to @kinktober2023 for the ideas!

[bewilderedbunny]

Reader trying to bathe Eddie's stanky arms, legs, and feet like he's a lil feral kitten

Eddisms

The much more aptly named sequel to “Eddie-isms”

As always these hc are miscellaneous and not in any particular order. Enjoy!

best friend!Eddie masterlist

reblogs are most appreciated!! :)

taglist: @gaysludge @heavymetalbabyy @luvrsbian @munsonology @tayhar811 @stolen-in-moonlight

Eddie is so insufferably loud in every single thing he does. It’s honestly a mystery how he managed to sneak up on Chrissy because that man can be heard from miles away. He’s so heavy-footed when he walks that it rattles the trailer a little bit from time to time. Nothing about that man is deft or graceful. <3

He snores and I mean SNORES. He always has, even as a little kid. At first, his snoring scared the crap out of Wayne, but now it’s just sort of become background ambience for his uncle. Wayne almost finds it reassuring, in a way; at least Eddie’s breathing, right? <3

Despite what Dustin says, Eddie has a very short temper. Granted, it takes a lot for him to get truly angry, but it doesn’t take much at all to get him cranky. In fact, Eddie’s just as much of a mean girl as Steve. Though he lacks Harrington’s resting bitch face, he’s absolutely just as bitchy. <3

Eddie’s always been obsessed with cars, but not in the way you might think. He doesn’t really give a shit about the typical sports cars or anything like that, what he finds the most fascinating are the niche, funky-looking cars. Citicars, Firebirds, Scarabs, he loves ‘em all. He’s especially a fan of station wagons and vans, probably because those were the kind of cars your mom always drove. His favorite of all time has to be the 1948 Tasco because it combines his favorite types of cars; weird looking ones and vans. He won’t ever admit it to anyone but you and Wayne, but he also really likes pick-up trucks; specifically the old, somewhat worn ones like Wayne used to have. <3

Eddie definitely had race-car bed sheets growing up. Honestly, he still uses them in the winter because they’re a lot warmer than his usual sheets. <3

He asked Santa for a race-car bed for six years in a row. For his ninth birthday, he finally got one. Though it was a hand-me-down from your older brother, he loved it like it was brand new. <3

As kids, you and Eddie used to “rescue” (kidnap) wild turtles and beg your mom and Wayne to let you keep them. <3

When he was six, Eddie got kicked out of little league baseball for mooning the umpire. </3

Eddie doesn’t use 3-in-1 shampoo, he does something way worse. He uses Irish Spring on every square inch of his body; hair included. His scalp is practically pleading for death at this point. <3

Eddie doesn’t see the point in using lotion, so he simply doesn’t. The most he’ll do is use vaseline on his lips when they get all dry and cracked in the winter. <3

Eddie’s routine is so simplistic that it’s really not much of a routine at all and, yet, it takes him nearly an hour to get ready every morning. Does that at all make sense? No. Nothing about this man makes sense, he’s an enigma, a silly lil enigma. Well, not so much of an enigma… The reason it takes him so long to get ready is because he moves like a sloth in the morning, getting ready in 0.25x speed due to his residual sleepiness. <3

Eddie watched Zardoz and made it his entire personality for like two years. Seriously, he quoted it non-stop for two years straight. <3

Eddie has a thing about toenails. Not feet in general, just toenails. They absolutely disgust him. He gags every time he cuts his own toenails. So, yeah, Eddie’s the kinda man to chew with his mouth open and belch in your face just for shits and gigs, but cower in fear when he’s faced with a human toenail. <3

I know I already said that Eddie cries when he watches emotional movies (The Color Purple, Old Yeller, etc.), but here’s the thing about Eddie… He’ll sob like a baby while watching those movies, sure, but while he’s actively sobbing he’s also making fun of you for doing the exact same thing. He’s like “You’re such a crybaby. *sniffle* It’s not even that sad. *sniffle, sniffle* God, who cries during the happy parts of movies?? *sob*” <3

Eddie used to steal your clothes so much that eventually you just cleared out a drawer in your dresser and filled it with clothes that you were willing to share with him. Of course, your clothes are too big for such a lithe lil stringbean like Eddie, but he still loves wearing them. You don’t mind much, though, because you get to reap the benefit of your comfiest t-shirts and sweatpants smelling like Eddie. <3

In direct response to you making a drawer for him in your dresser, Eddie went out, bought a bunch of comfy clothes in your size from Goodwill, and filled a drawer of his dresser with them, that way you’d both have drawers of shareable clothes at your respective homes. <3

One time Eddie walked into the living room wearing a baby pink t-shirt with some CareBears and a vibrant rainbow printed on the front, and Wayne almost keeled over from laughing so hard. His amusement was doubled when he noticed the matching pastel scrunchie in his nephew’s hair, something Eddie had also “borrowed” from you. <3

Eddie’s weirdly into soap operas, especially Dynasty. The man loves Dynasty. However, he’ll only watch soap operas when he’s high because he thinks it makes for a better viewing experience. <3

Eddie never wears boxers underneath his sweatpants nor under his pajama pants. Why? Because he’s a whore. Because he firmly believes that you should only wear underwear with uncomfy pants (for example, jeans) and that cozy pants do not warrant underwear; it’s just a waste of good, clean boxers to wear them beneath sweatpants and pajama pants. <3

All of Eddie’s shirts are either just a bit too tight or entirely too big for him. This man does not know his real shirt size. <3

Eddie does not wash his feet when he showers. He also rarely washes his arms or legs. He feels that you really only need to wash the “essential” parts when you shower; the essential parts being his armpits and naughty bits. <3

Eddie once got you a purse for your birthday… sort of. Really he just haphazardly sewed one of the straps from his backpack onto an old, cloth sack and painted the words “Miguel Cores” on the front of it. It actually works really well as a reusable grocery bag for all of your nonperishables. <3

Eddie’s right eye gets all twitchy after sleepless nights. The boys always see it and think that he’s pissed off about something, but really the sweet man just needs his rest. <3

Eddie sucks at holding grudges. I’m not kidding, the man is genuinely horrible at holding grudges, mostly because he often forgets about whatever has happened within a few days; his anger vanishing along with the memory of what’s transpired. Case in point, you both had a severe falling out during the summer before your freshman year, which ended up in the two of you being at odds for two whole years. Or, rather, it ended up in you being mad at him for nearly two years. Eddie, however, consistently kept forgetting that you were mad at him during that time. In fact, he would often approach you in the halls of Hawkin’s High so that he could banter with you like he had in middle school, only to be reminded of your steadfast dislike of him by your short responses, refusal to meet his gaze, tense posture, and clipped tone. </3

He chews his gum like a cow munches on grass, just annoyingly loud and with his lips constantly smacking together. <3

Eddie’s fancy, old-fashioned silver lighter -the only good thing he ever got from his shitty old man- also doubles as his preferred fidget toy. The man always needs to have something to do with his hands. <3

He’s a wizard with some sidewalk chalk. It used to drive you crazy as a kid because he would always do these really detailed drawings with the crumbly chalk that your mom got from the dollar store, meanwhile you were always just stuck writing your name or drawing hearts and stick figures. <3

At 10 years old, Eddie invented his own language while cooped up in the back seat of his uncle’s car on an annoyingly long summer road trip to Myrtle Beach. He hasn’t taught the language to anyone, not even to you, but sometimes you’ll hear him mumble things to himself in his strange tongue. You, Wayne, and your mom have picked up on the meanings behind certain words and phrases over the years, simply because he uses them so frequently, but other than that, it’s mostly gibberish to the three of you. <3

Eddie spent a solid two months trying to convince his elementary school crush that he was, in fact, Mick Jagger. He even nailed the Mockney accent from listening to his radio interviews. Unfortunately, they weren’t buying it. <3

Eddie refuses to touch you when/if you’re wearing anything made out of velvet simply because the feeling of velvet makes his skin crawl. So, no hugs, no playful wrestling, and absolutely no cuddles while you’re wearing velvet. <3

In the summer of ‘85, Eddie won a goldfish at one of the carnival games at the local fair and named him Tater Tot, but he knew that he couldn’t afford all the stuff the little guy needed to stay alive, so he gave him away to some little girl that had been trying to win one of her own for nearly an hour. <3

Let’s be real here for a second: Eddie’s not straight. Actually, due to a lack of terminology available to him, Eddie doesn’t really know what he is. He knows that he likes women, he knows that he likes men, and he knows that he likes people who are neither women nor men, but, given that it’s the 80s and he lives in rural Indiana, he’s not really sure if there’s a word for that. Truthfully, he’s not really sure if anyone else in the world even feels the same way that he does. Obviously, there are tons of people out there with the same sexual orientation as him, but, fuck, he doesn’t know that. When he was much, much younger he felt incredibly isolated and insecure about his sexuality, but as he’s grown up he’s become less unsure of himself and more accepting of his sexual orientation. Of course, he still likes to keep a low profile, at least when it comes to his sexuality, because, as I said, it is the 80s and he does, indeed, live in rural Indiana. However, he’s at least become confident enough to come out to his closest friends and family. Hence, the rainbow mug in the Munsons’ famous mug collection. <3

Eddie’s a crafty lil goblin, he loves to craft. Papier-mâché, fuck yeah. Hot glue, hell fuckin’ yeah. In fact, many of the props in the theatre room were crafted by Eddie during his time at Hawkins High. Even after he stopped doing theatre, he still always volunteered to help the drama club set up for their performances and craft their props. <3

“But why did he quit theatre?” one may ask. Well, there was the Great Egg Incident of ‘82, in which a bunch of upperclassmen (mostly jocks) literally threw eggs at the drama club during their spring production of Guys and Dolls. More specifically, their onslaught began right as Eddie began uttering his most iconic line in the show, “Nicely, nicely, thank you,” so Eddie, understandably, took that pretty personally. As a result, he left the drama club at the end of sophomore year and, instead, opted to focus all of his creative energy on the hellfire club. </3

You and Eddie took the same art class senior year and it was honestly one of the only classes he passed that year. Every Friday, you guys had to turn in a weekly sketch for that class and his favorite one that he’d done was of you; he’d drawn it while you were working on homework together at the picnic table near his trailer. At the end of the year, he’d asked the teacher for it back so that he could keep it. <3

Eddie’s a massive worrywart when it comes to the people he loves, that’s especially true when it comes to you. <3

Eddie once risked further social ostracism to help you take the little kids you babysit to Build-A-Bear when Starcourt Mall first opened up. In the end, you rewarded him by making him a stuffed animal of his own, a spotted dog named Ozzy who’s adorned in the most metal (or metal-adjacent) outfit Build-A-Bear had to offer. Perhaps that shouldn’t have been so rewarding for a 19 year old guy, but 1) he’d never really had many toys growing up, at least none quite as nice and soft as Ozzy the Dog, and 2) watching you kiss the little cloth heart before gently stuffing it inside the toy did funny little things to his supposedly cynical heart. He’ll never admit it, but he sleeps with that stuffed dog far more than a guy his age probably should. <3

Although Eddie never makes his own bed, he’ll gladly help you make yours because he knows that fitted sheets are the bane of your existence. <3

[evanhamato]

i was if you could make some headcannons for the rottmnt boys with a little sibling who is around like 5 or 6, and they like, look up the brothers a lot! i mean it gets to the point where they’ll copy everything they do and say.

and if it’s okay, you can make them separate.

[ Tater Tot ]

ROTTMNT x GN!Reader as their younger sibling

A/N: slides into the room slowly... heyy... guess whos back from the endless abyss that was forgetting to update its tumblr. evan is!! thank you for being SO PATIENT lovelies!! :] i find this req so cute.. toddler reader with chubby cheeks and stubby legs copying them like a robot HEHE... anyways, thank you nonnie for requesting <3!

Relationships: Strictly platonic, familial

TW: Fluff, cheek kisses, small mentions of injuries, teasing, olayful mocking

Raph

He only realized when you started to kiss his 'boo-boos' and stepping in front of danger to protect him (the danger being mean looking cats).

Heart melted into putty, maybe even slime.

Encourages you to continue by acting scared or extra hurt.

If you start to talk in third person or say 'Like a BOSS!' he loses it.

Now, Raph isn't the type to boast but, he totally would

Your name? What do you mean? It's always been Raph Jr!

Leo

He finds it hilarious.

When you mess up your words, he mocks you under his breath.

Since you're not that good at articulating punchlines yet, you often find yourself stuck and he cannot keep himself from cracking up.

It only encourages you, you don't understand he wasn't laughing at your joke.

Jokes aside, he finds it so sweet.

Often you'll do something smug and question where you got it from. Him. You got it from him.

Donnie

Fascinated.

Studies you (not genuinely) like a little lab rat.

Not good at expressing emotions so he just stares with wide eyes, if only his face could link to his brain.

He corrects you casually when you try to be smart, it often ends up with him just talking instead of you.

A little offended when he hears you say 'gasp' or 'scoff'.

That's his thing! That is until he remembers toddlers pick up stuff that they enjoy. Sweet.

Mikey

Oh. Mi. Gosh.

Quite literally. He heard you scream it from across the hall.

You try to cook with him, never again.

Why? You once placed your poor little hand on the pan as you tried to stop yourself from falling off a stool.

Lets be honest, you're 5. You suck at drawing. Does that stop Mikey from hanging up your drawings? No.

At this point call him Michael because you're the next Michelangelo.

[skele-bunny]

idk if u ever like. expanded on it but how would phantom Be if like. In that last lil phantom/aether fic, if aether rlly breeding him deep Took?? I feel like he'd either be super flighty abt it OR bask in the princess treatment to come.

YYOOOP IM NGL.... NEVER THOUGHT OF PHANTOM/AETHER KITS UNTIL NOW SHOUT OUT TO YOU!!

Ohh Phantom would be absolutely losing his shit. He's nervous, unsure what to do, just crying in Special's arms. He found out when doing blood work and YYEEAAHH, not the best way to find out you're knocked up. They're calmed down and given a little pamphlet (fucking Phil and his damn pamphlets.) about his options, but Phantom is heavily urged to talk to Aether, so he does!

Just chewing on his nail, curled up as they have Aether in his room, explaining what he found out. Aether's eyes just blow up, and his tail starts wagging, the biggest smile growing.

"Really?!"

And Phantom just nods, and Aether can smell their uncertainty. He composes himself and brings his bat in his arms, calmly explaining exactly what Phil did. He has options, and no matter what he does, Aether will be there to love and support him. He's explained a bit more about what each option will lead to wether termination, keeping, or fostering. They talk for a HOT minute before Phantom finally decides.

"I think I want to keep it... What if I change my mind? What if—"

"Tommy, if you want to keep it, then I'll be there. If you change your mind, I'll be there. I will love you no matter what."

A little breathy cry. "Okay.... Okay, I want to keep it..."

"Then we have appointments to make now, don't we?"

Now both of their tails are wagging.

Phantom is still very nervous, super jumpy about everything, but with Aether and the others help they're able to start calming down and take things a bit easier. The pack is over the MOON, just the biggest ghoul pile (gently) when Phantom tells them. They wait a bit after 9 weeks to start looking at baby registries, things they'll need and want, and Aether just can't stop laying his head on Phantom's tummy and purring, whispering to their little kit about how excited he is to meet them.

Oh boy, tour though? Leading up, Phantom is a mess and just trying to convince Aether to swap spots with someone so he can come on tour too, trying to see if even Delta will come back so he and Aether can stay, he doesn't want to leave. He's a non-stop crying mess, Aether holding him so so much. But!! They make a plan. Mountain and Dew are people both of them trust no matter what, and they've made a promise to Aether to watch their darling bat like a hawk! The others are informed and doing their own part, just carefully treading and making sure Phantom stays comfortable.

Irritated when his uniform starts having him loosen up the lace, and feels like he's not a good performer since he can't do all his splits/jumps/bends like he used to, but he's reassured nonstop about it.

14 weeks, he's calmer now. Absolutely cuddled up in his nest on the bus, quietly chirping if he needs help with something. He's gotten much better at asking for help now! Back at the abbey? They're running to Aether faster than ever before, of course Aeth would usually bop them for it, but he can't lie—he missed Phantom, too.

So many cuddles and scenting over one another, Aether checking their little "tater tot." Nickname courtesy of Swiss as he watched Phantom down two whole bags of tater tots on his own, with one of the bags being frozen.

Quint ghouls eat rancid mixtures of food already but a pregnant quint? DEAR GOD. Pickles and mayonnaise, sour cream and onion chips with hot sauce and mustard, orange juice and Oreos, even to the point of whipped cream on LASAGNA.... LASAGNA!!!! Mountain will never forgive the horrors his cooking experienced. /Silly

One of his favorite things is the backrubs, as unfortunately he's a LOT more prone to aches from his height and anatomy being small. Aether using his magick to ease the pain but also his hands. Has a specific pregnancy pillow so Phantom can lay on his tummy without squishing, moaning from relief as Aether gets every kink and sore out.

When he starts lactating? He wakes everyone up in the den with his cries wjejkdkd even though they've accepted he's carrying, it's never fully hit until then. How close he is to popping, how round he looks, and the fact they can feel them MOVING..... Oh he's miserable. Can't control their bladder, hurts to walk for long periods of time, he's having magick surges which is giving him bad headaches, his morning sickness is back full swing, you name it. Lots of more comfort and princess treatment.

Phantom would probably want to have a nest-birth rather than in the hospital, and only wants Aether and Special. See, Phantom's never had a true grasp on his magick. But when he starts pushing, everyone gets freaked out as the lights flicker, TVs going to static, turning on/off randomly, and with one last scream a light bulb explodes.

He's crying, Aether's crying happy tears, and another confused cry is joining them. Little damn furball is squirming in Special's hands, being so delicate as he tries to finish up before laying the bloody kit on Phantom's chest. Phil going back to work while he lets Phantom and Aether slowly groom their baby boy.

Oh he's so perfect in every aspect. Little toe beans that are black and white, tiny fangs poking out, and despite all the fur, has such pretty skin with little white freckles like Aether. Constellations. Also Aether's big ears!

Probably name him after a constellation because of the freckles :3 I'm thinking Comet.

They're holding each other close, Aether claiming their son with a quick nip and going back to scenting, just laughing and crying in disbelief and pure happiness. Their own little family!

[basedtater]

y'all i am a "Clint Barton is a 25 year old max" truther this is so funny to me I almost didn't even add anything above 30yo because i was like "there's no way anyone thinks this"

thank u for your contribution

[theshypinkflower]

Vincent Headcanons because it is late

(please note my personal hc for the btd timeline is that it takes place roughly mid 2010s)

He’s a metal elitist, bro HATES numetal and says it’s not “real metal”. He’s also a huge old rock fan (I’m talking like the shit your dad listens to) like cmon bro is jammin out to Kiss if givin the chance (tbh he’s listened to Monster by Skillet and related to it too much)

Bro HATES vapes, he thinks it’s weak pussy shit if you vape instead of smoke. He also thinks it’s gay to order a fruity cocktail or wine instead of a classic beer (he totally shotguns beer all the time just saying)

He never rides his bike with a helmet, he’ll use a bandana as a sweatband during the summer (he might tie up his hair tho because let’s be real he so has the 70s layers instead if that emo haircut we all see him with)

Bro is such a steak n taters guy like he’s big on red meat, unless it’s fried chciekn of course ya can’t turn down fried chicken in the south my guy it’s staple

He is such a mommas boy. Like I just knew he grew up in a trailer park, not red neck trailer park just sorta trashy trailer park. He was the kid who ran barefoot and got toys from the thrift store. He loves his momma and her Kraft mac n cheese (seriously no one makes better Mac n cheese than your mom does). Tbh there was probably a time he lived off McDonald’s for a bit due to finance issues. He probably bit someone in school cause of werewolf instinct and got in major trouble for it

His momma is also his number one defender. Like you know that scene from south park where Stan’s mom goes, “Oh I have such a perfect boy, nobody is gonna take my boy away from me,” while she drags out a body? Yeah, that’s her. I imagine she has walked in on Vincent after he killed someone and all she did was silently remove the body because no one would take her sweet baby boy away from her. But Vincent was just crying begging for his mom to say something and she just wouldn’t.

Vincent smells like leather, cigarettes, and occasionally cheap beer

[jaune-submissive-and-breedable]

Okay a lighter ask than my previous ones lol

Pyrrha and Nora split roast Jaune with their massive cocks and make sure to praise and love their golden retriever boy.

Also giving him head pats and cuddles

"Oh fuck, You're so tight Jaune!" Pyrrha groaned as she pumped her 16 inch cock in an out his mouth. Bubbles of saliva forming around his mouth.

"If you think that's tight, Try his ass!" Her teammate Nora exclaimed, pumping her own 14 incher in and out his asshole with some restistance.

the boy hung between them impaled on their cocks. Lewd slurps and audible claps could be heard throughout the room. His clothes in taters from his teammates ripping them from his body leaving him naked as a newborn. His own cock spurt rope after rope of cum onto the floor.

"Oum, How can a male have such a nice fuck ass" nor growled, giving his vulnerable cheeks a harder slap. Pyrrha glared softly at her, jealous that she stole his anal virginity first.

"Please be careful, I don't want him hurt in any way"

Nora rolled her eyes, hammering her hips harder. Her crush on Jaune was known to ever, except to Jaune, and it made sense as to why she wanted to keep him unharmed.

"He'll be fine. He can take it!" she retorted, griping his hips for supprt, "Fuck, he's too good. I'm gonna cum so soon!"

"So...am I!" Pyrrha shrieked, her cock twitch and pulsing.

The futa shoved their cocks as deep as they could, firing off load after load of girl cum into the blonde's gullet. Their knees buckling from the amount Jaune's greedy holes milked out of them.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You are such a good boy Jaune~" Pyrrha cooed, kissing her crush on his cheek.

Jaune blushed, not only from the kiss, but also because he was cuddled between two very beautiful ladies, who just flooded his insides with cum.

"I just did want any good leader would do" He replied, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

Nora chuckled, "Hardly. Not many guys would let two well hung ladies spit roast them." She rubbed her sensitive cock gently "And dumps a week's worth of backed up cum in their stomache."

Jaune blushed once more and looked down. Feeling slightly embarrassed. Seeing this, Pyrrha pat his head gently, and smile.

"Don't worry IT, Jaune" She let a hand grab his cock and gave it a gentle tug "Once you're properly rest, we'll return the favor~"

[grogusmum]

The autumn drabble prompts are just too cute! Soooooo let's go with Grogu, bonfire, and chestnuts! Hee hee. Have fun! Love you! 💖

Hi Jennibean!!

This is mildly ridiculous, but hopefully worth a chuckle! Thanks so much for your request!! 💚

I am turning this over to Grogu!

Well, everything was fine. We was at a party for YAY FALL IS COMING!

There was a Bonfire, and Marshmallows plus also Chocolate which I liked very much. But there was also Chest Nuts. And they were good and all, but not so good as the Marshmallows and Chocolate.

Only after The Song, I don't know HOW I feel about them!!

Here is what happened

We was just minding our own business. Having yummy food around the Bon Fire and someone came up singing a song about it! Which would be fine 'cept there's this guy called Jack Frost! AND HE EATS YOUR NOSE! AND TATER TOTS WITH EYES THAT GLOW!!

WHAT??

The song is called Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire, but I tell you, IT TAKES A TURN!!

I know it is not about the Autumn, it is about the Winter... but as the weather gets colder, I have concerns.

I do not want that Jack guy biting my nose, I tell you!

Okay so I got told its "tiny tots" not "tater" ones... which is kids, apparently! Which makes a little more sense, cuz YEAH! us tater tots WILL find it hard to sleep, with that bitey guy running around nipping noses off!!

Dad said not to worry, "cuz no one's nipping my boy's nose."

So, I am safe... But what about those other Tater Tots??

Autumn Drabble Prompts

[demxnicprxncess]

“Please?” Tate Langdon x FEM! Reader

warnings: Clingy, Mommy kink, bottom Tate, Dom Fem., Oral (Both), begging

“Babe” I looked over at the boy laying on my bed with a smile. “Yes Tate?” he whined and sprawled out on the bed like a cat, “I want you...” I eyed him suspiciously, “why?” He rolled his eyes at me and huffed out a whine again before mumbling nevermind. I chuckled and turned back around to finish putting my jewelry up only to be stopped by a whiny moan. I turn around and look at the blonde laying on my bed grinding into it ever so softly. “M-mommy, I need you. Please?” I stopped and sat by him on the bed resting my hand on his back. “You know you could’ve asked babyboy” He whimpered out a few noises and then replied, “I did, but you asked why.” I smiled, “I’m sorry my little prince.” His hips had completely stopped by now making me frown. “Keep going.” He shook his head no and moved over to his head laid on my thighs, one of his hands pawing on my breast like a cat to a blanket. “Mommy, I need YOU to touch me.” His lips forming a gentle pout making me coo at his absolute cuteness. One of my hands played with his hair massaging his scalp, while the other traveled down his boy slightly playing with his nipple before going down to the waistband of his jeans. “My needy, cute, babyboy.” My hand still stuck between his little curls as  I leaned down and kissed his lips, working to undo his pants and then removing them for him. I pulled away from the kiss and laid my hand over his dick and started slightly caressing him drawing soft moans from his parted lips. “Mommy I want you on me, please” I smiled and let go of him so he could move to lay down. Whilst he busied himself with getting comfortable and naked, I slid off my shirt and pants, I had the tendency to not wear bras when at home, so I was in only my black panties. “M-momma you look so good, please just touch me” I was reminded of the scenery as he moaned at for me making grabby hands. I know just how he is; he didn’t want sex. No, he wanted me to make love to him, treat him gentle and hold him, and that exactly what I am going to do. I laid by him before rolling onto him, his very prominent hard on pushing against my clothed pussy. “Momm-” I cut him off pressing my lips into his in a very loving and passionate way, my hands trailing his to hold them above his head, interlacing them. I pulled back, only one hand moving to strip myself of my underwear before grabbing his hard dick lining him up at my dripping hole. “Are you ready love” He quickly nodded, I loved him so much and loved always making sure I was doing everything right for my sweet babyboy. I slid myself down on him before capturing him in another loving kiss, moving myself above him gently. “Momma” his moans filled my ears as I let go of his restrained arms, allowing them to wrap against me, holding me close to him. His thrust meeting my bounces as he buries his face into my neck. “Momma ‘m gonna-” I place another kiss on his lips, “Go ahead Tate, fill mommy up.” He whimpers and shoots his seed into me, painting my insides white while I clenched around him allowing my own orgasm to soak his dick. “I love you (name)” I smiled at his half-awake confession, kissing his forehead. “I love you too Tater-Tot” 

Taglist: @yes-divine-ruler, @ppawmpkin

this was for the needy tate request next ill do toxic kai, shuri and the others dw guys imma get them done!

[makriiii]

Caught XV (Arthur Morgan × f!reader)

Word count: 3.5k

Authors note: GUYS IM SO SORRY I LOVE YOU FORGIVE ME😭😭 THIS CHAPTER DOES NOT DISAPPOINT!! I rushed it just a bit, so there might be a few mistakes. I also have a few oneshot ideas that I both hope you'll like and that I'll get out soon. <3 ;)

Warnings: 18+, blood, cursing, alcohol, other stereotypical outlaw things.

♡

Caught XV

“I wish to god I’d passed her by…” the four of you harmonized, the sloshing of water from the sides of your boat making your voices compete with the noise level. “Taters got burnt n’ so did I! Mmm hmm mmm hmmm.”

The humming graduated into heavy chuckles between you, Arthur, Dutch and Hosea. Arthurs laugh was deep and hearty, a genuine sound you'd never heard from Arthur before and for once his eyes toward you seemed soft. You and him exchanging glances as you sang together, it was enjoyable to be with him for now.

From the way the day began, you hadn’t expected it to end like this, having this much fun singing along with these men, especially Arthur. However, given the earlier happenings, you and Arthur weren’t quite as haughty with each other - for now at least.

From the shoreline birds chirped and the sun set into heavy shades of purple, orange and yellow. Arthur's face aglow with the sun's painting, his face relaxed yet cautiously keeping his eyes from lingering on you for too long.

Once he realized you were still looking at him, he turned his hat down, erasing the light with the shadow of his hat. A small grin still peeked out from under his hat though.

Even a man as chronically grumpy as Arthur could be a bit more chipper at times. It was nice to be around him when he was like that, at least.

Before you knew it, Hosea and Dutch already had already agreed on the next song and one you well recognized from the times you spent with the O’Driscoll boys. “Well, we be three poor mariners, newly come from the seas!”

Arthur started singing along as you did, you weren't entirely sure, but he seemed to keep eyeing you.

The boat came to a sloshy, belated stop, granting you all a good position to pull out your rods and start your quest for dinner.

"I'll be redeeming my fishin' reputation today, boys." You announce proudly, casting your line out and praying for some sort of kind, large, preferably, hospitable fish to bite your hook.

Arthur scoffs and casts his out not too far from yours, giving you a competitive glare.

"See if you can outdo Arthur." Hosea remarks, attaching his lure to his line.

"You know, that actually reminds me of-"

(This is where Dutch tells everyone about Arthur's fishing story, supposedly catching a fish himself that was actually purchased. Which he doesn't like to hear as is but is even more irritated due to your presence. I was too lazy to write it and wanted to get this out sooner)

It'd been a good hour or so you lot had been out here, the sun nearly completely gone and you had caught only but a small perch.

It was looking glum for you, while Arthur was alit with delight.

"This is four. Maybe a good ten or so pounds, what do you think Dutch?"

"Good for dinner my boy, good for dinner."

You fought back a yawn as you scanned the water line, disappointed that your reputation was further tarnished. Small waves reflecting the nearly full moons light that had replaced the sun; thankfully, else it'd be pitch black.

"Y/n." Arthur coo's holding his wriggling fish out just for you to see. "I reckon it's time to get back, suppose your luck ran out today."

As you stared him down your whole body suddenly jerked forward, your hands unrelenting in their grip on your rod.

"What the hell.." You gasp out in disbelief as you start pulling your previoulsy preyed for, yet unkind and inhospitable fish in.

"Keep a hold on it, y/n!" Hosea encourages, now focused on you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Arthur's face of grim dismay, which you couldn't help but start smirking as you did your best to win this fat fish.

You waited till it tired out, then started reeling again. As it turned out to Arthur, your fishing ability was in fact existent.

While everyone sat in silence, only broken by the sloshing water underneath, you stood fighting your second catch of the day.

It wasn't until, with another surprising yank from your prey, did you realize you were too close to the edge and your boot stuck on the side of the bench in the middle, nearly leaning off the side.

"Shit." You curse as you try to regain balance as well as keep this fish on the line.

Arthurs hands gently slid onto your waist, pulling you closer to the center of the boat. You could feel his front on you for a short bit, a shiver running up your spine as your face heated.

For a second, you thought he was going to shove you in to go swim with the fish instead. But, that - that was different.

"Thanks, princess." You grant, although with angst, as your pride was still hurt from his earlier trophies.

"Psh." He scoffs, his hands slowly slipping off your sides. "I should toss you in as bait for that."

"Quit botherin' me." You scold and with a final, persistent tug, you finally got the fish close enough to the boat. Arthur quickly obliged and assisted you with getting the big bastard out of the water.

"Well, I reckon it's about as long as you, y/n!" Dutch chortles as he marvels at your catch, his eyes switching between the two of you for comparison.

If you were anything of the fisherman you said you were, you recognized it to be a sturgeon. A massive one at that.

"Looks to be a sturgeon you got there." Hosea confirms your thought, examining it closer while avoiding the droplets of water that flew from the fish's tail.

You bubbled with excitement and pride, holding the massive thing down.

Arthur had a nearly proud look on his face as he knelt beside you, absolutely gobsmacked with your catch.

"It's fair to say I'm a decent fisher, no?" You laughed, unable to contain your excitement.

"It's fair." Arthur admits, chuckling out his surprise, not even a man as petty as him could deny it.

—

The sun had now hidden itself well beyond the horizon by the time you had gotten back camp and floated up to, what was best described as skeletal remains of a dock.

Fires were lit and dim candle lights came from the tables. A warm setting to come back to, but as much as Dutch and Hosea seemed to disregard your presence as an O’Driscoll, the rest of camp hadn’t yet come around.

As you got out of the boat behind Hosea, Arthur helped you pull out your sturgeon, but his arm, you could tell, was still a bother.

"I can carry it," you gripped onto your fish harder, leaning back with the weight as you stepped one foot over the boat.

Arthur's hand on your shoulder stabilized you as you wobbled and swayed with your fish that you were unwilling to let Arthur help with. Whether out of kindness or pride, you didn't want to admit.

"Just let me take it, I have no problem with it."

"Well, I do, so let me have my fish where I want my fish." You hugged it with all your might as you walked up into camp with your catch, careful to not let it slip out of your grasp.

He started snickering, for what reason, you couldn't tell.

“What?” You grumble, clutching your sturgeon closer.

“Don't worry about it.” He dismisses, yet still laughing.

“Don't tempt me to sin against you, Morgan.”

“There's many ways you've threatened sin,” he retorted with a sneer, “some don't sound half bad now.”

You knew what he was referring to. The remarks you had made with innuendo that could be taken in a certain way - the way Arthur always took it.

“For you, the prices have gone up indefinitely.”

He feigned a big disappointed sigh, “Should've taken my chance when you only wanted five.”

That quickly prompted a raised brow, which of course, had him laughing even more. He was supposed to be showing his disagreement.

With your fresh fish in hand and Arthur lumbering behind you with his dinky fish, Pearson perks up as he looks you both up and down with eyes wide as a dinner plate.

Arthur slightly bumps into you as he stood by you, which prompted a grandiose gesture that the size of your fish was in fact bigger and he should be acting proper.

"Did you catch that?" Almost giggling with excitement as he ushers you guys to deliver them to the cutting board.

"I suppose I did." Your grin wide as could be, this was sure to be something you could hold over Arthur for a while.

"That should feed most of camp. Well done, O’Driscoll." With his hands on his hips, he contemplates his plan with it. "You're not so bad after all."

"Well, thank you, Pearson. At least some of you think so." You elbow Arthur, a suggestion to take a note.

He huffs out a grumble and side eyes you under his hat with a shake of his head. You return that with a big shiny smile, prideful and cocky as all hell.

As you and Arthur start floating away into camp without a direction, Pearson hollers for you both to come back to him.

"Arthur! Y/n!" He calls, waving you both over. With near perfect synchrony, yours and Arthur's shoulders slumped as you realized your work was not done for today. "Do you mind helping me prepare the food for tonight? Abigail and them are busied with work Ms. Grimshaw wants done."

You showcased Arthur and offered him up, volunteering his services. "I'm sure Arthur would be up for it. Kind as he is, cover for me as well."

Swiftly, you were met with a shove forward into Pearson's kitchen get up. "I'd be so glum without you by my side, y/n. 'Fraid I can't let you go."

"Oh, aren't you just darling tonight, Arthur." You mock in a sweet tone, picking up the knife next to uncut veggies. "A gentlemanly side I never thought I'd see."

"You two are quite the entertainers, aren't you?" Pearson interrupts, seemingly unbothered by the childish banter. "You remind me of two of my old crew members..."

Arthur immediately groaned, another story he had probably heard before. Though you were so focused on belittling Arthur, kindly, of course, that Pearson's voice seemed to just fade out, all it was was you and Arthur.

As he bent over to grab the water pails, you shoved your hip into his backside, throwing him off balance but not enough to knock him over.

He hisses something out as he stands to face you, staring you down.

You wave him off with your hand and start your work with the veggies left out for you. He was sat there plotting, not doubt, staring you down before he went to the lake to fetch water.

As you cut the veggies, Arthurs remark from just moments ago lingered with you. What you had meant and what he took it for was different, so what way did he mean what he said just now?

"Just neither of them had come close to dying so many times, I guess." Pearson continues, cutting into the fish as he has many times before. "You both seem to have a knack for it."

"I'd say Arthur started my string of bad luck." You clarified just as Arthur returned back with the full pails.

"Yet without me, you'dve never made it alive." He was quick to raise a brow and lay out his point.

You shook your head. You knew it was true, in some ways. Maybe you would've bled out on those mountains, or maybe, not.

"I guess we need each other then." You hinted toward the fact that you had kept his ass from getting buzzed multiple times, but the reaction you got wasn't quite expected.

His facial expression softened, just for a second, the gaslights and dim fire light adding to his quiet gaze as he stared at you.

It was only an ever so slight change, but nonetheless enough to make your stomach flutter. You searched his face as his eyes lay still on you.

"Need me to save you," he flips the switch, not a moment longer lingering on that look he gave you. "You like me to get you out of the trouble you get into."

Your face contorted and your eyes squinted as you took the blow, a blow you full well expected, despite that small encounter you just had.

It didn't feel normal, but it hadn't not happened before between you and Arthur. There were things going on between you and this big rat of a man that shouldn't be going on.

"Hmm." You hum along, grabbing out your flask for a well deserved drink, even more so after all the quality Arthur time you had today. "That's not how I remember most of it."

He walks right up close, all the while with a haughty look on his face, the reason for it was quick to be figured.

Arthur snatches your flask right as you were about to take a swig of it, instead finishing off the last of what you had left in there.

You glared at him angry and then jabbed his side with your fingers, making him tilt over quick, trying to fend off your attacks.

"Well, hell, woman!" He chuckles, handing back your flask as he holds onto his side. "There wasn't even that much in there." He made it sound like you had promised him you'd save some for him.

—

You had done your best, you really had. Finally giving up on trying to eat the meal Pearson had made for camp.

"Oh.." Arthur groans, taking his hat off and holding it against his chest to pay his respects as he examined what Pearson had done to the fish in the stew.

You both sat there proper defeated, your prized fish in a supper that was - well, edible enough, but not by choice.

There was too much water, rendering the fish tasteless, and the broth just faintly tasting of the potato and carrot you had cut up. It was salty, as salt was also used as the substitute for all other spices.

Arthur tilted his head back, finishing his first bottle of booze that you both had rummaged for. It was enough, luckily to stave off the discontent attitude toward the dinner.

You yawned in your dreary, tipsy state as you reached for your bottle that now matched your flask. Empty.

"What're we supposed to do now?" You pout, not in your right mind, whether it was due to the stew or drinking, you were beyond being able to tell.

He scoffs, shaking his head. "Drink."

Your bottle was empty, so you weren't drinking, but he was.

You scooched closer as he hung his head back, chugging down his second drink and as soon as he set it down, you snatched it.

He made a half hearted attempt to grab it back, his hands around your wrist, yanking you lightly in his haze.

“C’mon now, y/n.” He grumbles, “let a man have his booze.”

You glanced over at him as he made next to no effort to take his bottle back, now it just seemed like his touch lingered, neglecting to pull his hands off you.

His brows rested even, relaxed, and most of all tired. His eyes reflecting the somber feeling of going hungry tonight.

As you greedily slurped up the rest of the alcohol in your hands, you suddenly felt a familiar touch.

Arthurs head fell softly on your shoulder, his weight leaning into you. He smelt of beer, fish, and grime. Probably exactly what you smelled of too but your nose so thoughtfully became blind to it.

You watched him drowsily, the occasional half drunk hiccup both of you had interrupting the otherwise complete stillness.

“Let me see your arm.” You didn't give him a chance to even oblige before grabbing it yourself.

“What-” He questions before hissing out and wincing as you prodded his wound. The fabric had done it's job with stopping the bleeding, but now the blood dried and effectively stuck to his arm. “Can't you be more kind with me now?”

“I don't reckon you've earned it, Mister Morgan.” His satchel was stuffed aside on the table, which you had no qualms with rummaging through as if it were your own.

You felt his eyes burning through you as you searched for his first aid items. Certainly questioning the gall you had to willy-nilly through his things.

The more you searched, the less you came closer to finding the gauze and ointment he kept, which had you confused. The bag he had wasn't that big.

Out of the corner of your eye, his cocky little look worked it's way back into full force.

“Maybe you'll finally let me help you?” Arthur asks, gently pulling his arm out of your lap to show you where he had it.

A tiny, badly sewn and hidden pocket near the bottom left had what you were looking for tucked away.

You considered him for a moment as he set out the things on the table in front of you, offering his arm back.

“Thanks ever so kindly.” You granted with a sarcastic drawl, tending to his arm now.

Most of camp was asleep now, the fires burning out. Soft snores and otherwise quiet conversation from some of the members still awake.

As the minutes ticked by, you finished Arthurs arm, leaving it where it was on your lap, not particularly thinking about moving it.

Sitting there with Arthur, again, on your shoulder, his quiet breathing, his completely relaxed state - it was all strange, yet so calming.

“Arthur?” You beckon in a whisper, trying to see if he was asleep, remaining still for him.

“Hm.” He musters, barely a conscious response.

The question you wanted to ask perhaps wasn't the best suited for this moment, but it was the only time you felt you'd get a truthful response.

“Why is it you let me stick around?”

That elicited more of a reaction from the drunk, sleepy Arthur at your shoulder. He turned his head to meet your eye for a second, not even bothering to remove himself from your space.

“You're a capable young lady. Useful.” His voice labored, but thoughtful. “Despite the trouble you give me for it.”

You stared at the candle on the middle of the table, waxy run off further plastering it to the table.

“You felt that outweighed the risk of me ratting you lot out?”

“Are you confessing?” He murmurs, uncaring entirely, despite the possibility your words held an admission.

“I have no bad conscience.”

He hums out a dismissal of your bothers. “Everyone will warm up to you eventually.”

That felt like it would take years. If you were so lucky.

“You think so?” You continue, hoping the future he proclaimed was to be true. “Well, I suppose you have.” You let a small chuckle out at what you were obviously pointing out, which had Arthur effectively turn to hide his face closer to your shoulder.

That had put an end to the conversation, you finally allowed him the peace to sleep. And on you, nonetheless. You recalled easily the other morning where you had given him much guff for it.

As you stared into the flickering candle light, you realized you no longer heard the rest of camp. At this point, you had no clue what time it could have possibly been.

It was this man who had gotten you here. The one you fought tooth and nail with day by day, and still the one who had your back many times over the course of just a few short months.

He ruined your life.

That was one way to put it. Ruined and completely turned the trajectory of your future. Though, as many cons as there were, the pros seemingly started to outweigh what had transpired.

He wasn’t a terribly unsightly man neither, you had to admit. And now you had him asleep on your shoulder, his arm around your torso and you were letting it happen.

But his thoughts about you were only as confusing as how you felt about him. You didn't know if he actually wanted to be around you or if he just felt responsible to watch over you, as your O’Driscoll status still flew high with the people in camp.

And that picture- the pretty lady he had kept away in his things.

The longer you sat, the less you wanted to move him. As much as you felt it was what you should do, you couldn't muster it.

Your eyelids grew heavy as the surrounding fell deeper into the darkness of night. You hesitated before your cheek rested gently atop Arthur's head.

~~~

<33

[boldlyspeedydreamerreturns]

So, Primos ended up coming out after all. I've seen a few of the episodes and it's…okay. It's nothing groundbreaking by any means. Honestly it's pretty standard. Tater is an overall decent protagonist. While she can be kind of dramatic and a bit annoying, you understand why she feels the way she does. She's a kid and it's normal for someone her age to not always be kind and understanding to others. She's honestly more relatable and sympathetic compared to a lot of the always sunny and kind even when they're being hit with a baseball bat protagonists we've had in recent years.

The stereotypes, while definitely there, aren't as in your face and distracting as some people thought they'd be. And while it's still early in the show and we haven't gotten to see everyone in depth, the characters seem pretty dynamic and have a lot of potential.

One character specifically I'm pleasantly surprised by is Big Nacho. From his first appearance giving Tater noogies and twisting her arm, it was reasonable to think he'd just be some one dimensional bully character, but he's actually not. Big Nacho is a sweetheart. He's happy to help around the house with cleaning and other tasks, saying that he and Nachito were “raised right”. Speaking of Nachito, the dynamic of the brothers is actually so adorable and loving. Big Nacho loves how much his younger brother looks up to him and he genuinely tries to be a good role model for Nachito, even if he doesn't always get it right. Sure, Big Nacho can be kind of gross and play too rough, not always knowing his own strength. That's pretty typical teenage boy behavior, but he's not outright mean for the sake of mean. His family means a lot to him, and spending time with them really does make him happy. We see this with how upset he gets when Lita and Tater ditch their trip to the pizzeria. We also learn that Big Nacho is dyslexic which was a surprise, but he ends up helping Tater in helping Nachito by sharing the ways he's learned to deal with his dyslexia.

I hope we get to see more character development like that for all the cousins. While it's not a huge deal, it's definitely not as terrible as people were making it out to be. Primos had a rocky start, but I genuinely believe it deserves it's chance.