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pinkmirth · 1 year

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I think we need some headcanons of cowboy Reiner

— ( save a horse, ride a cowboy! )

༉‧₊˚. — synopsis: just a cluster of fluffy and smutty headcanons for none other than the love of my life, cowboy reiner!

༉‧₊˚. — contains: (2k words of…) cowboy!reiner x fem!reader, (black coded), fluff, nsfw/smut, modern au, southern setting, established relationship (married), fantasies of having a child, breeding kink (‘cause this is reiner we’re talking about duh!), mentions of pregnancy, bondage kink, oral (m!receiving/blowjob), cowgirl position, doggy-style, creampie, reiner calls himself “daddy”, use of the petnames (mama, sugar, darling, honey, cowgirl), reiner calls you “woman” once, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

༉‧₊˚. — mira’s note: oh absolutely, nonnie! here are some thoughts I have on cowboy rei-rei 💕 (check masterlist for other reiner fics!)

this man is always covered head-to-toe in classic cowboy attire— embroidered cowboy boots, blue denim jeans with a lasso hanging from his belt loop, and a trusty old cowboy hat. he’s got the whole getup, and he looks even sexier in it every time you see him! though, his best look by far is the shirtless one. it’s the highlight of your day when whenever it gets too warm outside, because he’s soon to peel off his top. from across the farm, he can feel your eyes burning into his lightly-tanned skin as he does the most mundane chores. his muscles tense and flex with every move, pecs gleaming with sweat. he shoots you a smirk, folding his arms across his bare chest. “y’like what ya see, honey?” you pray the weather’s even hotter tomorrow.

it warms his heart whenever you come around to watch him do his daily chores around the farm. your presence motivates him to work harder, so he can continue to provide for you and sustain your comfortable lifestyle. you try not to be too much of a distraction, but you can’t help wanting to be closer to your husband; so you tug at his leather belt and pull him in for a kiss. that gets him giddy like nothing else. “ya know how much i love it when y’do that… gimme another,” he puckers his lips, and you giggle. “i don’t wanna keep you sidetracked for too long, rei. you were busy before i got here,” you caress his stubbled cheek and he pouts in response, leaning forward to receive another pillowy kiss. “jus’ one more, mama.”

cowboy reiner loves to cook and bake! he often goes on farmer’s market dates with you, walking hand in hand as you help him pick out the freshest ingredients and spices. you chat and laugh amongst one another, dropping carrots and apples into the hand-woven basket that reiner made for you. after arriving back home, he allows you to relax in yours and his shared bedroom while he whips together a hearty southern meal for the two of you. he shouts from across the house, adorned in nothing but a short pair of checkered boxers and a flimsy apron, “supper’s ready, darlin’! come on down ‘n eat!”

he’s great with animals! reiner cradles an adorable month-old horse in his strong arms, feeding milk to the baby with a soft smile. it’s just about the sweetest thing you could ever see! all the little foals follow him around the ranch because they love papa reiner just as much as you do <3 he’s built something of a connection between himself and his beloved herd, which is why he’s able to bring the horses over to their stables with no hassle whatsoever. this man could practically be a veterinarian with all the animal knowledge he has!

he’s a locally known rodeo champion! reiner wins the prize for longest bull-riding every single year. he should allow someone else a fighting chance, at least 😭 but he’s just effortlessly good at anything he puts his mind to! he skillfully rides the beast with such ease, leaving the crowd in awe. courtesy of his natural-born strength, he hardly ever gets tossed off. reiner’s got medals galore hanging on his wall from every competition.

as a southern man, he’s very family-oriented. his loved ones are of the utmost importance to him, and he’ll always put family first before anything else. he utterly adores you, and can’t wait to start a tiny lil family of his own with you <3 when I tell you this man cannot wait to be a papa, I mean it! there’s no denying that reiner would be an amazing father, considering that he’s so caring and attentive. he knows the best tickle spots to target, and the silliest faces to make to get a child cracking up (both of which he discovered through spending lots of time with gabi when she was small.) he constantly daydreams about dressing up his little one in tiny boots and overalls and carrying them up on his shoulders. (yes, I’m pushing the daddy rei-rei agenda on this fine weekend!)

cowboy reiner has manners like none other— the epitome of a true gentleman! he’s a great listener, is always so patient, opens doors for you, pays for your things without hesitation, gives frequent massages, carries you when you begin to feel tired; the list goes on! he’s just so kind and selfless, and never fails to show it. cowboy rei-rei is truly the perfect husband. “your feet hurt? well c’mere, sugar. i’ll carry you. it ain’t too much for me, y’know i can handle ya! jus’ hold onto me. i gotcha, okay?”

cowboy reiner is a grown man who can wholly appreciate your body and every striking detail about it. he scrutinizes the small dotted beauty marks scattered across your skin, your cutely patterned stretch marks, the curves and crevices of your soft tummy and thighs, and he fucking loves it all. makes it a habit to kiss up and down your body, just to give you a well-needed confidence boost. this man right here surely knows how to make a woman feel special! “listen t’me— you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, y’know that?”

(nsfw) — reiner loves when you treat him to a surprise blowie during work. he’s up to the usual, arranging things around the barn and tending to the animals. you then make your entrance, wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him from behind. your plump lips curve into a sensual smile as you ask him, “can I steal you for a moment, baby? it won’t be for too long, I swear it.” in an instant, he's allowing you to pull him away from his duties, unknowing of where you’re taking him, but also uncaring because he’d allow you to do whatever you please. he follows you with the goofiest smile plastered on his charming face, because he knows that he’s about to receive the most knee-buckling blowjob of his entire goddamn life. you bring him into the hayloft, pushing him against the red-painted wall until he’s flat against it. you drop to your knees and bring his jeans down with you. “fuck, darlin’… kiss the tip ‘fa me.” he moans lowly. you do as he wishes, suckling on his cockhead with the most beautiful, glistening eyes. you’re so eager to please, and it makes him throb on your tongue. with a hand at the back of your head, he guides you further onto him until you’ve swallowed the entirety of his fat dick. reiner ruts his hips, fucking into your wet mouth. you always know just how to make him feel so good, so loved. he adores you like nothing else. “oh, that’s it, honey, right there… atta girl.”

(nsfw) — the bondage kink on this man is insane, I tell you! cowboy reiner loves to keep your hands tied behind your back and watch you squirm against the rope. “rei,” in a breathless whine, his name falls from your plush lips. you wiggle your ass in the air for him, anticipating his next move. he takes you from the back, raw-dogging your pussy with a merciless pace. you truly wonder where he gets all this unparalleled energy to drill you into the bed, especially considering all the hard work he puts into maintaining the farm every day. one large hand of his stays planted on your waist, hastily grabbing, while the other holds onto your tied hands for leverage. he delivers harsh, deep-reaching thrusts, with his firm hips sharply smacking against you from behind. your wrists struggle against the rope, and he can tell just how desperate you are to touch him. his gaze is fixated on your soft body; every jiggle of your ass and ripple of your thighs is more hypnotizing than the last. you mewl for him, stuttering out something along the lines of ‘t—too much!’ … reiner leans down until his chest grazes the arch of your back, so that he can say, “quit alla-that whinin’, woman.” he clicks his teeth, flooding your ears with that sexy southern drawl of his. “y’can take it all, you’ve done it before.”

(nsfw) — we all know it, the entire goddamn fandom knows it: cowboy reiner has a massive fucking breeding kink! he wants nothing more than to get you pregnant by stuffing your pliant womb with his thick loads of cum. giving you a creampie makes him go completely wild; he watches his seed drip down your slit with hitched breath. a sight such as that is enough to get him hard all over again. the lust takes over, and he’s thinking with his dick for the next three rounds. plowing into you and rubbing at your puffed clit with calloused fingertips, reiner asks, “want me to come inside you? hm?” he gently holds onto your chin, directing your gaze to him. you dazedly look at your husband, pulsing around his thick cock. seeing how fucked-out you are makes his chest swell with the utmost pride. his greatest achievement is being able to please you. “tell me how bad y’fuckin’ want it, baby.” he rasps. your pleading moans urge him to release for you. his warm, pearly arousal seeps into you for the nth time that night. all he wants is to fill you up until you’re walking funny, with your leg shaking from all the stimulation. or, at least until that little stick comes out positive one day. having you grow plump with his child is his ultimate fantasy. “you’d look so stunnin’ as a mama, carryin’ my baby… don’t’cha think so, sugar?”

(nsfw) — reiner likes to let you wear his cowboy hat while you ride him. mounting onto your husband with your legs on either side of his hips, you straddle him. your dainty hands are planted on his broad chest for balance. he pulls off his iconic hat, hair cutely tousled from wearing it all day, before sitting up to place it on your head. “since you’ll be the one ridin’ tonight. giddyup, cowgirl.” he teases with a slick grin. you tip the hat with a breathy laugh before sinking down on his fat dick, maintaining sharp eye contact with him as your throbbing cunt takes him in little by little, until your clit’s grounded and snug against the dark-blonde tufts of his happy trail. his warm palms rub along your body as you swivel your hips, slamming down on all nine girthy inches that he has to offer. he watches your tits bounce, one manicured hand of yours squeezing at your left boob while the other holds onto his hat that rests upon the crown of your head. you rock back and forth with fervor, and he swears he can feel every spongy ridge of your contracting pussy. he throws his head back onto the pillows and gazes at you with the prettiest set of honey-golden eyes, hooded and lust-blown. gravelly moans fall past his agape lips as he spurs you on, giving your ass a thorough smack, “bounce on it, jus’ like that— yeah, fuck daddy’s cock.”

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ghouljams · 9 months

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PLEASE DON'T HOLD BACK I WANT THE COWBOY AU INSIDE OF THE COWBOY AU!!!!!!! PLEASE IM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES!!!

(also can I be 🐇anon if it's not taken???)

You hear the shots before you can stop the duel. You’re just in time to see the dust settle on two bodies as you grip the handle of your kit. Two dead, what a waste. The mortician is already measuring one for a coffin. You sigh and push your hair back, start making your way to help before movement catches your eye. You whip to face the apparently alive deputy, and watch him push himself up to sit, gripping his bloody arm. That you can fix.

You hurry over to him, dropping to your knees to start pulling the needed supplies from your bag. “Almost had me worried, Price,” You tell him, cutting his shirtsleeve at the shoulder seam to yank it down. He hisses, grips his elbow to keep from flinching as you work.

“Can’t even spare me a ‘Deputy’?” He asks, watching you prod at the wound.

“Deputy is for winners,” You dip back into your bag and whistle at the saloon patrons for a stiff one.

“Only you would consider this a loss,” He sighs, reaching for the glass the barkeep brings out. You grab it before he can and dunk your instruments in it. He grimaces, no longer interested in the drink. You hand him a strap of leather to bite as you shake the whiskey off your tweezers.

“You got shot didn’t you?” You tilt your head for a better look at the bullet lodged in his shoulder. Bullets lead to infections. You click your tweezers a few times to warn him before pushing them into the wound. You always hope the pain will be enough to deter any more duels in the future, but Price hardly does more than grunt. He’s got an iron will you suppose.

You pull the bullet free and drop it in his waiting hand, a souvenir. Your fingers feel around the entry point, checking for any bone chips or loose lead. Price lets out a long breath through his nose, exhaling the pain. Seems shallow enough, and you don’t feel anything but the oozing of blood around your fingers. You grab the whiskey glass and tip it over the wound.

“Mmmmmmfuck.” He groans, and you can’t say you blame him, but you need to get some of the blood off. The alcohol works just as well as clean water at washing blood away. Even if the sting of it makes Price’s muscles tense, his breath shaky. You do your best to ignore it while you grab bandages from your bag. “Fuckin’ sawbones.” He grumbles.

“If you don’t want me to hurt you stop getting shot,” You give him a quick raise of your brows. You’re quick with the bandages, it’s better to be quick before the wound bleeds too much.

“Then how’d I see you?” He smiles, and you try not to smile too much in return.

“You could come to the clinic for once,” You tell him, tying off the bandage. His hand moves to rest on your knee, a comfortable weight you know well. He better watch that hand, you still need to get a sling on him.

“God I’d be good to ya’,” Price sighs.

“Yeah?” You tuck your supplies back into your bag and stand, offering a hand to help him up. He grasps your forearm with his uninjured arm and grunts as you haul him to his feet. “How’d you be good to me, when you can barely be good to yourself?” You twist to duck under his arm and wrap it around your shoulder. You think the way he leans against you may be slightly exaggerated as you help him towards your family’s clinic.

“I’d be good to ya’!” Price laughs, “Build ya’ a nice house and all the furniture in it, keep ya’ well stocked with patients.”

“You’d let me keep workin’?” You aren’t going to comment on how happy that makes you. Most men would be more insistent on their partner staying home, popping out kids, you like your work too much to give it up. Probably why you’re still single.

“Can’t deprive the town of their best doctor,” Price huffs out a heavy breath as you sit him down in the front room of the clinic.

“I thought you said I was a sawbones,” You set your bag down and go to dig through the clean clothes for a sling.

“And I’ll let you hold that against me the rest of my life, God I’d be good to ya’,” The way he says it, the explosive admission of it, makes you shake your head fondly. You focus on bending his arm into the sling, trying to keep the pain to a minimum. He grabs you and pulls you down onto his lap when you finish, both of you careful not to bump his arm.

“I think the heat’s gettin’ to ya’ deputy,” You tell him, making yourself comfortable on his lap.

“When’re you gonna say ‘yes’ to me?” He asks, and you wonder if most engagements happen like this. You don’t think so, Price is one of a kind.

“When you win a duel without a new hole to show for it,” You reach to brush some of the dust from outside off his beard, he kisses your fingers as they move over his lips.

“Might take a while then,” he relents, though you know he’s lying. You know better than anyone he’s never this careless when you aren’t on duty. It really is his best excuse to see you. You’re the only one he lets patch him up, and that’s just fine with you.

“Gives you plenty of time to build me a house.” God, you’d be good to him, you already are.

#🐇 anon #1870s!cowboy #sheriff!Price #although I guess here he's just a deputy #he'll be sheriff soon enough #and I guess this is more 1850s ish #oc: duck #but whatever I'm writing everyone meeting their love #john price x reader #captain john price #captain price x reader #captain price x oc #f!oc #john price x oc #Do we all see where Goose gets her attitude?

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luckycharms1701 · 8 days

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So everybody talks about Leo or Raph calling you princess, but why is nobody talking about Future or Cowboy Leo calling you sweetheart or love?!

just….just imagine…

so i know i just got this and i’ve got seven requests in my queue before i should do this one but oh my god. oh my god it just wrote itself. i’m so sorry everyone who’s been waiting so patiently

Leo brings Trick to a halt, careful to jostle his passenger. “Welcome to the old homestead, sweetheart,” he says, making sure to infuse juuust the right amount of mockery into his voice as he gestures grandly towards the collection of buildings in front of them. He notes with amusement the way you go still in front of him. Good. He hopes you’re uncomfortable.

He dismounts the horse and turns to help you down, only to stop and blink. You are staring straight ahead at the ranch, lips thin and hands tight on the pommel. What surprises him, though, is the light pink dusting your face.

You don’t look at him, and a smirk slowly grows on his face. So that’s how it is, huh? Time to have a little fun. “Here, let me help you down, darlin’,” and this time he sees the way your eyes widen and your blush deepens.

You stiffly swing your leg over the pommel, and he softens his sharp smirk a little. Your gaze, however, lands on his shoulder, and he can’t help the way his lips twitch. Oh, this is exactly what he needed after the journey the two of you just suffered through.

He reaches up and lifts you down, once again surprised at how small you are. You’ve been such a huge thorn in his side that he’d forgotten how your hands can’t reach all the way around his biceps as he lowers you to the ground.

“Anythin’ you need, love, you just ask, alrigh’?” The way he deepens his drawl must be what does it, as your head whips up to glare at him even as your blush deepens to red and travels down your neck.

It’s Leo’s turn for his hands to tighten, around your waist rather than the pommel. He quickly lets go of your waist and steps back to hide the surprise. Why in tarnation was he wondering just how far that blush spread under your clothes?

You are still glaring at him, and his smirk sharpens. “Is there a problem, sweetheart?” This time he drawls it out in the way that’s turned many a lady into a stuttering mess. He is pleased to note the way your gaze falters and yours fingers tighten into fists. Good. At least he’s not the only one discomfited around here.

“After you, my dear.” You turn stiffly and stalk off, and Leo chuckles lowly as he gathers Trick’s reins and follows behind you. It’s about time things got a little more lively around here.

~~~

head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic @writinandcrying @xnorthstar3x @morenovix218 @donniesgirlie @gornackeaterofworlds @thelaundrybitch

#i’m sure this isn’t exactly what you were looking for #but i’ve been thinking about my cowboy leo au a lot lately #i might #i might use this in there #thank you anon-chan for the wonderful ask #talking tag #writing tag #cowboy leo #rise leo #rise leo x reader #tmnt

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g3minimars · 8 months

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hii can you do maybe a oneshot or headcanon I don't really mind, cowboy kyle x fem reader :33

like hes dressed in cowboy wear and the reader is soooo over heels for him

Yes of course! There really isn’t much cowboy Kyle fanfics so this should be good. Thank you for requesting.

Genre - Fluff/Slight Smut 🌸🍂

Warnings - Kissing, Sexual Themes, Swearing, Hickeys, Making out, Pet Names, reader is referred to as Y/N, all characters are aged up and have their own apartments.

All Mine|Cowboy!Kyle Broflovski x fem!reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Please Kyle?” You asked for the hundredth time.

Kyle had invited you over to his apartment to work on the group project you guys had been assigned, but you wanted to dress Kyle up instead. Kyle on the other hand, wanted to work on the assignment and get it turned in on time for full credit. “Kyle…please..” You asked with your best puppy eyes. Kyle could never resist your puppy eyes, and you knew that. But that was your little secret. Kyle looked over in defeat, knowing that he had lost. “Shit” he thought in his head. “Fine. But only because I love you.” “Yay!” You exclaimed, before giving Kyle a peck on the lips.

You went to his closet and picked out clothes for him to wear along with the ones you had brought for him. You had also brought a blindfold so it would be a surprise for him. “Here.” You said, handing him the blindfold, along with the clothes you had picked out for him. “Thanks, um what’s the blindfold for?” He asked with confusion. “It’s so it’ll be a surprise. I want to see you wearing it before you do.” “Alright.” He said before you put the blindfold on him. “Okay, now you can go and change.” “Okay, mind leading me to the bathroom though?” “Right, my bad, love.” You said as you lead Kyle to the bathroom.

After a few minutes, Kyle soon came out of the bathroom wearing all the stuff you had picked out for him. “He looks so beautiful.” You thought as you stared at him in awe. He really was beautiful, the hat he was wearing, his beautiful red hair, his li- “Y/N!” Kyle exclaimed, snapping you out of your trance. “Huh?” You quickly asked, looking back up at Kyle. “I asked if I could take the blindfold off?” “Oh, yes sorry.” You replied. You were about to take off the blindfold when an idea sparked in your head. “Actually, you can’t take it off just yet..” “What, wh-“

You quickly cut him off with an open mouthed kiss, taking him by surprise. You guys didn’t normally have open mouthed kisses, but when you did is was like you were in a dream. You then started to trail kisses down his neck, making him softly whimper due to your touch. As you were kissing him, Kyle got an idea of his own. He took off the blindfold, pinning you to the wall. “Thought you could get away with kissing me like that huh? How do you like it when I kiss you? hm?” Kyle said as he started to make out with you. He was normally soft with you, but this time it was a bit more aggressive due to you kissing him in a sexy type of way. You loved how he was making out with you. Sure it was different, but you liked it that way. You guys have always liked trying new things, and this was one if those times. Soon he started to leave a trail of kisses and hickeys down your neck and chest, making you a whimpering mess under his touch.

Eventually, after he had gotten enough whimpers out of you, he pushed you onto the bed, taking you by surprise. “Maybe I should wear this more often if this is what happens.” Kyle said with a smirk, making you blush more than you already were. “You’re all mine.”

You were in for a long night.

-g3minimars

Thank you so much for your request! I really love how this one turned out, and I may make an extended version of this with smut in it but that will be up to you guys.

Sorry if this was a bit short, but thank you so much for your request. Bye my luvs. 💗

#sp kyle #kyle broflovski #south park x reader #south park #fluff #smut #love #kisses #cowboy #cowboy kyle broflovski #cowboy kyle broflovski x reader #my writing #oneshot #anon <3 #request #fem reader #g3minimars

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tickle-bugs · 7 months

Text

The Ol' Kentucky Welcome

Summary: Eggsy’s attitude gets him into trouble at Statesman HQ. Whiskey and Tequila show him how they handle mouthy recruits with too much pride.

Anon: Hey! Love your work. I was trying to think of something I haven't read. So, kingsman and golden circle. Maybe eggsy, whiskey, and Tatum s characters get real drunk one night, start teasing each other and a full out brawl of a tickle fight happens!!! You can do it!!! Thanks!

Loose handwaving at and spoilers for Kingsman: The Golden Circle.

Becoming a Kingsman had done wonders for Eggsy’s impulse control and sense of self. He’s got restraint now, and better judgement—he doesn’t blindly chase a whim without considering the consequences first.

This is what he tells himself as he poaches a bottle of premium Statesman Reserve whiskey from a supply closet rather ominously labeled ‘This Ain’t For Sharing, Friend’. He makes sure to shuffle the bottles to disguise the large gap left behind on the shelf.

He settles in at the Statesman briefing room table, loosening his tie and shirt collar. He unbuttons his jacket and, in a rare flash of bad manners, kicks his feet up onto one of the nearby chairs.

The thought of Harry scolding him for it tugs at chest.

“Now what do we have here?” Whiskey whistles lowly, ducking into the doorway. Tequila fits in beside him. Eggsy gives a mocking salute before popping the cork on the bottle. He grabs a polished crystal glass from a platter on the table and pours himself a hefty bit.

“Looks to me like we’ve got a thief, Whiskey.” Tequila arches his brow. “Y’ain’t learned your lesson yet, Galahad?”

“Gentlemen.” Eggsy smirks and lifts his glass. The sharp kiss of the liquor burns his tongue, but it washes back with a smoky smoothness unlike anything he'd ever tried. He smacks his lips loudly, enjoying the slight twitch of Whiskey’s eyebrow in response.

“Thought you fancy-types were supposed to be polite.” Whiskey puts his hands on his hips.

“And I thought you brutish types couldn’t make something so delicious.” Eggsy angles the glass in the light. The liquid seems to glow.

Tequila ducks past Whiskey and takes a seat at the table, helping himself to a glass. He clinks glasses with Eggsy and they share another sip. Both of them sigh in unison, sinking deeper into their chairs. Whiskey throws Eggsy’s feet off his chair and takes a seat.

“You’re lucky I ain’t reportin’ you to Ginger Ale for theft.” Whiskey fixes himself a glass. He takes off his hat and rests it on the table. He shrugs off his jacket, draping it over the back of the chair.

“Report me for what?” Eggsy cocks his head. “You fine, upstanding gentlemen cracked open a bottle of your own reserve to share with your guest and I just had to say yes. Would hate to be impolite.”

Whiskey glares. Eggsy sips innocently.

“I like this motherfucker, Whiskey.” Tequila laughs, muffling himself in his fist. Whiskey shifts his glare.

“‘Course you do. You can’t keep your mug outta trouble to save your life.”

“Least my mug ain’t ugly,” Tequila grumbles. Eggsy snorts. Whiskey turns to fish for a pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket. As he leans forward, a silver shine peeks out of his pants pocket. Eggsy gently plucks a shiny lighter from Whiskey’s pocket and tucks it into his own.

“Champagne mentioned you’re a cheeky bugger.” Eggsy knocks shoulders with Tequila and winks.

“I dunno what that means.” Tequila frowns. They both watch Whiskey fumble around for the lost lighter and keep smooth, straight expressions.

“You get into shit. He’s fond of you?” Eggsy gestures at him. Tequila nods.

“Yeah, well…he wasn’t always. I’ve always been a bit of a firecracker. Didn’t make the best choices. Got people hurt. Built up a reputation for bein’ a problem, and Champagne started makin’ me own it.” Tequila watches his whiskey swirl in his glass. Eggsy hums thoughtfully.

“Sounds like Harry. He didn’t let me get away with shit. If I did something reckless, it was my arse on the line. But sometimes it paid off.” Eggsy smiles and thinks of stealing Harry’s cab on his way out of initiation.

“To good mentors.” Tequila inclines his head respectfully and raises his glass. Eggsy clinks their glasses together.

The three of them pass the time draining the bottle and looking out over the twinkling lights of the distillery buildings. A boyish mischief settles into Tequila, one that grows as the liquor in the bottle sinks. Whiskey starts to slur his words, but he maintains a hunter’s focus.

“Tell me somethin’, Eggsy. What brought you to Kingsman?” Whiskey watches him over the rim of his glass. His stare is piercing.

“Hm. Harry did. Not so different from Tequila, I reckon. I’d made a right fuckin’ mess and Harry saved me from it. Gave me a job. He saw something in me that no one else did.” Eggsy traces his fingers along the edge of his cup. He glances absently towards Harry’s cell and sighs quickly. Whiskey follows his gaze.

“Did your lepidopterist friend teach you to have sticky fingers, or do you just like causin’ problems?” Whiskey holds his hand out. Eggsy rolls his eyes and hands over the stolen lighter.

“I’ve always been good at nicking things. S’fun.” Eggsy grins and produces Whiskey’s wallet. Whiskey grumbles under his breath and snatches it.

“Feels like you’re the only one of your people that ain’t all hoity-toity. What other secrets are you hiding?” Tequila leans forward. The question grates against Eggsy’s better instincts. He searches Tequila’s face for the slightest bit of ill will. All that sticks is the way light catches softly on his eyes. Eggsy hums and turns his eyes to the ceiling to think.

“Well, my girlfriend bein’ a princess isn’t much of a secret anymore, so…I was a gymnast for a bit.” Eggsy grins. Tequila’s eyes light up and he starts snapping in Whiskey’s direction. For each snap, Whiskey gives a disgruntled hm until eventually they’re just swatting at each other.

“Whiskey, don’t we have them flippy bars down in the gym?” Tequila sniffs, blinking as the liquor hits his sinuses. Eggsy perks up. A spark of excitement picks up atop the warm flush of liquor in his stomach.

“We do. For Statesman agents. Y’know Rum and Cognac get real touchy ‘bout their stuff.” Whiskey raises an eyebrow.

“Well, we’re workin’ together now, ain’t we? ‘Sides, Rum and Cognac ain’t here. Let’s walk him down there. I wanna see what he can do.” Tequila claps Eggsy on the shoulder. Eggsy gives his best winning smile. Whiskey grumbles, then downs the rest of his glass.

“Fuck it. Fine. Five minutes.”

…

They stumble down to the Statesman training facility, passing by a very tired Ginger Ale who opts not to ask why Eggsy’s wearing Tequila’s hat (pretty simple, it’s ‘cause he nicked it). Whiskey puts his thumb to a scanner and the wall unfolds for them.

The lights click on in rows, lighting the industrial space. Eggsy gasps like a kid on Christmas morning.

Sophisticated weight training and combat equipment sit in neat rows. Eggsy locks in directly past that, drifting unconsciously towards a heaping pile of chalk bags. Pommel horses, beams, bars, and hanging rings sprawl out on a spring mat, all in pristine condition. A few launchpads and trampolines lay near the equipment. Eggsy laughs incredulously as he takes it in. Nostalgia flutters in his chest.

Eggsy immediately unbuttons his shirt, folding it cleanly and crisply. He shoves it and the cowboy hat into Tequila’s arms, adjusts his tank top, then works to unlace his shoes. The moment his feet are free, he sprints for one of the springboards. He hits it clean, just like he’d learned, and pushes off the vault, twisting through the air. His landing is a bit messy, but it’s functional, and he takes off to the parallel bars next.

The alcohol writhes in his system, but he doesn’t care. How can he? It’s been years. Coach’d told him he was good enough for the fucking Olympics and he hadn’t touched a set of bars since. The flex of the bars is a comfort to him. He flips and twirls, holding crisp handstands and tucks through muscle memory alone.

He dismounts beautifully from the parallel bars to the pleasant thrum of adrenaline and a smattering of applause.

“Hoowee, that was somethin’!” Tequila ruffles Eggsy’s hair, destroying the last hold of the gel on his head. Eggsy laughs and swats him away.

“Hats off to you, kid. Takes a lot of skill to pull that off.” Whiskey nods in respect. Eggsy returns it.

“I ain’t gonna lie, I thought you were gonna fall on your ass. I’m impressed.” Tequila slugs his shoulder with a brassy laugh.

“Thanks, Tequila.” Eggsy grins roguishly. “Mind givin’ me a boost?”

“Sure.” Tequila follows Eggsy over to the high bar. Whiskey loudly clears his throat.

“Boys, this has been…eye-openin’, but we really should get goin’. Early start tomorrow, I imagine. And this one’ll be fit to collapse when the time difference catches up.” Whiskey inclines his head towards Eggsy.

“Sorry, bruv? Can’t hear you all the way over there.” Eggsy gestures to his ear with a cheeky grin.

“I said—“

“No, no. If you have something to say, come whisper it in my fucking ear.” Eggsy snickers, hearing Merlin’s voice in his head. Whiskey rolls his eyes and saunters over.

“Look, I respect you ‘cause Champagne respects you. Other than that, you’re still a brat that oughta fall into line. Let’s turn in for the night. Both of you.” Whiskey raises his eyebrow. The honey tones of his voice make his annoyance all the more amusing.

“What’re you gonna do about it? Get me with your skipping rope?” Eggsy smirks. Tequila mutters a quiet aw hell and takes a step back.

“Maybe I will, you little shit.”

Eggsy comes to terms with a number of things about himself in that moment, and he puts them all away to process sober. Instead, he gestures for Tequila to give him a hand and reaches up for the bar.

Tequila picks him up by the waist, and it’s not the smooth, assisted lift he’s used to. It’s the clumsy grip of a drunk surprised by weight. Tequila does lift Eggsy up to the bar, but at the cost of his dignity— he spasms and makes a high-pitched noise when Tequila’s fingers press into his waist.

In hindsight, he should’ve seen the way Whiskey’s eyes narrowed at that.

“What the hell was that?” Tequila squints up at him.

“Nothin’. Thought you were gonna drop me. Bugger off.” Eggsy kicks weakly in Tequila’s direction. He backs up, hands raised. Whiskey steps in, hands on his belt.

“Get off the bar, Eggsy.” Whiskey sniffs authoritatively. The logical Kingsman agent buried in Eggsy’s brain sets off warning bells, but Drunk Eggsy, who is obviously of much sounder mind, ignores it.

“Make me, Whiskey.” Eggsy starts to swing in the space he has. Not enough to kick anyone, but enough to look like he will. He manages to rotate clumsily around the bar once, then hangs back down in front of Whiskey.

“You want me to embarrass you in front of your new friend? Okay.” Whiskey steps up to Eggsy and makes a show of sizing him up. Then, quicker than the draw of his pistols, his hands latch onto Eggsy’s sides and squeeze until he’s screaming and plummeting off the bar. Eggsy’s short life flashes before his eyes as he falls bodily into Tequila’s arms.

“Are you fucking mental?” Eggsy goes to shove Whiskey, but Tequila holds him back.

“Woah, watch that mouth of yours!” Whiskey laughs, eyes glittering. “You told me to make you. Your wish is my command, friend.”

Eggsy kicks, trying to break Tequila's hold, and he catches Whiskey right in the balls. He makes a noise like a wounded donkey and folds over. Eggsy snickers. Whiskey whips his reddening face up and glares.

“Now you’ve done it. Tequila!” Whiskey tosses something his way and he catches it. Eggsy barely has time to react before his arms are bound and hoisted in the air above his head. His toes brush the ground. The bar above him creaks in protest but does not give.

Whiskey puts his hands on his hips again. Eggsy wonders if that’s a cowboy thing or an American one.

“Skippin’ rope, bitch.” Whiskey grins, sharklike. “Now…you done with the whole insubordination routine or am I gonna have to give you the ol’ Kentucky Welcome?”

Eggsy snorts derisively. He tests his bindings. They hold steady. Fear starts to pierce through his liquid courage.

“I’m honored, bruv, but I’m in a committed relationship—“

Whiskey clicks his tongue and crowds into Eggsy’s space. He immediately steels himself for violence—what else would there be besides violence? He’s been jumped before. He’s no stranger to the predatory tilt of Whiskey’s head. He sets his jaw and glares.

“When Tequila first joined up, he carried a bit of them clownin’ instincts with him. That didn’t fly with Champagne. We had to figure out a way to take him down a few pegs without hurtin’ him. So, the Kentucky Welcome was born.”

“Aw, fuck you, Whiskey. Seriously, man.” Tequila pipes up from behind Eggsy.

“What does this have to do with me? I know you Americans love to hear yourself talk, but I’m not interested.” Eggsy tries to pull free. Nothing. Whiskey’s gaze gets softer, more mischievous. The change is deeply unnerving.

“Well, you remind me of Tequila. You’ve clearly got a good head on your shoulders, but you’re a little shit. So I’m gonna deal with you the same way we used to deal with him. Last chance, kid. You comin’ quietly or are we gonna have to drag you?”

Eggsy flinches when Whiskey reaches for him—years of habit die hard—and prepares himself for the hard crunch of knuckles into his ribs. Instead, he’s met with a gentle and persistent scritching.

A confused noise bubbles up at the back of Eggsy’s throat, quickly chased by a wobbly smile. He ducks his head and bites his lip.

Oh what the fuck?

Kingsman had taught him to resist the most painful and stressful of scenarios, but they’d never taught him what to do about this. Tilde’s maybe the only person who knows that he’s ticklish, and even then…he can convince her to let him go by kissing her senseless. Eggsy doubts that’ll work here.

“Uh oh, Galahad. Don’t tell me something’s botherin’ you?” Whiskey presses an insincere hand to his heart. Eggsy’s brain stutters for a moment as he realizes that Tequila’s the one scratching at his ribs.

“Fffffuck you.” Eggsy exhales sharply through his nose and closes his eyes--nope, that’s worse. So much worse.

Whiskey tickles under his arms and Eggsy yelps, bright laughter tumbling after. It shouldn’t be this bad—Tilde’s done far worse to him in jest, but somehow the teasing grin of his begrudging allies gets under his skin. His arms flex as he tries to pull himself up and away, but his strength collapses with every breath.

“Aw, y’all are twins.” Whiskey leans around Eggsy to smirk at Tequila.

“Whiskey.” Tequila’s languished tone being hilarious really doesn’t help things. Eggsy’s entire face scrunches as he tries to find his way back towards composure. A hiccup sneaks into his chest, and then he’s giggling incessantly. His chest feels like the sparklers he’d run around with as a kid, bright and fizzling and dissolving with every breath.

“Y’know, I wish I had tried this when I first caught y’all. Prolly woulda gone a hell of a lot faster.” Tequila’s voice floats past Eggsy’s ear. Eggsy manages a giggly growl and a halfhearted headbutt in his direction. Tequila tuts at him and folds his fingers into Eggsy’s waistline.

He makes a noise at a pitch that threatens to shatter every lightbulb in the room. Tequila’s calloused fingers strum Eggsy’s nerves like guitar strings and it tickles, fucking shit—

Tequila hooks his fingers just so and Eggsy kicks. Whiskey snags his ankle before a second devastating impact can occur. They make tortuous eye contact.

“Whiskey—“ Eggsy attempts to appeal to the cowboy’s humanity with what Merlin fondly calls his nuclear puppy eyes.

Grinning wickedly, Whiskey shakes his head and reaches for his trapped foot.

Eggsy’s eyes bug out of his head.

He wrenches his leg free, twists his hands, and flips upwards. Managing a gold-worthy handstand into a dismount, he frees his wrists and lands smoothly. Eggsy playfully curtsies. Tequila starts to clap. Whiskey smacks him upside the head.

“Alright, I’m done playin’ around. Grab him. If we’re caught down here at this hour it’ll be my hide.” Whiskey gestures for Tequila to step in. He does so, still a little off-kilter from the liquor.

Eggsy rushes in, expecting a clumsier rendition of the fighting style he’d been so painfully introduced to. Instead, Tequila smoothly blocks his blows and hoists Eggsy over his shoulder like a sack of fucking potatoes. One of his arms locks behind Eggsy’s thighs as they start to walk for the door. It takes him a moment to even process being upside-down. The sway of Tequila’s gait shakes some blood into his brain.

“Aw, y’all are twins.”

“—deal with you the same way we used to deal with him—“

A lightbulb clicks on in Eggsy’s head. He shouldn’t…but he could…but he shouldn’t—

He shoves his hands under Tequila’s arms. Before he can blink or breathe, they’re in a heap on the ground. Tequila’s cackling dead weight presses the air from Eggsy’s chest.

“Thought you’d put up more of a fight, bruv.” Eggsy’s eyebrows raise. Tequila shrieks at him in response. Eggsy manages to wiggle free and hop lightly to his feet as Tequila gathers his wits.

“There’s one of you and two of us. Be wise.” Whiskey cracks his neck. Eggsy looks over at Tequila and smirks devilishly. Tequila pales.

“I like those odds.”

The flurry of motion as they charge each other sets off the ‘fight’ center in his brain, but there is some comfort in knowing no harm is on the table. Eggsy flips and twists out of their grasp, taking advantage of his flexibility to pull off increasingly ridiculous dodges. He neatly sweeps both Whiskey and Tequila’s legs out from under them.

“Little help?” Whiskey gestures lamely at Tequila.

“Nah, I’m done. Y’all are nuts.” Tequila lays on his back, putting his hat down over his face. He folds his arms behind his head. Whiskey curses at him. Tequila gives him the finger.

Whiskey grabs Eggsy by the back of the shirt--really, he should know better--and Eggsy sweeps him again. Whiskey’s ready for it this time, though, and he manages a pin faster than Eggsy can roll away. Whiskey plants himself on Eggsy’s back like he’s settling on a bull.

“Aren’t you tired? Goddamn.” Whiskey sighs. Eggsy winces at the texture of the mat against his cheek.

It reminds him of Roxy and agonizing training sessions, of hours of sweat and bruising and his face stinging from being slammed into the mat. Even past the wave of grief, he remembers the shape of her smile when she would lecture him about letting her pin him on his stomach.

“Indefensible,” she’d say, prodding the back of his ribs. “You’re a sitting duck like this.”

And every time he’d roll his eyes, hooking his fingers behind her knees--

Oh. Hm.

As best as he can, he reaches back and latches onto Whiskey’s thigh, squeezing just above his knee. Whiskey hollers and tries to phase right through the floor. Eggsy rolls them over and pursues, squeezing and squeezing until Whiskey is a wheezing pile on the floor.

Eggsy flips onto his feet. He knows he’s imagining the fond, ghostly squeeze on his shoulder, but he puts his hand on the spot anyways.

“Now I’m tired. Goodnight, fellas.” Eggsy salutes with a wide grin, stepping over both cowboys. He gathers his belongings and saunters for the door, whistling pleasantly.

Whiskey rubs a hand over his face as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Kid’s fuckin’ lucky I like him,” Whiskey grumbles, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

“Might not wanna speak too soon. He took your hat.” Tequila puts his own ten-gallon back on his head and gestures towards the door with a whistle. Whiskey growls and shoots to his feet.

“Motherfucker! Eggsy!”

#my fics #this fic truly wrote itself. i blacked out and it just happened #and then i realized i didnt properly read the prompt and then rewrote it lol #is this good? *vague mumbling and shrugging*. did i have fun? absolutely #kingsman #ticklish!eggsy #eggsy unwin #ticklish!whiskey #agent whiskey #ticklish!tequila #agent tequila #<- contenders for some of my silliest tags #theres an au in my head where roxy merlin eggsy and harry play cowboy with the statesman agents for a while #mostly bc i want cowboy roxy...#anyways ive wanted to write kingsman forever! thx for the prompt hope you enjoy <3 #also anon 'you can do it!!! thanks!!!' has been in my head since you sent the prompt. like yea i CAN do it!!! thank YOU!!!!

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inkpot909 · 1 year

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I loved your one shot with Spike! He was soo pure with his feelings 😭Do you have any HC’s for when Spike realizes got a crush and he’s fallen in love with them?

A/n: Thank you so much for the lovely message; I’m glad you liked the one-shot! Spike Spiegel is one of my absolute favorite characters of all time, so I was more than happy to write this request for you. I hope you enjoy!

Warning(s): Swearing.

Falling in love overall brings out the best in Spike Spiegel.

Having a special someone in his life gives him the extra kick in the ass he often needs to keep motivated. Not long after realizing his feelings, many aspects of his life become something done ‘for you.’

He works hard as a bounty hunter, earning money in order to have the ability to support the both of you and show off his successes (you’re just about the only member on the Bebop he willingly financially assists). Taking a more active role in caring for Ein was born purely from wanting to share the weight with you.

Now, don’t be mistaken, he’s still your lazy yet loveable Spike. But there’s added pride in what he does that wouldn’t be quite the same without you in the picture.

Spike does not shy away from flirting. It comes to him naturally, meaning he’ll flirt with you a good amount even before learning the extent of his feelings. He’s confident, has his fair share of romantic experiences, and is aware he’s the type to turn heads.

What mainly separates his treatment of you and his short-term relationships/hookups, is that he’s very reactionary. Spike deeply cares about you, so he’s going to take his time in studying your body language and responses to his flirts. He’s patient enough to put in the time, and persistent enough to put in the work.

He’ll adjust his actions according to your responses, especially if you’re shy and don’t favor getting teased in front of other people. His usual approach is quite forward, regardless of location or the people around. But if that makes you nervous, he’ll start off much more discrete. Discomforts such as those matter a lot to him, as what’s important to you is important to him. And ultimately, he hopes that you’ll return his interest.

Not only that, but he’s a total showoff. From smoothly beating up a group of assholes, to lying about the amount of times he wins at card games with Jet. Even if you merely blush or smile, that’s good enough incentive for him. Jet once even felt the need to inform you it’s best to take what Spike tells you about his own skills with a grain of salt.

However, humor him and play along with the joke- he thinks it’s adorable. It boosts his ego, sure, but deep down he longs to know your opinion of him. Even if it’s tongue and cheek, it warms his heart to believe that you think so highly of him.

Before long, it’ll turn into a common conversation shared only between the two of you; especially when alone. It’s one of many inside jokes he’ll be sure to form with you.

Spike is also very protective. He wouldn’t ever describe himself as possessive, but he certainly likes keeping you within arms reach.

If you’re not a bounty hunter, he’s going to want to know where you are and how you’re doing quite often. Partially, he loves being your knight in shining armor, but it goes a bit deeper than that. The thought of not being able to keep you safe from his past or present… it eats away at his brain.

But if you're a bounty hunter as well, or generally engage in a dangerous lifestyle like him, he’ll hold back just a bit. He knows you can hold your own in tough situations (undoubtedly a huge reason as to why he fell for you in the first place). He does have his moments, though, where letting you run off towards peril is done begrudgingly. It’s hypocritical of him, but he cannot stand whenever you leave the Bebop without telling him beforehand. Spike could care less if Faye or Jet know about where you rush off to; just be sure to let him know. He’ll grow sick with worry if you’re gone for days on end, and isn’t above lecturing you on your recklessness.

Initially, it will admittedly take some time for him to realize how he feels about you. Especially if you meet after Julia’s unfortunate end, he’ll be closed off from his own emotions.

Regardless of that, he’s going to need a bit of a push. The life of a bounty hunter isn’t exactly a glamorous one, and he finds it difficult to deny his own hesitance over long-term relationships.

Luckily, the step he needs to take isn’t a large one. Just a moment of clarity; a skip of his heart beat. Full understanding of the warmth that builds within his chest every time you’re together practically comes at him with a steel chair. It was on an average afternoon, after having caught a decently-sized bounty:

With his chin held up, a cheeky whistle plays on Spike’s lips. Passers by give him a variety of strange looks, turned off by the tied-up man he’s practically dragging behind him. John Pilgrim was the name; a rowdy criminal with a shiny price tag attached to his person.

He tugs at his binds, letting out an obnoxious curse towards the bounty hunter. A mother walking by gives both him and Spike a disgusted look, covering her small child’s ears. Smiling casually, Spike gives her a nod and a pleasant “Howdy.”

Turning a corner, the Bebop is sitting just yards away. Ein’s excited barks quickly reach his ears; running circles around the ship's landing site. Ed is dancing around the chipper dog, cartwheeling and mimicking Ein’s yips. Jet is tinkering with Faye’s personal ship, a large frown on his face. You’re standing beside him, holding a bright red toolbox and observing his work in silent awe.

Glancing at Ein, Jet raises a brow. Searching for the source of the dog’s glee, Jet is the first to notice Spike’s return. “Oi, Spike!” Jet calls out, immediately removing himself from Faye’s trashed ship. Ed stops cartwheeling, and your head perks up.

“Spike!” you squeak. Your hands both clasp over your heart, dropping the toolbox on top of Jet’s foot.

“Yowch! Fuck!” the older man shouts, inhaling a sharp breath. His knee bends upward, hopping on one foot as he mumbles more curses and profanities underneath his breath. Ed erupts in laughter, pointing at Jet. As always, any mocking tone in Ed’s voice is totally unintentional. “Jet Black! Jet Black! Give him some slack!”

Spike stops walking towards the Bebop, sighing. Home sweet home.

“Spike!” you call again. His eyes search for you, having lost track of you on top of the Bebop. He’s taken aback upon spotting you running towards him on ground-level. “You’re okay!” you pant, slowing to a stop in front of him before long. You clutch your stomach, having rushed yourself off the Bebop in mere seconds.

“Whoa, whoa, of course I’m alright,” he chuckled, nodding towards his annoyed captive. “Got the job all done and everything.”

“Well-...” you pause in order to take a breath, “You’d stopped responding to us. I figure that’s also why you don’t have your racer?”

He nods, “Yeah; I’m sure Jet will be happy to repair it when he’s done cleaning up Faye’s mess.”

You giggle, covering a hand over your mouth. Tilting your head to the side, you tell him earnestly, “I’m really so glad you’re safe… I was damn near ready to head out and look for you myself. Next time, tell us you’re abandoning your vehicle. Don’t get me so concerned! I worry about you, you know.”

Spike’s eyebrows rise in unison, and both his hands release any tension. Now… that’s real interesting. ‘I worry about you…’ your words echo in his mind. Briefly, he recalls past missions. You always are the first to greet him whenever he returns. A bright smile is spread on your lips regardless of whether or not the bounty was caught. Even if the others are annoyed, it never halts your expressed happiness. You’ve even engulfed him in tight hugs before, so thankful that in your joy, you’ve damn near thrown yourself at him.

‘I worry about you…’

Heat rushes to Spike’s cheeks. In slow motion, he watches you race back towards the Bebop. You’re going off about how you’re going to “tell Faye you’re back safe and sound!” but the majority of what you say flies over his head. Your arms spread wide and chin tilts upwards. Inspecting your body language, Spike swallows a gulp of spit.

Why hadn’t you hugged him this time if you were so concerned? He wouldn’t oppose it. No, he wouldn’t. In fact, his heart pounds desperately against his ribcage just imagining you taking the opportunity. Your arms wrapped around him, head buried in the crook of his neck, and the both of you sharing each others’ warmth. Even if it lasts for a moment…

Turning back to him, your smile falls. “Spike!” you exclaim, frantically tripping over your own feet as you stumble into another run.

Chuckling, Spike closes his eyes. In dramatic fashion, he opens his arms for you to rush into. He ignores his flushing cheeks, and pushing through the possibility of Jet or Ed watching him act like some romantic gush. Instead, he braces himself for impact.

Running footsteps blitz right past him, leaving his arms empty, and a tiny gust of wind fanning his face. “Huh?” Spike blurts, turning.

You’re running after John Pilgrim, wiggling away as discreetly as he can muster. He’s still bound up, but while Spike got lost in his thoughts, he’d slipped from the bounty hunter’s grasp with ease. You barely manage to keep up but with a single lunge forward, you tackle the man to the ground. He struggles against your grip, but you keep him pinned down, a feat made easier due to his restraints. “Spike!” you yell, “Why the hell did you let him go!?”

“Shit!” Spike exclaims, jerking his body forward and chasing after you.

After that day, Spike Spiegel no longer can define his feelings for you as anything other than affectionate and loving. It’s so clear to him at that point he’s nearly ashamed to have not understood before.

But being in such a state of mind allows hope to flood his heart, so he doesn’t get hung up on the fact. Instead, he immediately starts making up for lost time.

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 months

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Ohhh, Lord Above, save my soul.

Those new pictures of CE are killin’ me. He looks like such a good boy, and he looks just desperate to sit on his Daddy’s lap. Bet you he’d give you the “pleaseeee fuck me” eyes, squirming from where his hands are tied.

And maybe I’d start bouncin’ my knee, givin’ that delicious friction right where he wants it. Grip his waist and kiss him stupid, all while he’s bouncing on my lap, whinin’ and beggin’.

“Oh, Daddy! Please, please!” His eyes are shut so tight so that he can focus on just the feeling. And you know, Mr. S, that he’ll whine so pretty that the Devil would find God. Who can say no to that? Certainly not a man like myself, I’ll tell you that for free.

So he’d get bent over the nearest surface and fucked rough and good, talked down to the way he likes, and being told that he’s such a good little slut for Daddy.

He’d melt like ice cream in the Texas summer sun when his Daddy finally lets him cum, before curling up on your chest like he ain’t a big boy. Because he’s just Daddy’s good little boy, even if he’s built like a tank.

Anyway, I’m off. See you next time I see pictures of Chris that make me want to claw at the walls.

-Cowboy Anon

related to this slew of images/gifs, (1) (2) (3) (4)

You're so right. He's been giving off such sweet, good boy energy lately. Like. Especially knowing that he smells like strawberries 😮‍💨😮‍💨 how dare

And how dare you, I can't imagine him begging (I mean, I can, but god is it not good for my health 🥴) because Jesus Christ. The picture you have painted is obscene.

P.S. I really like--whether it's intentional or not--the way you use words. The fact that you're cowboy anon and mentioning Texas and God and the Devil, I can totally ready your ask in a southern accent [positive] 💀💀

Thank you for this image 😏 I totally get wanting to claw at the walls

#asks #anon provided writing #cowboy anon #chris evans #rpf #real person fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris x reader #sub chris #bottom chris

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always-andromeda · 1 year

Note

Once someone mentioned to me a percy dolarhyde being reader’s sugar daddy headcanon and I never got over it. I’d be interested to see you write your take on it 🤭

– 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh my god I completely forgot about how much I fucking adore this stupid, stinky man. I take one look at him and he just...his dumb punchable face makes me so feel so soft inside. I tried to keep this as brief as possible but oops this drabble is a little over 1,200 words, in true Andromeda fashion. anyhoo, enjoy this, my filthy friends.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (MDNI), mommy kink, usage of pet names, brief descriptions of p in v sex, oral, and handjobs. little bits of angst (because who am I if I can't throw in a modicum of melancholy). nothing else I can think of!

He's not much to look at, but he'll do.

That's probably the closest approximation to what you first thought when Percy approached you. Of course, you knew full well who he was. It's hard not to. Especially with his infamous weekly temper tantrums in the town square.

You weren't surprised. Naturally, as the Dolarhyde brat got older his attention shifted to loftier prizes than money, alcohol, and infamy. He now aimed to hold his power over something new; you. And as much as that idea worried you, you would've been stupid to decline. Being on his payroll...you'd be set for a long, long time. Maybe you could leave Absolution one day after all. So you said yes.

You'd give him whatever he needed. Your body, your time, and – most importantly – your company.

Judging by his disposition, you assumed he'd be the type of man who had plenty of kinks hiding just beneath his wealthy surface. And for the most part, you were right.

Almost immediately you learned Percy had quite a fixation on your...maternal aspects. He could hardly even bother averting his gaze when you were beneath him, chest heaving under the fabric of your blouse. He seemed to like the way your breasts sagged to the sides of your figure; how he could squish them together with his greedy hands and pull at your nipples with his lithe fingers. And when you yelped in pain and scolded his eagerness, you were shocked to be met with his cheeks flushing with guilt.

"'M sorry..." he murmured, looking up at you with those wet eyes like he'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. And just like that, any frustration you felt washed away as he solidified the apology with his tongue.

Percy liked giving them this much attention. He liked listening to you groan as he sucked on your skin and left marks that were for his eyes only. And you liked the desperate possessiveness in his strangled voice when he whispered against your breast, "Mommy..."

There was that and a litany of other little phrases he repeated like prayers.

"Thank you, mommy."

"You sound so good, mommy."

"Do I turn you on, mommy?"

You'd heard that name leave his lips enough times that just the simple utterance now activated you. Heat would flood between your legs and you'd feel sweat begin to form on your upper lip. Heart beating fast, that single word would send you soaring to another planet, waiting for the chapped skin of Percy's lips to mercifully bring you back down.

But he didn't always like you being under him. In fact, as time went on and it became clear that he was comfortable confiding his desires, he requested that you'd be more domineering with him.

Push him down on the bed so hard that you could hear the springs squeak in protest. Straddle his hips and tease him with the agonizing drag of your clothed cunt against his groin. Grab him by his bandana and pull him into a searing, closed mouth kiss that still manages to render him breathless. Tug on his greasy locks and make him sob. And when you finally undress him, take it at your own pace. Because whether you show him the respect he thinks he deserves and carefully unbutton his fitted waistcoat or tear apart his fineries with an urgency that betrays your need for him, Percy said he'd like it.

Because he loves it when you take what you want from him. Even when his cock is fully sheathed in you, he wants you to grind against him and chase your own high. He wants the marks of your fingernails on his otherwise unblemished, silky flesh when you brace yourself on him. He'll beg for you to give him just an inch or two of friction, but you know that he's exactly where he wants to be. Percy will take your cunt clenching around him and savor the feeling of your muscles spasming as you reach the end of your rope.

And he'll adore it when you follow that act up with a gentle coo of, "You did such a wonderful job for me, baby boy." Because then he knows that he'll be rewarded. Either with some tugs with your generous hand or your warm mouth, cleaning up the mix of both of your messes off of his length.

More than any of that, you quickly discovered what he actually craved the most: conversation and company. And that was perhaps the saddest detail of all. But you promised yourself ages ago that you'd never shed a tear for the selfish and stupid man. But you'd listen. There's no harm in that, right?

Truth be told, he didn't have many actual problems. At least not ones that you completely sympathized with. Sure, he was crippled by loneliness and feeling like he was ultimately useless to the world around him. But he found a way to occupy his time with petty squabbles.

Most of his gripes would've made you roll your eyes if you didn't remember that he was paying you for your time. It's for that reason that he liked keeping you on his arm. Everyone else in his posse may have been on his father's payroll. But not you. At the end of the day, Percy handed you his own dollar bills and sent you off with a satisfied kiss on your cheek.

It made him feel special, knowing that you were all his.

"What exactly do you do with the heaps of money I give you, sweet pea?" he wondered aloud one lazy afternoon. You'd left your place on his bed momentarily to squirrel away your latest payment in your bag before taking your place beside him again.

When you nuzzle into his side and feel his arm instinctively curl around you, you chuckle, "Something you probably wouldn't be familiar with. I save it."

Percy pinches your side teasingly and questions, "What can you possibly be saving up for that I can't just buy for you, huh?"

Though you sniff lightly, you find yourself staring at where your hand lays on his chest, fingers drumming softly against his skin. The golden sunlight streaming through his window makes the sheen of sweat on his pale chest practically glitter. You mumble, "My freedom, I guess."

"Freedom?" Percy scoffs. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

You sit up suddenly and look in his eyes. "I mean that I don't wanna get stuck here. Because when you get stuck here, it means you're stuck under the Dolarhyde thumb for the rest of your life."

Percy's stare grows cold. He pulls his arm out from around you and folds them indignantly over his chest. "Well, gee. Didn't know you were so miserable taking my money."

"Oh, c'mon, Percy," you attempt to reason with him. "That's not what I meant."

He chuckles humorlessly, "Then why'd you say it?"

"Because I'm tryna be honest with ya'. What else was I supposed to say?"

Say that you won't leave me. Or if you do leave, say that you want me with you. Say that I'm special.

Percy closes his eyes and shakes his head before letting his head sink deeper into his pillow. "Nothin'. Nothin' at all." He pauses, breathes deeply, and finally meets your gaze again, "Just...don't worry about it anymore, alright? Your pretty little head shouldn't have to worry about it right now. C'mere..." he beckons for you to settle down in his arms again. And you do.

Feeling a little emptier than before, Percy holds you and whispers mostly to himself, "My girl...my good girl..."

#askmeda✨#anon ask✨#paul dano #danonation #danocel #cowboys and aliens #percy dolarhyde #percy dolarhyde x reader #percy dolarhyde x you #percy dolarhyde x y/n #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

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wanted-game-if · 2 months

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So other supernatural things about MC other than they drink out of their neck like is MC faster stronger tougher than the normal human or not

Ooo!! yes okay so some supernatural things i can share about MC

They are a lizard person /j

MC Can talk to the dead and they heal alot faster then normal humans there are many other things that will be eventually revealed

#if wip #interactive fiction #interactive novel #if #interactive game #if mc #writing #indie games #game wip #wanted game if #oc asks #anon asks #asks #asks open #ask game #anon ask #cowboy main character #main character #supernatural

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thecowboykatsuki-anon · 1 year

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“Oh now it’s ‘more, touya’, ‘please, touya,’” he sneers, nose pressed to your cheek as his warm breath fans over your skin. His fingers dig harder into your face, keeping you turned away and unable to kiss him. It’s humiliating as he pulls more sounds and pleas from you, knowing you want nothing more than to shut yourself up with his mouth.

“What happened to all that fuckin’ venom from a second ago? What happened to ‘I hate you, Touya’?” He snarls, hips slowing as you press your lips onto a thin line, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing you cry out for him again.

His teeth sink into your cheek hard enough that you hiss in pain, fingers gripping his hair to yank his head back, twisting in his grasp to glare at him, both of you panting, teeth bared.

“I do fucking hate you,” you hiss, and his hips snap against you hard in retaliation, his cockhead smashing into that spongey spot inside you. Your eyes roll back as he forces all the air out of your lungs, whatever hateful words you had ready dying on your tongue as your brain goes fuzzy. He’s quick to notice, angling his hips to hone in on that spot, his pace quickening.

“Hate you so fucking much,” you manage to choke out as that coil in your stomach tightens faster and faster, and your cunt tightens around him.

He knows you’re close, and for the third time since he’s shoved you up against the wall, he snatches your orgasm from your grasp, his hips stilling.

A broken sob crawls it’s way from your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut to stop the tears from spilling down your cheeks.

He taps your cheek firmly with one finger to get your attention, your face still firmly in his grasp and you level him with a glare filled with as much hate as you can muster. He’s completely unbothered, but you do notice his blue eyes softening as he leans forward, peppering kisses over your cheeks.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he sighs out, tracing an invisible path along your face with his lips. “I promise I’ll let you cum as soon as you stop lying to me,” he breathes, lips ghosting over yours. His mouth twitches in a grin when you inhale sharply, when you tilt forward a little bit, eyes fluttering shut at his soothing tone.

“Just admit you love me and I’ll make you cum on my cock.”

#in need of some toxic hate sex right now #just need to blow off some steam #mha #cowboy anon writes #t writes #thecowboyanon writes #dabi #touya smut #dabi smut #dabi x reader #touya x reader

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willowser · 11 months

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bro, how do you even come up with these aus?? like it's wild! but seriously i'd love to read more about 1800s cowboy bakugou and reader one day when/if you post more!! 😘 hope you're staying safe and healthy and life is treating you well <33

dude. i wish i could tell you LOL i have no idea where they come from, they just plague me always akjflaj it's a good thing i have an outlet here because i have had 24-25ish years of keeping my creative brain to myself and now i'm FREEEEEEE. so you all have to suffer from it 🤗✨

but !! thank you !! i'm glad they have so far been appealing LOL i just want grumpy cowboy bakugou 😭 that wants to be respectful to his late mentor 😭 but finds his widowed wife so sweet and kind and can't help but want for that, too 😭 WAAAHHH i should write more of it, but here are some bits i have right now he he

#he's soooooo akshfakhak #takes off his hat when you come in the room 🥺#he tries so hard not to look at you 🥺#but you're both spending day and night working on the ranch 🥺#going to bed late exhausted #eating dinner together in the candle light #whispering good nights from down the hall 🥺#also i'm literally imagining a notebook-esque scene where you are arguing in the rain and you storm back in the house and he follows you an #kisses you so hard akhfkahfgak #i wanna fight him #i cherish you anon !!! thank you for being sweet !!! 🥺#i hope that your life is treating you just as kindly !!!#✿ willow writes #✿ ask willow #✿ theme: cowboy bakugou

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ghouljams · 10 months

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I must (politely) demand more animals for Bee - ☀️

You stare at the little yellow peepers under the warm light in the supply store. Their fluffy bodies and teeny little wings are the cutest things you've ever seen. You want one. You could handle a chicken, chickens are super easy(you think) people in the suburbs keep chickens.

But what if it gets lonely? You can't bring a little baby chicken home and leave it all by itself! Who ever heard of having one chicken? It's absurd. You'd have to get it a friend. But what if they get in a fight and stop talking? Ok three chickens...

You leave the store with five chicks peeping away in a cardboard box. You swing by the feed store and are so astonished by the price of feed that you actually ask about a discount. Which apparently was the right thing to do given how excited the owner looked. Plus there was a nice guy in line behind you who let you know haggling was kind of the thing to do in the feed store.

You get home with nothing you'd planned to purchase. You call König from the car. He doesn't answer, which is weird, but he's probably busy. A text works just as well, youll do that when you get home. You pull up to your house and find someone already parked there. Also weird.

There's a woman leaning against the cab of the beat up truck, chocolate brown hat tipped low over her eyes as she scrolls through her phone. She also has a cardboard box under one arm and a baking tray resting on the top of the cab.

She looks up when you step out of your car and gives you just about the friendliest smile you've ever seen.

"Wow you're really fixing this place up," the woman, Goose, she said to call her Goose, says with a low whistle. She'd pretty handily forced her way into your home, handing you a tray of brownies which you suppose are sort of a decent entry fee. They tasted good enough.

“Doing my best for it,” You say around a mouthful of brownie. You set your box of peepers on the coffee table, eyeing the box she sets on the ground. "Hey you know anything about chickens?" You ask her, nudging the box for her to peak into.

"Oh cute! You know you got five of these suckers in here right?" She asks scooping a chick out of its carrier, you nod. She shrugs and puts it back. "You got an anything with a roof on it and some chicken wire? I got some milk crates in the truck but that's about it."

"I was going to wait for my neighbor to come by and help," you tell her watching her roll her sleeves up.

"Probably not a good idea considering the cat." She nods at the box she'd brought, you stare at it.

"Who?"

"Our barn cat had kittens, thought you might need a housewarming gift." Goose crouches and tugs the cardboard open. Almost immediately you're yelled at by a very orange kitten. It's tiny meow making the chicks peep nervously. Goose scoops it up with little fanfare and deposits him in your waiting hands. You love this woman.

"I think I'm in love with you," you tell her, half joking.

"I get that a lot," she grins, "Alright you watch the cat, I'm gonna raid your shed." You nod quickly, and point her towards the back.

You stare at the kitten for a second, watching him purr up a storm and listening to him yell at you. Spot. You boop his little pink nose and settle him on your shoulder.

König has never felt panic like getting out of the shower to a missed call from you. No message left, no follow up text, He can't hear you over the bugs... best case you must've been in town and had a question. Worst case you're dead or dying and he missed his one chance to save you.

He does his best not to run to your house, doesn't want to spook the horses, but the extra truck in your driveway certainly makes him hurry. Then he hears you laugh and his heart nearly stops he's so relieved.

König follows the sound of your chatter around to the back of the house. You're perfect. Glowing in the sun, crouched in the grass as you play with a kitten, chatting with a woman he's never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something and- his mask.

Shit. He'd been in such a rush getting dressed he'd forgotten his bandana and thrown on his hood like he was used to from so many years with KorTac. You couldn't see him like this. Most importantly the woman you were with couldn't see him like this. He could see the gun she had tucked under her clothes, and he knew well enough how threatening he looked.

At least you were safe. And making a friend, that was good. You need friends. König rips the hood off his head and considers his options. He'll go back for his bandana, then come over and introduce himself. Or better yet maybe this new woman will be gone by the time he gets back.

You make a noise of surprise and he watches you pull your phone out, typing a quick message. His phone lights up as you put you phone back in your pocket.

From: 💕

Forgot to text you! Picked up some chicks but I'm handling it don't worry!!! Help me with names when you get a second

König smiles at his phone, he'll let you finish up your fun and swing by to check on your work. You're growing quite the little farm for yourself. Which is good, you'll need to know how to do these things once you're married. Although he isn't sure if you've quite grasped what all these animals are for yet...

#cowboy!könig #oc: bee #greetings from spain everyone!! my first day here has been so good #i am drinking and writing and enjoying time with my sister :)#König trying to explain to Bee that shes gonna eat her animals and she will not hear it #piggy smalls is a pet and how dare König imply otherwise #könig x reader #könig x you #x reader #könig modern warfare #könig cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #oc: goose #since i guess she makes an appearance #also Gaz in Murphy's giving Bee a heads up about haggling #king and queen of making sure bee doesnt die #theyre coming for your throne könig watch out #☀️ anon

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