#percy dolarhyde paul dano

[rune-tisms]

these are so bad happy halloween everyone

[c4nt-sl33p]

hey

>_<

[marsystars]

When Paul Dano is getting beat up and starts weeping and wailing and moaning and groaning like a wife whos husband got drafted into war

[marvelmaniac2000]

||Cowboys & Aliens|| (2011)

[candied-heartss]

Okay so I've been thinking about this for a while and I just can't seem to write it myself so I was wondering if you could write a fic where Klitz and the Reader have been dating for a while like she went to Yale with him and stuff. And they have like super passionate sex like all the time, so at a party that you guys to he introduces you too a couple of his friends and they all start hitting on you and he gets like super pissed so he pulls you to the side like into a bathroom or something and he makes sure that everyone knows your his by giving you a bunch of hickies and marks and stuff. And then you accidentally call him daddy (yk cuz hes being so protective or something) it startles him but also turns him on more. 💀💀 sorry it's a lot but I really like this idea.

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄

(ʲᵉᵃˡᵒᵘˢ!ᵏˡⁱᵗᶻ ˣ ᵍⁿ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ)

𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇: 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗄𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗓 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗒.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ (𝗠𝗗𝗡𝗜), 𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗽𝘂𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗽𝗿𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸, 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 (𝘄𝗿𝗮𝗽 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗮𝗽 𝗶𝘁, 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲!), 𝗱𝗮𝗰𝗿𝘆𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮, 𝗱𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸, 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗵𝗼𝗹, 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗷𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀𝘆, 𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝗱𝗱𝘆 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸, 𝗸𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘇 𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗸𝗲𝘆 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿???

You didn't even know how you ended up in a situation such as this. Never in a million years did you think that you'd currently be getting your brains fucked out by your boyfriend in front of a mirror while in the cramped bathroom of someone's house at a party, but yet, here you were.

"Open wide, baby." you heard the nearly sinful words being whispered into your ear. Klitz's long fingers pressed themselves against your lips, parting them so that he could easily slip inside the warm, wetness of your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and nearly making you gag from the pressure, the rhythm, and the speed of his thrusts never changing.

You whimpered, but to little effect, on account that your mouth was full of his fingers, the tips nearly hitting the back of your throat while his cock hit nearly every right spot inside of you, due to the angle he had bent you at. You looked up at the mirror again and knew for certain that your makeup was ruined.

"Fuck... Your pussy feels like it was made for me..." he groaned, pushing his fingers into your mouth a tiny bit deeper than before, making you choke at the feeling, your eyes nearly rolling back into their sockets and your head hanging slightly lower.

Klitz noticed this and snickered softly to himself before reaching up and threading the hand the other hand that was placed possessively at your hip into your hair, tugging at it and pulling your head back up so you could face the mirror and look at both yours and his reflections at the same time, the sight sending a spark of arousal through your veins.

"Aw, baby," he teased, "look at you, so pretty, so messy... God, I love looking at you." you moaned at his words, finding the way that he was talking to you both patronizing and also incredibly arousing.

You wanted to speak, to say something back in return, but your mind was so muddled from it all, the only coherent thought that came to your brain was of how deep his cock felt inside of you, that you let out mindless babbles and gibberish.

"Oh sweetie, I haven't even been going that hard and your brain's getting all dumb on me," he shook his head and chuckled, "and here I was, thinking my girlfriend was a smart girl, but all it takes is a bit of my cock, and you're already turning into a mindless cumdump. Is that what you want to be known as? Just a stupid little slut who goes around drinking too much and flirting with other guys?"

"I... Uh, I- fuck... Please..." you whimpered, trying to get ahold of your words, but they just wouldn't come out the way that you wanted to. Klitz sighed and chuckled again as he picked up the pace again, nearly making you cry.

"You... You... You what, baby? C'mon, spit it out. I know you can, yeah?" he taunted you again, reaching down and rubbing at your puffy, little clit with his thick fingers, the feeling enough to send shivers down your spine.

"Y-you're right... 'm so dumb, Klitzy... Being so stupid..." you told him, the words already replaying on a loop through your mind like a broken record.

"And, what else are you, huh? C'mon..." Klitz encouraged you, massaging your sensitive bundle of nerves with a bit more pressure applied to it, now.

"I'm a mindless cumdump... All for you..." you still could barely think, on account of being so inebriated by his cock. He smiled, kissing the top of your head, "That's right, baby. You're such a good girl, baby. I'm proud of you for admitting it..."

Something about the mix of his words, the marks he left on your neck, and his fingers on your clit made the knot in your stomach get tighter as your walls clenched harder around his cock, making him groan.

"Fuck... You're so close, I can feel it. You wanna come for me, baby?" he whispered, kissing your cheek as you like at the both of you in the mirror. You nodded, tears now practically streaming down your cheeks, "Please..."

"Hmm... I dunno, how about you beg for it, pretty girl?" he requested, now having stopped both his thrusts and his movements on your clit altogether, making you sob.

"Please, please... I need it, I need you so bad... Please, Daddy, please..." you cried, your hips bucking desperately into his hand. You hadn't even realized what you said, having said all of this in the heat of the moment, but Klitz realized, and he also realized that he really, really liked hearing those words come out of your mouth.

"Say it, again."

"Daddy, please... I wanna come so badly..." you begged again, making him more satisfied and letting his thrusts resume. You nearly screamed until you went hoarse at the feeling, your legs shaking so much, you thought that you'd fall over.

Suddenly, like a tidal wave or like a car collision, your orgasm crashed through you all at once, making your eyes roll back as you trembled in his grasp and moaned loud enough for the whole party downstairs to potentially hear the two of you. Klitz then almost immediately followed after you, groaning loudly as he came, too, his cum now dripping down your thighs as he released inside of you.

After a moment of the two of you just standing there, panting as you both came down from your respective highs, he pulled out of you, putting himself back into his jeans before pulling your panties back up, so that the stickiness of his cum stayed against your cunt.

"My pretty baby..." he whispered in your ear as he kissed you all over your face.

[pictureinme]

kinktober day xxvi. THIGH RIDING – percy dolarhyde

word count: ~700 tags: clothed sex, competitive overtones, hand-job, cumming in pants, first time kissing <3, a little overstimulation masterlist | ao3

You grind your bare arousal especially hard down on this denim-clad thigh, a high-pitched moan leaving your throat.

“Fuck, yes, just like that, baby…” Percy grips your hips like he’s the one gaining pleasure from this.

His thigh muscles are tensed up, perfect for you to rut against, chasing your pleasure. He loved seeing you like this, all desperate and wanting so much so that you couldn’t wait for him to take his cock out.

Percy’s Adam’s apple bobs as he watches you hike your skirt up, showing him just how in need you are. You roll your head back slightly as you move back and forth, revealing your glistening chest, warmed by the desert heat. He groans as he grabs your corset-covered breast, eager to feel every part of you.

Your thighs begin to shake as the roughness of his jeans rubs deliciously against your clit. The wetness soaks through his pants, and he chuckles, “God, you’re getting my pants all dirty, girl. Better clean that up after, huh?”

“Ugh, you know you like it, you– ah!”

A pinch to your clit has you collapse onto his chest, the sensitivity was almost too much to bear. Your mouth falls open, one of your hands coming to scratch down his chest through his unbuttoned shirt. Percy practically whimpers at that and begins to rock his hips against you– trying to meet your movements, “Come on, get yourself off on me, (Y/N)... don’t stop now.”

You try to fill your gaze at him with resentment– but anyone could see the lust in your eyes from a mile away, even an idiot like Percy. You grip his vest like a vice as you grind down onto his thigh, your knee grazing against his bulge at the same time.

His calloused hands immediately come to grip at your hips, tight enough to leave bruises, “Make a mess on my leg, sweetheart, come on… sooner you do it, the faster I’ll make your face all messy too, huh?”

“You fuckin’ wish, Dolarhyde,” you whine out, the pleasure betraying your intended anger. “You’d be lucky if I even let you come in my hand.”

Percy's chuckles quickly turn into pathetic moans as you reach a hand down to grasp his hardness– punctuating your words. If you were gonna make a mess, he better do it too. His grip on you speeds your movements up, you have no more control over the pace. You knew you were close, Percy always kept you on edge regardless of the situation– but you needed to make him come in his pants.

As his hands maneuvered your body onto his own, you stuck your own hand into his jeans to palm even more so at his arousal– causing him to nearly buckle over onto you.

“You play dirty, don’t you, girl?” He chokes out, eyes full of a competitive fire you so often saw in them. “Just how I like it.”

Not gracing him with a response he’d only cut off by making you whimper, you hold your tongue and start pumping him in earnest. You could feel how messy he had already made his drawers without release– you’d rag on him for that later. You hold Percy’s intense gaze as you repeatedly meet the rough fabric, he knows it’ll only take a few more moments until you lose yourself.

Harshly and quickly, you bash your teeth against his in a kiss, catching the man off-guard– the two of you had never shared a seemingly tender act before. He whimpers into the embrace, tongue already sliding against yours with a fervor like no other. Percy rocks your hips back and forth as his thighs tremble with your repeated strokes.

The two of you release almost in tandem, lips already sore from the muffling of moans– not to mention Percy’s lack of skill when it came to not involving teeth in kissing. You feel him stutter in your fist, trying so desperately to get away from the overstimulation. He does the same with you, trapping your arousal bare against the denim– any slight movement would have you scream.

His breath is hot against your lips, and so is yours as you meet each other’s gaze again.

“So,” you mumble, throat dry, “Let’s call it a draw, yeah?”

Percy looks down at your lips, smirking, “How about best of three?”

taglist: @sunpuffsstuff @abrcmswrld

[tofizopam1997]

I’VE WATCHED TEN MOVIES WITH PAUL DANO HELP ME THE VOICES IN MY HEAD SCREAMING TO STOP BUT I CAN’T

[danosrosegarden]

calling shots - percy dolarhyde x gn!reader headcanons (NSFW) ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

{kinktober: day eight. prompt: brat taming. 🎃}

{contains: switchy/rough penetrative sex (genitals/gender not specified), mild hair pulling, male masturbation, and orgasm denial.}

☽ Maybe you really did hate Percy. Maybe some smoldering, angry bricks of burning hot enmity were aflame in the deep, dank cave of your heart. He was just so fucking aggravating...that stupid, smug smirk of his lit a fire in your belly that licked at your guts and made you tremble with rage.

☽ Perhaps what got under your skin the most was when he decided to poke fun at you and prod at your weak spots; it was always when you had stripped bare for him and somehow, once again, found yourself on all fours. You cursed yourself, stamped on your own foot thinking about all the times you'd let him get away with calling you his good little whore, his pretty little slut, simply offering a laughable moan in response to his acid-laced jabs.

☽ Maybe he'd chuckle at first when you finally got the courage one night to pin his wrists down and growl in his ear. I've had just about enough of your disrespect, Dolarhyde. But don't think for a second that a shockwave of red-hot realization didn't just coarse through his body...he likes seeing you put up a racket, try your hand at taking control. He can't let you know that, though, and he's flipping you back under him, leaving you to squirm under his tight grip.

☽ "That's cute, darlin'. But I think you're forgettin' who's callin' shots here."

☽ You won't give up without a fight, though it's difficult to claim dominance when he's pounding into you. It's not your fault it's so hard to bite back your mewls when he's the one slamming against your sweet spot, kissing it with rough thrusts over and over until your eyes were rolling back into your head.

☽ "F-fuckin' can't stand you." The words dribbled from your mouth like drool, a sloppy, jumbled mess.

☽ You whine when he suddenly stops thrusting and gives the roots of your hair a harsh tug. "Say sorry." "Go to hell." You almost laugh at how instant the retort came spitting out from your gritted teeth.

☽ He lets go of your hair and sends you back with a tumbling shove. "That's all you're getting from me, then. Ain't takin' your shit tonight, I can help myself." And he does, his big, tanned hand reaching down to give himself strong, steady pumps.

☽ If you had the energy, you'd swat his hand away, push him down, and ride him until he was arching and pleading to finish inside you. But you'd already gotten a sweet, juicy taste of the rugged bliss of him inside of you; damned if you weren't going to finish around him, make him quiver and whimper as you tighten up and dig your nails into his back. The only way to capture what you wanted was to surrender.

☽ "I'm sorry," you mumbled. Percy's hand ceased pumping as he looked up and cocked a brow. "What was that?"

☽ "I said I'm sorry," you said louder, the frustration bubbling in your gut just as the warm knot of pleasure began sizzling inside of you once more. "I'm your good little whore, Perc, your pretty little slut. Just fuck me, damn it!"

☽ There it was...that condescending smirk spread wide across his face. "My pretty little slut, huh? Prove it." He stalks over to you. Maybe it was fun to fight back, but it was a thrilling, breath-snatching, hair-raising blast to accept your fate as putty in his hands.

[cercandodiscrivere]

Spite like a spark | percy dolarhyde x reader

word count | 2.9K

warnings | 18+, NSFW, prostitution, boot kink, sweet sweet revenge, porn with too much plot. I abused all the old cowboy slang I could find online and it shows.

synopsis | In Absolution, privilege had the face of Percy Dolarhyde […]. He had never appeared attractive to you until you finally found a way to have him on his knees.

gifs by @riddlersbimbo

Men had to be the most creative of the two sexes, and the many names your particular line of work had inspired them could be taken as testament to that.

Daughters of sin.

Painted cats.

Scarlet ladies.

Someone once had called you “nymph du prairie” and the girls had not stopped laughing for a good while.

You had found it fitting in a way.

Not that you saw yourself as a magical river creature – but you were an often-naked maiden working in a brothel, and that could almost come close as a siren luring men in a mythical lake if one squinted hard enough. You even had bathtubs!

It sounded like a preferable option to soiled doves, anyway. Or the old plain whore.

Not that you complained much: it was a job as good as any other. If you ignored the customers and focused on the gain, it could almost be considered a better perspective than most.

Men could also be tedious.

You had almost seen it all – the ones that were far too sure of themselves, the scamps, the timid one-of-a-time clients, the devoted patrons who liked to think themselves in love with your co-workers.

The sweet ones tended to disappear after marriage.

So, all in all, that’s what you expected that evening: a man covered in dirt, in desperate need for a good scrub and an even better night of amusement.

What you had not anticipated was for your past to knock at your door. Not that far from your hometown, not after all the time that had passed.

“Need some company, sweetie?”.

-

“Sweetie! Sweets!” a shout, followed by the loud thud of something heavy hitting the floor. “Don’t be so cruel María, look at poor James!”.

Another round of laughs erupted, rough and agitated.

Earlier in the evening, a group of men – all drunk, all smelling of cheap liquor and sweat – had entered the saloon. Doc had given them one of the tables farthest from the counter, in the hopes that putting some distance between the loud clients and the bottles on the shelves could deter them from asking more than one pint.

“Lord knows someone should tell them to cut it” he had commented, but you knew that he wouldn’t be the one to stop the men’s fun.

In Absolution, privilege had the face of Percy Dolarhyde: if he wanted beer for himself and his cronies, Doc would serve it without much of a fuss. If he asked for whiskey, the finest in the house would be poured straight in his glass – and it didn’t matter that the brat could afford all the ace-high products no matter the cost: by the end of the night, his pouch would be full and Doc’s shelves would be emptied.

His pa’ was the big bug in town, and Percy merely filled the role of the selfish deadbit. Ten years younger than the rest of his thugs, he still managed to command their every move with the jingle of his gold.

“Another drink bird, just one more!”.

On nights like those, María would whisk you to the back of the saloon to clean and sweep and mop the floors until the group had left. You were too young to know how to handle a group of grown ass men. “They’re full as thick” she would say. “Better not to deal with the likes of them”.

That night though, the loud thud had attracted your attention. Tentative, mop still clutched between your fingers, you had ventured at the front of the counter to see what was going on. There was enough time to steal a quick peek at that boy – the one who wasn’t that much older than you, but still held a power over the people in Absolution that you could only wish of possessing.

“Oh! You, little birdie! Fetch me a whiskey!”.

Too late.

-

Years had passed, but he still looked the same.

No amount of poorly-kept beard could alter Percy Dolarhyde's appearance, it seemed: he had grown into a man with the same young, round face. He could almost look innocent if one didn’t know better.

“Sure. Are you liking your whiskey, mister?” you answered – more out of habit than genuine interest. His presence still made you tense, as if you were transported back in the past, nothing but a little inexperienced girl with a mop in her hands once again.

“Fine as cream gravy, but not as much as you”.

He did not look drunk. In your memories, Dolarhyde always seemed trapped in a perpetual beer-induced stupor. Nose reddened by the amount of alcohol in his guts, thick sweat coating his forehead.

This version of him was not the cleanliest by any mean, but he seemed sober. Subdued, even.

“All that soft solder won't get you anywhere”.

“What about gold? Would that bring me somewhere?”. Ah. The old ruse resurfaced.

You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, after all.

-

Lord knew he was already half seas over.  

María had shot a sour look in his direction, but she was too far to take your place – not that she wouldn’t have tried, if one of the other clients hadn’t reclaimed her full attention. Unlikable as he managed to be, Dolarhyde wasn’t the only troublemaker in town. 

“Is she slow or something?”.

Someone barked a laugh. “She must be. Girl? Whiskey?”.

You had looked at Doc, unsure on what to do, but he (always the obsequious type) had already placed a whole bottle on the tray along with clean glasses.

“Go. It’s fine”.

-

It was a standard rule for all the customers to bathe upon arrival.

The establishment that had been your home for the last couple of years was a fine one: good liquor, flush clientele, eleven of the best dressed fallen girls a cowboy could encounter during his travels.

If his dollars wouldn’t have convinced you to invite Percy back into your room (you had fought teeth and nail to get a nice one), then curiosity would have done the trick.

He had not recognized you, that much was clear. No matter how sober and gentle he appeared nowadays, he still did not strike you as the type prone to pretend to forget someone - not if the act could be considered a nicety.

-

In truth, you couldn’t even remember what had distracted you. Maybe the twirling couples dancing around the saloon to the vivacious music, or perhaps just the nerves of serving this type of customer for the first time.

All you knew was that the moment before you had been walking away from the counter, tray balanced in both of your hands – and the one after you were on all fours on the ground, Dolarhyde furious screams filling your ears.

“You ruined my new boots!”.

Shards of glass surrounded your hunched form, the alcohol once contained in the bottle now creating a dark sticky pool on the wooden floor. “She ruined my new boots!” Percy had screamed again, this time shoving one of his galoshes right in front of your face. Some of the whiskey had splashed on the leather – but the material was already so crusted with dirt and mud that the wet smudge was almost invisible.

Unaffected by the scene unfolding in your little corner of the room, the musician never stopped playing his piano, the cheerful sound cutting through the thick fog that clouded your mind as to mock you: maybe that was the reason why, even later in your life, you couldn’t bear to hear a single note of that particular jingle.

-

He had taken his boots off to enter the bathtub.

Of course – it would have been odd, to bathe as naked as the day he was born except for the boots – but your mind still stuck on that useless detail.

“The water is perfect” Dolarhyde mused. A soft pleased grunt followed the sentiment. “You have no idea how much I needed this”.

If he had been another customer, you would have rushed to assist in cleaning him. There was a sponge right next to the tub, hard enough to scrub away all of the grime off the men – yet not so harsh as to leave them sore. Just like the practice of bathing before the actual encounter could start, this was a custom that served the girls more than their clients: if you were the one attending to them, you could ensure no inch of their skin would be left unwashed.

Shirt unceremoniously crumpled on one of the wooden chairs, Percy waited patiently for you to fulfill your role in the little bathing ritual. Perhaps he hoped you would help him remove his pants.

You barely glanced at him.

Those were not the same pair of boots from that night. The brown was off, far too dark. A stain would have been invisible on such a color.  

A merry little tune ringing in your ears (even if the room was too far from the entrance for some street musician’s song to reach it), you grabbed the offensive items off the floor.

-

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Still bent on the ground, you could hear María’s soothing words, soft yet stern. “This one’s on the house. We can repay the boots, too”. She must have hurried over to where you had fallen, as you could catch a glimpse of the soft fabric of her dress in your peripheral vision.

A few onlookers had stopped to see what was going on, but scenes like this were far to common and trivial to attract the attention of more than four or five customers.

Ignoring the hot burning sensation of shame in the pit of your stomach, you had taken another deep breath and began to rise from the floor – and then you had felt someone grabbing your arm, dragging you back on the ground.

“Where do you think you’re going?”. It seemed that someone had brought a rug over for cleaning, as the rough cloth was thrust into your hands.  “Stay in your place. No way you’ll be able to afford to repay something like this”.

Before, you had thought there could be nothing more embarrassing than being the subject of Percy’s loud complaints. Then, just as he tapped your bent knee with the tip of one of his boots, two words seared into your brain forever.

“Clean them”. 

-

As if under some sort of trance, you slowly put the shoes on. They were far to large (you doubted you could walk in them without stumbling) but it still felt good, somehow. Cathartic.

“What are you doing?”.

Still half-dressed, with only his woolen pants left to cover him, Percy was now staring at you with his head tilted on the side. He seemed more amused than angry, though. Smiling, unaware of what you were thinking, he pointed at your feet with a questioning look. “I believe those are mine”.

Maybe, after years of spite and anger, you were finally losing your mind.

You playfully rose your skirts up to let him get a better view of your legs. “How do I look?”.

“Ridiculous” he chuckled after one glance – but then the mirth in his eyes shifted, taken over by something else. A deeper need...

After all, there you stood, naked under the thick layers of your dress. Wearing something that belonged to him and little else.

“I kinda like it” he confessed, realizing a bit too late how his groin had reacted to the sight even before he could admit it. The way he awkwardly tried to shift his hand to cover his groin was almost comical, bordering on pathetic. Had he always been this vulnerable when far from his goons, or had something happened during the years you had been absent from Absolution?

Someone must have found a way to humble the brash little brat. Pity you hadn’t been there to witness it – though you had no qualms about doing a bit of humbling of your own.  

“Don’t hide from me” you scolded, taking your time to sit on one of the chairs that adorned the room. Skirts still raised, you decided to give him a little show and spread your legs. An ill-concealed moan repaid you for the kindness.  “That’s exactly why you’re here, after all”.

Brows furrowed, Percy seemed to take a brief moment to consider his options. He could cuss at you, reminding who was in charge. He could leave.

He could stay. He could play your game.

Doubt leaving his mind at once, he followed your movements, dropping on his knees before you on the cold ground.

In a way, the situation echoed that night at the saloon. Tour guts twisted in anticipation, eager to savor the moment for as long as possible.

“Are you getting hard at the thought of me wearing your boots?” you cooed. Percy sucked in a sharp breath, frantically moving his head up and down.

How boring! That would not do. You wanted his cheeks to be as red as yours had been. You wanted him to shrivel at your feet.

“Are you?”. Raising your foot, you started pressing the tip of the dark leather against his still clothed cock, the elation of the moment making you bolder. Instead of answering, he nodded a second time.

Disappointing.

“Talk, Dolarhyde. We both know you’re good at running that mouth of yours”.

“Y-yes” he stammered, finally. A strangled ma’am followed that, so subtle you almost missed it.

Feeling merciful, you patted his hair in a soft – almost caring – manner. After all, he was just starting to behave well in a desperate attempt to please you: that must have been hard for a little brat like him.

“Good” you praised, feeling his lips curl into a smile under your palm. “You can cling to my leg, if you want, but that’s all you’re getting from me today”.

Oh, Percy wanted. The words had barely left your lips before his arms shot up, one had wrapping around your exposed thigh while the other gripped the back of your ankle.

“So eager”.

You leaned forward, pressing your leg more forcefully between Percy’s spread ones.

The leather of his own boots probably felt too stiff against his hard cock, as he winced at the discomfort. It still felt good though– you could tell he was enjoying it by the way his eyes quivered, mouth falling open in a soundless moan.

Shaft curved along the upper part of the boot, Percy lifted his head to look at you. The sound he made next sounded a lot like please, hips starting to buck a little as if he could not contain himself.  

Such a mesmerizing sight to behold. You nodded, giving him permission to move more deliberately.

The first slow drag of his hips made his whole body shiver in pleasure. It wasn’t enough, and yet it was too much.

Again, your fingers found their way dragging over Percy’s head, tugging the strands firmly to force his head up. “Look at me”.

He had beautiful eyes, the moisture in them making the light blue even clearer. Mouth agape, tongue between his exposed teeth – the picture of a miserable man chasing his own pleasure. You released his hair to pass your thumb on his lower lip, wet with spit. “So pretty” you said, and the praise surprised you more than him.

He was pretty. He had never appeared that attractive to you until you finally found a way to have him on his knees.

“I like seeing you like this”.

With a hitched breath, he pressed closer into you. His hips seized forward out of his control, rubbing against the leather of the boot, hot wet breath warming your inner thigh. The grip on your leg was almost too tight, and yet you where thankful for that small pain: it helped you remain focused. One more broken moan and you risked being the one begging for him to bury his face in your aching cunt – and that was not the point.

You still had time for that. Later.

A series of sloppy kisses on your burning skin brought you back to reality. Shivering, Percy had started mouthing at your leg, both impatient to get your attention and yet somehow scared to obtain it.

Please he whispered, voice too low to be a real spoken word.

You huffed, annoyed. “Can you ask for what you want?”.

Of course, you knew what he desired – and for a brief second you thought of denying it.

“Please”. Brain hazy and slow, Percy didn’t know how to make his throat work. He just wanted.

Maybe those pitiful eyes had worked on you a bit too much.

You nodded, right as he came with a strangled moan, his thighs constricting the boot still lodged between them, a plethora of thank yous falling from his lips.

The fingers that just a second before had gripped you with bruising force were now twitching: with that, all the strength abandoned Percy’s body, leaving him slumped against you.

With a little shake you made him move enough to free your leg, a satisfied smile adorning your lips. He hadn’t even touched you – and yet you knew that was going the most satisfactory encounter you would have with a man for quite some time.

A dark wet splotch now adorned the front of Dolarhyde’s pants: if he needed a bath before, now getting him to clean up was imperative. Moving to stand from the chair that had been your throne, you cast your eyes down for the briefest second and froze.

A little stain, not bigger than your thumbnail. Almost invisible on the dark leather material– but there, beyond doubt, right at the tip of the shoe.

“Oh no” you whined, attracting Percy’s full attention once again m.

He would never recognize you, that much was evident. Why would someone like him remember the face of a little girl amongst the hundreds of people he must have berated day after day?

Nevertheless, you memory was not as flawed as his.

“You’ve ruined my new boots!”.

 And that was going to be enough.

“Clean them”.

[trinketpixie]

PERCY DOLARHYDE!!! my favorite asshole cowboy :,)

[rune-tisms]

percy…percy one chance……

[c4nt-sl33p]

avoided fallout bc I knew id hyperfixate but was manipulated into joining the fandom... :(

sigh. you know who you are.

[marvelmaniac2000]

Cowboys & Aliens - Directed by Jon Favreu (2011)

Chocolate bear 🤎🤍

[candied-heartss]

𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒

(ᵗʰᵉ ʳⁱᵈᵈˡᵉʳ ˣ ᶠᵉᵐ! ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ)

𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇: 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝗇𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗅, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋..

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ (𝗠𝗗𝗡𝗜), 𝗸𝗶𝗱𝗻𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗮 𝘁𝗮𝗱 𝗯𝗶𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗱𝘂𝗯𝗰𝗼𝗻, 𝗸𝗻𝗶𝗳𝗲𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆, 𝗱𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝘀𝗹𝘂𝘁𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗯𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗲𝘅 (𝗺 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴), 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴

You slowly regained consciousness, eyes blinking once, twice, three times before finally opening up fully to look around your area. You were in an unknown person's room, laying on a grimy mattress on the even dirtier floor with your hands bound behind your back with duct tape, with your mouth being restrained with more of the silver adhesive.

"Oh good," a deep voice crooned, "you're awake. I thought I would have to slap you awake myself, but you made my job so much easier for me."

Your eyes widen in terror and shock as you scramble to sit up, using your legs as guidance. Beneath the makeshift gag, you whimper anxiously as the man clad in a green army jacket with a question mark crudely painted onto its surface, heavy trousers with even heavier boots, and a mask that covered his whole face, save for his eyes, which were protected by clear-framed glasses.

You whine again in fear, looking up at the man, trying to back away, but he comes closer, bending down to look at you. Only then, did it dawn on you how tall he was and how it made you feel small yourself, even though you were of average height.

"Oh, look at you. You're scared, aren't you?" He observed, reaching out a gloved hand and brushing your hair away from your face. You attempted to move away from his touch only for him to harshly grip your jaw.

"Eyes up here, baby." He ordered, making you look up at him with the fear still lingering in your eyes.

He smiled at your almost instant submission, "There we go. That's a good girl. We can't have you misbehaving now, can we?"

You slowly nodded, deciding the best way not to make this man snap is to just play along.

"You're probably wondering why you're here, don't you?" he asked, stroking your cheek and looking into your eyes deeply, almost penetrating your soul with his gaze alone. You nod again and he chuckles as if this whole ordeal was highly amusing to him.

"Well, it all starts with your dear father, the one who works for the city council. It was he and his other lackeys that have been a part of the reason why this city remains the cesspool of corruption that it always has been. They've been accepting bribes from Carmine Falcone's men, all so they could fill their appetite for greed."

Your eyes widen at the man's words. No, no. This couldn't be true. Your father, your honest, caring father, collecting money from Falcone's operation? It just didn't seem right. You let out a shocked cry at his words, only to quickly shush you, cooing in your ear.

"Oh, I know, sweetheart. This must be so hard for your dumb, little brain to comprehend, but your father is not the man that you believe him to be. Your father is just like every other politician in this hellhole of a city. They all promise that change will come, a ploy to get the masses to flock to them like a herd of sheep, only to break them down, and strip them of their faith in them, all so that they can feed into the corrupt system that they created."

You shake your head, tears beginning to form in your eyes. "Please, please don't let that be true. My father is a good man... he would never do this." you thought to yourself as you looked back at him.

The man then chuckled, "But that's alright, because now that I have you..." His gloved hand went to caress your cheek, "they'll be sure to listen to the people and change their ways of exerting their power over the people."

You flinch when he comes closer to you, practically grazing your lips with his mask as he seemingly gets an idea.

"In fact, I think that I'll just keep you for now. Maybe, I'll even use you for something very special..."

You shivered at his words, wondering what he meant when he finally ripped the tape off from your lips, making you hiss in pain from the adhesive sticking to the sensitive skin. He then flips you over, so that you're in a kneeling position on your arms and legs before swiftly pulling out a thin pocket knife and dragging along the bare skin that was not covered up by the soft, cottin fabric of your underwear.

Before you can react, he swiftly swipes the knife across the fabric and seamlessly cutting it from your body, leaving you completely bare. You gasp at the cold air meeting the your hot skin and instinctively clenching your thighs together, only for him to push them back open and letting your bare cunt be exposed to him.

You cannot see him, but you can hear as he sighs in contentment, slowly reaching out and swiping a finger through your soaked folds, making you choke on your breath, before he pulls away and examines it as it glistens and drips down the padding of his gloves.

"God... Just look at that... I haven't even fucked you yet and you're already dripping. What a needy little whore you are." He chided, letting his fingers go back to your slit, but this time instead of collecting your juices, he sinks his thick fingers inside of you, making you whine at the burning stretch, having never taken anything larger than your own two fingers.

"Aww, what's the matter, sweetie? Does it hurt?" He asked her, his tone dripping with callous condescension as he speaks. When you nod, telling him how uncomfortable it feels, he simply laughs and continues to thrust his fingers in and out of you, enjoying the obscenely wet, sticky sound your juices make as it echoes through the room as your whines and moans grow louder.

He laughed again, pressing his fingers deeper inside of you and hitting that nerve within you that has you nearly screaming, keening into the mattress and bucking your hips wildly into his hand.

He sighs as his fingers to thrust harder inside of you, "C'mon baby, you've got this. You're doing so well, taking it like such a good girl for me. I think you deserve to come, don't you?" You nod frantically and whine, pushing your hips back into his hand.

You were so close, teetering on the edge of your orgasm when he pulled his fingers out of your sopping cunt, making you cry out in frustration. He merely smiles and begins to unzip his pants far enough to bring his cock out, running the head along your folds, soaking it in your juices.

"I'm going to have my way with you now, and if you struggle, I'll take my knife and cut you, piece by piece." He threatened before finally sliding inside of you in one, swift motion.

You hang your head low and sharply cried out at the feeling of his cock entering you, your walls immediately clenching around him and making him groan in pleasure. He doesn't give enough time to adjust before he begins thrusting into you, his pace wild and erratic.

"Fuck," he groans, grabbing you by the hair and pulling you up, so that your back touches his chest before he wraps a gloved hand around your throat and begins to squeeze, making you gasp for air and your walls to clench around his cock, his impending release starting to build up.

"Please," you whined, panting heavily as he continued to fuck you, "I think 'm gonna come... please let me come, sir."

He smiles underneath the masks and speaks, stroking your cheek again, "Why should I? Have you earned it?" You nod in desperation, practically begging him to let you come.

"Please, please, please, sir... 've been such a good girl for you, please lemme come for you." you practically sob as your walls continue to clench around him, your orgasm impending fast.

He then laughs and reaches down to rub your sensitive clit with his thumb, the latex of his gloves brushing up deliciously against your bundle of nerves, making you sob harder, "It's okay, baby... You've been so good for me, go on, let it go.."

At his words, you finally fall over the edge and your body tenses up as you let out a strained cry, your walls gripping his cock tightly, like a vice. He hisses at the feeling and quickly pulls out and flipping you over and situating you on your knees, gripping at his cock before forcing your mouth open and sliding it down your throat.

"Now, be a good little whore and suck my cock." He instructs, throwing his head back in ecstasy and groaning when he feels you begin to suck on him, taking him as far as your mouth would let him.

As he continues to thrust harshly into your mouth, he groans and grips your hair tightly, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag.

"Fuck, I'm going to come down your slutty little throat, sweetheart." He speaks to you mindlessly, before his abdomen tenses, his eyes roll back and he lets out a loud groan as he comes down your throat. He then looks down and slowly pulls out, letting some of his cum drip down your lips and onto your bare chest.

He then pulls away and grabs his Polaroid camera from a nearby table, looking down and pointing the lense at you, "Stick out your tongue, whore."

You obliged and slowly stick extend your tongue out for the camera before it goes off with a flash, capturing your face, dripping with his cum.

"God, you're the prettiest little slut in all of Gotham, baby."

[always-andromeda]

Hey Meda!!! Thank you for opening up Valentines prompts! Knowing you always brightens my day! 💛🌻

Anywho! Down to business! Would you be willing to do a Molasses Chip or Strawberry Creme for Percy? He’s a wonderful trash bastard. 😍🤢

– 𝐃𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: aaaa, thank you, Sav. I'm kind of loving the little bits of Percy I'm getting so far!! what a great way to relieve all of my school frustration lol.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Percy is a rotten asshole (but who couldn't have seen that one coming lmao), usage of the name "girl", nothing else I can think of!

Never in a million years would you want to kiss Percival Dolarhyde. God, who could even think of kissing him? He's annoying and a loudmouth and has no idea how to treat anybody right.

And he's ugly anyways. Yeah. The ugliest. The ugliest and saddest bastard you'd ever encountered in all of Absolution. Which – given the low population count – was an easy contest to win. But still, he managed to make it through with flying colors.

Every single day presented a brand new way in which Percy could find a way to needle into your side. In fact, if you didn't know any better, you'd swear that he enjoyed eliciting a reaction from you.

So, mustering up as much unpleasantness as possible, you throw your own punches. And in a way it's therapeutic. The frustration would bubble up so much that it was a relief to have something to blow your lid at.

Every time you call him some nasty name or manage to hurl some retort that shuts him up, your pride swells knowing that the Dolarhyde boy wouldn't get everything he ever wanted. No one was that lucky – not even you.

Because as these exchanges continue on, the urge to up the ante with every blow is so tempting. Because calling him a rat bastard and a nuisance and an arrogant cur simply isn't enough anymore.

Truthfully, the more his lips flap in the wind, sputtering out some feeble insult, the more you simply want to shut him up; to put actions to those words you so desperately cling to. 

Percy's face inches closer to yours as he speaks, "I ain't never known a more goody-two shoes little girl in all of my life."

"Funny how your daddy could be so rich and yet you still can't manage to form a half decent insult."

"Oh, like you could do any better, huh?" Percy scoffs, "Yeah, c'mon, girl. Do your worst."

And you do. At least it's the worst for you. In Percy's case...well, that kiss is probably one of the best things that's ever happened to him.

With his bandana balled up in your fist, you pull him down to your level. And just like every other punch you've pulled on him, your mouth doesn't miss its mark. They strike his dry, cracked lips and create a spark that's just enough to start a raging brush fire as soon as your own lips part and his breath quickens.

Percy struggles with his hands, half afraid that if he puts them anywhere on you, it'll break the heated spell and result in a kick to the groin. But when he settles for placing them on your hips, he's shocked to find that it only makes you whine desperately as you pull him closer and closer. So he does the same and lets himself sink deeper into the embrace.

You only pull away when the sharp and spicy taste of tobacco becomes far too much for you to handle. Because of course even when you're kissing him, something about him has to ruin it just a little bit. That's another thing you could be mad at him for, you figure. And part of you hates how excited you get at the prospect of adding that fact onto your list of problems with him.

"I wasn't quite expecting...that..." Percy murmurs, still trying to catch his breath.

"Would you rather I'd socked you in the nose?"

"No, ma'am," he replies sheepishly and eyes you wearily.

You blink a few times before pursing your lips and sighing. "I guess I could go for another taste."

[sweetums0kitty]

Paul Dano Character Pokemon Teams

Hi! Have you ever wondered what Pokemon your PD blorbos would use? I have!

Burt Fablemen : Strong connection to technology with Rotem, Klang and Porygon, Electric typing seems natural for an engineer! Same with Steel. Brabiel because he's as squishy and chunky shaped as his trainer is.

Brian Wilcox: He's a nasty grimy guy, hence he's a Poison Type Trainer. Noribat and Umbreon because they look like cute emo plushies.

Edward Nashton: Phantump to represent the children who died in the orphanage that haunt Eddie's memories. Mimikyu who wears a little handmade Riddler costume or even a tiny Batman. Raticate being with him since childhood. One of the rats that bit his fingers. Blastoise and Voltorb for the flood and the explosives on the Seawall

Percy Dolarhyde: Fighting type seems natural for a surely, bratty cowboy. His Combusken has been waiting forever to evolve but he's too lazy to get the gym badges. Has three of them. Begged his father for a cool Pokemon so Percy was given a high level Lucario that hardly listens to him. Often looking at his trainer with a "Really man?" sort of expression. Trubbish won't stop following him around, no matter what Percy does!

Pierre: Honestly he screams Fairy Type trainer to me! All of his Pokémon are spoiled with extremely high friendship levels. Ninetails is good for exploring the snow grounds of his estate. He totally has a sweet tooth that Slurmpuff enables!

Departure into the world of Chris Marquette with Eli and Milo Burns

Eli's team... Wow it sure is a team lmao! He's not totally a creep but our favorite camera man is in a committed relationship with a girl named the bit.

Milo's team is one he shows in normal life. Harmless Bolthound, Eevee and Corvisquire. While he uses the other members for his little stalking game.

Anyway back to Danoland!

Timothy Klitz: See he's trying to train a real team as compared to Eli. He gets shit for having Steenee and Espon but they're just Pokemon man! He's got some bulk with the two fire types. A beefy pokemon team for a guy who's less than bulky.