#percy dolarhyde paul dano

[starkidsimping]

paul dano characters as sanrio characters

personally assigned by me :D

barry milland:

hummingmint

pierre bezukhov:

tuxedo sam

louis ives:

my sweet piano

tim klitz:

keroppi

percy dolarhyde:

pokopon diary

eli sunday:

wish me mell

dwayne hoover:

pompompurin

joby taylor:

badtz-maru

calvin weir-fields:

dear daniel

edward nashton:

corocorokuririn

[rune-tisms]

these are so bad happy halloween everyone

[gotgoatcheesed]

i wont him

[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 𝘁��𝗲 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.

[always-andromeda]

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..."

[starkidsimping]

paul dano characters and who they main in mario kart (2009)

personally assigned by me….. heh…. 😼

barry milland:

— likes her voice a lot and thinks the shooting star bike is really pretty. wishes his hair was as soft as hers looks

pierre bezukhov:

— "what a funny looking fellow!"

louis ives:

— obviously . also a woman on a motorbike. insert long bacon image. says "oh no :(" whenever she loses

tim klitz:

— i seriously cant explain this one its just vibes. thinks he's cool and "he's just like me fr" he loses every game

percy dolarhyde:

— tumbleweed energy and thought way he danced on the character choose screen was hysterical. typa guy to throw the controller when he loses (which is often)

eli sunday:

— did NOT want to play. only chose mario cuz "the game is name after him. he's obviously the best racer" (he doesnt understand the game)

dwayne hoover:

— didnt wanna feel basic by choosing bowser but wanted something cool . he dint even know DK had insanely good vehicles it was just a fun bonus

joby taylor:

— doesnt care about being "basic" bowser is cool as FUCK and he doesnt even care that his bikes and karts are ass its for the aesthetic

calvin weir-fields:

— hes not like other guys he mains LUIGI instead of MARIO ........ gets unreasonably upset and pouty when he loses and claims the game is "rigged"

edward nashton:

— will tell you he mains king boo or smthn but he's lying. likes daisy's bikes and he just likes her ok dont think abt it too much or he'll refuse to ever play again

this is the dumbest thing ever

[rune-tisms]

percy…percy one chance……

[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”.

[c4nt-sl33p]

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

sigh. you know who you are.

[trinketpixie]

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