#cowboy answers

[cowboy-7000]

Hi, I'm a 19 year old trans guy and 3 years on T and post op. I'm mostly more dominant!

Just here for my horny thoughts and fantasies!

Into:

Oral

Breeding

Praise

Petplay

Begging

Overstim/Edging

DNI:

Minors (obvs)

R*pe play/kink

Ageplay/DDLB

Detransition/Misgendering kink

Chaser (any type)

Sissy and other Misogynistic kinks

Race Fetishist

Anyone over 25

I'll disappear from time to time!

Asks and DMs are open to anyone under 25!

The block button is my best friend!

#rambling cowboy #cowboy answers #this is so me

[pinkmirth]

i need more cowboi reiner tryna knock u up pls 🥺 👉 👈

⸻ STUFFED!

SYNOPSIS ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ reiner just can’t seem to control how hungry he is for you. what better way to make you his than by stuffing you full of him?

CONTAINS ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ ( 2.5k+ words of . . . ) cowboy!reiner x fem!reader (black coded), nsfw/smut, modern au, countryside setting, established relationship, reiner has a big fat breeding kink, sex flashbacks, doggie style, standing sex, creampie, use of pet names (ex. mama, sugar, honey), reader calls reiner ‘papa’, mentions of pregnancy, lowercase intended, explicit language, minors shoo!

MY LOVE NOTE! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ it’s undeniable that cowboy reiner’s got a raging breeding kink. thanks so much for sending in your thoughts, my love! now here’s rei-rei bein’ a shameless feen for his pretty girl! 🎀

reiner’s terribly distracted.

the last thing he wants to do is lay blame, but in a way, you’re the reason why. the mere thought of you is enough to make this cowboy go buckwild. rei-rei swears he usually has more self control, it’s just that you strip him of all common sense.

you, pretty little you, make him all scatterbrained. his head’s been filled with nothing but romantics and vulgarities ever since he took you on a date seven months ago. you’ve turned him into some fool in love, for goodness’ sake.

memories of last night’s escapades come to mind. his mouth practically waters when remembering your plush ass; how you tossed it onto his pelvis with an arching back and swaying tits, peering at him with the sultriest smile, not to mention those glimmering bedroom eyes of yours. he recalls having to hold you still, so you wouldn’t be able to squirm away if his pounding were to become too much. you were soft, he remembers, so soft. the flesh of your hips would squish beneath the imposing pressure of his callous fingers, digging tighter into your sides whenever you’d flutter around the girth of him. he remembers the way he came inside with a rumbly moan, leaving your pussy full and the sheets wet . . . he wants to do it all over again.

with all that’s going on in that perverse little mind of his, he can hardly bring himself to focus on feeding the cattle. the only thing that can solve his problem is its source; you. and just like that, reiner’s dropping whatever he’d been doing before. his chores can surely wait, but this surge of desire can’t be overlooked. not a thing matters as much as finding you, fucking you, filling you.

he rounds the barn, passes by the apple trees and the horse stables in search of you. his cock pulses with every step, prodding stubbornly against the soft cotton of his boxers, now smeared with sticky precum. reiner brings a hand down to provide himself some relief, palming his boner with a low grunt. he’s so fucking hard that it almost hurts. that’s what he gets for fantasizing about you for the past thirty minutes and doing nothing about it until now.

with heavy steps, reiner makes his entrance into the farmhouse and is met by the sight of you lounging in the living room. you’re seated on the floral-print recliner with your pedicured toes propped up, all nice and comfortable. you’re wearing the dainty string of pearls he bought you for your birthday earlier in the year. pride flushes throughout his chest when seeing how prettily it rests on your collarbone.

you greet your man with a glossy smile, one that makes his dick throb beneath his hay-specked coveralls. reiner wonders if you’ve taken note of just how red he looks, rosy heat scattered across his face, from the highs of his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. he can feel his skin blazing with complete and total need.

reiner elicits a weak mumble of ‘hey, sugar. . .’, a stark contrast to your tone being all light and cheery as you ramble on about the cute little mini-skirt you’re crocheting for yourself. ‘since the weather’s getting warmer,’ you chime.

reiner loves you. he really, truly does, but he simply isn’t in the headspace to pay mind to the mundane task you’re occupied with at the moment— not when he’s this close to tearing off your summer dress, bending you over, peeling himself out of his spurred boots and pumping you full of every drop of cum he has to offer. fuck, he’s breathing harder now. gradually, he feels his resolve slip.

“you alright, honey?” you set down your crocheting hook, staring up at him with big, curious eyes. your voice, soft and consoling, grounds him just a little. reiner pulls off his signature cowboy hat, sets it on the nearby coffee table, and ruffles his hair so it falls into place. “yeah, i’m just—“ a pause amidst his sigh. truthfully, he’s here because he wants to fuck you pregnant. “i wanted t’see you, is all.” he settles on saying that instead. it’s much sweeter, all the more more romantic. less fetish-y. you probably would’ve looked at him funny if he admitted to crossing the entire farm by foot just so he could fill you up.

“aw, rei! you were missin’ me?” you laugh out of flattery. oh, your reiner. he’s so sweet in his own right. your boyfriend wants to ‘see you’, as he claims, like he hadn’t woken you up with nibbles to your neck, taken a (somewhat long, fairly busy) shower with you this morning, and ate breakfast alongside you before heading off to tend to the farm. you assume he can’t help but cling to you and want more.

it’s sudden, but welcomed, how reiner closes in on you. he draws near like a magnet, until the space between you no longer exists. he’s crouching down to the level of the chair, hovering over you to press a kiss on your lips. “mhm. missed you so bad, mama,” he mumbles against your mouth. in reply, you whisper onto his lips, something about how he’s always ‘so eager.’ he leans into you, desperate for more, and the chair creaks underneath the addition of his weight. he’s a large man, anyone can tell. his brawny build and imposing height never fail to make you feel safe underneath him. 

reiner dips his head low and plants one, two, three sloppy kisses along your warm neck, and it gets you hotter than the southern heat. he leaves saliva in his wake, trailed by the lightest of bruises from his suctioning lips. he tries to undo your clothes and his, but the small space that this decade-old chair provides won’t allow for it. besides, it wouldn’t be wise of him to make you squirt on a family heirloom. “this won’t do,” he clicks his teeth, decidingly picking you up. your legs wrap around his torso like second nature, arms circled around the back of his muscular neck.

“reiii, baby wait!” you draw out the call of his name, but all it does is coax him further. can’t you tell that your voice is only making him harder? that your whines urge him to fuck you silly? 

“wait?” he reiterates, grinding up into your clothed core. you shudder upon contact. “what for?” from beneath the denim he wears, you can feel his stiffness poke against your flimsy panties. “don’t you wanna head to bed first, honey? hm?” you whine into his neck. it takes a good eight seconds for him to respond.

“uh-uh,” reiner gives you a half-hearted grunt, with his gaze fixed on your cleavage that the low neckline of your dress presents to him. obviously, he’s interested in other things. “here’s just fine, sugar.” he’s strong enough to fuck you standing up with nothing else supporting him, and you know that. he doesn’t need a goddamn mattress.

reiner’s large hands grab at your underside, using your ass as the perfect leverage to press you close to him. this is your third time fucking the week, and it’s only tuesday. you’d mention it, but he’s too busy kissing down the valley of your breasts. impatience seeps through his every movement, from how he grasps at your thighs to keep you upright, to eagerly feeling along your lower half like it’s his first time touching your body.

“slow down, rei.” begrudgingly, reiner removes his lips from your chest. he finally calms for just a moment, so that he can meet your beautiful eyes. your face has been overtaken by a subtle pout. “m’sorry, honey,” he murmurs between a deep kiss, all wet and tongue-filled. you assume that’s supposed to be his form of an apology. his toned arm re-fastens itself around your body, holding you tight, while the other bunches up your dress and pushes down his bottoms, “but i need you. so fuckin’ bad.” you could never deny him and that sweet southern drawl. he knows that his smooth mouth works magic on you— he always gets what he wants from his pretty girl. 

now freed of any confines, reiner lowers his hand to stroke at the base of his dick, tugging himself with a low hiss. involuntarily, his hips buck. “you can finish up that skirt later, hm?” he releases himself and appoints his attention to you, the pads of his fingers circling your clit in just the way you like. your head falls forward onto his broad shoulder. “hell, i’ll even buy you some o’those frilly ones at that fancy mall you like goin’ to . . .” he utters partially to you and a little to himself, still occupied with keeping pressure on your bud. by now, with your head thrown back, you’ve already forgotten what you were working on in the first place.

having done this countless times before, reiner’s quickly able to find your dripping entrance. the drag of his tip through your puffy folds causes a ‘shlck’ sound to elicit. reiner smiles to himself; you’re embarrassingly wet. your hips begin to swivel and writhe, that’s how he knows you’re getting as needy as he. choosing not to waste any more time, he pushes himself inside with one swift motion. you cry out from the stretch, already fluttering around the first few inches he gives you. so far, it's just the tip and some, but he's so wide.

“goddamnit, baby . . . i fuckin’ love this pussy,” reiner grunts through clenched teeth. he’d usually start off with a shallow thrust and ease you into it, but he isn’t feeling as patient. every thrust is fast-paced, almost rushed. the impact has you bouncing in his arms, all as he continues his unrelenting efforts.

“s’good, rei— so good,” wavering moans spill past your lips. he hisses when your manicured nails dig into the hot flesh of his firm, round biceps. you squeeze around him until his eyes go rolling back. “i know, mama. i know,” reiner whines and groans, because it’s all he can manage to do. if he was air-headed about you earlier, surely he’s braindead now. he pumps into you rapidly, restlessly, but he still finds a way to make it feel so thorough. that’s probably because he’s fucking huge; incredibly endowed, like every other big and buff part of him. with a cock this thick, how could he not strike every nerve and hit every spot? 

he rolls his hips up into you with breathtaking fervor, fucks into you until he’s balls deep within your pulsating cunt. sweat dripping down his furrowed brow, he rasps out, “can’t wait to fill you up,” sloppy kisses follow, and his tongue slides across yours as he mumbles on about cumming inside, stuffing you full, making you his. you finally know what he’s doing, you should’ve known all along— he’s going to pump his cum into you as deep as he can get it to go. thrust his seed into your pliant womb until he’s fucked a baby into you. 

the mere thought of makin’ you a mama has his head spinning. reiner’s breath catches in his throat, and your sounds heighten in pitch— the pair of you can tell that you’re bound to reach ecstasy. he squats a bit lower, goes a little faster, attempting to propel you both into your orgasms. it’s coming on like an impending wave; your belly tightens, toes curling from where your heels dig into reiner’s strong back.

he knows you’ve come undone once your smooth, ridge-like walls begin to spasm around him, to the point where he can hardly pull back or push in further. he likes to think that it’s your pretty pussy’s way of begging for his cum. still, he doesn’t let up, not until you’re thoroughly impregnated. “jus’ a lil more. hold on ‘fa me, honey, m’kay?” he pleads through throaty whimpers. weakly, you nod. the overstim makes you pant and mewl, biting onto the damp skin of his exposed jugular to try and quiet yourself.

reiner slams you down onto him, the veins in his forearms bulging as he desperately grasps onto the globes of your ass. the resounding slap of skin rings around his tingling ears, lewd sounds floating throughout the otherwise quiet farmhouse.

“g’na let papa fill you up? yeah?” you cry out a weak ‘mhm!’ along with other pleas of how much you want it; want him. his balls twitch and his abdomen goes tense. “m'close,” he gruffly whispers. you decide to spur him on: “g-gimme your babies, papa, i need it!” that’s all he needs to topple over the edge. “oh fuck, mama— m’gonnacum,” reiner’s words jumble together when he comes, coating your insides with warm globs of white. though his thighs never cease their trembling, he still maintains a steady hold on you, keeping your limp frame upright. 

reiner stays inside as a means of keeping all his seed plugged into you, just for good measure. he doubts that he’s got enough energy remaining to round up the cattle after this. his chest heaves slowly, and his hair’s a mess from all that pulling you were doing, but he’s more than satisfied. he's even got this dumb, blissed-out smile on his face to show his content. you're sure he's knocked you up thoroughly by now.

he’ll make sure to buy you a pregnancy test by next morning. 

#𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈.ᐟ #reiner smut #reiner braun smut #reiner x black reader #reiner x black reader smut #reiner braun x black reader #reiner braun x black reader smut #x reader #aot smut #reiner x reader smut #reiner braun #cowboy reiner #cowboy reiner smut #— harmoni answers #— (.reiner) #— (drabbles!) #— (reiner drabbles!) #smut #x black reader #x black reader smut #aot x black reader #aot x black reader smut #reiner braun x reader smut #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x you #thanks so much for dropping by! mwuah 💕 #— harmoni writes #୨୧ — isla writes #୨୧ — mira writes! #౨ৎ — 𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈!

[fuckmyskywalker]

EEEKKKK i’m going feral bc like imagine being a virgin and taking ani for the first time and whole time he’s just like “easy girl, easy" like as if he's breaking in a horse.. STOPPPPP 🤭🤭🤭

I asked @queenie-official if I could borrow her Cowboy!Anakin AU for this ask because it fits so well... Meowing.

18+. Smut. PiV. Cowboy!Anakin.

“Y’know sugar, I’ve never been one for backing down from a challenge,” He smiles, pressing his warm lips against your neck. He can taste that expensive perfume your daddy got you, making you seem more than spoiled. You clearly had never seen a sandstorm… and that’s a compliment. His calloused hands, strong and steady, guide you slowly down his throbbing member. “I’ll teach you, don’t worry.” 

The initial stretch fills your senses like the first rays of the sun during the morning, it burns your skin but it’s a new sensation that drags a sharp breath from your throat. Anakin also groans, closing his eyes and digging his fingers on your waist. His leather glove raises tickles on your skin, but you can’t even giggle. 

“Anakin— oh my god,” You whisper, closing your eyes and sliding down another inch. He whistles, biting his chapped lips. You don’t know it but he is struggling to not lift his hips and fill you to the brim. 

“Go slow, sweetheart. Don’t want you to hurt yourself,” There’s a hint of cockiness in his words that you miss, too busy enjoying how the town’s cowboy who your father hired to take care of his cattle is now taking your virginity. It’s wrong on so many levels but you can’t bring yourself to care. He knows what he is doing… and it shows. “Almost there, calm down. You are doing great.”

You nod, dizzy with this new wave of sensations. Your pathetic fingers could never— oh no, this is something else. Once his cock is all the way in, you let go of the breath you weren’t aware was being held, exhaling both delighted and relieved. Anakin also sighs, stroking your sides and bringing his lips to your jaw. You try to move instantly but he stops you, grounding you back until your pliant cheeks rest on his thighs. 

“Easy, pretty girl,” He coos at you, running a palm over your naked breast, tweaking at your nipple softly. “Easy, okay? If it’s riding what you want…I just got the horse for your taste.”

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya answers! #cowboy!anakin #cowboy!anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker one shot

[qbdatabase]

are there any recs for books with queer cowboys?

YES YES YES I am SO hype about queer westerns! some of these feature soldiers, rangers, and outlaws versus strictly cowboys, and some are male x nonbinary pairings, with a few bonus lesbian recs

Classic Westerns

(M/NB) River of Teeth by Sarah Gailey (alt-history)

(M/NB) Days Without End by Sebastian Barry (former soldiers)

(M/M) Child in the Valley by Gordy Sauer (outlaws)

The Power of the Dog by Thomas Savage (closeted gay male, LOTS of period typical homophobia)

All God's Children by Aaron Gwyn

(F/F) Wildflower Words by Sam Ledel (mail order bride mix up)

(F/F) The Boss's Daughter by J. T. Marie (butch lesbian posing as a male cowboy for social acceptance)

(F/F) The Oregon Series by Jae (same as above, but the butch can be read as a transgender man)

Contemporary Romance

(F/F) Prize Money by Celeste Castro (rodeo bullfighters)

(M/M) Forget Me Not by Felice Stevens

(M/M) His Fresh Start Cowboy by A. M. Arthur

(M/M) His Reluctant Cowboy by A. D. Ellis

Fantasy/Sci-Fi/Paranormal

(M/M) Wake of Vultures by Lila Bowen (rangers)

(M/M) A Book of Tongues by Gemma Files (outlaws)

Breaker by Amy Campbell (outlaws)

(M/M) The Nightland Express by J. M. Lee (postal couriers)

full notes on representation and publishing info at qbdatabase.com

#gay cowboys #gay #mlm #cowboys #western #wild west #cowboycore #lgbtqia #bookblr #queer books #book recs #ask #anon #answered

[canisalbus]

I figured you might appreciate what my dash did

.

#ah yes #bdmhbdeda #answered #I still get notifs of people speculating they might be gay #as if the handholding color coordination and the pink cowboy outfit weren't enough of a clue #I guess it's nice to not assume things outright #but I mean come on

[ghouljams]

Bestie I also love you writing ghost and price!! Could we get a snippet of ghost fucking with price after he takes goose’ name? I thought that was a funny idea when you tagged it

I like to think of it a lot like that scene from Bob's burgers where the kid dresses up like his dad, but it's Ghost taking Goose's last name lol Gaz and Soap have a lot of fun with it.

"Price, you in here? Wanted to ask you somethin'." Gaz yells, a piglet under one arm and a half chewed feed bag under the other.

"What?" Price and Ghost both respond. Price glares at his lieutenant.

"Oh right," Gaz grins, "little confusing."

"It's not," Price huffs.

"Did you mean me or him?" Ghost asks, pointing between the two if them.

"He meant me ya fuckin' muppet," Price snaps at him.

"No I meant Ghost." Gaz clarifies, a blatant lie.

"Christ." Price pushes past him out of the barn, this better not be a new thing.

-

"Price!" Soap yells from the horse pen. One of the neighbors had asked him to break their new filly, and it's been slow going. Price yells back at the same time Ghost does. He can almost hear Soap' grin in response. "Dinnae ken how I'm supposed to tell who am talkin' to, wee bit confusing."

"It's fucking not," Price gripes before turning on Ghost, "if you don't stop doin' that."

"You're gonna tell my wife?" Ghost baits, raising a brow.

-

"You ever been grounded before?" Gaz asks over beers. Ghost shakes his head.

"Wasn't my old man's style, easier to smack his kids around."

"Ya forgot he's got a tortured past," Soap reminds Gaz. They both nod a little too solemnly for it to be genuine.

"Fuckin' dick'eads," Ghost grumbles. How the fuck is a grown man supposed to be grounded, ridiculous.

#ghoul speaks #simon ghost riley #captain john price #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #cowboy!141 #cod x oc #theyre silly #they keep the joke up for a while before Price just stops answering when they yell #tw abuse mention

[fredwkong]

Hey man, I’m so tired of school and studying and classes. I keep seeing TikTok’s of these rednecks on vacation. Any way I could be like them?

Thanks for your booking with FWK Vacations. Your redneck vacation is about to begin!

You wake up as the morning sun hits your eyes. You’re in a hayloft, and your cowboy hat’s slipped off your face. You give your body a once-over as you sit up. Quality jeans, your belt with the huge buckle undone, commando underneath. There’s a sticky layer of dried cum on your belly from the load you shot going to sleep last night. The smell of your stale cum and masculine musk gets your thick cock hard as you zip your jeans and do up your belt.

You drop out of the hayloft and go to join your bros in the farmhouse. Sometimes you wonder why you have to sleep out in the barn, but you know that your bros know best. You’re the skinny one, the runt of the litter, and they’re all real men with burly pecs, thick muscle guts, and massive, leaky cocks.

You knock your way inside the farmhouse and find your bros already sitting around the table, eating their breakfast. Just like every morning, you slide under the table to get your breakfast.

Afterwards, with thick manly cum leaking from your asshole, you sit down on the porch while your bros go to do the farm chores. If they need you to milk a load out of them before lunch, they’ll give you a holler.

Enjoy your vacation!

Want to go on vacation? Book via my ask box!

#answered ask #tf vacation #male transformation #mental change #muscle tf #reality change #dumber tf #musk tf #cowboy tf #bottom tf #male tf #all fwkong

[saradika]

hi! I love your work so so much <3 you’re amazing for letting us writers use your dividers for free, they’re so beautiful!

I was wondering if I could request a cute little cowboy divider, and if it could have a cowboy hat or something? I’d really really appreciate it if you could. if not it’s totally okay!! Tysm <3

Ahh hi - thank you so much! That is really kind of you to say, and I am happy to help and share them! 💕and omg yes I would love to make you some cowboy ones! I did a range of themes (hats and then a couple extras) - I hope these will work for you and that you like these! 🤠🌵💕

 [Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

#pulled from canva and colored/arranged by me #cowboy dividers #dividers #western dividers #borders #Anon #requests #saradika answers #thinking of queue

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

I just read all of your cowboy jason work and I'm really loving it! Could you write more in the future? I'd love to see the reader's perspective on jason but write whatever you enjoy. I love all of your work I read lol!

A hot bath.

It sounded so good your mouth was practically watering. Sinking into the hot water with some of the soap Lottie Greene traded you for some nails her husband needed to fix the roof of their outhouse.

The fancy kind. It smelled like oranges and honeysuckle.

For just a second, you wondered if Jason would like it. What he would say when he came to bring back his dinner dishes but you bat the thought away.

Not now. Jason Todd was a bad idea. Because- well because you wanted him. In ways that a lady wasn't supposed to want.

He'd been splitting logs with his shirt off and you'd almost burnt yourself- too distracted by the muscle. He looked like he could life you like nothing. In fact, you knew he could.

And you wondered-

Again, you batted the thought away and exhaled slowly. He was a bounty hunter. Bunking in your hay loft. A handful of dollars to his name and- well. Even if he wasn't. He'd have to be stupid to want you. You didn't have a ladylike instinct in your whole body. Almost on the shelf with a mouth like a sailor and- And you had three girls at home still. They had to come first.

You dragged the tub out quietly and sighed. Wiping your face on your sleeve and going to start pulling water.

"I'll do this," Jason said, taking the second bucket from your hand gently, trying to ignore the feminine sniffling.

"I'm fine I can-"

"You're sore. And tired," he said practically.

"But you-"

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I'll leave the buckets by the door."

"Todd."

"I'll leave the buckets by the door," he repeated. "You can put some extra jam on my toast in the morning if it'll make you feel better."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #reader insert #ask answered #minors dni #cowboy!jason

[sugarcoated-lame]

you love destroying me with your tags, don’t you? 🤭😵‍💫

thinking about that deep, bitter and snarling voice in my ear, as he’s pressing on my back to keep me pinned into the mattress!

*this contains smut, 18+ minors do not interact!

hehehehe maybe i do 🤭🙈🧡🧡

but yes god, YES!! Ok you’ve got me thinking about some like nasty hatefucking with Rhett… 😵‍💫 his weight pressing down on your back, rough hands in a vice grip around your hips that you know will leave bruises in the morning. Those strong bull rider thighs pinning you down flush to the mattress as he fucks you into it hard and fast. The slamming of his hips against your backside relentless, filling you up so good and so deep that your eyes roll back into your skull, tears brimming in them from the delicious mix of pleasure and pain, Rhett’s cock hitting places inside you that have you seeing stars. That deep, angry drawl of his voice, growling straight into your ear as he pounds into you.

“Think ya can take it, bunny?”

His voice mocking as you cry out for him, walls clamping down impossibly tighter around him,

“Fuc-fuckin’ take it.”

ummmm so anyway 😵‍💫 Rhett makes my voice kink go absolutely crazy and I need him so bad 😵‍💫🫠 !

thank you so so much for this delicious thot my love, ilysm !!!!! 🥰🧡❤️🧡❤️🧡

#rhett abbott #Seb <3 #oh how I’ve missed writing my favorite cowboy #those gifs make me so feral I can’t #i need him to ruin me #outer range #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x female reader #asks <3 #kricket answers #my writing #also Seb I just saw your other asks in my inbox and please know I can’t wait to answer them soon hehe <333

[ragnarokhound]

((you don’t have to do both if you don’t want to, you can consider this one a back up / alt))

“If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.” 💞

From this writing prompt list i reblogged in...november lmao fljdsjfa

anyway this grew legs and sprinted away the second I picked it up yesterday - clearly it just needed some time to proof lmao. Thank you for the ask, tauria!! From *checks watch* almost 5 months ago fjdslafjsa I will be cross-posting it to Ao3 in my new oneshot collection fic :)

Warnings for: Vague allusions that Ra's Al Ghul is a creep (what else is new), threats of gun violence, canon-typical violence

15. “If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.”

When Tim arrived in Gotham this morning, he had no way of knowing that his day would end in Jason Todd’s bed. 

Frankly, he wasn’t really sure what bed he’d end up in— because his own certainly wasn’t an option right now. But If he had to pick, Jason Todd’s was somewhere near the bottom of whatever list he’d make.

He didn’t exactly plan on this, okay? 

But, uh. Let’s back up a little.

—

Tim knew his day was going to go to shit when he got back from the airport at 7 AM.

He had his driver drop him off two blocks away from his townhouse for the sake of caffeine at the hole in the wall place he likes. Wealthy CEO he may be, but a sixteen hour flight is still a sixteen hour flight and Tim is cursed with an inability to sleep in the air. 

Don’t ask. He’s tried. It doesn’t work.

So he wants coffee, and he wants a shower, and he wants his own bed. In that order.

With the first thing on his list acquired and blessedly burning his tongue, he managed to tug his brain cells together enough to realize that the building they’d passed that had been shrouded in tents and canvas was his building.

"What's going on here?"

The worker outside his building looks up from her clipboard, her face wrinkling into apprehensive confusion.

"Hello, sir. Can I help you?”

He hasn’t slept in roughly seventy two hours. He is not awake or patient enough for this.

“My name is Tim Drake. I own this building. What’s going on here?” He repeats.

The woman raises her eyebrows and looks down at her clipboard again. “Mr. Drake?” She questions, clearly expecting him to look like a grown-ass man and not a sleep-deprived college student coming home from spring break or whatever.

“Yes. Timothy Drake-Wayne. Why are you—” he tries to gesture with the hand still holding his suitcase handle, walking towards the tarps and tents erected around his townhouse with increasing trepidation, “—here?”

“I’m sorry sir, but you can’t go in there. Not for at least forty-eight hours.”

Tim stops in his tracks.

“Forty-eight—?”

“We've been scheduled to fumigate the property today.” She says it like she’s reading it out of a handbook. “It won't be safe to enter the building for at least forty-eight hours. You should have received prior notice. Uh. Sir.”

Tim's jet-lagged brain kicks into overdrive. 

Bruce hasn't made any disappointed noises about Tim’s perfectly normal work ethic lately so it probably wasn't a misguided attempt at benching him. And besides, rendering Tim’s apartment inaccessible is counterproductive on that front. 

Dick wouldn’t. They haven’t been exactly— great, lately but he wouldn’t. Besides, if he wanted to get Tim out of the house more, he’d show up to drag Tim out into the daylight himself. This is a little too roundabout for him.

It’s too much work to be Steph. She would think it’s funny, but there’s no way she’d follow through.

Damian might, but this doesn’t quite fit his preferred methods for making Tim’s life hell. It could be some cloak and dagger maneuver to leave him vulnerable, faking a complaint to the city so he’ll—

And then Tim thinks about the call.

The call he’d brushed off at fuck o’clock in the morning somewhere over Europe, too busy with another project. The call his secretary took for him instead. He thinks about the distracted confirmation he’d given to whatever it was she’d asked him about five minutes later. 

He also thinks about the form he signed about two weeks ago, before this last minute trip to Hong Kong had consumed his entire attention. The one with “Two Weeks Notice” stamped across the top. His stomach sinks.

“Today,” he repeats.

She looks apologetic. “Today,” she confirms. “And we just started about an hour ago. I’m very sorry, Mr. Drake-Wayne but—”

"No it's—" he says through gritted teeth, "fine. I'll just. Make other arrangements."

—

He does not make other arrangements. Though not for lack of trying.

Tim has a handful of safehouses scattered throughout the city. He has options. He gets a taxi to the closest neighborhood, and nearly falls asleep in the backseat. The cabby has to knock on the glass divider to get his attention when they come to a stop. He grumbles and hauls his suitcase out of the backseat, and tips the man excessively.

Shower. Bed. Sleep. He’s so close he could cry.

Except when he finally rolls around the block, coffee half gone and trying to remember if this safehouse is the one with in-unit laundry or if he’ll have to haul his shit down to the laundry room, his building is a blackened husk with police tape all around it.

He stops on the sidewalk. He peers up at the window of his unit, squinting at the peeling black wood and shattered glass. He ponders whether two is enough data points to be considered a pattern. And whether he could get away with napping in the alley on this street or if that’ll end with him stabbed and robbed.

As he’s pondering, he catches sight of a passerby and stops him.

“‘Scuse me,” he says apologetically. “What the hell happened here?”

The guy looks up from his phone and takes in his rumpled clothes, his suitcase, and the scorched remains of his apartment.

“Oh, uh. Yeah, there was a big fire about a week back? Bad fire. Took out, like, half the block. Cops are saying it’s arson.”

“A week ago,” Tim repeats. The guy’s eyes widen.

“Oh shit, bro, did you live here?”

“I’ve been out of town,” he explains numbly.

“Dude, that sucks. And right in the middle of con’ season. Good luck finding a hotel!”

“Yeah,” Tim sighs as the guy walks away. “Thanks.”

—

The next safehouse he tries isn’t in much better shape. 

He remembers hearing about Freeze going on a rampage a few days into his trip, but he hadn’t realized another one of his places had been caught in the cross-fire. The cold burst the pipes, and now the whole place is undergoing renovation.

He hears all this from the crotchety old lady who lives in the next building over (her building needs renovation too, but will the city pay for it? Of course not, they weren’t ‘directly impacted by disaster’ so they won’t see a penny of relief funds even though their pipes are on the same line. Typical) and when he finally extricates himself from the conversation, it’s almost noon, his second cup of coffee is long-since empty and he’s at the end of his goddamn rope.

By the time he sees his next safehouse, he isn’t even surprised anymore.

“Does God hate me?” He asks the boarded up building. “Is this a punishment? What did I do? What the fuck did I do?”

He is 99% sure at this point that someone is burning his bolt holes. There’s a short list of people with the resources and the intel to do it, and while he’s not above ruling out the likes of Damian just yet, he seriously doubts anyone wearing a bat is behind this. 

Besides, Dick would have noticed by now if Damian were sinking this many resources into convoluted covert ops designed to make Tim suffer. Definitely. Probably.

Fuck it.

He goes around the back and hops on top of his suitcase to reach the clunky camera watching the back entrance. This building is on the shittier side, closer to Crime Alley than his other haunts; cameras break all the time around here. He’ll have it replaced after he’s a functional human again.

Reportedly, this building was tagged for ‘high toxicity levels’—  which is pretty typical for any building where fear toxin or Joker gas are found in any amount. They must have found a lot to condemn the whole building, but Tim is confident he’ll be fine. The airborne shit dissipates to safe levels within hours depending on the ventilation. If it was in the air, it’s long gone. Anything else needs to be injected to be effective.

Once the camera’s busted, he kicks out the boards and heads inside.

He drags his suitcase in after him, and mourns the shower he probably won’t be getting. The hall lights are out, and chances are the water’s been shut off along with the electricity. But at this point, he simply does not give a shit. All he wants are four walls and a mattress.

Leaning on the door to his floor to make it open, he stumbles out into the hallway—

And catches sight of the glistening curved dagger stabbed into the wall next to his door, the hilt gleaming green in the sinking sun.

“Nope,” Tim says, spinning on his heel and going back down the stairwell double time. “Nope, nope, nope.”

He is now 100% certain that the League of Assassins has been burning his bolt holes. Ra’s al fucking Ghul can eat his whole ass.

—

Seven blocks away, Tim sits on the sidewalk in front of a bodega and contemplates a third cup of coffee. The shittiest one yet.

See, here’s the thing.

The thing is, he has options.

He could go to the Manor. Or the penthouse. Or to Steph’s place. He’d have to answer some unnecessary questions like ‘Master Timothy, you know you can’t sleep on aircraft, why didn’t you sleep before your flight’ or ‘Tim, why didn’t you come here first, you know you can still come to me if you’re in trouble, right’ or ‘why did you agree to fumigate your fucking house, you loser, lmao’. (Stephanie is not going to let him live this down). 

He is absolutely certain that he would be welcomed in any of these places and after a completely undeserved amount of fussing, he could take a fucking nap and someone else would deal with the League bullshit for him.

And that’s the thing. There’s the rub.

No one should have to deal with the League bullshit for him. This is his problem. He’s not in a hurry to bring them down on anyone. Not even Damian.

With grim resignation, he reaches for his phone to try and find a hotel room (during a con’ weekend apparently, RIP) and maybe get a fucking handle on this whole stupid thing, when he hears:

“Hand over your wallet!”

He lifts his head slowly and finds himself looking down the barrel of a gun. A gun held by some guy wearing a ski mask in broad fucking daylight. There’s another guy next to him who’s watching the street. There’s a third guy somewhere behind him who he can’t see, but he can hear the scuff of his boots.

Sure. Why not. With the day he’s had, this might as well happen. He holds up his hands placatingly.

Tim contemplates his muggers. The guy with the gun is jittery, probably new to this, or hopped up on something. He keeps glancing between Tim and the bodega behind him, so they were probably planning a run on the till. Might have chickened out, or thought Tim was an easier target, an unexpected meal ticket plopped right in their path. Or they were already inside when Tim sat down, which wouldn’t bode well for his situational awareness seeing as he just came out of there himself.

The grinding gears of his tired brain keep getting caught on the fact that this is happening in the middle of the fucking day. Tim glances at the street corner and bites his cheek in frustration. Yeah, he’s smack dab in the middle of the Alley. Figures.

“Are you deaf or somethin’ man?” The guy with the gun is saying. “Hand over your fucking wallet!”

The other guy doesn’t seem as crazy-eyed. He’s nervous, though. He keeps looking around like he’s expecting Batman to materialize, to come whistling down the street like a beat cop.

“Dude, come on, it’s not fucking worth it,” he says, grabbing at the gunman’s shoulder. “We got the money, let’s fucking go.”

The third guy kicks over Tim’s suitcase. “Yeah, come on, Don, let’s just grab this shit and bounce.”

Tim can’t do anything. He’s not Red Robin right now. He’s Timothy Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and he’s getting mugged in front of a bodega at two in the afternoon in a rumpled suit and tie and still toting his suitcase from his early morning flight. 

His hands are trembling from unspent adrenaline, too much caffeine, and not enough sleep. His eyelids are the heaviest they’ve ever been in his godforsaken life. His ears are ringing. He could knock all three of them down in less time than it takes to tie his shoelaces. But he can’t.

“Shut up, Johnny, look at him shaking! What’s he gonna do? If he doesn’t wanna get shot, rich boy’s gonna hand over all his fucking shit!”

“Hey, let’s just—” Tim tries to say.

Stars explode across his vision as Tim takes a punch he genuinely wasn’t expecting. He stares up at the blue sky for about half a second, more confused than anything else, before the gunman grabs him by the front of his shirt and hauls him up to shout in his face.

“What’s it gonna be, pretty boy?!”

Caught on the exhausted edge between vigilante training and the preservation of his identity, Tim is frozen. He doesn’t know what to do. He kind of wants to cry.

“Gee, Donny, what is it gonna be?” A fourth voice says, full of false cheer.

Tim blinks. So do the muggers. 

He knows that voice.

“Who the fuck—?” The gunman drops Tim, spinning around and into a fist. He tumbles down to the ground, out cold.

Everything happens pretty quickly after that.

Jason Todd is in civvies. He’s sporting a worn out looking hoodie and a pair of jeans that have seen better days. But his heavy boots are the same ones he wears for his uniform, and the kick he delivers to Johnny’s face is all Red Hood.

Almost in a daze, Tim watches him fight with the usual mix of seething envy and raw desire that rears its ugly head any time he gets to see Jason in action. He’s fast, decisive. Efficient. Beautiful. Tim wishes he had Jason’s skill. And he wishes— 

Well. He wishes a lot of things about Jason Todd.

Tim is pretty sure he and Jason are friends. Maybe. Probably. They’ve pretty much moved past the whole “replacement”, “zombie-dickhead” part of their relationship and have graduated to occasionally providing backup on ops that overlap in each other’s sectors, ganging up on Dick when they’re all in the same room, and maintaining a surprisingly steady stream of vigilante gossip to keep each other in the loop. 

So, ok, yes, due to the aforementioned, he’s pretty sure they’re friends. And also because Jason wouldn’t have stuck his neck out for him otherwise. He would have just let him get mugged.

Watching Jason fight is one of Tim’s favorite pastimes. But right now, Tim’s usual appreciation is soured by the gut-roiling embarrassment of being caught in this position by Jason of all people. His eyes itch. His cheek throbs. He’s so fucking tired.

“Hey, little stalker,” Jason says suddenly, holding out an expectant hand in Tim’s face. The muggers are groaning on the ground around them. Tim isn’t sure when that happened. He might have zoned out. “Did you know that you had a stalker for a change?”

Tim flushes. “I resent that. I haven’t stalked anyone in years.” He takes the hand. It’s warm, and calloused, and big around his.

Jason laughs at him and yanks him to his feet. “Liar.”

Tim’s mouth twists into a scowl. He tries to glare at Jason, but he can feel himself swaying and Jason still hasn’t let go of him, and it’s ruining everything.

Also, lowkey, Jason is right. But in his defense, it is literally their job to stalk people, so.

“I haven’t stalked you in years then. Just other guys. Bad guys. Not non-bad guys. Fuck. You know what I mean. Whatever.” He pauses; recalibrates. “Had?” He asks.

Jason’s eyebrows inched higher and higher the longer Tim talked. Tim doesn’t blame him.

“Yeah. Had.” 

So much for the League, Tim muses.

Jason gives him a once over before tugging decisively on Tim’s wrist, easily grabbing the handle of his suitcase and starting to walk with both in tow, to Tim’s rising horror. 

“You’re coming with me, shortstack. What’s wrong with you? Are you drunk? You look like shit.”

Tim tries to yank his wrist out of Jason’s grip, but the asshole doesn’t budge. “I’m not drunk,” Tim snaps. “I’m fine. I’m just. I’m just… really tired.”

Jason stops abruptly, and Tim stumbles into his shoulder.

���I can see that,” he says, steadying Tim with an amused but ultimately sympathetic look. He loads Tim’s suitcase onto the back of a motorcycle that Tim literally just now noticed. 

God, he’s fucked. And not even in a fun way. 

“C’mon,” Jason says. “Don’t fall asleep on the way over— road rash sucks ass.”

—

They don’t talk on the way to— wherever Jason is taking them, but once they’re parked in a random garage and walking towards the elevators, the game of twenty questions begins.

“So why’ve you got League assassins after you, anyway? Piss in a lazarus pit? Push over the baby brat on the playground?”

“Ra’s al Ghul wants my body,” Tim says, dejected but resigned to this bizarre fact of his life. “Since I was seventeen, I’m pretty sure.”

Jason wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”

“I don’t think it’s a sex thing? But it could also be a sex thing.”

“Again. Fucking ew.”

“Yeah. Also I blew up a bunch of his shit and I think he’s still salty I got away with it.”

“Is that why you weren’t at the Manor?” Jason asks, herding Tim out of the elevator and down a long hallway. “Or anywhere but a random street in Crime Alley?”

Tim nods. “Yeah. They found all my safehouses, but— my mess. My problem.”

Jason thwacks him upside the head.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“You’re the dumbest person on the planet.”

“Am not. B is on-planet right now.”

“Then you’re pretty fucking close,” Jason snarks, fishing out some keys and opening one of the apartment doors.

Tim scoffs at him as he’s pushed inside. “Oh, please. Don’t try to tell me you would let Dick swoop in and solve all your problems for you.”

Jason rolls his eyes, stepping into the side kitchen and popping open the freezer door of the fridge.

“Dickiebird can’t even solve his own problems,” he says as he rummages. “But maybe when I’m fucked up enough to let three nobodies robbing a fucking bodega get the jump on me, that’s a sign that, maybe, it might be time to call in the cavalry. Dick isn’t the only person who’s got your back.” He presses an ice pack to Tim’s face until he takes it himself, and keeps steering him through the apartment. “Just saying.”

Tim would protest with all of his very good reasons why Jason is definitely wrong here, but he’s too busy processing the fact that Jason has led him into a bedroom. With a bed. There’s a bed, with a mattress and pillows and blankets. Right there. Tim stares at it with lustful eyes.

Jason catches him staring. He rolls his eyes, but he’s sporting a small smile that Tim has the presence of mind to memorize. He walks over to a dresser and pulls out a big shirt and a pair of shorts that he hands to Tim.

“Look. If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here. No guarantees I’ll be always around, but, yeah. Mi casa es su casa, or whatever.”

Tim eyes him up, clutching the bundle of Jason-smelling fabric in his hands. “And you’d do that for me because…why, exactly?”

Jason flicks his forehead, a stinging reprimand. Tim hisses.

“Because, dumbass, you need help and I feel like it. And you don’t actually suck to be around, so shut up and be grateful.”

“Oh, yes,” Tim deadpans, rubbing at his forehead. “So grateful to be allowed the privilege of squatting with you.”

The thing of it is, Tim is grateful. But Jason doesn’t need to know that.

Jason squawks, and before Tim can duck, he’s snatched Tim around the neck in a headlock. His arm is thick and doesn’t budge no matter how Tim shoves and kicks. The ice pack and the clothes go flying, and Tim just about dies. Jason is warm.

“Jason—!”

“Brat!” Jason crows, not giving an inch. “I paid for this place fair and square— you’re the only squatter here!”

“Blood money doesn’t count as square!”

“Tell that to half of Gotham, kid.”

“I’m trying to, thanks for noticing,” Tim says, finally wrenching himself free of Jason’s grip, stumbling into the bed and giving into its siren song. He sits down heavily on the edge, toppling over sideways and reaching pathetically for the fallen ice pack that’s just out of his reach.

“And don’t call me kid—” he complains, muffled by the pillow. It also smells like Jason. “You’re barely two years older than me.”

The cold ice pack is pressed into his fingers. He cracks an eye open to look, but Jason is just smirking at him, like he’s giving Tim the win. Ass.

“Coulda fooled me, shortstack.”

Tim rolls his eyes, and onto his back, toeing off his shoes and letting them clatter to the floor. He can’t tell if Jason’s bed is the best bed in the world, or if he’s just deliriously inventing things.

Frankly, Jason Todd’s bed is the last place he ever thought he’d end up, this morning or otherwise, so he’s never bothered to speculate. He does not have a contingency plan for this.

“Is there a reason you keep calling me short,” he complains, “Or will I just need to fill in the blanks myself?”

“Can’t help it. You’re just so small,” Jason coos. Tim props himself up on an elbow at that, raising a disgusted eyebrow.

“You don’t hear me constantly talking about how big you are.” 

Jason grins like he just won the lottery; Tim shuts his eyes the second it’s out of his mouth.

“Baby, you don’t know how big I am.”

He does, actually. Not in a creepy stalker way, just— there was this one time. A big rogue breakout at Arkham, all-hands on deck type of situation; Tim, Cass, and Jason were covering Poison Ivy in the park. Acid-spitting pitcher plants were involved.

And look, Jason’s tactical gear is fine in the day to day, but it’s not like any of them had time to prep a neutralizing agent, so when Jason needed his pants off, stat…uh. Well. Tim was right there.

He knows, okay?

“Alright,” he rallies, trying desperately not to replay the memory of Jason adjusting himself through his boxers. All of himself. “I walked right into that one.”

“Oh, trust me. You’ll know if you’ve walked into it.”

Tim scoffs, but he can feel how red his face is.

And the thing is. He says it without really meaning to. 

But he still means it.

“You gonna put your money where your mouth is, big guy?”

The change is immediate. Jason had been halfway out the door, but now he turns to Tim, giving him his full, undivided attention. He looks at Tim, laid out in Jason's bed, giving him a very slow once over. The scrutiny is at once nerve-wracking and thrilling.

“Thought you didn’t want my money,” Jason murmurs.

The temperature in the room spikes. If it weren’t for the slow throb of his bruised cheek, Tim would think that he’s already asleep and dreaming.

But he isn’t. He’s very much aware that he’s wide awake.

Tim swallows. “Well. It’s not your money I want.”

Jason’s grin is electric. 

He stalks over to the bed, and Tim is frozen like a rabbit, waiting to see what he’ll do next. Jason settles a knee on the sheets between Tim’s legs, looming over Tim and boxing him in against the mattress. Tim’s free hand reaches up of its own accord to tangle in the collar of Jason’s hoodie, and the cotton is softer than he expected.

Jason’s eyes rove over his face, dark and heavy. He catches Tim’s face in his hand, swiping his thumb lightly across the bruising hot ache of his cheekbone. He leans in deliberate and slow and—

—and stops about an inch away from Tim’s mouth.

“Get some sleep, babybird,” Jason teases, his breath puffing gently over the skin of Tim’s lips. “You can proposition me again tomorrow.”

“It’s, like, 3:30 in the afternoon,” Tim argues, breathless.

“Yeah, and your body thinks it’s 3:30 in the morning. You’re dead on your feet. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, and go the fuck to sleep.”

Jason moves to rise. But Tim hooks a stubborn arm around his neck and pulls him down that last remaining inch. 

The kiss is— bad. At first. 

Tim basically smashed their mouths together to prove a point, and Jason muffles a surprised sound against Tim’s teeth. He lands heavily on top of Tim at an awkward angle, and he’s kind of crushing him. Tim refuses to let go, but— Jason doesn’t pull away.

Jason gentles the kiss instead, and Tim thrills. He levers himself up onto his elbow, wrapping an anchoring arm around Tim’s back. He finds a home between Tim’s legs, and he lets Tim kiss him until Tim's lips are tingling and his fingers go slack; until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

Somewhere between fifteen minutes and a small eternity later, Jason presses one more kiss to the corner of his mouth. He curls around Tim on his side, and Tim turns his face into Jason’s neck with a soft wondering sigh.

“I’ll keep it. Promise. Wait n’ see,” Tim mumbles. Jason snorts, but doesn’t budge, and Tim can hear his smile in his voice, lilted and lulling.

“Sure, babybird. I’ll wait. I got nowhere else to be.”

Tim is already asleep.

#one hundred thousand years have passed #i creak up out of the soil gasping and hacking and coughing #'i lived bitch' #'have some jaytim that grew legs on me' #my writing #asked and answered #jaytim #ladytauria #hurt/comfort #this one is sillier and more light-hearted than the other ones #the hurt is more like 'near tears travel exhaustion' than your typical aftermath of violence lol but it so definitely counts #i held a gun to the head of the muse that said 'this is way too short' and pulled the fucking trigger #i KNOW it's a very fast get together but i did Not want this to become my next 5 digit wordcount fic okay. okay. oka #the bones of a long 'tim and jason vs the league of assassins' fic is hiding here #and if i actually wrote that this would have ended much differently #but i am Not Writing That okay I am Writing Cowboys and also Werewolves Right Now. I Do Not Have Time For This!!!!!! #prompt fill

[cowboy-7000]

haii im wondering where you got that kink graphic in your pinned post? i would love a blank version for my pinned ^-^ also your blog is awesome i wish i could follow from a sideblog eheh

Hiii, I'm glad you enjoy my blog!

I got the blank version from @pentila a few months ago! Here you go!

Also I don't mind people following me from their main as long as their age is mentioned! But I obviously understand when people are uncomfortable around that!

#rambling cowboy #cowboy answers

[pinkmirth]

begging you for more cowboy reiner smut 🧎🏾‍♀️

i’m absolutely loving the way y’all adore cowboy rei-rei as much as i do! 😩 im currently working on lengthier fics/requests for him, but im gonna spew out some of the dirty lil thoughts i have in the meantime:

this farmboy is a nasty man, i tell you! cowboy!reiner can, and will, take you at any given time of day. to him, every location on this barn is a suitable place to fuck. sometimes he’ll dick you down near the hay bales, or six-nine with you in the little cottage that he hand-built last summer; hell, he’ll even raw-dog you in the goddamn kitchen on his momma’s favorite countertop— he doesn’t care. he’s always this close to bending you over the counter, pulling down his custom denim jeans and making a complete and total mess out of you. though the rounds are satisfying, they usually go by fast ‘cause he knows he’s got chores to get back to afterwards. that’s why he fucks you like it’s the end of the world— no time to waste when you need to feed the cattle by 3pm, right? rei-rei’s a feen for quickies, okay! then later on, when the day’s work is done and he finally has time to himself, he’ll use the opportunity to handle you thoroughly, and do all the things he didn’t have the time for earlier. by the next morning, you’re still feeling the linger of him on your body. the dull ache around your hips reminds you of the countless positions he folded you into, all his dirty words . . . quite a nasty man, indeed!

#cowboy reiner #reiner braun #reiner smut #reiner x reader #reiner x black reader #thanks so much for dropping by! mwuah 💕 #— harmoni answers #— (1-800-luvrgrl!) #— (.reiner) #— (reiner drabbles!) #— (drabbles!) #— harmoni writes #i love love loveee cowboy reiner #reiner braun smut #reiner x black reader smut #reiner braun x black reader #reiner braun x reader smut #reiner x reader smut #୨୧ — isla writes #୨୧ — mira writes! #౨ৎ — 𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈!

[hippolotamus]

Fuck it Friday/Last Line Challenge 🌻

Last night, there I am, lovingly thinking of having enough energy to write on my current WIPs, when @pirrusstuff and I start discussing cowboy boots. Specifically ones with sunflowers on them. And that, friends, is how we ended up here. Please accept this brain dump of words in which Buck is the local livestock vet that Eddie Diaz absolutely cannot stand, but is forced to deal with.

“Bobby.” Eddie’s tone borders on a whine. “There’s nothing else you can do?” “‘Fraid not. I’ve pulled out every trick I know. Ya gotta call him.” Bobby pauses for what Eddie’s certain is only dramatic effect. “Unless, of course, you want her to get an infection or, more realistically, die.” Eddie sighs and lets his head drop between his shoulders. He knows Bobby’s right, even had a feeling it might come to this before Bobby started throwing him nervous glances when Lola didn’t appear to be progressing. Unfortunately, now, there’s no time to waste on Eddie’s petty grudge.   Without looking up from where he’s crouched next to his very pregnant, very distressed mare, Eddie holds his hand out expectantly.   “Already dialed for you,” Bobby says, a little too smugly, handing him the phone.   “‘Lo?” The familiar voice answers, sounding like he’s chewing. Logically, Eddie knows it’s just coincidental timing, but it still feels like a purposeful slight. “Buckley, I’ve got a mare in labor, stalled. Between me and Nash we’ve tried everything we can think of, but we’re gonna need a hand here.”   There’s a long pause that would make him think they got disconnected except for the loud crunching.  “Huh,” Buck finally says. “So there is something you can’t do.” “Are you coming or not?” Eddie spits back. He can practically hear the smirk forming on Buck’s lips.  “Don't worry, sunshine. Be right there.” 

Tagged by my love @lizzie-bennetdarcy @hoodie-buck @buddierights @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @thewolvesof1998 @jamespearce9-1-1

no pressure tagging mi amor @disasterbuckdiaz @callmenewbie @giddyupbuck @wikiangela @eddiebabygirldiaz @exhuastedpigeon @lemonzestywrites @steadfastsaturnsrings @weewootruck @malewifediaz @thekristen999 @loserdiaz @heartshapedvows @underwater-ninja-13 @fortheloveofbuddie @eowon @jesuisici33 @apothecarose @watchyourbuck @monsterrae1 @shortsighted-owl @stereopticons @elvensorceress @spagheddiediaz @chaosandwolves @wildlife4life @your-catfish-friend @911onabc @the-likesofus @honestlydarkprincess @spaceprincessem @fionaswhvre @barbiediaz @pirrusstuff @messyhairdiaz @gayedmundodiaz @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @evaneds @maygrantgf @buckbuckgoose @statueinthestone and anyone else who wants to share 💖

#sobs quietly #please i cannot have more WIPs #also i don't know a thing about horses or their care #hippos do not know the ways of equine #this should be interesting #buddie wip #eddie really hates buck's stupid face #and the stupid sunflowers on his stupid cowboy boots #why does that idiot have to be the only vet in town? #at least he's competent #and his ass looks amazing in those jeans #and oh shit does eddie *really* hate him? #i think we all know the answer to that #hippo writes #fuck it friday #fic: sweetest of the sunflowers

[intotheelliwoods]

if I had a nickel for each rottmnt trend I set I would have 3 damn shiny nickels

#I inspired 2 other people to do a collab comic (neither are finished/posted yet but hey one I participated in and im excited for it!) #I made the peepaw leo cowboy trend go from a 2 to a 10 on the popularity scale #now all my mutuals are all also wanting to make keychains/merch #oh my god #nonsense #is now a good thing to mention that the next thing I want to do is one of those ask events #where for a full day people just send asks and instead of me (ell) answering its the 2al boys #drawings of them answering and everything #will probably do this sometime in december/early january #anyways leaving for a plane trip first in the morning tomorrow #and good news! #I finished lines for next 2al update #I think it was 59 panels...? #I think it was 59 goddamn panels. #so that will get posted whenever I get around to coloring it #which will probably be monday or tuesday #<3 #wish me luck imma be dying all day tomorrow btw #also keychain preorders are closing tomorrow #ok goodnight tumblr #I am just having many many thoughts tonight ig #also that 2al cameo in the cass video still feels like a fever dream. #that does not feel like it happened. #that did not hapen. #nope #I dreamed it #good lord is this a tag wall

[canisalbus]

About the Vasco streamer ask, what games do you think he would play?

The original one said Fps and I see that, but I also see him playing a lot of Stardew Valley and BG III and honestly, any games that involves exploration and ADVENTURE (Vasco lives his horse girl dreams through games 100%)

.

#absolutely agreeing on the horse girl part #I think he'd like Red Dead Redemption 2 for starters #cowboy adventure simulator #answered #anonymous