The Engineer with a Southern Drawl

Lt. Breckin I. McCoy. Son of a famous Captain and a Doctor with Legendary Hands. An engineer, but a country boy at heart.

Status: Online

[Indie OC Blog for Star Trek (Reboot).]
[Please read the Important Info, Bio, and Headcanons pages before interacting.]
[M!A: None, but accepting.]
[Tracks sonofacaptainandadoctor.]

Local Time:

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Screw angst, make my muse genuinely smile in one sentence or less.

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MY CHARACTER ACCIDENTALLY SENDS YOURS NAKED PICTURES OF THEMSELVES. LEAVE A REACTION IN MY ASK!

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Anonymous: [Fetish:] S & M

No | Maybe | I guess | I’d try it | Hell yes | YES GOOD | GOD DAMNIT FUCK ME NOW | 

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So, since it’s Fetish Friday

nsfweezy:

Send me a fetish and I’ll answer

No | Maybe | I guess | I’d try it | Hell yes | YES GOOD | GOD DAMNIT FUCK ME NOW | 

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the-blacksmith-in-armani:

"I’m awake. Sort of. Gimme a minute here, and maybe a coffee."

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"… Gimme an hour."

"An hour? Are ya serious babe?" he rolls his eyes. "It’s past noon an’ we got two kids." he adjusts the little boy and girl on his hips.

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the-blacksmith-in-armani:

Southern men; you crank them open, and they’re bucking bulls in the sac. Tony could live with that. Matting a sprinkle of kisses across Breckin’s jaw and over the shell of his ear, he growls low. “Dance for me. Want to see you over my lap.”

He purrs at the kisses to his jaw and turns to look at his husband. “Well well…” he smirks. Breck steals a head kiss from the other before pulling up to begin his little strip tease.

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sonofacaptainandadoctor: "Why the sam hell did we become parents again?" he grumbles tiredly.

the-blacksmith-in-armani:

the-blacksmith-in-armaniarchive:

"I ‘unno. You tell me." Rolls over in bed.

"Yeah. Epidurals. Thank ‘em." Nuzzles in to the meat of Breckin’s jaw.

"They hardly fuckin’ worked… jesus I thought I was dyin’…" he mutters, wrapping his arms tighter around Tony, kissing his forehead.

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sonofacaptainandadoctor: "Why the sam hell did we become parents again?" he grumbles tiredly.

the-blacksmith-in-armani:

sonofacaptainandadoctor:

the-blacksmith-in-armaniarchive:

"I ‘unno. You tell me." Rolls over in bed.

"I love our kids but shit… I’m tired…" he mutters. He moves to wrap himself around Tony, becoming the big spoon.

"It’s a packaged deal, sweetheart. With children comes… fatigue." Sounds about right.

"Naw really? I didn’t get that when I ended up poppin’ em out…" he snarks back with a small chuckle.

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the-blacksmith-in-armani:

"Oh yeah?" Try not to ruin the mood here, Breck. All he can think of is Borat, and that’s not something you want in your head while feeling your husband up. Chasing after the other’s mouth, he seals in a kiss that waste away minutes.

"Okay thong, whatever." he teases before letting the other have his kiss. Breck wraps his arms around the other’s neck and sways a bit. "So… tell me whatcha want sugar…" he murmurs softly.

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the-blacksmith-in-armani:

"Got no place in here for your tact, Breck.”

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”.. Whassat, huh? A jockstrap?” A thong, maybe. Whichever works. He’s peeling those off as soon as he’s through with the pants.

"Oh really now?"

"Banana hammock." he winks. He then leans in to steal a kiss from Tony.

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