#(they got to kiss then he dies like come on...)

[satorusugurugurl]

We Can Be Louder

Summary: When staying in a hotel, a couple next door is a little too loud— but you and Nanami can be louder.

Characters: Nanami Kento x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: hotel smut, unprotected sex, loud, vocal, moans, dirty talk, p in v, creampie, language

Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: I have a mighty need to grope Nanami’s butt rawr! 💚💚💚

“Ooooooh God,” a high pitched voice rang from the hotel room right next to you. “Oh God, baby fuck.” Your eyes widened as you turned your head to look back at the wall behind you. The sound of their bed slamming against the wall was almost deafening and powerful enough to cause your own bed to shake.

The sound of their phony moans made your nose turn up in sympathy for the girl and embarrassment from how loud they were. Nanami sat beside you in bed, placing his book down as the moans grew louder. From the whimpers and grunts, you had an inkling that this was not going to last long for them. Your best guess was that it was a young college couple; maybe it was their first time, or they weren't as experienced. Your hypothesis was all focused on the girl who was practically moaning like a porn star. It's wholly fake and unnatural.

“She’s faking it,” You announced to Kento as you took a sip of your wine, “and the poor guy has no idea that she is.” Nanami chuckled, furrowing his eyebrows as he placed his bookmark in place, turning to watch you closely. “I bet you twenty bucks he doesn't last longer than five minutes.”

“Oh, Love,” Nanami chuckled deeply, the sound igniting a fire inside you. “It's going to end way faster than that.”

“Oooh, my goodness, Ken, what makes you say that?”

“Nngh!” the stranger next door shouted as the bed started creaking again. “D-Don’t squeeze so t-tight!”

The corner of Nanami’s mouth twitched as he fought against a grin. “That right there speaks volumes.”

You found yourself unable to focus on your book, more intrigued by the young couple next door. You kept stealing glances at the wall, listening in on their not-so-quiet conversation. The girl kept screaming, ‘Oh my God, ’ while her companion kept asking questions like, ‘Oh yeah?’ and ‘You like that baby?’ It was quite entertaining. They both were inexperienced, unsure of what to say in bed, only having porn or books to use as a reference as to what sex would be like. They were mixing fiction into reality.

The bed pounding got faster and louder. “Oh,” you laughed, “he’s gonna finish soon.” Nanami laughed as you fist pumped in the air to the sound of the bed frame being slammed into the wall.

“I’m gonna-” the young man shouted, “I’m gonna blow my load!” You choked on your wine at his declaration, the alcohol coming out of your nose. “Oooooooh fuck!!!” You covered your mouth, coughing roughly as the man moaned loudly. It wasn’t short after that the girl gave a very poor performance of her own orgasm. Apparently, she didn’t want him to feel bad that she hadn’t finished with him. The moans that had barely started died down, leaving you and Nanami staring at the wall with sympathy. Glancing down at your watch, you grinned, holding it out for Nanami to see. “Five minutes on the spot.”

He shook his head, laughing slightly, “Pretty good for a first time; I can’t tell you how long I lasted my first time.” He grabbed his glass of wine and drank before running his tongue over his lips. “I’m relatively certain the girl I was with just laid there awkwardly.”

“Yeah,” you turned on your side, looking up at him, “my first time was at this guy's house. I was so excited to do it finally.” You held your fist, putting a single finger up as you spoke. “There was hardly any kissing, we undressed ourselves, no foreplay, he got on top, and it was over in literally one minute.”

“This is the part where you tell me you’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope, one minute was all I got. Hell, I didn’t have my first real orgasm until I was twenty-two.”

“Well, that’s unfair,” he put his book down on the nightstand. “what do you say we make up for that first time?” You giggled, grinning ear to ear as Nanami undid the buttons on his shirt. “I’ll make sure to give you the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Make up for the ones you’ve had to fake all those years ago.”

You lay flat on your back as Nanami removed his shirt, dropping it to the ground. Slowly, he crawled on top of you, looking at you as if you were his prey. There was a dark and needy gleam in his eyes that caused your breath to catch in your throat. You knew right there that it would be a long, sweaty night with him. He began running his long fingers underneath your nightgown. He slowly pushed the silky fabric up, bunching it at your hips. His lips slowly pressed kisses along the inside of your thighs as you ran your finger through his hair, tugging it softly.

A growl that was full of desire escaped his lips as he tugged the nightgown off all the way, throwing it across the room. Before you knew it, he was pulling his pajama pants off, exposing his hardened erection. Licking your lips, you spread your legs open, giving him a better view of your body that he loved. His eyes wandered down, taking you all in, inch by inch, before he grabbed both your legs, putting them over his shoulders. Your mouth suddenly went dry as the head of his cock brushed against your opening.

“God, you’re soaking wet.” He whispered, rocking his hips slowly, the swollen head of his throbbing cock brushed gently against your clit. “I need you. I need to make up for the first time.” Rolling your eyes, you rocked back against him, moaning at the pleasurable sensations rushing through your pussy.

“Nanami, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, so yes, every time we have sex, it’s better than my first time.” You dangled your feet over his shoulders, the head of his cock pressed firmly against your opening. “So what do you say? You stop teasing me and fuck me already. Let’s show these college kids how it’s done.”

He chuckled before kissing you deeply and pressing his forehead against yours. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Slowly he pushed into you, his cock slipping past your slick folds, stretching your walls. The sensation left you moaning loudly as you gripped the sheets underneath you. You squeezed around his cock, taking all of him inside of you as he pressed against your cervix. “Fuck Love,” he groaned, nipping at your lip, “no matter how many times we do this, I’ll never get over how good you feel.” As soon as he was entirely inside of you, his body relaxed. The two of you relished in the feeling of each other's skin.

His hands traced over your body, his hands groping your breasts before sliding down and running down the curves of your body. You mirrored his actions, trailing your hands down his bare and muscular back. Your nails grazed him softly before meeting the fat of his ass. It was at this moment that he pulled out of you, looking into your eyes before he plunged back into you. You cried out, your head falling against the pillows, and your lips parted. His thrusts left your eyes watering at the intense sensation. Nanami hissed, repeating the action several times, each thrust harder than the previous one. The intensity of the rhythm had sweat beading against his neck and over his chest as sweat ran down your own collarbone, trailing over the swells of your breasts.

Your hands grope his ass, allowing you to feel it flex with each thrust in and out of your tight wet pussy. With each push of his hips, the bed slams into the wall behind you. With each thrust that was angeled right against your g-spot, you screamed. As your screams increased in volume, Kento slammed his lips against yours as you cried out in pleasure, shouting his name to the heavens. You wanted everyone in the hotel to know who was fucking you this good. Who was exploring and ravishing your body, treating you like a goddess. When you were with Nanami, it was like experiencing heaven on earth. It was so surreal and so perfect.

The bed slammed harder into the wall as Nanami’s grunts and growls of pleasure grew louder. Your name was like a curse on his lips; it came out like a hiss, a groan, and a gasp. His name escaped your lips like a prayer as you begged him to make you feel good.

“Nanami! Oh fuck Kento!” He stared down at you, smirking at your moans. “Fuck me, baby! Fuck me harder!” He captured your lips against his, his hips hauling harder as he lifted one of your legs in the air. “Oh my God!” you cried out, your eyes rolling back as his cock slammed into your cervix.

“You like that, Love? You like my cock buried deep inside of you?”

‘Y-Yes Ken!” You cried out, digging your fingers into the skin of his arms, “I love it! I love it when you fuck me!”

“That’s my girl,” you clenched harder around him. “Oh darling, are you going to cum already? Cum all over my thick hard cock?” The pleasure inside began to tighten along with the coil in your lower abdomen. Nanami reached down, rubbing your clit as he continued to thrust. Your inner walls throbbed around him as the tightening coil within you threatened to snap at any given second. “Don’t hold back, cum for me, Love, cum for me.” Another brush against your clit had the coil in your abdomen snapped, sending you over the edge.

“Kento!!” You screamed, your walls clenching down around his cock. They fluttered as the immense pleasure rushed through you. Causing your body to wither and jerk underneath him, nails digging into his skin as you came. “Oh my God!”

“Love, fuck nngh!!” He grunted, hips stilling as he came deep within you. You shuddered, mouth falling agape as you felt hot spurts of cum coat your walls. “Oh fuck!” Kento let your leg go before he collapsed on top of you. His chest heaved as he pressed kisses along your shoulder before burying his face against your skin, remaining there.

As he lay on top of you, mumbling how much he loved you, you couldn’t help but smile. Glancing down at your left ring finger, you giggled happily. The ring glimmered in the low lights of the hotel suite. Only two days into your honeymoon, it has been amazing so far. It was a reminder that this was how the rest of your life would be. You and Nanami in bed together, going on trips, loving your loves to the fullest.

“Say, Mrs. Nanami?” Nanami grumbled, lifting his head to look at you. You pushed some hair out of his face, pressing your lips together.

“Yes, Mr. Nanami?”

“Let’s put our books away for the rest of tonight; I would much rather spend the night here inside of you.” He trailed his calloused fingers over your sensitive skin. His request fluttered your heart as you kissed his forehead, nodding in response to his question. “Good, let’s see how long it’ll take for the couple next door to regret getting the room next to the honeymoon suite~.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 9

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Part 10

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home, but will he keep his hands to himself?

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought you heard the men wish you well once more when Bucky led you out of the office. You weren’t completely sure since you tried to block everything out, but attempting to disassociate wouldn’t exactly do you any good. The night wasn’t over yet and you had to stay sharp. You didn’t know what Bucky had planned for when he got you home. Were you prepared at all?

Not in the least.

You half expected to walk back through the front of the club to leave, but Ray directed you to a door near the back once he gave Bucky a nod. The car was waiting in the alley and you took a moment to glance up at the sky. You could only make out one star and you wished in that moment you could grow wings and fly away. But when did wishing upon a star do you any good?

“Let’s get you back to your place,” Bucky said, helping you into the car.

You had to give him credit for trying to keep up his end of the bargain by getting you home on time. Your body refused to relax though once he sat beside you and took your hand. Was he trying to get you accustomed to his touch? Make you crave him? It bothered you that in spite of your determination he drew you in to a certain degree. But you wouldn’t let him take you to bed tonight. You weren’t ready to cross that inevitable line.

Maybe, just maybe, if your performance in bed disappointed him, he’d get bored and walk away. The thought almost made you laugh. That wasn’t happening. If anything, he’d probably love teaching you how to be his perfect lover.

“I think tonight went well,” Bucky smiled.

“Which part exactly?” You mumbled, pulling your hand away. The part where he forced you to go, how his men all but admitted they knew Bucky stalked you, or how they beat the hell out of a man?

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

“Fighting. You guys seem to excel in that arena,” you said, remembering how they all took turns beating up John. “But I guess Steve does have a bit of that ‘big brother’ vibe, helping you take total control of my life and whatnot.”

“Not total control. I’m still letting you work, but maybe I can buy the shop.” He chuckled at your thunderous expression. The light threat had you seeing red. “I probably shouldn't joke about that, should I?”

“Letting me work? Like it’s your decision? And don’t you dare buy the shop.” You pushed at him to keep from slapping him when he chuckled again. Not with enough force to get him far away from you, but you needed some sort of space in the vehicle. He also needed a good hit over the head. “You’re a bully, do you know that? So are your friends.”

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin.

“Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end.

“Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“You’re a person, not a possession, Kotyonok. And not just a person, a good person who gives so much of herself to others. And probably one of the only people who rightfully calls me out on my shit.” His response drew you up short. “Outside of my friends, no one else does that.”

“Maybe because they’re afraid of you and what you can do,” you said after a moment. Fear could make anyone say what they thought people wanted to hear. “Either that or they want your approval,” you added, which you could also understand to a point. People wanted a sense of belonging, especially with those who had influence and power.

“Maybe they are afraid,” he agreed, brushing his lips against your palm again with a sigh. “What is it about me that scares you most?”

“I’m not really sure exactly,” you admitted. There was so much about the situation that terrified you. What he was capable of. How he inserted himself into various aspects of your life and so quickly. How far he was willing to go to keep you. “But I think it’s your conviction. That you’re so sure that I’m your other half and no one can convince you otherwise, not even me.”

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

Those steel blue eyes of his met yours and mesmerized you for a heartbeat before you looked away. “Love is scary. It’s natural to be afraid of it.” His lips brushed your ear, making you shiver. “But giving someone the most fragile parts of yourself is one of the bravest things a person can do.”

There was truth in his words, but it felt like he moved another chess piece into place. He was trying to disarm you and you couldn’t let him. “Who painted that black dahlia in your office?” You asked suddenly, feeling him move back enough that you could turn your head toward him. “And why display that flower?” You didn’t believe for a second that he chose it for aesthetic purposes.

“Beautiful, isn't it? Steve painted it,” he replied with an odd mixture of affection and bitterness. “It’s for my parents.”

“Steve is a gifted artist.” You hoped your voice stayed even enough that Bucky wouldn’t get jealous of you complimenting another man’s talent. “I don't know if the symbolism of flowers mean anything to you, but the black dahlia-”

“Betrayal. Sadness. Darkness,” he ticked off, his voice cold enough that another shiver moved through your body. “It was the last flower my dad ever got my mom and it serves as a reminder.”

You swallowed as warning bells sounded in your mind to tread carefully. “And what's that?”

He moved close, your eyes shutting as his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck. “That I'll never do to you what he did to her.”

There was suppressed rage within him. Sorrow. It rolled off him in waves strong enough that they could drown you. He said earlier that his dad got what he deserved. What had he done to his mom?

“You’re in pain,” you whispered. He was hurting and you logically shouldn’t care. So why did you want to know the cause of that hurt? “You have to tell me why.”

It wasn’t for you to use to your advantage. You weren’t sure if you could manipulate someone else. If you knew what happened though, it would at least give you more answers to who Bucky was and why he was the way he was. It could help you gain some sort of understanding.

“I’m not in pain when I’m with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand on his chest. Was he relying on you to chase away whatever haunted him? “Later. I’ve overwhelmed you enough for one evening.”

You let out a breath. You swore he was doing this on purpose, giving you just enough information that you’d wait around until he gave you more. “I can’t argue with you there,” you said, his heart racing under your touch. “Just answer one thing for me, please.”

“What’s that?”

“Marc from the bookstore,” you began, the man’s kind face shimmering in your mind. “Did anything happen to him?”

“I’d question another man being on your mind, but I know you’re just concerned about his well-being.” An easy smile crossed Bucky’s face as you bit your tongue. You could think about anyone you wanted to. “I can’t speak for him right this second, but he was perfectly fine when you and I left. He was just having a chat with one of my associates.”

You exhaled, thankful Marc wasn't hurt. “What kind of chat?” You asked. He was a nice guy, though he did seem to know a bit about Bucky. What exactly was he involved in?

“He just got a warning to be careful about what he does or doesn’t say to his customers.” You tensed before he kissed your forehead. Did he know about the conversation you two had? “And I don’t think the two of you should be alone with each other in the bookstore going forward.”

Just when Bucky had you feeling some sort of sympathy for him moments ago he shocked you right out of it. “Another decision that isn’t yours to make,” you stated, the car coming to a stop. “And you really don’t have to walk me up. I think we’ve had enough of each other’s company tonight.”

“I said I’m tucking you into bed and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The smile he gave you was nothing short of cocky when he added, “And you owe me a photo. I’m going to get it.”

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car.

“Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

“Let’s go, please.”

You said nothing else as you went into the building, your anxiety mounting by the second. The slow rise of the elevator didn’t help, Bucky’s hip pressed against yours like he couldn’t stand to have space between you. You figure he’d shove you against the wall and claim your mouth, but he didn’t make a move. It impressed you that he behaved until you got to your floor. It didn’t stop your hand from shaking when you got your keys out.

“Still don’t want to say good night now?”

“I don’t want to say good night at all,” he answered, following you into the apartment and turning on the light. The welcoming feeling you expected when you got home wasn't there. There was a chill in the usual warmth.

“Well, you’ll have to sooner or later,” you said, swallowing when you faced Bucky. He shut the door and watched intently as you set your keys and bag down. You were quiet as you stared back, tension thick as you tried to predict what he was going to do. Once again, he managed to hold all the power in your home.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, heat and hunger in his stare as he slowly advanced.

Your throat went dry as you stepped back. “You have.”

“So beautiful and so good.” You made another move to retreat when he stepped forward, his manner confident and compelling as he reached out and prevented you from moving back further. “It’s driving me crazy not having you yet.”

“Please, you don’t…” you trailed off when he sank to his knees, unexpected heat flowing from your core. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself, his eyes soft as he helped remove one of your shoes. You found it difficult to breathe as he removed the other, his hand brushing your ankle with infinite tenderness. Like it was an honor to touch and be on his knees for you.

“I know the first time I taste you I’ll never want to stop. I’ll have to wake up every day between your thighs. Fall asleep that way, too.” His hand slid up your calf and his eyes darkened when your other hand found its way to his thick locks. Wetness gathered between your legs when his touch moved to your thigh. “Your pussy is hungry for me, isn’t it? My fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’ll feed her well.”

His voice was like velvet. Seductive. Aching. “Bucky…” Your breath rushed out swiftly when he kissed your mound through your clothes, tormenting you with arousal you didn’t ask for. It frightened you.

“I can smell you,” he murmured, nosing along where his lips had been before he sat back. “Smell so fucking good.”

Moving your shoes out of the way, he rose to his full height again as you willed your legs not to shake. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you, let alone speak to you, the way he did. Stark desire. Possessiveness. His form of love. Your heart pounded and you refused to answer him or glance down. If you looked at the front of his pants…

He took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom. Your heart pounded with mounting speed, your heels digging into the floor. “You still haven't kissed me,” you blurted out, hoping it would prevent him from taking you to bed. Or would he take that as an invitation to kiss your lips?

“No, I haven't.” You tried to keep some distance between you as he went to your bed, his hand moving along the blanket. You couldn't breathe. “It scares you how much your body wants mine, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what you think?” You asked, forcing air back into your lungs. It did scare you. It also scared you that you didn’t push him away or scream when he dropped to his knees to remove your shoes. Where was your fighting instinct?

“It is what I think.” The ease in which he moved away from the bed to your dresser to find your pajamas frightened you, too. Like he belonged in your room. You thought back to the night he broke in and left your gift on your bed. How much time did he take to look around? “Like love, giving your body to someone can be scary. You have to trust that you won't get hurt when you’re physically vulnerable.”

“You swore you wouldn't hurt me,” you reminded him.

“And I won't. But you know what else I think?” His magnetic gaze stayed on you as he brought a nightgown over. “That no guy has ever really taken care of you and you’re apprehensive to let me try.”

If you were apprehensive, it was because he was a walking red flag. “What makes you…” Your words stopped when he grasped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Your arms instinctively went up before you realized what you were doing. Removing your shirt, you didn’t get a chance to cover your breasts before he slipped the nightgown on you.

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.”

The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?”

“I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Exhaling slowly, relief flooded you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trying to take what he wanted. “You won’t?”

“Not tonight.” He shook his head even as his fingers moved along your waist. “Like I said, I’ve overwhelmed you enough. Sleeping with you might really put you over the edge.”

“Thanks.” He desired you, but continued to hold it at bay for your sake. How long would that last? “I appreciate that.”

“And we both know the moment I take you to bed, you’ll be begging for more.” His voice dropped as he toyed with the soft fabric. “And as much as I want to stay in bed with you all night and morning and give us what we both crave, I still need to get things in place at the penthouse and you need rest. You understand.”

You tried not to smile and failed. He acted as if he was doing you a favor. Cocky bastard. “I guess we’ll just have to suffer until then.” Sarcasm continued to be a good way to deflect.

He exhaled at your light teasing, his body still a bit tense. Being close to you and not having you was probably driving him mad. “Maybe we'll have to have another private call and finish what we started. Give us both some relief.” He turned you toward the door and gave you a light swat on your ass. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth before I change my mind.”

You made it to the bathroom in record time, not having to be told twice. You didn’t want to risk staying there in case he lost his resolve. Looking in the mirror as you went through the rest of your nighttime routine, you expected to look more exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. You somehow looked wide awake. Was the experience giving you thicker skin? Or did his desire for you somehow give you a bit of a twisted spark? You’d still be billing him for your future therapy bills either way.

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?”

“I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?”

He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

You stiffened as you stared up at his face, your heart simultaneously racing and breaking for him. Love was something that provided a sense of connection, fulfillment. It was a way to show you that you weren’t alone in the world. You wanted to believe you were worthy of love, that you could build a life with someone. Bucky believed he was that someone.

Why?

You weren’t sure if it was his yearning gaze or if you were ready for the night to end, but your expression softened as you imagined meeting him in another life. Going on fun dates, talking about books, making each other laugh as you cooked together, snuggling under a blanket as you talked about your future. You found yourself smiling at the images that went through your mind. What could’ve been. What could be if he lessened his hold a bit on you.

He audibly exhaled when he snapped a photo on his phone, making you blink. “Thank you. Now I can look at this whenever I’m not near you and need to feel your love.”

Words escaped you, the invisible collar around your throat getting tighter. You could only nod and wonder how you kept throwing fuel on the fire of his want for you. Which one of you would burn first?

“Get some sleep. Dream sweet dreams.” You felt featherlight kisses on each eyelid when you shut them. “You know, I’ll sleep a lot easier once you’re in my bed.”

“If you get me into your bed,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“Stubborn kitten.” He chuckled and gave each eyelid one more kiss. Why were his lips so soft? “Maybe I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow so I can take you to lunch. You can tell Addison all about it.”

“Maybe.” You yawned and snuggled more into your pillows. “Good night, Bucky.”

A finger moved along your cheek before it stopped abruptly. “Good night, Kotyonok.”

Bucky still hadn't kissed your mouth.

You didn’t open your eyes as he left, but you didn’t fall asleep right away either. Your body was too wound up. Too many questions went through your mind. Like what happened with his parents and how exactly he’d move you out of your place.

The man was a step ahead in everything. You’d be in his penthouse before the month was over. He’d get his way, but maybe it didn't have to be his way completely. He could give you an area in the place for you and you alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he did say he’d make it up to you by dragging you out tonight.

And if he cared the way he said he did, he could give you that one small thing.

Is our poor Kotyonok starting to accept the inevitable? Will Bucky stop by the shop? And how much longer until he really takes you to bed?Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[mattsdolll]

omg for soft bf matt x childish gf you should do like an angsty blurb of her being all hyper and bubbly and he came home from work tired and upset from something that had happened and he accidentally snaps at her and she gets all emotional and he feels bad and he gets all soft again and they live happily ever after 😭🥰

warnings : arguing, swearing

matt shifted his weight uncomfortably in his seat, huffing softly. he had been filming the entire day, driving his brothers around 24/7. to say he was irritable was an understatement. and to top the entire day off, the camera died and he lost a lot of footage for the upcoming video they had planned. great.

you however, spent the day relaxing, doing your nails, curling your hair, enjoying your alone time. you felt so refreshed and clean. you knew matt was coming home soon, so you decided to make him his favorite food – pasta. it wasn't much, just a small pot, enough for the both of you.

the sound of the car pulling up, followed by the garage door being shut gruffly startled you. matt was already bickering with chris.

"you really know how to make someone's day shit, don't you? you just had to hold the camera, now we lost half the fucking footage!"

matt snapped, tossing his backpack down on the sofa. he didn't even notice you standing there. he'd never come home so upset before. you didn't know what to do. chris followed in sheepishly, an apologetic look written across his face.

"hi baby-"

you started, your voice a small whisper. matt turned around to face you, looking like he was about to snap. your eyes widened in slight fear.

"do you ever shut up? i'm clearly busy, just wait for once."

he snapped once again. tears brimmed your eyes as you nodded slowly, walking away. you knew he was stressed out but this? this was a bit much, he'd never snapped at you. you wondered if it was somehow your fault – maybe you upset him earlier when you forgot to clean the bedroom up, or last night when he had to tidy the dinner table.

you devided to let him cool down for a while, before gently padding up to the door of the bedroom. you anxiously pushed it open, your voice a soft whisper

"matt? can i come in?"

he looked up, his expression much softer – almost guilty. he nodded swiftly, slowly opening his arms. he mouthed a soft "please" as you approached him. he brought you into a soft embrace, embarassedly dipping his head down into your neck.

"i'm so sorry..i'm so sorry sweetheart, i dunno what came over me earlier, no excuse for me takin' my stress out on you, 'm sorry."

he mumbled against your skin, repeatedly pressing ever so sweet kisses to your cheek. you eased into the touch, accepting his genuine apology.

"it's okay, i'm not mad"

he made it up to you with whispers of adoration, actions of affections. you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards him. yes, he got upset at you. yes, it hurt your feelings slightly. but he was mature enough to apologize. that's what you adored the most about him

tags !

@mattscoquette @blahbel668 @emely9274 @pearlzier @wompwomp-1

@bernardsgfs @sturnsxplr-25 @aesthetixhoe @jetaimevous @alyrasturnz

@adorsturns @cvntytiger @d0e-b4by @lysielaced @zay-sturns

@lanaswifeyy

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

You were always meant to be with Logan, but your ex is Erik

Erik had cheated on you, you never wanted that to happen to you. You watched it happen with your parents and you promised to never do it. Even when you felt the urge you knew it was impulsive of your insecurities and doubts, not you. Because you loved Erik, in a way that you tried to understand him for so long, that you lost parts of yourself.

You had met Logan in the 60s when you tried to recruit him, even back then he'd flirted with you. Erik growing jealous and taking it out on you later, in bed. That's the way the two of you communicated, through sex, usually rough and quiet. He'd talk with you afterwards but there is gut feeling deep down that it was over. When he got arrested, you were pissed telling him to not get involved with the president, but he wouldn't listen.

When a future Logan came back to the 70s, he was immediately drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Little did you know that the two of you were together in the future. As he woke up to you, coincidentally last night had been the night the two of you met. Your arm slung around him, as he turned over, he gave you head before fucking you slow and hard. Savoring every moment, he had with you, knowing you would go back to Erik one last time before waiting for him.

In the future, the two of you in love, married, you even have a child and another on the way. This mission was important, but he was in love with you. Even if you were different now, and you were freshly off being with Logan. He wouldn't mind being the reason you got over him. His memory would be wiped before he met you again.

Though even after the two of you wound up hooking up, you went back to Erik, leaving with him before he decided he was going to leave you.

You watched him on and off with Mystique for years, cheating on you, leaving you for months at a time. You wanted to settle down, start a family, something that he left you for. He met a different woman and you found your own way in the world. Fresh off the breakup, as he'd been cheating on you for months before he proposed to this other woman.

Wondering through the world heartbroken, you stumbled upon Charles and the X-men. Due to your mutation, you didn't age, a reason why Erik didn't want you, he'd grow old, and you wouldn't. Though he didn't mind that trait in Mystique, you thought. Because even after his wife died, he went after you trying to bring you on to his side, saying that you were the love of his life. Your emotions made you stumble over yourself, giving in to him for the night but going back to where you belonged in the morning.

Somewhere in Erik's mind he believed that Charles brainwashed you. Though he did quite the opposite, giving you a space to be free, think for yourself and be treated with more respect than Erik ever gave you. For a guy so high and mighty about saving mutants, he's gotten many killed in his lifetime. Something you also had to blame yourself for when you were standing by his side.

But then eventually you had told Erik off in the end, explaining that you didn't want him. Living years alone, watching others like Jean and Scott fall in love and stay together for years. When Logan came around, he immediately had a crush on you. Making you flustered with jokes and flirting, stolen moments together. You had told him a piece of his past and he believed you. Taking in every word and confirming that he'd met you in the past. Though he didn't go into detail, eventually you did. Slowly revealing the full truth that the two of you had filthy hot sex in a hotel room.

The two of you slowly falling together and when he planned on leaving, he left you with his metals, promising to be faithful and to always come back to you. Kissing you on the lips before leaving with a bag slung over his shoulder. He had been back, the two of escaping with the kids before trying to get them to safety. At one point, you had to fight Magento, coming head to head with your ex. Showing him that you weren't just doe-eyed deer with no direction, you were strong and eventually you'd gotten the serum and you left him powerless.

tags: @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

[brandwhorestarscream]

thinking about Impactor teaching D16 everything he needs to know about interfacing. It'll be fun he promises.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god yes, Impactor is an older miner, having been around long enough and kept such a good record of consistent quota-meeting that he got promoted several times over the years, such to the point that he was granted a transformation cog. He watches over and helps manage the mines, inspecting veins to determine if they're safe to excavate, and keeps an eye on the little cogless one scurrying about

He takes D-16 under his wing, after seeing him run back into a collapsing tunnel to retrieve someone that surely would have died otherwise. The kid is strong, and sweet, and actually seems to quite enjoy his work, humming while he sorts energon and often giving little impromptu presentations about his job 🤭

Impactor's a busy mech and doesn't have much time to dedicate to D-16 personally, but when he does he vows to make the most of it. Pulling the little miner into his lap, D's back pressed against his chassis while Impactor's thick arms wrap around him and pin him there. He spreads D-16's cute little thighs, cooing at way he whines and squirms. Sentinel Prime heavily advocates for chastity, not wanting anyone accidentally kindling, and claims that interfacing is sacred and should only be done with someone you love and trust. Impactor is so gentle and sweet with little D-16, praising his work ethic and his quality of spark, and the little miner just melts. No one's ever said such nice things to him before, he can't help but feel hot and squirmy and flustered.

He barely protests when Impactor rubs the front of his modesty panels, teasing at the seams til it retracts eagerly. Cute little spike already erect and bobbing in the air, D-16 blushes and covers his face. Impactor wraps it in a thick, meaty hand and the minibot in his lap keens loudly and squirms. He's never had anyone else touch him before, it's too much! Overstimulated and they haven't even started yet 🤭 what an adorable little virgin

Impactor kisses his neck and begins to work his spike over with his hand, observing from every angle as D-16 moans and shivers in his lap, a puddle of lubricant beginning to dribble over this thighs as his untouched little valve clenches on nothing and slicks up excitedly. Impactor brings his other hand down and rubs at the miner's anterior node, massaging it in circles before beginning to slowly, carefully, slide his first finger inside of him. D-16's a perfect mess, trying to roll his hips into the sensation as Impactor fingers him and jerks him off at the same time, legs trembling and vocalizer squealing despite his valiant attempts to be quiet 🤭

It's quite awhile before D-16 is anywhere near ready to take Impactor's huge spike, and even after 3 overloads and working his valve open for over a megacycle, it's still an incredibly tight squeeze. D's body ceases up and his back bows, optics rolling into his helm and vents gushing steam as Impactor slides his thick spike home. D-16 is shuddering, sobbing dryly in overstimulated ecstasy, and can't do anything but hold on for dear life when Impactor's hands wrap around his waist, picking him up and gently starting to bounce him up and down. Speared on his cock and yowling like a mech in heat, D-16 comes undone as he's made to ride his supervisor. His valve spasms and spurts fluid around the thick rod impaling him, and Impactor kisses tears off his pretty face. D-16 is definitely his new favorite, he decides later, watching the cute little bot waddling away and struggling not to let his peers know exactly what he was doing

[aangelinakii]

JASON TODD + JEALOUSY.

note : the request said being foolishly jealous of dick x reader, but i decided to just do jealousy headcanons ! hope this is okay thanks for requesting :)

not a jealous guy but more likely to get jealous you know ?

especially if he is very attached

because he'll think anyone is trying to take you away, even though he knows it's just insecurity in the back of his mind

can get quite protective but always feels a lil guilty about it 💀

because he doesn't want to be possessive or make you feel uncomfortable, but he feels either uncomfortable or inferior

so i guess it's just a defense mechanism

definitely would appreciate reassurance from time to time

just to help keep him grounded

and so he knows yoy actually like him dawg 😭😭

gets a bit worried about thag sometimes

probably is more internally jealous than he lets on

like in his head he's like

who the fuck is this cunt thinking they can talk to my s/o likz that like i'm literally right here ??? i'm huge i'm literally red hood i literally died and came back to life and they're FLRITING right INF ROTN OF ME

but on the outside he's like biting thr inside of his cheek and looks more nervous than anything

is scared of seeming too possessive so won't always step in if he thinks you have it handled (because he trusts you ! )

but also sometimes will take control of the situation if he can tell you're getting uncomfortable

in those cases, he puffs out his chest, crosses his arms to flex those huge biceps he's got like gawd damn

and asks if the person (probably a weird guy let's be real) if they're bothering you

and they get the idea quick

because jason knows how to make himself look intimidating if needs be !!

on the offhand time he'll get properly jealous, it will definitely show itself as protectiveness

an arm around the shoulder or waist, eyes glancing around to glare at anyone prying, a few kisses on the side of your head

i jsut copy and pasted that from my jason todd abc's (self promo ??????)

he doesn't want to admit it (and would deny it now if you asked) but he was jealous of dick one time

brought you to a family gathering

because obviously he's proud of you and wants to show you to his family <3

possibly refrained from warning you of dick's wonderfully effortless boyish charm

bc he didn't want to seem crazy boyfriend stalker ex protective possessive alpha

( help )

and couldn't help but feel his jaw tighten when he saw dick approach you from the other side of the living room whilst he'd gone to grab yoj a drink

really, he doesn't have anything to worry about

i think really really subconsciously he realises he was the second robin, trying to live up to dick

just some family generational shit and then of course his own more personal trauma

but that stuff always bubbles back up at family events

it's just a case of whether or not he lets it show

but omfg this time he let it fuckin show

appears behind dick with your drink and "accidentally" knocks into him, pretending like he spilled something on dick's shirt just to be a cunt

it was the safest option to get dick to escape to find the bathroom and leave yoj two alone for a bit

until he realised jason was lying and comes right back

but at least jason was with you now

and knew how to navigate dick's antics

but literally if you ask him if he was feeling jealous or insecure about it he'll wave it off and be like lmfao what no i genuinely thought i got somz of your drink on his shirt lollll what are you on about

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

⋆ ₊ ☽ ·˚𓍲𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓵 𓍲˚· ☾ ₊ ⋆

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: you and billy love each other so much but sometimes it seems you are doomed to repeat the sins of your father.

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: billy the kid x reader

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓼: angst (but this time with a happier ending!), yelling, anger, talks of underage drinking and underage sex, talks of daddy issues, established relationship

𝓪/𝓷: i have a million other drafts but i was very much inspired to write this immediately so... enjoy : )

You and Billy loved each other to the moon and back. Really, you did. 

The first time you two had met was magical. Sunsets and nights together plagued your memory as soft kisses and warm embraces accompanied love that spilled over the top. 

You had been running away from a home that was more like a prison. Ever since your mother died, your father had been slaving away at work and giving up the rest of him to alcohol, whores, and blunts. 

You knew it wasn’t healthy for you father, and you tried so goddamn hard to resist, to change, that you ended up falling into the sins of your father as well.

You slept around and at the tender age of 17, drunk the nights away in your house where your father would only come for a new shirt and new pants.

You tried so hard to atone once you finally found yourself, the prison of your mind had finally been opened and you could finally see the daylight once more. So, you took every worldly possession of yours and fled. You took a horse and rode as far as you could, only stopping at small rivers and streams to get water and rest for a bit. 

It was exhausting, running from town to town as far away as you could. But that was when you found a darling little town right by the mountains to stay in, it was quaint and plenty of people were looking for new employees. 

You particularly fell in love with this small apothecary shop. It was run by Mr.Edwards, a darling old man who treated you more like a grandchild rather than an employee. He had given you a place to stay and food to eat as you helped him procure all kinds of herbs and spices grown at the foot of the mountain.

Many people had called you a witch, some called you a healer. 

Billy thought more along the lines of Angel. 

When Billy first laid eyes on you, he couldn’t help but fall in love. He had brought in this poor cat who had been so skinny that she was near death. 

Billy had been frantically trying to find anyone who would help the poor feline when he happened upon you while hysterically begging every passerby if they knew any vets in the town or anyone who could at least help the poor cat Billy had decidedly named Precious. 

You had dropped your basket onto the ground and immediately held out your arms taking the kitty into your arms to take a look at what ailed the poor precious little thing. You had immediately decided that Mr.Edwards would be of much more help than you so you urgently asked Billy to take your basket with him and led him to the shop where you were able to make some medicine and feed Precious.

As you took care of Precious you had also inadvertently started taking care of Billy. 

As time went on, Billy didn’t feel the need to run away from this town, from you. He was so very happy whenever he was with you, eyes dazzling and lips perfect for kissing. 

You two were in love, so so so in love. 

Billy stayed as did you. He stayed even when Jesse rode into town looking for the hydrangea eyed cowboy. You stayed even when Billy rode out to Lincoln to help his buddies. He stayed even when Mr.Edwards died and you decided to keep the shop. You stayed even when Billy started working with Tunstall, even bringing one of their weekly meetings to your home. 

You two stayed for each other, that alone spoke volumes more than “I love you.”

But sometimes, the long day apart and short nights together were exhausting. Most nights you were already asleep when Billy got home.

He’d defeatedly kick off his worn leather boots and hang his hat on one of the old worn out wooden chairs at the table. He’d take his blouse of the day off and throw it at the foot of your shared bed where you would lay sleeping peacefully, dreaming of a day when you and Billy can forget the world and live happily ever after together, forever.

Billy’d curl up next, arms wrapping themselves around your waist as he pulls you closer to him. You’d shift, feeling Billy’s warm chest against your back and his strong arms wrapped protectively around you. Even Precious would feel Billy’s presence because without fail, she’d strut into the room, her tail held high as she jumped up and onto the bed curling right next to your and Billy’s entangled legs.

In the morning, you would wake much earlier than Billy, hesitantly pull yourself away from his protective and loving hold and head out for the day. Breakfast was always ready for him since you’d always make enough for the both of you. 

It was always so lonely. Sure, sometimes you’d wait up for him in the morning and Billy’d try to get home super early just for you but it wasn’t enough.

Especially when the war started. 

Billy knew you were strong enough to handle yourself, he made sure of it. He taught you how to shoot, how to fight hand to hand, even knife work. 

Billy had known exactly what he had signed up for by joining Charlie and the Regulators. Long weeks filled with running and shooting down the House. Weeks spent in Lincoln slowly blended into a month. Billy’s days were no longer filled with your sweet smile and slow loving moments but rather vicious bloody days where he’d dream about your loving gaze meeting his eyes and pray you were still safe. 

You rarely saw Billy during those periods of time. You had understood why he undertook the heroic mission of helping Lincoln but it still hurt, especially to admit, that he had chosen to help the town rather than stay with you. You still loved him of course, nothing could ever make you stop, and you were so proud of him for standing up for what was right but it got lonely. Alone, you could handle yourself pretty well, but nothing could get rid of the loneliness leeching onto you, sucking all happiness and joy from your soul. 

Billy still wanted you protected so he had asked one of the Regulators to follow you, from the house to the shop to the darling shop you always bought lunch and pastries from to your supplier. Billy knew you wouldn’t like it but he couldn’t help but assign one of them to make sure you were still safe. He even forced them to send him weekly letters updating him on how you were. He felt so bad, a war raging so violently in his mind that he couldn’t even sleep. 

He missed you. He missed your smile, your tender gaze, your humor, your love. Billy misses all of it. 

As did you. You missed Billy so much that you had started to write his name as your own in orders from the shop. You missed Billy so much that you had to sleep in your old bedroom because sleeping in the room that you and Billy had shared hurt too damn much to be alone in that room. 

And that’s how you spent your time. All by yourself, you spent the winter months worrying about Billy, trying to tell the boy who had been following and, supposedly, protecting you to leave you alone. You worked yourself half to death. You could barely stomach any food from the nervous stone that settled in your stomach. You were angry, sad, happy, depressed, joyous, nervous, just everything all at once. You felt like you were going crazy, you decided to write letters to Billy, none of which he responded to. You’d almost got on your horse and rode out to Lincoln yourself to see what was going on over there. 

Of course, the young boy watching you had expressly stopped you and forced you to turn around. He gave you a bullshit excuse telling you that Billy was fine, alive. 

You didn’t believe it. You knew Billy, he was probably making sure everyone else stayed alive, slaving away at night strategizing new ways to make the House sweat. You knewI he’d be putting everyone before himself and you knew that sooner or later he’d make a mistake and he’d pay the price.

If only you had been wrong.

“He’s been shot! He needs help NOW!” One of the men yelled, a bleeding Billy being hoisted on his and another’s shoulder.

You had been sitting by the balmy fire, trying your best to stay warm in the dead of winter. Truth was, you couldn’t sleep. It was one of those nights where you missed Billy so much that you couldn’t sleep unless his big polar bear arms were wrapped around you.

You were startled awake when a loud banging sound came from your door. You reached for your shotgun as you stalked carefully towards the door only to be met with two young men holding a bleeding, unconscious Billy.

You  started moving immediately, running upstairs to grab towels and a basin of water. You quickly moved everything off the table, laying down the creamy white towels. The men laid Billy down, a soft groan escaping his pale lips.

Your heart raced, a strong erratic drum beat ringing in your ears as unshed tears burned behind your eyes. You pressed your hands to his wounds, one on his chest, one on his upper arm.

“We need to undress him. I have some medical supplies in the bathroom down the hall, will one of you get them?” You turned to the taller one with who had taken off his hat. He nodded, racing down the hallway to the bathroom.

Your attention went back onto Billy. “Will you help me take off his shirt?” You turned to the one Billy had made follow you. He froze, his eyes moving erratically from the door to Billy. 

You looked to the door only to see that another man walked in.

“How’s he Tom?”

“I- uh I dunno, h-he won’t s-stop bleedin sir.”

“Now don’t you sir me, ain’t no superior o yours.”

The two complete strangers continued their back and forth all the while you had tended to Billy all by yourself.

The other one finally came back with the medical box. You nodded your thanks before getting to work.

You were washing your hands before even one of the men came up to you. They figured it was better to let you work.

The feel of Billy’s, your Billy’s, blood on your own hands nearly made you vomit. It hurt to know that the first time you saw Billy in months was under these grim circumstances. Him bleeding out on your dining table where you two used to kiss so softly in the early mornings; you wrapped wearing a dress that Billy had once called the most brilliant shade of you, hands stained red with his blood.

“Hey miss, are you okay?” Asked one of the men. You turned to him, his hat in his hands, his eyes trained on the ground. 

You wiped your hands, your skin was raw and tingly from rubbing them so hard against the gruff towel.

“‘M fine, just didn’t think that the first time Billy comes home in nearly two months would be because he was shot.” 

He looks up at you, “Charlie Bowdre ma’am, I’m one of the farmers fighting with Billy on this noble cause.” 

He held his hand out to you, you gingerly took his hand shaking it.

“‘M very grateful you brought him back in one piece though, and so quickly too. Who knows how high his chances of survival would’ve been if you had gotten him here even one minute later.”

Charlie nodded and walked away, leaving you to the silence that your home offered.

Billy felt a sharp stinging pain as he hazily woke up. His eyes adjusted to his surroundings. 

He felt himself panic, his heart rate spiking as he felt that he was no longer wearing any clothes or in the cold harsh New Mexico winter. 

He sat up suddenly, pain sharp as barbed wire wrapped around his torso shooting up his spine, a groan leaving his lips. He looked around, squinting at the bright room he was in.

A loud thud drew his attention to you in the doorway, tears flowing down your peachy cheeks. The clean bowl in your hands was now on the floor at your feet as you hurriedly ran to Billy who lay on your bed.

Billy opened his arms as you collapsed right into him, a soft sigh leaving him as he buried his nose into your hair. You sobbed into his shoulder, his bare torso wet from your tears.

He wrapped his arms weakly around you, a dull pain shooting up and down his body racing around as he felt you cling onto him harder.

You pull away for a brief moment, your warm, tender, loving hand moving Billy’s clingy curls away from his face as your hand cups his cheek, kissing him tenderly.

He pressed further into you as his calloused hands remained steady on your hips. He rests his forehead against yours, his breaths slowing down. No words needed to be spoken amongst you two, the silence comforting to the two of you.

You finally look up at his topaz eyes as his eyes search yours. You press another soft kiss to his chapped lips, the feel of his rough and bloody lips on yours enough to light a fire within you to find whoever hurt your Billy. 

“How’re you feeling Billy?”

“‘M good now ‘m back ‘ere with you.” He smiles softly.

You sit up straight, distancing yourself with Billy. You don’t miss the flash wave of hurt that overtakes Billy’s eyes.

You stand, your arms crossing across your chest in indignation. “And you have come back, but after how long? Hmm? Has it even occurred to you that the first time I see you in months shouldn’t be because you’re running from the House or from the Law or whoever hurt you?”

“Baby, pretty mama, ya know I’d never ever want t’leave ya, right? Darlin’, I don’t want you caught up in all this fightin’.”

“Billy,” You sit next to the wounded outlaw, your hands coming to cup his face. His stubbly chin leaning into your hand, “I can help you and your friends. I know you know that, and yet you still left me. Love, I can handle myself, you made sure of it.”

“But I can’t protect you out there, every night, every day, I can’t always be there for ya Angel.”

“Billy, that’s the whole point. You don’t need to protect me, I can protect myself, I’ve been protecting myself.”

“Darlin’, ain;t no one out there that knows what tomorrow brings. I jus’ don’t wanna lose you.”

You scoff, “Exactly Billy, yet you seem to throw yourself out there anyway. I missed you, so much that it killed me to know that you could be dead out there. Dead! And I wouldn;t even know until your people send one of those poor farmer’s sons to tell me. I mean has it ever occurred to you that maybe, just maybe it would be a good idea to send me proof of life or something, maybe even, I dunno, a response even one of the letters I sent you?”

“Angel…”

“Billy, you don’t need to coddle me, okay? You don’t need to hide me from the war you’re fighting. I told you, I can help! I’ve been through much much worse I guarantee. And you can barely protect yourself, I mean just look at yourself! You came home bloody and bleeding and I had to fish TWO bullets out of you, TWO! If you think that you are in any condition to fight out there, even to protect me then you sir, have another thing coming for you. If only you had let me he-”

“You will not involve yourself in this war, you hear me Angel. Never. ‘M sorry you feel that way and ‘m sorry I hurt you darlin’ but we are done talking about this, you will stay here for your protection.” He yells, standing up from the bed, towering over you. His nostrils flare and his arms grasp your own in his large hands.

You shake his arms off of you, turning away and walking to the door, burning, unshed tears welling in your eyes. Billy grabs your arm pulling you to him, your face pressed into his muscular chest. His arms came up to cradle your head, holding you there.

“Pretty mama, you have to understand,” he brings his hand to tilt your chin up, his deep ocean eyes, “I can’t lose you.” 

His thumbs rub your cheeks. You bring your hand up to cover his, his touch inviting you to lean into the familiar warmth of him.

“Billy, I can’t lose you either. Which is why you have to let me help you.”

“Baby, it’s not safe out there. Who knows what kind of monsters are out there to take you away from me darlin’.”

“Billy, love, I’ve been with those monsters before, I once called them family. I drank and ate with them as have you dearest. Ain’t nothing out there that could take me away from you, over my dead body.”

He nods solemnly and kisses you so gently, you’re afraid of breaking the moment into a million shards. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, breathing him in as you kiss him again urgently. Slowly, he lifts you up and carries you two back onto the bed, leaving everything to the wind.

sorry for another long one, hope you enjoyed! (lets also not mention how long it took me to post this)

[theoxenfree]

BOUNTY

hot gunslinging outlaw x reader | 2.7k

following your bitter mother's death, you come to learn that you're the illegitimate child of the most powerful man in san-am, soon to come into a vast inheritance as he is on his deathbed. what you anticipate to be an uneventful train across the country comes to a screeching halt when a mysterious man boards and tells you there's a substantial bounty on your head.

warnings; multiple mentions of death, brief blood mention, some graphic details, kidnapping, roughly proofread, post-apocalyptic setting, neo-western, reposted from old blog 2kmps

this is a concept piece for a larger project. please offer feedback to the questions at the end + reblog!! it really helps out with the project development and honing in on what y'all wanna see in the finished story!

Mother died a week before the lawyer showed up on your doorstep with an inheritance letter and half-hearted condolences for your absentee father’s poor prognosis. A day after that, your life was stowed into a pair of suitcases and a heavier hard case that you barely justified bringing aboard the train. In three weeks and three layovers, you would be across the continent in St. Corpus, the industrial heart of San-Am, where your father awaited you on his deathbed.

Horace Grissom had fathered a new age of industry and outward expansion in lands once believed to be sprawling metropolises centuries long gone. They had been left behind as skeletons of steel and rust from a time of global war, reclaimed in totality by the roots of elder trees, the decay of salt and sea, the precarious will of mountains, and the great sinkholes and corrosion of sand and time.

Traces of that old world had survived thanks in part to the rigorous efforts of archaeologists and conservationists at the University of San-Am in Grimerise. With each new discovery, opportunistic vultures like your father blotted their pens to their tongues to their pocketbooks and readied themselves to own the patent of it like history had a price and could only belong to them. Indeed, anything could be bought, because with those fragments of history, he built the San-Am Continental Railroad which crossed through each of the five territories and was considered the premier way to travel.

You were never allowed to ask questions about Horace under Mother’s roof as the very mention of his name would set her ablaze in some pettish, garrulous tantrum that, oftentimes, ended with you going to bed before dusk without dinner until the next day. She loved that bitterness up until the very moment she died, clawing your clothes, your skin, her nightgown, her own throat because she couldn't breathe and there was nothing you could do to save her from succumbing.

“Go in peace, Mother.” you said, kissing the back of her sun-speckled hand even as she tried digging her nails into your face. “I love you.”

She did not waste peacefully, nor did she end by staring up rapturously at the ceiling as though something else waited for her beyond it. Mother passed in blood, vomit, excrement, and all her hatred while you bade her farewell and considered who was best to call to have her body carted away to burn with all the others that had also succumbed that day. You made sure to label that as the cause of death on the official paperwork.

After that, you had made quick work of piling all of her things into boxes to be incinerated as well, certified the house was safe and in a liveable state (besides her old mattress, which was the first thing you disposed of because of the smell) for another family to move into.

Once all of that had been finished and you gained the time to rest, you got a knock at your door, a bald, sinewy man with a round hat claiming to be Joseph Whitwald—estate planning lawyer, he made sure to specify more than once—and that you needed to leave post haste to your father's estate in St. Corpus before he perished.

“You have significant placement in his will, illegitimate or not. This is what he wanted, this is what shall be done,” said Whitwald assuredly as he rooted through the pockets of his pants and white suit vest for something. He found it and made a sound and a flourish, revealing to you a red ticket. “Take this. It's for one of the elite cabins in first class. Your father wanted you to have the best amenities that the San-Am Continental has to offer.”

Even with such luxuries available to you with the sound of a bell on string, you eventually found yourself exchanging tickets with a young woman traveling solo for the first time. She went red in the eyes, asserted her appreciation, and scooped you into a hug before taking the ticket and her belongings to the first car.

The passenger car was considerably noisier with children running amok, drunks and musicians belting tunes while dancing in the center aisle—doing poorly to keep their balance as the train navigated the terrain beneath the rails, and ladies in bustles and fashionable blouses screaming like hens over fresh gossip. The stewards were frustrated that they couldn't get their trolleys through all the bodies, whereas some passengers let their stomachs roar through their mouths as they assailed anyone nearby (especially the poor lads just trying to deliver food) with complaints.

You liked everything happening around you; it was a good distraction from the way life had twisted your arm behind your back. The cacophony of laughter and anger felt like home, a comfortable companion to sit there with you on the empty, thinly padded benches while you stared uselessly at the inheritance papers—uncomprehending.

A gasp shot up your throat and made you bite your tongue as you were launched forward onto the adjacent bench (also empty) when the train suddenly began to slow—brakes engaged with such quickness that the wood beams under your feet vibrated up through your soles into your bones and teeth and skull until you became lightheaded and collapsed back into your seat.

The squeal and grind of steel worsened your confusion, turned the fuzz in your head into dull drumming—aches that pulsed to a beat you couldn't figure out, but it deadened the screams all around you and bodies hitting the floorboards in thunderous heaps.

And then, there was silence.

The other passengers kept their voices low as they climbed back into their seats, children were smothered deep into their mother’s bosoms as they wept, and no one dared to investigate what had brought the train to such a violent stop.

“Mummy, what's happening?” asked a girl from the benches behind you. She couldn't have been older than ten, from the sound of her. “Mummy, why—”

“Lottie!” the mother hissed at her daughter, “Shhh! Say nothing else, child.”

From a few seats away, closer to the front, you recognized the gruff, muddled voice from one of the drunkards who had been dancing in the aisle a while ago. Now, he had a bloody nose and a nasty knot growing on his forehead.

“What the hell is the big idea of them scarin’ the piss outta us like this? Do you see my face? They gonna do somethin’ to fix it?” he complained, then swigged liquor from a flask he had smuggled on. “I should go up there and give ‘em a piece of my mind. Bastards.”

“Peace, friend,” soothed a musician with an unfamiliar accent and stringed instrument. “Don't be hasty. I'm sure there’s a good reason why they had to stop. Let them find a solution, we’re just here for the ride.”

Just as the chatter was rising up again, commotion from the first class car stifled it hard, prompting some folks to abandon their seats near the door separating the cars to crowd into the rear. You were tempted to flee with them, join their pack so if they were going to find a way off the train, you'd be mixed up in their stampede and have a better chance to get away.

Except, you simply packed away your inheritance paperwork and sat there with your chin tucked to the collarbone, the visor of your baseball cap pulled lower over your sunglasses to seem as nondescript as possible. Meanwhile, the sounds from first class grew intense; glass shattered, passengers screamed and shuffled around, something you knew to be true because you felt the floor rumble under your feet again.

And then, the passenger car door slid open without the ferocity you had expected. The door scraped along its metal rail, allowing the body to pass through in heavy, languid steps. You paced your breaths to hear it all; the boots and clinking spurs striking wood with dull thuds, a baritone hum that you were convinced you could feel reverberate in your own chest as it came closer, the scuff of thick fabric and creaking leather.

You waited for it all to pass, to move on like a slow-moving rain cloud amidst a humid summer day, but it stopped at you instead. The tips of the man's boots were within view, as were slithers of tattered, black fabric from a long duster that fell short of his shins.

And then, there was the barrel of a gun. The breaths you had been holding shivered out of you, cold dread sank deep into your stomach and bones as the gun flicked upward a few times.

You obeyed and raised your head up to look at the man—tall, broad-shouldered, a rugged face with dark features mostly obscured by the shadow of his wide rim.

He tilted his head, gun higher as he flicked it down and you understood that to mean to take off your sunglasses. When you did so, offering him a full view of your face, his lips lifted crookedly into a half-smile.

“Well then,” he took the bench adjacent to you before holding something up to your head, seemingly a piece of paper, and shifted his gaze between you and it just twice. “Aren't you something special? Found you, darlin’.”

“What?” you frowned. “Found me?”

“Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny. You're definitely his kid. It's all in the eyes, really.” He said, turning the paper around to reveal a photograph of a man who you did share an eerie likeness to. It was the sameness in the eyes—the color and shape and emotion they evoked through a simple still image. “Horace Grissom had an illegitimate kid a long time ago. Turns out, not everyone is so pleased for that to become public knowledge. Turns out, someone wants you to bite the ground.”

“I've done nothing wrong!” you bristled.

He settled on the bench and hiked an arm up across the back of it. “That's usually how it goes, hun. Puttin’ holes in types like you really ain't my favorite thing to do. You'd be surprised how many people get put in your exact situation. Well, eh, not quite. ‘Cause not everyone is Horace Grissom’s kid.”

“Who hired you?” you demanded.

His lopsided smile remained. “Can't tell you that, darlin’. Confidentiality an’ all that.”

“So, then, you're a bounty hunter?” At this point, you weren't sure if you were trying to stave off an inevitability, or he had just riled you up that badly. “How much are you getting?”

“Enough to live the high-life for quite a while, I'd say.” He continued, “but I ain't no bounty hunter. Them folks gotta play by rulebooks an’ a bunch of codes and whatever. Not my thing.”

“A criminal, then,” you said. “An outlaw.”

He shifted the rim of his hat away from his eyes and leaned towards a pillar of golden, midmorning sunlight that came in through the window. “Sure, if that's what'll make you feel better about this entire thing.”

You could actually see him now—the contrast between the ambery hue in his rich complexion and pale green of his eyes. His skin had some weather to it, enough to prove that he had seen the worst of every season for years on end without it wearing him thin, along with thoroughly kempt hair on his face and loose waves that draped slightly beyond his shoulders.

“I…” the longer he stared at you, the less you were able to think. That was ridiculous considering you had survived the soul-crushing burden of engineering school and all of the personalities therein. “I can offer you something better than what you were hired for.”

He did a fast sweep of the colossal heaps of fabric hanging from your frame, a style you preferred to keep eyes off of you on the best and worst of days. It didn't do much to deter him as it did others.

“Oh, yeah? Whaddya got, hun?”

You lifted your shoulders and stacked your bones right. “I've got a vast inheritance that I'm not interested in. Horace is dying and I’m in his will to receive half his properties, along with his shares in the San-Am Continental Railway and Subsidiaries. If you can get me to St. Corpus, you can have the inheritance—every last gris.”

A shrill whistle echoed around your head, tuneful and mocking. The sound of it whittled your confidence back down to nothing, filling the space of your throat with a vise that you couldn't seem to swallow around. That same great unease you had felt before weaseled around in your chest, coiled your ribs and then plunged straight down into your gut.

“Good offer, but it ain't on the table.” The way he spoke was easy and slow, a thick drawl that suited every bit of him up to even now. He acted as though he weren't essentially holding a gun to your head, threatening your life in the name of money—or something else. “Gris is always good to have lyin’ around, but, honey, it don't really mean a lot to a man like me. Why, then, d’ya think I take on work like this? Why do ya think I trek halfway across the five territories time and time again? What really keeps a man goin’ out here in this godforsaken place?”

You felt yourself shrink in your seat as he leaned forward over his thighs, coming closer still like he had a secret to keep. “It's for the thrill. The hunt. The challenge of it all. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't actively seek out men to shoot or… nice types like you, but part of the fun is trackin’ down, the other part is just havin’ a chat—just like this.”

Then, he had the picture of Horace held out to you between two fingers. “Tell ya what, I see that hard case you brought aboard. I know what it is, but I want you to offer me somethin’ more interesting than a bunch of gris.”

You scrunched the photograph against your palm once you had it, hoping the sweat off your skin would ruin his face and make the ink run, but looked to the aforementioned hard case instead.

It was made of a hard plastic shell with strips of rubber outlining the odd shape of the thing. Inside was your handheld welding gun—one of many—that you had decided to bring along for little reason besides thinking it could be of use at some point during your time away. It wouldn't be enough to handle larger jobs such as the ones you were accustomed to in the workshop back in Grimerise, but it could fix a wagon or two, glue some pipes together, and do some damage if need be.

“C’mon, darlin’, sell yourself to me.” he pressed, gesturing his impatience with winding fingers. “What do you do for a living, huh?”

“I'm an engineer,” you continued hastily, “I-I can solder, weld, braze, cut, and saw. I can do anything if I have the right equipment.”

In turn, he asked, “Does that mean you can cut open a safe?”

“If you give me what I need, I can do anything.” you said.

A new sort of look overcame his features, one of great fondness and admiration that made the green of his eyes take on the milky luster of jade. You had the hope that this unique softness would gain you freedom from a shallow, empty death; a chance to go forward to seize the assets sworn to you by a man you'd never known.

His hands came forward to take your wrists, the weight of them first heavy and then cold as a pair of handcuffs were locked around you, knocking bone when you lunged back into your seat and fought against them.

“I've got myself quite boon!” In the next moment, he had hauled you up across his shoulder, retrieved both your suitcases, and called one of the stewards to carry your welding gun after him. “Time to go. Gotta introduce you to the crew and get ya settled in.”

“Wait, I don't even know your name!” you shouted and thrashed from shoulder.

He grinned. “Jericho, darlin’.”

a/n: thank you for reading, and hopefully (pls 🥹) reblogging this first concept piece! let me give you a little bit of background before launching into questions:

this entire idea came to be after reading/watching trigun, watching fallout prime, playing fallout 4, and prior playing my time at sandrock. setting-wise, I imagine the story will have some similarities between all of these things while putting mainly my own spin on the sci-fi western genre.

I intend for this project to be around 90k-100k by the time it is completed and will be the longest piece of writing I've done to date. additionally, I am building the entire world from the ground up and genuinely hoping to execute an extremely immersive reading experience! it is currently in the brainstorming and rough outlining stage, but I am making polls and asking for feedback to help move the process along.

I'd like to up to 2-3 additional concept pieces bc the scale of this project is so large. which concept piece would you like to see next, first? 1) an intimate moment sitting around the fire with jericho 2) jericho teaching mc how to shoot and gets very, very close.

currently, what is your impression of jericho's character? what could I do to improve upon him?

would you prefer for this story to be streamlined w/ the main focus on mc reaching st. corpus + theirs and jericho's romance? or, would you like prev mentioned + detailed character arcs of the other characters in jericho's crew?

this story is neo-western, but is definitely an adventure and epic at heart. is there anything in particular you'd be interested in seeing me write for a story like this? different areas around the continent? creatures? cultures? spend some extra time in st. corpus?

[zexal-bunny20]

Please let them reunite... 🥲

[ubejamjar]

ffxiv rarepair week || jantoirel

artoirel's eyes are 'forget-me-not blue' and jandelaine could never forget them, forget him.

[beansterpie]

rewatching LoK, i'm being reminded how much I dislike the.... the brothers, mako and bolin, yanno? they're such underwhelming characters on basically every level. it'd almost be impressive if they weren't in every episode and didn't annoy me so much ugh

[dirt-str1der]

Saejima and majima are so guys that walk around the city for hours and then ask okay where are we going / idk i was following you / but i was following you

[faaun]

flabbergasted???

[makeitlookdecent]

srry homie for what im boutta do

for the au[other colors] i thought it would be cool to have klugs parents show up for a couple scenes, but for the timeline of the major events i needed them GONE and UNRESPONSIVE.

hes smart so i think, even at a young age, he gets that they're busy with work and all, and he's not alone per say- his friends and teachers and everyone in primp would definitely look out for him, but ive just been thinking. because like, i thought itd be cool if it was almost like strange also helped raise klug. as a (malicious) mentor of sorts. after they made truce (that they both keep breaking)

i imagine klugs parents are probably good people, but are horrible as parents. like they just keep doing their own thing and just let the village raise him.

but then that got me thinking, in this setting, do you think he would unknowingly (or maybe knowingly but trying not to think about it) resent them for not being there for him growing up?

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

[noirtek]

tags are not a humble brag but a genuine distressing pattern