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lqveharrington · 1 month

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Dust Storm | W.H.B.

summary: You and Billy get caught up in a dust storm while on a horse ride.

pairing: William H. Bonney x fem!reader

includes: slight angst, fluff, you and billy are engaged, not a lot of warnings 🤷‍♀️ let me know if i missed any !!

a/n: i had this sitting in my drafts for a billion years 😭 my bad bookies

It had been days since that last dust storm blew in and the spirits in the small county of Talihina, Oklahoma were high. However, there was no rain insight. And with no rain, it left many farmers with empty fields, covered in dried-out dirt and sand. It especially hit the Ashford farm and ranch the hardest.

The Ashfords were the wealthiest family in Talihina. They were well known for being able to run a horse ranch and a healthy farm. The father, James Ashford, was in charge of both the ranch and farm, making sure everything ran smoothly. His wife, Josephina Ashford, better known as Jo, was known for helping around the town and giving to those in need. Luckily for the couple, they had two children who helped them with their work. They had a daughter and a son. You were the eldest Ashford child, and you had a bright future. You resemble your mother in all ways. You were the kind of woman to make young men turn their heads just by walking by. Unfortunately for them, you were happily engaged to one William H. Bonney. On the other hand, your younger brother looked like a replica of your father. Adam Ashford was eight years old with the same determination as his father, hoping to take over the farm and ranch when he got older.

But because of the dust storms starting up two years ago, it was harder to tend to the crops that would grow and bring the horses out of their stables. Before, you would help your father to tend to the horses when you weren't doing volunteer work, but with the constant dust blowing around the whole country, he banned you from leaving the house unless it was absolutely clear from dust. And for the first time in two years, James let his daughter out of the house. Only to run her mother’s errands, of course.

“In case of emergencies,” James tied a red bandana around your wrist as you took your mother’s list and woven basket from the kitchen table. “Wrap this around your head and cover your mouth and nose. I don’t want you to get hurt. And remember to come straight back from the markets—”

“Pa, I’ll be fine.” You squeezed her father’s forearm, kissing his cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

He sighed and shook his head, “Okay.”

You squeezed his arm again before leaving, silently reassuring her safety. You took quick strides to the town center and watched the dust kick up with every step you took. The walk going to town wasn’t bad. The only downside was that there was no shelter for any incoming dust storms. Fortunately, the blazing sun was beating down on the earth and the wind was seemingly absent.

Upon reaching the town center you smiled at the sight in front of you. You found children running around with wooden toys their fathers made and their mothers gossiping about the recent family who left for California. It felt normal. For the first time in years, it felt normal to see mothers scolding their children for messing with drunkards sitting outside of the bars.

You shook your head before entering the town’s only grocery, the bell above the door ringing to alert the storekeeper. “Mr. Taylor?”

“Miss Ashford!” The storekeeper beamed at the young woman. “What brings you into town? I haven’t seen you and your folks for a while.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, “With all this dust, I would hardly expect anyone to be hustlin’ ‘round town.”

“What can I do for you?” He dismissed the comment.

“I’m in need of some of your delicious Fuji apples. My ma s'been craving them ever since Adam read a book about them to her.” You looked around the empty store. “Other than that, I can grab the res’ of the things myself.”

“I’ll be right back.” He knocked the wood on the counter, heading toward the back of the store. You watched him leave before heading into the different aisles, glancing at the brands and prices of the different items. In fact, you were so immersed in deciding which brand of vegetable oil would be best that you hadn’t realized someone new had entered the store until a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and spun you off the ground.

“Oh my god!” You clung onto the stranger’s arm, not wanting to fall face-first onto the ground. You glanced back at the stranger before gasping, eyes lighting up at the male. “Billy!”

“Afternoon, gorgeous.” He put you down and kissed your cheek.

You felt your face warm at the name and action, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “What are you doing here?”

“My ma sent me into town to get money from the bank.” Billy followed you around the store, his gaze flickering across your face. “Then I saw my favorite woman walk into town. I decided I could spare some time to talk to her.”

“Uh-huh.” You spun on your heel and peered into his eyes. “Did you get the money for your folks? Or did you forget?”

“You think so low of me, sweetheart.” He tilted your head up with his finger. “Of course I got the money.”

You hummed, giving him a proper look now. William H. Bonney was once a lanky boy in grade school. But he had definitely grown into himself. He got stronger and taller over the course of two years. The loose clothes he once wore now perfectly fit him, making you flush red each time you saw him. Your eyes then traveled from his fit shirt to his tattered, dust-covered boots. You frowned at the state they were in, but no one could do any better from the current weather the states were currently facing. Finally, you shifted your gaze to meet his eyes once more. His crystal blue eyes were such a beautiful contrast to the dust coating his dark jeans and his wavy brown hair. You swore you could get lost in them if it weren’t for him pulling you back to reality each time.

“You’re staring, gorgeous.” Billy grinned, earning a small scoff from his beloved.

“You’re impossible.” You shoved two bars of soap into your basket, heading toward the counter where the apples were waiting.

Mr. Taylor suppressed a laugh at the young couple, taking the basket from your arms. “That all for today, Miss Ashford?”

You hummed as you took your wallet out of your dress pocket, “How much?”

“$3.42 is the total.” He read off the cash register as you handed him the exact amount, trading it for the baskets of groceries and apples.

“Thank you, Mr. Taylor.” You smiled at him and moved to grab Billy’s hand as you left the store, intertwining them. “What’ve you been up to since I’ve last seen you?”

“Since last week?” Billy pulled you closer to him, squeezing your hand. “ Not much has happened since I visited your place. Just helping my ma in the fields like always.”

You nodded and looked toward the ground, watching the dust cling onto your leather boots and the bottom of your maroon dress. “The dust storm affecting your folks’ farm badly?”

“It’s affecting everyone, sweetheart.” He pulled you away from a stampede of running children. “No one can get any crops.”

“I know…” You muttered, rubbing small circles into his palm. You peered up at the bright sun, squinting at the beam. “You know what I wish for?”

“What?”

“I wish for everything to go back to normal.” You adjusted your hat, the Ashford ranch coming into view. “The dust storms have ruined everyone’s crops. I can barely step foot out of my own house. There hasn’t been any rain since god knows when. My pa won’t let me tend to the horses. It’s madness, Billy.”

“M’sorry, sweetheart.” He kissed the side of your head. “I can’t promise everything will go back to normal, but in the meantime, I can find a way to ride horses with you. ”

“William, what’s that supposed to mean?” You squinted at him, his piercing gaze meeting yours. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably not a good idea—!”

“Come on. We can ride the horses and be back before your folks worry.” He pulled you into the Ashford stables, taking the baskets from your arms and tucking them safely in a corner.

You bit your lip, looking at the groceries and then back at the brunette, cursing him for being so convincing. “Fine.”

Laughter filled the air as you raced Billy through the back trails of Talihina, the generated wind blowing through your hair. It felt like you were both young teenagers who had no idea they were in love with one another, doing reckless activities until they were caught by one’s parents.

“Pick up the pace, Bonney!” You shouted as you saw Billy catching up, urging your horse to move faster.

A huge amount of dust kicked up with every stride the horses took, and if you looked back, you wouldn’t be able to see anything. Billy shook his head with a smile and copied you, finally riding beside the pair.

“Sweetheart, you know I can beat you in any horse race.” He chuckles as he brings his horse to a stop, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “You feel any better?”

You nodded and glanced to your left as you tugged on your horse’s reins, meeting his blue eyes. “I do feel better. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He tipped his hat in your direction. “Ready to go back?”

Your smile slowly faded but nodded, “Yeah.”

“Hey, we don’t need to rush. We can take as long as we want to go back if you want.”

“I’d like that.” You guided your horse to head back toward the ranch. “In the meantime, you can tell me all about what you’re gonna do when your ma finds out where you’ve been all day.”

“I can tell her I’ve been with my girl all day.” He bit back a smirk when he saw your cheeks tint pink. “I think my folks love you more than me.”

You shoved his shoulder, your engagement ring glistening in the sun. “They should love me more than you. I think my Pa loves you more than me.”

“Impossible.” Billy took your hand and kissed the back of it.

The young couple took short strides on their horses as the sun slowly faded away. One could argue that the sun was setting, but it was still much too early for the sun to set.

“What time do you have on your watch?” You looked back at the darkening sky, picking up the pace.

“3 PM,” Billy muttered, looking into your panicked eyes. “We gotta go.”

The both of you started to rush your horses back as the wind picked up, dust blowing around them which impaired your vision. You hastily removed the bandana from your wrist and tied it around your head, keeping your balance. Billy kept one hand on the reins and shoved his own bandana up, covering his nose and mouth. The sky was now covered with dust clouds and the wind blew harshly against your backs, the mix of dry dirt and sand hitting their exposed skin.

“Are you okay over there?” Billy shouted over the blowing wind. “Y/N?”

“I’m fine!” You blinked away tears from the dirt that stung your eyes, squeezing your legs to make your horse move faster. You could just barely make out your family’s farm, but with each passing second it became more and more obscure.

“Sweetheart, we have to go to the stables! It’s closer to us than your house!” He veered his horse over to the left.

“I can’t! My folks will worry and—”

“Y/N!” He snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. “Please!”

You quickly followed him and turned toward the stables. Billy slammed the front doors open, causing chaos to erupt inside. The other horses stood on their hind legs, thrashing as the harsh wind blew the dust inside. You raced inside as Billy jumped off his horse and slammed the stable doors shut, grabbing bales of wheat and shoving them by the front. You took deep breaths as you tried calming your own horse, resting your forehead against the head of your horse.

“This dust storm ain’t gonna go away anytime soon.” Billy rubbed dust off his face, removing his mask. “We’ll be fine in here.”

You nodded weakly, combing your fingers through your horse’s dusty hair. “We shouldn’t have gone out— I-I promised my pa that I’d be back—”

“Hey, look at me.” He went over and took your fidgeting hand. “They’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. When the storm eventually calms down, we'll head over to your place.” He slowly helped you off the horse and held your dirtied face in his hands, slipping your bandana off and wiping your muddy tears. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You took a breath, holding onto his wrists, following his breathing pattern. You rested your forehead on his, shutting your eyes. “Okay.”

The dust storm only accumulated as time progressed. The field and crops were covered in piles of dust once more and the automobiles were suddenly buried underneath the dried dirt. Those who were inside any buildings had dust seeping through the smallest slivers, despite the taped downed windows and towels blocking the doors. It was as if the storm would never stop, deeply worrying the Ashford family for their daughter’s safety.

“James, you can’t leave!” Jo whispered toward her husband, arms crossed over her chest in disbelief. “It’s late and you wouldn’t be able to see anything with all of that dust blowin’. Adam worries for his sister, but imagine the grief if he lost his pa and his sister?”

“I can’t sleep without knowin’ if my little girl is fine, Jo,” James argued, tightly tying a handkerchief around his head. “If Adam wakes, don’t tell him where his pa went—”

“James!” She held his arm in desperation, holding eye contact. “The storm might end soon, don’t risk it.” She looked between his eyes as he glanced toward the backdoor. “Please.”

His gaze softened at his wife’s demeanor and pulled her into a hug. “I’ll wait.”

“Thank you.” She murmured, wrapping her arms around him. “When the storm dies down, you can go. I won’t stop you then… I worry about our little girl too.”

The storm kept blowing until early morning. The crops were now either torn out of the ground or buried deep within dry dirt and families had given up on keeping the dust out of their homes. James and Josephina Ashford fell asleep at their kitchen table waiting for the storm to pipe down while you fell asleep in the stables in the security of your lover’s arms. William H. Bonney, on the other hand, stayed awake. He was constantly listening for the winds to quiet to let you know you could head home. In the early hours of the new day, Billy gently shook the woman beside him awake.

“Sweetheart, wake up.” He brushed the dust off that had fallen on you overnight, watching you shift closer to him. “Gorgeous.”

“Give me a minute, William.” You groaned, using his government name as a threat.

He chuckled and sat up straight, bringing you along with him. “The storm stopped, you can go home now.”

Your eyes shot open and you looked over at the male incredulously. “You should’ve said that first, idiot. Let’s go.”

Billy smiled as he stood, helping you up. He shook the final bits of dust off as best as he could and moved the hay bales away from the doors. Billy tilted his head toward you, silently signaling you to head home. You grinned and picked up your dress, racing over to the house without stumbling. You burst into the house and discarded the dust entering as well, finding your parents standing by the kitchen’s backdoor. James had his handkerchief tied across his face, triggering your tears.

“Y/N.” Her father let out a breath of relief and engulfed you in a tight hug. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry.” You sobbed into your father’s shirt, clinging onto him. “I’m so sorry, pa.”

“Why are you crying, sweet girl?” He rubbed your face. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t go straight home. I wanted to be out more, so I-I rode on the horses with Billy an-and then the storm started up. I shouldn’t have gone. I should’ve gone home right away. I should’ve stayed home. I shouldn’t have—”

“Hey, you’re alright.” James sat you down in one of the wooden chairs, removing his handkerchief from his face. “You’re safe. You’re home.”

You sniffled, looking up at your mother who had tears in her eyes too. “I’m sorry, mama. I didn’t wanna worry you…”

“My baby,” She knelt on the ground, taking your hands in her own. “I’m just glad you’re safe. The worst didn’t happen. You’re here. You aren’t hurt.”

Billy knocked on the side of the wall, making his presence known. In return, all heads whipped over to him. “I brought the groceries your daughter bought the other day.”

“William, come over here.” Your father beckoned him over.

“Yes, sir?” Billy stood by your side, removing his hat.

James sighed, putting his hand out. “Thank you for watching over my daughter.”

“Anytime.” Billy shook his hand, bringing him in for a hug. “I would risk my life for your daughter every single time.”

You lightly sock his arm at the mention, lacing your hands together. “Thank you.”

“I mean, now that you’re here, why don’t you help clear the dust out of our house? I’m sure my daughter has brought in heaps of it from runnin’ in here.” Jo patted her future son-in-law’s shoulder.

You flushed red as Billy chuckled, feeling him squeeze your hand at the comment. “Of course, Mrs. Ashford.”

The young couple got to work clearing out the dust while Jo and James started preparing breakfast for the day. It would be a while until all the dust would clear out of the house completely, but it wasn’t the worst problem they had. The dust storm that day might have ended, but little did the Ashford family know that it would only be the true beginning of their hardships.

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slutforsnow · 3 months

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😈😈 the voices!!!

imagine dating Billy and him coming home from a job and reader is so excited to see him. like they ran up to him and jump on him, kissing his face and shit.

It's 10:20pm i need sleep. 😣😣

Welcome Home 💚

Cw/Tw: none<3 pure fluff

I love doing sweet things like this they make me so happy 🥹 sorry it's so short;^;

Billy had his hat in his hand as he walked into his home, being greeted by the welcoming smell of dinner. He groaned in pleasure, smelling his favorite meal you had made.

The smell alone almost made him collapse had you not ran up to him and hugged him so tight it fixed his back posture from todays work.

"Hi, baby," He murmured, hugging you back and nuzzling his face into your shoulder.

"Welcome home, honey!" You greeted, kissing his cheek, not minding the dirt that caked his handsome face as you pressed more kisses on the subtle injuries he had from working. "You hungry?"

"When am I not?" He joked softly, squeezing you tightly before letting you pull him to the kitchen.

If there was anything Billy loved more than coming home, he loved coming home to you. You'd love him and squeeze him so tightly that it made him think he was in heaven.

Tags: @etfrin @hearts4court @snows-wife @delusionalbunni @kiraflowersworld @victory-scream0462 @curled-hair-red-lips @morallygrayboys @phoward89 @xoxo-eyeballs @thereeallink @graciouslyc @acidaciruela @wanda-maximoff-enthusiast @firstworldproblemthings @nowitsmissing

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gtgbabie0 · 26 days

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-William Bonney x reader

{Billy can’t handle you being in pain, even if you were defending him}

Enjoy my lovelies💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Silence is the only thing you’re met with when Billy walks into your quaint house, silence and a glare. You don’t bother asking him what’s wrong you already know why exactly he’s looking at you with his narrowed eyes and a deep frown.

“Billy-” you begin hoping to soften the blow by explaining your poor choices in picking fights with men who are three times your size and have loaded guns at their hips.

“No… don’t.” Billy stops you mid-sentence as he walks over to you, his hands immediately grasping yours as he assesses the damage to knuckles, split and redraw. A soft sigh escapes his lips whilst his thumb gently soothes the back of your hand.

“Christ, what have I told?” He asks, his frown deepening slightly as his eyes meet yours full of worry and frustration.

It’s the second time something like this happened, the last time Billy was there to stop you this time however he wasn’t, instead he found out from people talking about it around town.

Hushed whispers about how ‘Billy’s girl throws a mean punch’ and how you were ‘more trouble than you’re worth’. It was already a rough time in Lincoln without you adding to the mix, he just can’t keep up with it all.

Perhaps that’s why he is much more angered by this than he probably should be. “I know but if you would’ve heard them— what they were saying...” You try and reason with him as you recall the muttered insults about him, the threats and the way they dragged your name into their snide remarks.

“You’re getting into fights over some words.” He sneers as if it was the most stupid thing he’s heard. He tugs your hand as he guides you to sit down at the kitchen table and you can’t help but bite the inside of your cheek nervously as you watch him rummage through the cabinets looking for a first aid kit with a mean frown, the tension so thick it was almost hard to breathe.

Any words you thought might’ve defended your actions die on your tongue and you’re left speechless as he cleans your knuckles with a damp clean rag, his hand holding yours.

“I don’t think you realise how dangerous this is… it takes one of em’ to pull their gun out and then what, huh?” He snaps glaring up at you with narrowed eyes, the light of the lamp flickers across his face casting a shadow across his deep frown.

Billy catches on to how you bite the inside of your lip and the way your eyes begin to gloss over. He hates how the guilt immediately starts to eat at him. He takes a deep breath. “You can’t keep this up… do you understand?” He whispers, his blue eyes gleaming with fear.

The room is heavy with silence as you nod your head whilst he continues to clean the cuts on your knuckles, the sensation stings a little but it’s nothing compared to the sight of his disapproval.

“I’m sorry… I just can’t stand it.” You whisper, finally breaking the silence as you look down at the way he handles you with such great care almost as if you were made from glass.

Billy looks up at you and his expression softens slightly with understanding because he damn well knows that if he ever caught anyone bad-mouthing you he’d make them regret it… but that doesn’t change the fact that he hates seeing you hurt for his sake.

“I know…” he breathes before holding up your hands slightly so you can get a good look at the cuts that split across your knuckle. “I can handle that… but this… this I can’t.” He tells you, squeezing your hands ever so softly.

His rough hands cup either side of your face and his blue eyes meet yours with worry but there’s a deep love that flickers within them that you don't miss. “You gotta stop baby… I can’t lose you.” He whispers, his voice breaking with vulnerability.

A shaky breath escapes your lips as he presses his forehead against yours, “Alright... alright." You promise, pausing briefly before speaking once again, "I love you, Billy.” You whisper softly and your heart melts at the sight of the smile that teeters against his lips.

“I love you too… so damn much.” He tells you and although his voice is gentle there’s still a certain sincerity in his tone that makes your head spin.

Billy presses his lips to yours in a slow, meaningful kiss, holding your face as if you were going to vanish into thin air. He needs you to be alright or he fears he might just lose the last threads of his sanity.

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luvfae · 23 days

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GOOD GIRLS DONT

STAY OUT LATE

summary: after wanting him for months, you finally make your move on billy.

fandom: billy the kid

parings: billy x f reader

warnings: smut, hair pulling, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it), foul language, oral (billy receiving), sex in public

You had been watching him all night—the way he charmed the other girls, the glint in his eyes as he held their gazes, the casual way he touched them. Billy had been your friend since he rode into your small town months ago, but despite his conquests with every woman around, he had never crossed that line with you.

Tonight, fueled by a bit of liquid courage, you were determined to change that.

Observing girls' tactics over the years had given you insight, and now, emboldened by alcohol, you were ready to act. You sauntered over to Billy at the poker table, your hand landing on his shoulder, making him spin around with surprise before relaxing at the sight of you.

"Hey, Darlin'," Billy greeted, returning his attention to the game. "Little late for a young lady to still be out, isn’t it?"

"I’m not a child," you retorted, a hint of frustration in your voice. Perhaps Billy saw you as too innocent, too young. But you were no child.

"No, but you are a good girl," Billy replied. "Good girls don’t stay out late."

You rolled your eyes, feeling the challenge rise within you. "Good girl," you scoffed, meeting his gaze with determination. "Would a good girl do this?" With a mischievous smile, you whispered in his ear, then playfully snatched his cowboy hat and placed it on your head.

The poker table fell silent, eyes shifting between you and Billy, a few whistles echoing through the room.

"What's the rule?" you teased, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "Wear the hat, ride the cowboy?" The words sparked a dark look in Billy's eyes, and he abruptly excused himself from the game, leading you into a secluded hallway of the saloon.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?" Billy asked, concern in his voice as he gripped your wrist. You stepped closer, hands trailing up his chest, meeting his gaze boldly. "I can’t give a girl like you what she wants," Billy said with a sigh.

"And what is it that I want, hmm?" you countered, your tone teasing.

"Love. You want someone to love you, to make love to you," Billy confessed. "I can’t do that for you, Y/N."

"I don’t want you to love me," you retorted, your voice laced with frustration. "I want you to fuck me, Billy. Treat me you would any other girl in this damn town."

Billy's expression tightened. "You deserve better than that, Y/N," he insisted.

You closed the gap between you, rising onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "I said I want you to treat me like one of those other whores you take to bed." Your fingers deftly undid the buttons of his shirt, your touch deliberate and bold. "I want you to choke me, pull my hair, make me cum all over your cock. Think you can handle that, Billy?"

Billy's breath hitched at your words, his resolve wavering as desire flared between you

“I can’t, Y/N,” Billy protested weakly, though his voice wavered.

You pressed closer, your hands now tracing the contours of his chest beneath his shirt. “Can’t or won’t?” you challenged softly, your voice dripping with seduction.

A mix of desire and guilt played across Billy’s features. “You deserve more than just a quick fling, Y/N,” he admitted, his gaze searching yours.

You smiled knowingly, your fingers still teasingly toying with the buttons of his shirt. “Maybe this is exactly what I want, Billy,” you murmured, your breath warm against his neck.

Billy’s resolve crumbled as he met your gaze, sensing the raw longing in your eyes. With a sharp intake of breath, he pulled you close, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. His hands found your waist, pulling you tightly against him, the heat between you igniting a fierce passion.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, you surrendered to each other, the hallway providing a hidden sanctuary for your desires. Clothing was shed hastily, exposing skin to skin, the air thick with anticipation.

Billy hiked your leg up, forcing his cock deep inside of your needy pussy and you moaned. His hand fisted into your hair, tugging hard on your locks.

"I've fantasized about this moment for months, Y/N," Billy confessed, his voice tinged with a hunger you'd never seen in him before. "I've fucked other girls, pretending they were you. But now that I've had the real thing, how can I ever go back to them?"

Billy was sending waves of pleasure through you, his cock reaching the deepest, most sensitive parts of your being. You couldn't contain the shameless whimpers and moans that escaped your lips.

"Don't go back to them," you murmured, your mind intoxicated by desire. How could you let this slip away now that you've experienced it? "I could be your whore, your willing plaything," you offered, breathlessly.

Billy groaned in response to your words, driving himself deeper and harder inside you, yearning to feel you cum around him. He craved to witness you lose control, to see you drenched in pleasure. His desire was raw, intense—he wanted to force you clean up the mess you made on his cock with your tongue, a potent cocktail of passion and lust.

"Give it to me, Billy, I can handle it!" you gasped, as he moved with such intensity that the world around you blurred into a swirl of sensation. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed through the room, your release teetering on the edge. "I'm almost there, please, don't stop," you pleaded, caught in the whirlwind of nearing ecstasy.

Billy responded, his deep, rhythmic movements inside you pushing you over the edge. Your release washed over you, intense and all-consuming, as you came undone against the wall, your cunt pulsating around him in a crescendo of pleasure.

"Get on your knees," Billy commanded, a tone in his voice you couldn't resist. You complied instantly, opening your mouth in anticipation. "Good girl," he praised, as he guided himself to you. "Taste yourself, taste how good I made you feel," he whispered.

Your eager mouth worked him fervently, desperate to milk him until he was dry, drawing him closer to his peak with every motion. As his climax neared, he moved with a purpose, until sensitivity overwhelmed him and his hot cum was on your tongue. You savoured the taste.

“You've surprised me, Darlin’," Billy admitted, catching his breath. A proud smirk played on your lips as you rose, your needy cunt dripping with desire again.

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #bill the kid smut #william h bonney smut #billy the kid x you #billy the kid x y/n #william h bonney x you #william h bonney x y/n

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crookedteethed · 2 months

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STORM’S be heavy soon (1) Billy the kid

Pairing: Billy the kid x Rich girl reader

Summary: Billy is hired to be the bratty Y/N Bristow guard on a five-day trip to Macon, GA; who knows what may happen on the long trail?

WARNINGS: Original characters, Cursing, reader's last name is "Bristow", mentions of guns, gun usage, reader is snotty, Eventual smut , (gonna add more warnings as I go)

Authors note: Typically I don't write for this show, but this idea popped into my head a few nights ago. Also, I haven't watched this show in months, so I'm just going off my imagination/what I remember. Enjoy!! <3

Word count: 2k

Divider cred → @saradika-graphics

New Mexico, 1881

On Ovid Bristow's hand-crafted cherry wood desk lies the sand color sack of silver dollar coins he'd just offered Billy.

The sack had been plopped on the desk and sat there untouched for a whopping two minutes, two minutes in which Billy been debating if he should take Bristow's offer.

Surely, Billy wanted the money. He could use a new rifle--ou--two new rifles, afford a new pair of boots, and maybe even a new horse--a quarter horse since quarter horses were the best for ridin'.

However, Billy had a sinking suspicion of immorality towards Ovid Bristow a sinking suspicion that boils in the pits of his stomach whenever he sees the aging, gray haired man with a deceitful smile on his face (Billy always smiles back, though). A sinking suspicion that's been brewing in his stomach for a while now.

But to mention this "sinking suspicion" Billy had wasn't suspicion at all; everyone knew Ovid Bristow was cruel; Bristow himself knew he was a cruel man, so he couldn't blame his wrongdoing on his ignorance.

It was just last week Billy had been playing cards with Ovid, along with several other aging gray-haired potbelly men, inside Ovid's new Saloon and Brothel (it used to be the old church house, but Ovid paid the church house's landlord twice as much as Pastor David did to own the building.)

Normando something (Billy had forgotten the man's last name, but it doesn't matter now since he's dead.) claimed he won the game, showing all the men his hand. A royal flush, he had one 10, one Jack, one King, one Queen, and an ace of spades.

Poor Normando; if he hadn't been smiling so hard and gloating about his win, he would've seen it when Ovid drew the gun from his holster. And then that was the end of Normando something, shot in the head by a colt revolver. Ovid said Normando had been cheating; he saw the stash of cards underneath the table.

No one doubted this, as you don't want to provoke the man with a gun in his hand.

In the present moment, Billy thought of this: how cold Ovid had been to murder someone over a card game (a card game?!). Billy imagined what Ovid would do to him--how worse his punishment would be if he: "Lost sight or let anything happen to his darlin'."

And that's where Billy resides in the place of dubiety.

"What? Did ole' Ovid Bristow scare you?" Bristow laughs, a flock of seagull-type laugh; when Billy doesn't join in on the laughter, Ovid suddenly becomes serious.

"Look," Bristow says, standing up from his desk, now face to face with Billy. "I'll give you some more money if that makes you feel any better."

He goes into his left breast jacket pocket, pulling out a rolled-up wad of cash. Bristow tosses the wad of money onto the sack of coins.

"1,500 in total." He says. "It's all there, you can count it."

As callous Ovid been, Billy knew he wasn't a liar. He believed that the sack of coins and the wad of cash had amounted to 1,500.

Billy stayed silent, as silence is the loudest response.

"C'mon, Billy, I wouldn't be asking this of you if I didn't trust you, you're one of the only men I trust, let alone trust you being around my darlin'."

Ovid sits on the edge of his desk with disdain, his stare not particularly on Billy but just above Billy's head.

"I see how those bastards look at my little Y/n at the Saloon, they look at her like she's one of those harlots at the whore house." He spats. "How I wish I can put a bullet through every one of those no good lookers head."

Ovid stands to his feet again.

"But you Billy, you don't stare at my daughter like she's a piece of meat, to you Billy my daughter ceases to exist. I like that about you."

Billy seemed calmed on the outside, but in the inside, he heard the bells ringing in his head.

Of course he looked at you, every man looked at you when you walked by. You were enchanting, the most beautiful woman Billy had ever saw.

Billy did most of his staring when you or your father hadn't been looking. Most of his staring had been from the corner of his eyes or below his hat.

The first thing Billy noticed about you was your bright eyes. They were a pretty shade of (your eye color) that matched your pretty crimson-colored lips and rosy cheeks. You were light on the makeup, which Billy had liked. You'd done your makeup in a way that almost seemed like you weren't wearing makeup at all; Billy liked that about you too. He also liked your elegant collarbones that sat right before your cleavage.

What Billy liked the most about you was that you were educated. You were going to college soon, the first woman Billy had known to do something like that--hell, the first person.

But if it weren't for you getting accepted into Wesleyan College in Macon, GA, Billy wouldn't have been asked to escort you there.

"It's only a week there and week back." Ovid told him at the beginning of the conversation; then Billy had his mindset that he wouldn't take you.

But now, thinking about you--thinking about anyone but himself taking you to Georgia, one of those no-good lookers Ovid described somewhat infuriated Billy.

What if one of them were to take advantage you? Or try to harm you? What if one of them were to kidnap you, take you to one of the many enemies Ovid Bristow have made and hold you for ransom?

Ovid had said it himself, he trusted Billy, so if the job was to be done, Billy was the one to do it.

So as Billy left Ovid Bristow's office, he had the 1,500 stuffed down in his pockets.

Walking Billy to the door, Ovid had his arm snaked around Billy's neck, with a wide smile on his face.

"I knew you wouldn't let ole' Ovid down." He says. Ovid then instructs Billy to arrive at his manor tomorrow by a quarter till seven and pack lightly, as the rest of the wagon is reserved for his "sweet darlin'. "

Leaving Ovid's office, Billy thought he might've seen you inside the waiting room, but it was just that harlot--the one that works at the Brothel that looks like you.

It was 6:45--a quarter till seven when Billy arrived at the Bristow's manor.

Ovid Bristow's riches had been by pure luck. He used to work in the fields, digging holes to plant crops, and one day, he accidentally struck oil. The best kind of accident that could happen to a man.

Ovid Bristow was the Rockefeller of New Mexico.

Approaching the manor, Billy was greeted by a heap of men and women, all housekeepers, butlers, maids, and landscapers, all of whom had been waiting to give Y/n Bristow a farewell. Plus there been a marching band of all men standing at ease.

He didn't know if he could go inside the manor to tell Ovid he'd been here right at a quarter till seven and was lightly packed, because the doors had been locked shut.

So Billy waited with the rest of them, alongside the coachmen who was to take you and him to Georgia. He slips his sack into the back of the wagon.

"Warner." The man introduces himself as, he was a fellow old enough to be Billy's grandfather, Billy questioned Warner's ability to ride for five days straight day and night.

Your entrance was rather grand, ostentatious.

As soon as the white and gold doors flung open, the marching band began to blow their trumpets and bang their drums.

You stood in the doorway, a demure smile on your face, until the marching band's song (which sounded like a bunch of commotion) ended.

"Farewell, my good people, as this is yours truly last day on Bristow's Manor." You spoke dramatically. "Goodbye Nettie, I'll never forget that day you yelled at me for breaking that vase, and then I nearly gotten you fired for raising your voice at me." You waved to an older woman in a maid's uniform, who looked like she was suppressing an eye roll. "Goodbye housekeepers, whom I've never learned the names of, Goodbye Landscapers who kept planting thorn bushes even after I pricked my finger on one when I was five, Goodbye…"

As you continued saying your goodbyes the word "Shallow" was on the tip of Billy's tongue, but he hadn't want to make his judgement. Though he saw you around town, normally accompanied by your father, he hadn't spoken to you yet.

He'd been too scared he'd get shot or beaten by Ovid for simply saying a "Hello" to you.

Ovid had been beside you as you said your goodbyes, carrying a round pink leather suitcase, presumably yours. Behind the both of you were two butlers carrying the rest of your luggage—ten suitcases in counting, all pink, some round, some rectangular.

"Jesus Christ." Billy mutters to himself.

"Goodbye--" you stop in front of Billy, scanning his face--those dark curls and dark blue eyes--wondering what was his occupation on the manor. He'd look familiar to you, but then again he didn't.

Trashman? The stableman? Daddies assistant? No, he was to ruffian like to be Daddies assistant.

Then you suddenly remember--yes, that's who he is.

"Farewell, stablehand, I don't have any memories of you, but I shall wish you the best of luck cleaning shit for the rest of your life at Daddies stable." You smile.

A scowl had formed on Billy's lip.

That shallow bit-

His thinking is cut off by Ovid's laughter. "My sweet darlin, this isn't the stablehand, this is Billy. Billy here's a gunslinger. I hired him to keep you safe on the trail to Georgia."

You hum, a slight smirk on your lips. You raised your dainty hand to Billy and introduce yourself.

Billy puts his rough hands in your warm, smooth ones. You feel a jolt run through body, you wonder if Billy felt the jolt too.

It wasn't like you didn't know his name now, so Billy just tipped his hat and called you “Misses.”

"Fantastic," Ovid says with a deceiving smile. "Darlin', why don't you make yourself comfortable inside the wagon while Billy and I exchange a few words," Ovid tells you. "And gentlemen, why don't you start loading up darlin's luggage," Ovid instructs the butlers.

As you get onto the wagon (with the help of Warner) and the butlers start loading your things, Ovid pulls Billy to the side by the scruff of his neck.

"Now, remember yesterday I said I trust you, Billy. Darlin's all I got, Billy, it be a shame if something were to happen to her while she's in your care… It be even more of a shame what'll happen to you." Ovid says in a calm voice.

"Promise me that you'll take good care of her during those five days, promise me that Billy."

"I promise, sir." Billy says, looking at you from afar, you yell at the butlers for "manhandling" your "valuables."

Ovid catches Billy staring. "Also, Billy hear this, I know my daughters a pretty girl--she gets her looks from her late mama--god rest her soul, but I swear if you even must lay a finger on her with the intent of lust; I'll have you castrated, you got that boy?"

Billy thought about it , walking around town without his manhood, be known as the man without a cock.

"Y-yes sir." he sweats.

"Good!" Ovid exclaimed, letting Billy go.

"Daddy!" You yelled "I'm not getting any younger here!" You say impatiently.

Then, as you, Billy, and old man Warner left the gates of Bristow Manor, the marching band played another loud commotion. The blaring drums and tubas still ranged in Billy's ears as you all were 2-3 miles down the road.

Billy looked at you, cocking his head--you'd been filing your nails.

A Rose thorn bush, Billy labeled you--so amusing to look at, tempting to touch; when he felt the courage to touch it, he'd realize he gotten pricked and was starting to draw blood.

*I plan on making this a two part series*

#tom blyth #billy the kid smut #billy the kid #billy x reader #old west #fanfiction #fan fic #crookedteethed #billy the kid x y/n #ocs #part 1 #Storms be heavy soon #I only watched billy the kid because of Tom Blyth

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your-nanas-house · 3 months

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Hi babies,

Sorry if I didn't write so much lately.. started school again and I've been pretty stuck with writing and all...

Just wanted to apologies and inform you that I'm doing my best, just trying to find my inspiration back and you know... kind of put the train back on its tracks.

Besides that.... I know I have still requests to write but I would really appreciate if you share some juicy— can be juicy dark or just juicy ideas.

Our Cilly is always welcomed and I'm starting to have an "obsession" on... Tom Blyth.

(So I really accept anything at this point.)

Luv you all 🙇🏼‍♀️

-Nana🍓

#cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy x actress!reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x yn #tom blyth x fem!reader #billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid x y/n #billy the kid fanfiction

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andcorde · 2 months

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Thank you so much for the very welcoming of my first ever fic here ! There’s another one that should come during the week, stay tuned, this one will be a BTK one 😉

#50 likes #tumblr milestone #thank you #billy the kid #tom blyth smut #tom blyth #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid x y/n #jesse evans #guns n roses #btk inhibitor

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plaguedoctorsmistress · 2 years

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Living Devil (Part 1 of 2)

Billy the Kid x Reader

Prompt: Imagine being Alex’s daughter and having a crush on Billy but refusing to admit it, only for him to save you and your family from Murphy’s men.

*TW: canon bloodshed. Also I did not proofreader and don’t intend on doing so any time soon.

It was once said the devil resides in the West, and you found that to be an easily believable truth. After all, at the ripe age of eighteen you had seen more bloodshed than most yankees did in a lifetime, and the weather, lord if that wasn’t any indication you were in hell you weren’t sure what was. But undoubtedly, the cherry on top had to be you getting ripped to shreds by bullets simply because of who your father was and consequently your association with the insufferable and dangerous (albeit handsome) William H. Bonney.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves, it all started at the New Years celebration you begged your parents to attend.

The night of the party was a relatively bright one, almost a full moon, and you were undoubtedly the loveliest girl there. Your father, desperate to avoid unnecessary male attention, explicitly told you to not stray away from him, and in your defense, you wholeheartedly intended to obey him, it was Billy the Kid (though he was known simply as Billy then) who coerced you not too, and who could blame you? The papers would go on to say so themselves, Billy was prolific with women, it was impossible to deny him.

You had been swaying in place ever since you arrived, wholly exasperated. Your father had denied every bachelor who asked to dance with you.

“What was the point in letting me come if you won't let me dance papa?” You huffed, childishly stomping your foot.

“Next time you are welcome to stay home (Y/N), if that is what you would prefer.” He retorted without sparing you a glance.

Ever the peace-maker, and knowing if she didn’t deescalate the situation promptly, it would only get worse, your mother suggested you danced with Doc, one of Turnstall’s helpers, who looked desolated and heart broken a few feet away, it seemed he had been denied a dance with Murphy’s China doll. Your father was silent for a moment and you were certain he would find fault in the idea, even though you were already well acquainted with most of Turnstall’s boys and they all treated you with the utmost respect. Surprisingly, perhaps because he feared if it wasn’t Doc you would dance with a stranger, he begrudgingly agreed.

And so with your mother on his right arm and you on his left, he called him over: “ Hey Doc, how’ you doing?”

The blonde looked distracted, and more interested in what your father had to say about the Chinese girl than you, which suited your father more than fine.

“I’ll tell you what, dance with (Y/N) it’s safer, and besides you would be doing me a favor, she’s been itching to dance since we arrived”

At this, Doc laughed and composed himself, feigning disinterest in the Chinese girl.

“It would be my pleasure sir” he offered you his hand, which you swiftly took, dragging him to the dance floor before your father could change his mind.

“Woah! (Y/N) I’m coming, no need to rush” he grinned, and although you rolled your eyes you couldn’t force your smirk away, you always enjoyed Doc’s company he was a sweet and good friend, though your meetings were limited to brief chance encounters in the town center and the rare dinners your father would take you to at John Turnstall.

“Oh c'mon Doc! I’ve been wanting to dance since we arrived, I don’t want to wait another moment!” You retorted, shifting back and forth from the tip of your toes to the balls of your feet.

He shook his head and laughed, “sure (Y/N/N), let’s dance then” he grabbed your other hand and began spinning you around synchronously with the music. It was very conservative, with enough space between you for the Holy Spirit twice over, but it was fun! He was a good leader and didn’t step on your toes, if you could’ve you would have danced the night away with him.

Before the song came to its grand close you were interrupted by one of Turnstall’s newest boys, one you were yet to meet.

“Couldn’t help but notice Doc here was the first brave man to ask you to dance, can I be the second?” He swung back and forth in place and pulled his hat down in greeting.

Doc furrowed his brow and reprimanded him, “over his dead body would Alex let you dance with (Y/N/N)” .

“Well I didn’t ask Alex did I? What do you say doll?” He winked and extended his hand to you.

In all honesty, you knew if you danced with this man your father would be scandalized beyond belief, you would never attend another party you were sure. But he was so handsome, with his baby blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, you were also certain you would ever be graced with the attention of a more beautiful man. And besides, it wasn’t as if you had done much besides dancing with Doc, at least you could have one story to tell about the evening.

“Alright, but if my father shoots you for this I won’t help you” you smiled and took his hand.

Doc attempted to whine something about honor and duty and respect but his words were lost to the both of you, “that’s only fair” your mystery boy responds.

And so he guides you away to the corner opposite to Turnstall and your parents, and unlike Doc, he is far less conservative, wrapping one arm around you and pressing you flush against him, or as close as your dress would let him, his other hand grasped yours firmly and you could feel the contrast between his calloused palm to your soft one.

“You never told me your name,” you remark.

At this he smiles, and spins you around before saying: “My name’s William H. Bonney, but pretty girls such as yourself can call me Billy.”

‘Beautiful arrogant men, the worst kind there is’ you thought, but it didn’t matter, by then he had spinned you senseless, you were infatuated by him.

“And what do the ugly girls call you?” You smile nonchalantly.

He laughs loudly, maniacally, for almost a minute and you can’t help but laugh with him, he sounded ridiculous.

“I don’t know” he paused looking down at you “I haven’t met one yet” he smiled leaning towards you.

“Smooth, you really know how to make a girl feel special” it comes out as a breathy whisper more than anything else.

It is you who pulls away, afraid to become tomorrow's star gossip, and he seems disappointed you think, and you can’t help but wonder if it is because he expected you to be easy or because he regretted his previous response. Before you could dwell much on it, the song was over, and your father and John Turnstall were by your side like an unwelcome apparition.

“Mind if I steal (Y/N) for the next dance?” Turnstall phrased it as a question but it was clear it was more of an order than anything else.

“Not at all sir” Billy responds, he drops his hand from your waist, but not your hand, and your heart skips several beats before you break away from him, blushing, you offer the hand he held to John.

The rest of the party was rather anti-climatic, your father scolded you the entire ride home and prohibited you from going to John Turnstall’s shop or seeing his boys, you shrugged him off, fantasizing about scenarios where Billy swept you off your feet and convinced your father to let him court you.

Of course no such thing happened, tragically, John Turnstall was butchered the next morning, his boys were sworn in as officers of the law and began exerting justice of their own, before that, at Turnstall’s funeral, Billy didn’t so much as spare you a glance, while the rest of the boys hugged you and spoke to you softly about better times.

And so many months passed, and William H. Bonney became Billy the Kid, notorious criminal and ladies man, your crush dwindled into a sentiment of numbing hate, you swore off all thoughts of him (even though you always read the newspaper looking for mentions of him), your family was now disgraced because of him, your father had to move your family from your three story house to a small shed away from town, for your security, he insisted.

To your surprise, soon after the boys killed the sheriff they showed up at the shed, rather blasé, you greeted the boys enthusiastically, hugging and kissing their cheeks, but spared Billy a simple curtsy and short smile. You were excited to see your friends, and so as you questioned Chavez and Doc about their adventures, you didn’t notice how Billy reacted to your bland greeting with a frown, and if you could have read minds, you would have known he deliberated shooting the air just to get your attention.

Before he could though, your father scolded him and his recklessness away, told him he no longer wished to be associated with him, that he had a family to care for and that he was planning on returning to town and opening John’s shop, he insisted Billy left you all alone, and refused to accept the photo he brought him. So Billy nodded, handing your mother the picture instead and hugging her goodbye.

He then turned towards you and you could swear time went by slower as he marched toward you with such charm and confidence you almost believed he could win this war. He was intoxicating. You felt all the walls you had put up crumble down like they were made of cards, mouth agape you waited to see what he would do.

“Bye pretty girl” he smiled, kissing your cheek, mere centimeters away from your lips.

With your heart in your throat and your audience completely scandalized, no one noticed he pressed something into your hand, and without another word, the Regulators rode away. In the privacy of your bedroom you found he had handed you a picture of him of your own, unlike in the version gifted to your mother, in this one he was smiling flashing his gun in a similar pose, there was a short inscription on the back.

To my favorite gal.

With love,

William H Bonney aka Billy the Kid.

‘Beautiful arrogant men’ you wrote in your diary that night, ‘Billy the Kid will be the death of me, I will either be a casualty of his bloodshed or die of a broken heart when he falls for a more willing whore.’

____________

And so we come back to the present day, with Billy marching into your home and telling your father Murphy’s men are on their way to kill him and his family, he once again barely spares you a glance, though this time, given the circumstances, you couldn’t find it in you to care. You feel your blood run cold and wonder if you are about to pass out, holding onto your mother’s arm she urges your father for you all to leave, he, ever the macho man refuses.

“I am not about to leave my house!” He insists.

Billy sighs but wastes no time in retorting, “Alex if you stay they’re gonna kill you” he pauses “then I’m gonna have to go around and kill all the guys that killed you, and that’s a whole lot of killing.” He nods his head forward as if he is explaining the most logical train of thought in the world.

As your father opened his mouth to respond, Billy continued “that’s if they don’t touch your little girl, then I am really going to have to raise hell” he turns to you and wink “can’t mess with what I want to make mine”. He laughs.

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops, your father stutters like a fish out of water and you can swear you hear your mother snicker.

“This is a sweet moment and all guys but this argument’s gonna have to be postponed, Murphy’s men are outside.” Doc jumps in, cocking his gun.

The boys all mobilize in their designated exit spots. You hurry to the window, squeezing between your father and Billy trying to catch a glimpse of the armada outside.

“Get away from the window child!” Your father pushes you behind Billy, squeezing you between him and a wardrobe.

“How’s your exit Charlie?” Billy asks.

Charlie seems to stutter, and you know whatever he is about to say will confirm your unshakable feeling that this will be the day you die.

“It’s John Kinney!” He shrieks.

“It will be a massacre!” Someone shrills, though at this point you are not sure who, you can feel yourself dissociating and your mind has gone numb, you squeeze your back against the wardrobe almost as if you try any harder it will swallow you through to Narnia.

By the time you come to your senses, Charlie is mumbling something about hangings and you whine, pressing a hand against your neck. Next to you, Billy shrugs off his coat and kneels towards you, he quickly wraps it around your shoulder, he opens his mouth and you wonder what comforting thoughts your bandit will share but another voice outside speaks over him.

“Hey Bonney! You up there?”

Billy smiles, devilishly dare you say. Before placing a finger against his lips as if to shush you. Definitely hell, you conclude.

He jumps up to his feet and aims his rifle, taking his position next to Doc, “yeah I’m here you bastard!”

As he says that a million bullets rain down on your childhood home, everyone scurries for cover and you cry, placing your hands over your ears in a feeble attempt to muffle the noise.

You feel Billy press against you, he tucks your head on the crook of his neck, one hand against your hair, the other still holding his rifle, you clutch his shirt for dear life squeezing your eyes shut and pressing yourself as close to him as possible.

Bullets are fired non-stop for almost a minute, and you can’t see a way out of this.

“Billy, what are we going to do now?” Doc asks when the men outside stop to reload Billy shakes you off and pulls his pistol before saying “we are going to show them they finally met their match!”

He places an arm over your chest sheltering you behind him before hollering “Hey Peppin!”

“I hear you Bonney!” The man outside responds.

“I see you’ve got Charlie Crawford down there with you” he cocks his gun before darting upwards, it takes seconds for Billy to aim and shoot, you hear a something drop outside.

“Hey Peppin? Charley Crawford ain’t with you anymore!” Billy breaks into his signature lunatic laugh, as if this is nothing but a joke, a day at the fair, and you look upwards at the heavens as if asking for patience to not whack him yourself, tears still rolling down your cheeks.

You barely hear the word “Fire!” Before the men begin shooting again. Billy once again holds you close, and you half believe you heard him whisper sweet nothings in your ear, half believe it was just trauma induced hysteria.

Billy the Kid, half devil and half horse being comforting? It was hysteria, surely.

[Chapter 2]

Hey! Second part should be up as soon as I finish rewatching the movie (so prob between today and tomorrow). I also have absolutely no desire or time to write my Rip Wheeler story right now, between law school which I despise and am behind in, and the insane amount of partying I am doing to numb the existential void, don’t expect anything but this Billy story to be up anytime soon.

XOXO

Cockscombpalace

#young guns #young guns imagine #young guns x reader #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid #billy the kid x you #billy the kid x y/n #billy the kid young guns x reader #billy the kid young guns #cowboy #Wild West #Spotify

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kafkasmuses · 4 months

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innocence — modern ! coriolanus snow + reader : your friends ask you to get some drugs from the local dealer, but you never expect he would take a liking to you.

tags : 18+!!! MDNI!!! drug dealing ! coryo, drugs, praise kink, overprotective behavior, possessive behavior, porn with feelings, p in v sex, fingering, special treatment

coriolanus snow hated parties, they were loud, and the people were insufferable— but he needed the money from the things he sold. cocaine, weed, even some ecstasy. whatever the people wanted, whatever helped support his grandmother and cousin. they weren’t living in the most luxury like all the other people who held parties in these neighborhoods, so that’s why coriolanus attended them, they always paid the most.

he typically got douchebags or stuck - up pretty girls, they both always paid him in crumpled up ones that he took forever to straighten out and count— what a bunch of assholes.

what he never expected, though, was you, coming up to the man dressed in a korn shirt and baggy jeans with a bow in your hair as well as wearing a pretty dress. your doe eyes peered up at him when you tapped his shoulder, he turned, eyes slotting down to meet yours, “hey.”

“hi,” you hesitate, cute, “i.. do you sell drugs?”

he clears his throat, “sorry?”

“do you—“

“probably shouldn’t repeat yourself, doll,” he tips his head up, “i do, are you buying?“

“just for my friends, yeah,” you smile shyly at him, and he returns it.

you’re so innocent, had you ever done any drugs before? definitely not the ones he sells, maybe the weed, but cocaine or ecstasy? no, no way. if it were for you, he wouldn’t be selling you it anyway. coriolanus had a certain soft spot, if you will, for the innocent girls that wander up to him at parties with their batting eyelashes and naturally pouted lips.

“alright, let’s go upstairs,” he tips his head to the stairs, chuckling when you move to give a thumbs up to your friends before following after him, “why do they make you ask for them?”

he suddenly moves back to grab your wrist when the halls find themselves crowded, not wanting to lose you in the sea of people, nor you lose him. you were a client, a customer, and he always treats his customer this way.

loud incorrect buzzer.

he doesn’t!

coriolanus never dares to allow himself to sweeten up around his customers, or anyone, but something about your shy, deer like attitude— it had a wolf wanting to protect.

“they say they’re too nervous to do it themselves,” you finally answer when he leads you into the nearest empty room, closing the door behind you.

he finally lets go of your wrist, “that so? what are they askin’ for?”

“cocaine,” you swallow.

“then they’re not nervous,” he chuckles, having to deal with his fair share of cocaine users, none of them are nervous to approach him, “why do you let them push you around?”

he moves to sit on the bed, chopping up the cocaine from his pocket on the nightstand next to him. he typically doesn’t like when his customers stand over him, because he never knows what they will do, and he likes to be in control at all times— but you’re harmless, aren’t you? just a little deer.

you exhale a nervous laugh, “they’re not pushing me around, they’re just asking me for favors.”

he hums, eyes peering up at you as his hands absentmindedly work on the pearl powder, it was muscle memory for him at this point. “you promise you’re not doing this shit, too?”

“i promise,” your lips tip up to a curt smile, “it’s really.. scary, honestly.”

he exhales, eyes trailing over the curves of your face before they meet the nightstand again, swiping the powdered sugar like substance into a little baggie. you watch him, almost admiring, “yeah. it is really scary, dangerous, too— don’t want you doin’ this shit too.”

a warm feeling courses through your veins, you hardly realize he’s holding the baggies out for you until he clears his throat, you blink a few times, quickly trying to grasp the money you had— it wasn’t given to you by your friends to spend for them, it was just your own money. how cruel.

“it’s on the house,” he quickly says, almost unaware of what he was saying himself until it finally passes his lips.

you bat your lashes at him, “what—“

“free, doll, just take it,” he allows himself a faint smile.

you hesitantly reach to take the baggies, “are you sure…?”

he nods, “‘m positive.”

“thank you, snow,” his eyebrows furrow at how sweet his name sounds on your tongue, like nectar delivered by the kindest dove from the gods.

you turn to leave, but he quickly stands, “hey—“ he pauses, eyes sweeping over your figure as he tries to figure out what to say, you probably go to millions of parties with your asshole friends, possibly with other dealers.. “some other dealers are gonna try to rip you off, make you pay a lot for a little bit— so just, come to me and i’ll treat you good as long as you’re staying out of trouble, princess.”

“okay, i will,” you nod quickly.

“good girl.”

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

you don’t see coriolanus for a while after that night, it has been no more than a few days, less than a week but the idea of you is rotting in his brain and eating him whole from the inside out. at every party he went to, every girl with a bow in their hair (he despises that it’s the latest trend) or wearing a baby pink dress reminds him of you. with their fluttering lashes and soft smiles, god, he hates that he sees you in every one of them. he hates that you have completely plagued his entire conscience, but yet he never complains about it, not once.

sometimes, sejanus, one of the other known dealers, though he more so considers himself a look - out when coriolanus is selling, or a promoter for coriolanus’ business— he notices how coriolanus’ eyes linger more than usual on the women at parties, it almost makes him laugh, or tease coriolanus.

isn’t he supposed to be intimidating? not a man easily falling for women.

a lover boy, that’s what he seemed like now.

sejanus swishes around his drink in his cup, eyes falling to coriolanus, “what’s up with you?”

coriolanus blinks once, twice, “what are you talking about?”

“you haven’t blinked in like an hour,” sejanus liked to overexaggerate, “are you okay?”

“of course i am,” he scoffs, “‘m gonna find arachne.”

arachne, sejanus’ best friend, albeit she talks so much shit about him behind his back. sejanus is sweet, passive, and arachne is the complete opposite. some would call arachne a maneater, coriolanus thinks of her as a conceited bitch who needs to be put on a leash. she had a tendency to run off whenever she went to parties with coriolanus and sejanus, so coriolanus always had to run after her to try and find her.

sejanus nods, offering a small i’ll look too.

coriolanus allows sejanus to walk the opposite way as he turns the corner, eyes scanning each room for a brunette with a bold red lip. he doesn’t find her anywhere, god, she better not be having sex in one of the rooms upstairs like how she was last time. coriolanus likes to think opening that door to that sight was something out of a horror movie.

he does find a different brunette, though, with more golden tones and curlier hair.

festus creed, of fucking course creed is here. he was another one of the other well known dealers in the area. he wasn’t that well with his sells, mostly because he acts like he’s above everyone else in the worst way possible, and even allows people to pay with sex.

coriolanus heard his sex is never good.

funny, isn’t it? how someone with a small dick and hardly any skills on pleasing women would offer sex as payment.

coriolanus, at least, thinks it’s hilarious.

what he doesn’t think is hilarious, though, is that festus is talking to someone coriolanus is far too familiar with. glittery eye makeup, a lacy bow in their hair, baby pink dress.. it’s you.

coriolanus’ mouth runs dry when you spot him in the corner of your eye, your lips twisting into a sugar - coated grin as soon as your eyes widen, “snow!”

you immediately move to give him a hug, festus’ searing gaze following your every movement in the creepiest way possible— god, coriolanus hates him. his fingers lace around your waist, tugging you close, “hey, princess.”

“princess?” festus snickers.

coriolanus tries to ignore him, but he finds it near impossible with the words that leave your lips next, “this is festus, my friend, do you know him?”

coriolanus scoffs, does he know him, what a joke, “i know of him.”

festus finds himself chuckling bitterly, “is that right, pretty boy?”

coriolanus takes a step, and you feel a certain mold of metal against your waist when he does, a gun, his cold lips part, “sure is.”

your eyes roam over his features, the curves of his skin when his brows collide, the way his eyes darken with malice, the grit of his sharp teeth, the flush of his jaw against his flesh as he moves it. his muscles flex underneath his baggy band t - shirt, veins pulsing. he was angry.

festus’ lips part, but you speak before him, “snow?”

his head nods in your direction, but he doesn’t say anything.

“answer your girl, snow,” festus taunts.

“go upstairs,” he mumbles, it’s to you.

so you do.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

coriolanus sighs when he closes the door behind him, coming in mere minutes later. you had been sitting on the bed in the vacant room, fingers playing together, eyes glossed over in fear and pricking with tears. coriolanus wasn’t the only one who carried, but you didn’t hear any shots, fortunately.

“kid’s such a fuckin’ asshole,” he mumbles, cracking his bruising knuckles, “he’s not sellin’ you shit, is he?”

“sometimes—“

“don’t buy from him anymore,” coriolanus pauses, swallowing, “he laces his shit sometimes.”

it was true, festus was messy with his work, he didn’t lace the products himself but the people that distributed them to him would, he was just too lazy to even notice.

“i’m sorry,” it comes out hushed, a mere whisper, but coriolanus’ ears pick up on it easily.

his tone is softer now, “why?”

“i didn’t know—“

“then don’t apologize,” his head tips to the side, sniffling the bubbling blood in his nose, he inhales, pupils wide as they roam your features. a glass tear raced down your pliant cheek, and he immediately moved to carefully wipe it away, “don’t cry, doll.”

you don’t say anything, merely melt into his touch. coriolanus isn’t good with affection, he’s hardly had any girlfriend before and if he has, they don’t last long due to his struggles with showing kindness. so it’s obvious the next word that leaves his mouth isn’t one born from honeysuckle, “cocaine?”

your lips move nervously, bottom lip tugging under your teeth as your mascara covered lashes move to his frost - bitten eyes, “do you have.. ecstasy?”

his lips drop to a frown, “why?”

your lips tremble when they part, cheeks heating under his touch, “my friends want to try it.”

“no,” he swallows, jaw ticking, “i’m not selling you that shit.”

“what? why not?”

“that shit is too dangerous,” he chuckles, albeit it’s bitterness, “i don’t want you around that, it’s trouble.”

“i’ve been good,” you reassure, hips swaying when you scoot closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him.

“have you, now?” his thumb is gently rubbing against your skin.

“i have, i promise,” you offer, feeling his fingers move so his thumb is now moving against your bottom lip, dipping into your mouth ever so slightly.

you smile around it and his pupils dilate even more, are his eyes blue anymore or merely just sole pupil? “naughty girl.”

then he stops, as if he had realized something, and pulled away. your lips curve downward to a frown, desperate to have his touch again, “snow?”

“don’t,” his molars collide, “i’ll hurt you.”

“that’s okay—“

“—i’m bad news—“

“—i don’t think that—“

“—i’m dangerous, doll.”

you hesitate, inhaling sharply, “but you won’t hurt me.”

he doesn’t say anything for a minute, “so, you want cocaine?”

you give him a careful nod, and he smiles. again, he’s being sweet.

“you know how to chop up cocaine?”

you allow yourself a giggle, “you know i don’t.”

“i’ll show you.”

and he does, his hand is gentle as it guides yours, fingers curling against the curve of your own as he crushes up the cocaine, guiding you to chop it up with the card he gave you. you’re warm underneath his cold touch, his movements experienced whilst yours are new. “how many times have you done this?”

he shrugs, breath fresh against the shell of your ear, “a couple hundred, for sure.”

“i could help you, you know, with the business,” you offer, despite not even really wanting to.

“no,” his fingers are tighter against your skin, but not enough to hurt, “i don’t want you in this business, you being around me is dangerous enough.”

“you’re not dangerous, snow,” you hush out.

he moves closer, and you feel his gun brush against your ass, lips curving into a smile, “you think so?”

you shiver from the touch, it’s loaded, the safety is probably off, “i know so.”

your thighs push together, he feels it, making him chuckle, “you’re so needy, princess.”

“snow,” you breathe out, “this isn’t fair.”

“how so?” he presses a soft kiss behind your ear, “just because you aren’t getting what you want?”

“do you want it?” you pause your movements.

“of course i do, i want it as much as you,” he moves your fingers so you drop the card, guiding them to his bulge, “‘m just not spoiled.”

you frown at his works, fingers curving around his bulge, god, how big was he? “‘m not spoiled either.”

“whatever you say, princess,” he grits out.

you palm him so well, it nearly has him rutting against your hand, breathing getting heavier against your ear. his fingers move to trail down down your back, dipping underneath the hem of your skirt and tracing along the thin material of your lace panties. his jaw shifts, “such a dirty girl, wearing these panties.”

you whimper when his fingers graze along the soaked part of your panties, thick fingers brushing against your clothed clit, “please— snow.”

“please what, princess?” you mumble something in response, but it’s nearly incoherent, more of a whimper, “use your words.”

he moves to pull your panties to the side, now touching your bare clit, making your thighs tremble, “i need— fuck, i need you— inside.”

he nods, pressing kisses along the side of your neck, finding himself already pussy - drunk. it almost felt sacrificial, a sinful man dipping his fingers inside of a goddess, the way you moaned at the feeling of his finger stretching you out— it was as if he could be confessing of his sins at any minute.

to see your hips bucking against his finger, his name hushed on the tip of your delicate tongue. didn’t you know that many people wanted him dead? how many people hated him? how the police could arrest him at any second? yet you didn’t care, a lamb to the slaughter, a deer in between the jaws of a wolf.

yet you were rutting against his hand, begging for more, desiring him to push another finger in— and he did exactly that, prepping your tight cunt for his cock, “you’re so fuckin’ tight, doll, i don’t know if it’ll fit.”

“it will— it will, i know it will—,” you’re just babbling nonsense at this point, and coriolanus wanted to be gentle, he really did, but your sweet moans, your sugary whimpers, the way he so easily pushed his fingers inside of you, the way that when you curl, your moans up a few octaves. you were so sensitive, god, were you a virgin?

the thought had coriolanus pulling his fingers out, twirling you around so he can push his fingers into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself as his other hand undoes the belt holding his baggy jeans up. his eyes are crystalizing the memory of your tongue swirling against his fingers, sucking up every taste of your own cunt— have you thought of this as many times as he has?

he moves his hand to take his gun before it falls, placing it on the counter behind you, his fingers move from your mouth to help him push his jeans down, your lips part, “why do you have a gun?”

he smiles sweetly at your words, nearly chuckling, “why do you think?”

“‘m not sure, that’s why i asked,” you had a certain tinge in your voice that makes him quirk a brow.

“it’s to protect myself, princess,” he pushes his boxers down, finally freeing his cock, “now be a good girl, turn around, and bend over.”

of course you do exactly what he asks, bending over the counter so he can push your skirt up. the feeling of your innocence being stripped away right in front of you was far too good, like a cross ripped from the chain around your neck, or your holy water being unpurified. you were a cupcake with frosting on top, and coriolanus was sinking his teeth into you, rotting his sweet tooth.

his dick slaps against your heat when your legs part with desire, making you whine against nothing, “snow— please..”

“just say it, princess,” he moves to rub his red tip against your clit, making you shudder, knees buckling already.

“fuck me— f..fuck me,” you repeatedly beg.

he moves closer to press a sweet kiss on the back of your neck, bones colliding when his cock finally pushes into your cunt. you were so tight around him, squeezing him around your velvet walls. your jaw falls slack when you gasp at the feeling of him stretching you out, his lips pull tight together in a grunt, “so tight for me, princess— jesus christ..”

his breathing is labored when he pulls his hips back and thrusts in, he goes slow at first, treating you like you were a fragile statue made from porcelain, but then you’re begging him to go faster, to go harder. your fingers graze along the gun placed on the counter, right next to the cocaine. his tongue swipes along the roof of his mouth before he speaks, “are you sure, doll? i don’t— fuck— want to hurt you.”

“h-hurt me, it’s okay,” you mumble out, and he truly does hesitate for a second, then his thrusts are suddenly faster, bumping you into the counter with the sheer snap of his hips. your cries sound like noises formed from a blessed harp, passed down by the gods for him to listen to, each moan getting louder and louder until his ears are ringing, until the music sounds hushed compared to your screams.

it’s so obscene, all of the things that he finds himself spitting out as he harshly bucks into you. so cute, jus’ wanna ruin you, takin’ my cock so well, that feel good princess? he can’t help the way his hands snake up to your hair, tugging at the pretty bow wrapped around it, earning a frosted moan from your glossed lips.

it’s not long until you’re cuming on his cock, with him pulling out to twirl you around and push you to your knees, allowing you to jerk him off until thick white stripes are decorating your face. the white glitter, the sweet scent of your lip - gloss, now accompanied by his cum.

how cute.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbles as he tucks his dick back in his boxers, pulling his jeans back up when your painted nails move to wipe away the cum on your face, lapping it up with your pretty tongue.

you giggle sweetly, “do you do this with all your customers?”

he shakes his head, “no, doll, you’re special, you know that.”

and it’s true, you really were special.

you were a dangerous man’s doll.

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