Could you write something for Flaco x f reader who is really short? NSFW if you want with some size difference, please!

This is entirely NSFW, I hope that's okay!!

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1343

AO3

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You weren't tall. By all means, you sometimes felt tiny while standing next to other people, most of all Flaco Hernandez, who you've been well-acquainted with for a while.

He wasn't your lover, wasn't more than a partner in crime, but sometimes, the both of you helped each other out... wherever you could.

It wasn't rare that he asked for your company, that he asked you to stay the night at his cabin. Sometimes there really was a snowstorm that prevented you from riding back home. But most days, you could easily pretend that was the case.

Tonight was no different.

You had arrived as always, had told him of the job you've finished and refused to take his reward. Because, really, you weren't doing any of this for money anymore. Every time you came to see him, it was a pleasure more than anything.

"So, Miss... is it time to go already?" He asked, his breath shaping clouds in front of his face.

Why he lived up here, in the cold and frost, you had never understood. You doubted you ever would.

"Depends," you replied, resting your hip against the desk he sat on. "Would you like some company tonight?"

You surely would, and you knew him well enough to tell that he thought the same way.

He took you in, eyes roaming your shape, or what was visible behind your layers of clothing. "It would be a pleasure." Always so damn courteous. You had believed him to be nothing but a rough and tough gunslinger, but it turned out he could be sweet as summer wine.

A smile shaped upon your lips, and you settled by his side to stay. After all, the warmth of his body next to yours beat the cold outdoors by lengths.

It didn't take long before things escalated between you two. Really, it never did.

Before the night had fully broken, you were already straddling his lap, his powerful thighs beneath your slimmer ones, and his big palms holding your waist so easily.

He was sucking and nipping at the skin of your jaw, planted kisses along your neck and up to your ear. His lips weren't soft, but they were perfect that way, your lips parting at the ticklish sensation of his mustache rubbing against your skin.

"You're so tiny, little bird," he whispered, teeth pulling on your earlobe until your breath hitched and a shiver ran down your spine. "Always hidin' in those huge coats to look bigger than you are, huh?" His assumption wasn't wrong, though you preferred the thick pelts solely to stay warm whenever you were close to his cabin.

Right now, there was nothing better than taking them off, however, nothing better than to allow him to take you in for what you were. His eyes followed your every motion when he leaned back, admiring you the moment you were left in only a shirt and pants.

"You only show yourself to Flaco, don't you?"

He could get possessive, but if that didn't turn you on, nothing would. "Of course," you mumbled, rolling your hips to offer him some friction. The space within his pants had to get smaller by the second, and you wondered how long he'd be able to stay patient.

Grumbling in apparent satisfaction, Flaco's hands wandered up your sides, fingers teasing at the hem of your shirt. "Think you're ready for me?" He asked, and you had the audacity to smirk and grind down on his bulge again, eliciting a deep groan from his mouth.

Flaco didn't waste a second. He scooped you right up into his arms, carrying you with ease while your legs wrapped around his waist.

While he carried you over to the bed, his lips mapped out the bare skin of your neck, teeth teasing your pulse point. But before you were able to react, to do more than take in another sharp breath, he had already dropped you onto the mattress, climbing over you and covering you entirely with his massive body.

In comparison to you, he was a beast of a man; most of all with his thick coat. You didn't have any complaints about that, however.

"Fuck me," you demanded, out of breath without him needing to do as much as touch you.

A single look of his was often enough to undo you, and right now, you've had plenty of those focused on yourself already.

He grumbled again, fingers hooking under your waistband to pull your pants down a little bit. Just enough to expose your dripping cunt.

You took in another breath, cold meeting your sensitive sex, your legs trying to close while he only pressed them up against your own chest.

Shit. You didn't know you were this flexible.

"Looks like someone's hungry?" The smile was evident in his tone of voice, thick fingers dipping in between your wet folds with ease.

You gasped, unable to deny his statement when your excitement was more than just obvious. If only he'd stop playing with you.

"It'd only be fair to treat my lady well, don't you think?" He muttered, first one and then another finger pushing into your tight heat, stretching you more than your own ever could.

He didn't even have his cock out yet, and you were already close to coming undone, your thighs quivering when he brought his fingers deeper and crooked them to massage your sweet spot.

Your fingers curled in the blankets, lips parting to release a needy moan. "Right there– please." Any sort of challenge had long since left you, your body needing more in this very moment, needing the release you haven't had in quite some time.

But Flaco grew confident at your shameless display, pulling his soaked fingers out and circling your clit only once, before his touch was gone for good.

Unable to squirm much when one of his hands still kept your ankles secure, you could only wait until he had opened up his bottoms, staring at his reddened erection while pre-cum spilled off the tip and onto the blankets.

You liked your lips at the sight, knowing that Flaco wouldn't want to make himself wait now, the man moving closer as he grabbed the inside of your knees, pushing them further down while he thrust in. With one swift stroke, he had bottomed out within you, the breath forcefully knocked out of your lungs at the stretch you'd never grow used to.

Whimpering when he pulled back out, you remained trapped beneath him, blood rushing within your ears while he started to take what was his without any care about your difference in size.

"So tight," he bit out, holding onto you with enough strength to leave bruises, your tangled pants and underwear only rendering you completely incapable of moving.

How he managed to fit, you still hadn't figured out, holding onto the sheets as he started to pick up the pace.

Each deep stroke knocked you backwards, made you gasp out and your vision darken. It felt good, much too good to be true – the fact that he could oh-so-easily crush you under his weight only making your heart race that much quicker.

You cried out, and he took that as his cue to go even harder. His balls slapped against your wet skin with each thrust, the sound of his grunts and groans mingling with your own pleasurable noises.

Of course you didn't last, couldn't hold back when he angled his hips and pounded into the most sensitive areas within your cunt, your body clenching around him when you came near entirely untouched.

Only his cock had gotten you off, your breath harsh and erratic, hips stuttering while he kept going, thrusting deep and hard while your walls milked him for his release.

At the last moment, he pulled out, making a proper mess of your bare thighs and your cunt, his seed dripping down to seep into the sheets upon the bed.

Throw me to the Wolves

Summary: A few wrong turns and you're lost up in the Grizzlies, stuck wandering through the snow with your abusive partner. Until a derelict cabin comes into view, with a stranger inside who helps you, not just from the wilderness, but from your psychotic partner.

Pairing: f!Reader x Unnamed m!Partner, f!Reader x Flaco Hernández

Word Count: 8526

Rating: SFW

Warnings: Detailed descriptions of verbal and emotional abuse.

Tags: Abusive relationship, Trauma, Gaslighting, Angst, Breakdowns, Happy ending.

Notes: This fic started off as a request, but it just really hit home for me, so I had to pour a lot of my trauma out into this. There is a lot of content below that may trigger some people, with detailed descriptions of verbal and emotional abuse. This is a reader insert, but it's written from my personal experiences; the dialogue that is in italics are direct quotes from my abusive ex, and I decided to post this today seeing as I'm now a year free from his abuse!! yay!!

Some relationships can't be fixed, whilst others shouldn't be fixed. Which one is yours? Probably both, but for some reason, you're still willing to try, despite the lack of emotions you've felt over the last few years. It seems the 'man' you call your partner has drained you of almost everything - feelings, money, the will to live. But he's promised yet again that he'll change, and during one of those talks where he put on his happy face, and suggested a weekend away, somewhere remote where you two will have to work together to keep each other warm, and hopefully fix this broken bond yet again. There's a few small cabins north of Strawberry, the town that you live in, and from what you've heard, they're all abandoned. Strangers use them all the time for various reasons, usually shelter, and the particular one your partner has in mind is located at Barrow Lagoon. You've never been past Big Valley, not wanting to trudge through the thick snow and get cut off by the surrounding mountains, along with whatever gangs live up there. If you're heading for Canada then that definitely isn't the right way; and to nobody's surprise, you haven't taken the right way either.

"We should be there by now," your partner comments as you ride alongside a stream, heading up the steady slope. You have to bite on your tongue to stop yourself from sliding in a petty comment, knowing you'll only feed his flames, but your lack of reply makes his brows furrow, and he comments again. "Are you deaf? did you not hear me?" he shouts, his horse nickering at his raised voice. You're only a few meters behind, not far enough to not hear him... sadly... "What do you want me to say?" you sigh. "I know we went the wrong way, but you said we should go this way," you finally bite. Your partner snaps his head around to glare at you, spitting his words like venom. "Maybe if you'd stayed quiet then we would be at the cabin by now," he almost yells. So, he tells you off for being quiet, and then tells you off for not being quiet. Are all men like this? You can't help but let out another sigh; here we go again. He gives his horse a nasty kick and continues to ride forwards, yourself trotting behind; as always, you get that feeling in your chest. Well, it's somewhat of a lack of feeling, your chest turning numb yet heavy, your eyes just the same, urging to cry, but you've shed far too many tears to bother wasting any more. At least he's now ignoring you. The trail continues, and a settlement appears in your line of sight. It's clearly abandoned, the houses falling apart, each of them letting in an occasional gust of wind as they try their hardest to hold themselves together. You go to open your mouth, to suggest using this area as shelter for the night, but your partner turns to you and begins yapping away. "We're not staying here, I don't trust it. There's probably a gang hiding there, just waiting to ambush us," he tells you as he carries on, turning to the right and following the trail around the deserted town. It's possible that your partner is, dare you say it, right. There are no signs of life, but they could be hidden within the houses, or surrounding the area, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Your eyes gloss over the snow and you don't see any tracks, but there's no point arguing with somebody who has never listened to anybody but himself in his entire life. "Let's go this way, maybe it'll loop back down," he comments, his head remaining forward as he leads off the path, following a small trail. You only know it's a trail because the snow is slightly lowered, there's no specific hoof prints, but the snow has settled unevenly, meaning somebody has passed through here well before you. The path does begin to loop round, and you soon find yourself stood on a small hill, overlooking a run down shack and a frozen lake. You pull a face at the sight, turning to see his grin. "I told you we'd find it," he comments. "That can't be it... the cabin is falling apart, you said it the cabin is-" "-I know, but... I've never been so how am I meant to be certain?" your partner cuts you off, his voice raised and firm as always. "So, you're trying to take us away to a location that you've never even been to?" you roll your eyes. As much as you don't want to spark an argument, you can't help but point out his idiocy. "Well, my parents have been to it," he blabbers. "And did your parents describe it as a broken down cabin, with a shoddy outhouse, and some tents beside it?" He looks at you, a frown plastered across his ugly mug, but you're no stranger to that sight. From the way his closed mouth moves, you can tell he's biting his tongue, holding himself back as his cheeks continue to turn red. "Come on," is all he says as he orders his horse to head down the hill, attempting to trot across the ice. You, the sensible one in the relationship (though he seems to disagree,) take your horse around the frozen lake, watching as his poor mount begins to slip and slide across the lake, nickering every time he pulls at its reigns, as if that's going to make the situation any better. He finally reaches the other side, mumbling nonsense under his breath as he demounts his horse, leading them over to a tree and hitching them to it. You leave yours unhitched, knowing that there's no way this is the right location, and that you'll probably be walking out of that cabin within minutes with him on your tail, blaming you yet again for everything. Your eyes trail over the cabin again; the windows are covered, the glass still intact, but a sheet prevents you from peering in to check it out. The only way in is through the front door, and it eerily creaks open with a gentle push. No lock? that's suspicious, but you'll probably find it on the floor, seeing as this cabin is falling apart. You're slow to wander inside, observing the varied mess of crates and bottles on the floor. The cooking fire is out, and it looks as if it's not been used for a while, with what's left of somebody's mouldy dinner marinading in the cauldron. The snow falls off your boots as you continue walking into the cabin, stopping just in front of a small table; it's a mess, just like the rest of the cabin, but the candle catches your eye. That's when you notice the last thing you were hoping for, a sign of life, as the smoke is still drifting from it. You overhear your partner entering the cabin and as you turn to face him, the stranger appears from behind the door. "Don't move, hands up," he tells you, his gun in hand pointed at you. You have no problem following orders when your life is on the line, slowly raising your hands, but your idiot of a partner, who's barely a step into the doorway, attempts to peer behind the open door and shoot the stranger. There's a flash from the strangers gun, followed by your partner yelping and clutching his hand. The stranger has disarmed him, and done it with such speed that your brain can't quite process what's happened. "You moron!" He grumbles, clutching onto his hand and checking his injury. There's no blood, probably a burn at most, and the 'trauma' that he'll definitely use for sympathy points whenever he gets the opportunity to. "When I tell you not to move, then you shouldn't move," The stranger hisses, his voice deep and earthy. His gun is now pointed at your partner, who looks up at him and frowns. You watch as the two square up to each other, and you question why your partner can't just swallow his pride for once. He's attempting to stand upright, puffing out his chest at a man that towers over him. But the more the stranger steps forward, the more your partner finally begins to cower away, until he's backed against the wall with a gun pointing to his head. "I said hands up," he growls, and finally, your partner raises his hands. "Who are you?" the stranger asks. "Why's that matter? you're just gonna kill us." "I might change my mind. It all depends on what stupid move you decide to do next," he says with a chuckle at the end of his words. Your partner gives his name, followed by pointing at you and saying yours. "And what are you doing here?" the stranger then asks. "We were travelling to Barrow Lagoon, until this idiot here got us lost," he explains as he points to you again. You raise an eyebrow at his comment, and the stranger does the same. He turns to look at you. "You can lower your hands," he tells you in a voice so soft, the complete opposite to the roar you heard a few seconds ago. The strangers head snaps back to your partner as he barks "I didn't say you could lower yours!" Again, your partners hands are raised, and you notice that he's physically shaking. You soak up the sight, enjoying seeing him tremble as somebody begins to treat him the way he treats others, specifically you. "Idiot, huh? you always talk to her like that?" the stranger questions. "Well, she got us lost, so of course she-" "So, that makes it okay? you're the one who tried to shoot me moments ago, so I guess that makes you a lot more of an idiot, huh?" he cuts your partner off. Your partner doesn't reply, his head lowering as the stranger begins to laugh. "Well, say something," he comments. Your partner goes to open his mouth, but he's lost for words, looking like a scared puppy, making the stranger laugh even more at his cowardliness. For some reason, you step in. "We didn't mean to intrude, we didn't know that somebody lives here," you explain, taking a few steps forward until you're in the centre of the room, a foot away from the stranger. He looks at you with an eyebrow raised, as if to question why you're attempting to save this coward. "We'll leave now, if that's alright with you." "Smart woman," the stranger compliments you, but directs his comment towards your partner, "you should learn a thing or two from her, cabrón." "She's not," your partner replies. Really? this man has the audacity to argue back over your intelligence with a man whose pointing a gun to his head? The stranger looks at you once more, a look of disgust on his face, "does he always talk to you like this?" "-Hey, she's not speaking to you," your partner interrupts him. "She can speak to whomever she wants," the stranger bites back. He's about to turn his gaze to your partner, and you notice how twitchy his trigger finger is becoming. "Would you both stop?" you butt in, two pairs of wide eyes now looking at you. "I'm sorry, we didn't mean to intrude," you do your best to apologize, reaching out to grab your partners arm and drag him away from the wall. "We'll leave, again, I'm sorry," you say, pushing him out the door, following straight behind. The stranger trails over, standing in his doorway, watching both of you whistle for your horses in an attempt to run away. His gun falls limp by his side, not holstered, but (unfortunately) no longer pointing at your partner. He stares at the ground, letting out a deep sigh before he calls out to you both. "If you're heading for Barrow Lagoon then it's too late for tonight, wolves surround this area, and they'll be on your trail before you make it back to Colter. You can take the tents for the night," he offers, using his gun to point at the two empty tents beside his cabin. "Thank you," you reply, letting out a soft sigh of relief. Neither of you had any idea about what wildlife lives up here, and you don't fancy becoming some overgrown puppies dinner. Your partner looks at you with a scowl, but you choose to ignore him, demounting your horse and finding a comfortable place to hitch them for tonight. The stranger doesn't say anything else, turning back into his cabin and shutting the door behind him. Now that the stranger has disappeared, your partner begins his scolding, and you can't help but zone out to it. As always, there's a string of insults, and it's obvious that he's desperate to try and blame you for this situation. You know you're not in the wrong, you know you did the right thing by de-escalating the situation and getting out of there, and you know that he knows he's the idiot, but some 'men' just can't accept their faults. There's no point responding to any of his blabbering, and he's right on your tail as you unpack, getting your things cosy in this tent, not bothering with anything he owns. You know that once he's finished berating you, that he'll click his fingers and expect you to unload his bags too, then he'll probably demand a hot meal and a back rub, as if you're his slave - not his partner. But then your partner says something that for some reason, always seems to get to you. It's a babyish insult, a word that really shouldn't mean as much as it does, but your partner has over-used it to the point where you shudder every time you hear the word. "You're so stupid," he insults you. "I know," you dryly reply, not even looking in his direction as you continue to get settled in one of the tents. "Such an idiot," he adds on. "I know." "You know what? Sometimes I wish you were a man, just so I could hit you." "Really?" you snap, stopping in your tracks to shoot a look of disappointment his way, not that it does much. "I do-" "-I'm surprised you already haven't!" you cut him off, "and I don't see how I'm the idiot here? I'm not the one who tried to shoot him!" "Why are you defending him?" he scoffs. "Because we're in the wrong; we stormed into his cabin, and then you tried to murder him!" Your partner puts on a babyish voice as he repeats your words, mocking you for... having common sense? "why are you defending him?" he questions again, and cuts you off before you can repeat your previous answer. "You're going to cheat on me with him, aren't you?" "What?" you stutter, in utter disbelief. How the hell has he managed to get to this idea? "I can tell you are, I know you too well, better than you think!" "You don't know me at all," you correct him. "Well, you haven't said 'no' to it!" "I'm not going to cheat on you," you sigh, although you should, he deserves it, and more... "You're going to cheat on me, just like all those times you have done in the past!" "You know I've never cheated on you, not unlike that time I caught you chatting up that woman at the Saloo-" "-That wasn't cheating! we've already discussed that!" your partner shouts, his face turning redder by the second. You let out a long sigh, your head beginning to pound from losing your final few braincells. "I'm done with this conversation," you state, and continue unpacking. He huffs and puffs, grunts and groans, and has the audacity to barge you out the way as he begins unloading his bags - at least he's not demanded you do it. There's an unspoken agreement that the tent is halved, and you're honestly surprised that he hasn't taken the other tent for himself, knowing what a drama queen he can be, especially after an argument. Whatever, this is fine, you'll be fine. You just need to get through tonight, and then you'll set off early tomorrow and head straight back home. Admit it, this relationship is done for; you've known that all along, you knew that the second you two had your first disagreement. Your mind runs through everything as you eat your dinner, munching away on your cooked can of beans, washing them down with a slug of whiskey as you and your partner sit in silence. ------------------ It's surprisingly peaceful up here; there's almost complete silence, complimented with the cracking campfire, and the occasional howl that you can hear in the distance. That stranger was telling the truth, there are wolves nearby, and you two definitely would have ended up their meal tonight. You thanked him, but you feel like you've not done enough... this stranger has saved you from wolves and the cold, selflessly offering a place to stay despite your partner attempting to murder him for defending his own home. Another tin of beans is opened and placed by the campfire to cook, and you finish up your own, carefully using a rag to pry the now-cooked can of beans away from the campfire. You wrap the rag around it, preventing the metal from burning your bare hands, and begin standing upright. "Where are you going?" your partner questions. "To give some food to that stranger," you reply. "Why? he tried to kill me!" "He tried to kill you," you correct, "and because he's offered us a place to stay, and saved us from wolves." "Whatever," your partner grunts, "you might as well kiss him whilst you're over there." You ignore his suggestion, although this is probably the best suggestion he's ever had. A spare fork is placed into the tin of beans, and you make your way over to his cabin, knocking on the door and awaiting his reply. He doesn't answer at first, so you knock a little louder. "What?" you hear a grumpy voice call out. "I uh, brought you some food," you sheepishly reply, now having second thoughts. Is this stupid? is it weird to offer this man a lousy tin of beans as your way of saying thanks? There's no time to think, and your mind goes blank the second he opens the door, looking down at you with a scowl on his face. Your cheeks turn red, and you suddenly forget that words exist, gawking at this man with a hot tin of beans in your hands. "You brought me food?" the stranger questions, his voice as soft as it was earlier when he was speaking directly to you. "Uhm, yeah... I uh," you pause and look away. Are you shaking because you're nervous? or because it's cold? "You didn't have to," he replies. "I know, and I know it's not much..." you reply, finally turning to face him, although your eyes remain fixated on the can of beans. "...but it's the least I can offer as my thanks for letting me- us stay," you correct yourself, instantly regretting it. Your partner hasn't offered any thanks, not even in words. The stranger lets out a soft chuckle, reaching out to take the tin from your hands. There's skin contact, there has to be considering he's scooping the rag up from your palms, preventing himself from being burnt on the hot metal, and for whatever reason, your head begins to spin. "Thank you," he replies, luring your eyes dart up to meet his. Yet again, you're in awe at how softly he's speaking to you. He's huge, a built and stocky guy, towering over you, yet speaking to you like you're a newborn. You study him, not meaning to, but it's hard to move your eyes away; he's slightly aged, an array of wrinkles covering his face, but still looks like he could easily take anybody on, and has the scars to show it. The loose hairs hanging on either side of his face compliment his appearance, and that thick coat he's wearing looks so warm, so... huggable... and you suddenly feel cold as you admire it. "What's your name?" the stranger asks. "What?" He laughs, "I said, what's your name?" "Oh," you wince. You give him your name, and in return, he gives you his. "Flaco," he tells you, "Flaco Hernández." "Nice to meet you," you politely reply, giving the back of your neck an awkward scratch. There's a moment of silence, and you watch as he stirs the tin of beans before scooping some into his mouth. "I haven't eaten in so long," he mutters under his breath. "I have more food... if you-" "-No," he cuts you off, "that's yours, not mine to take." "But you've helped me-" "-No," he cuts you off yet again, "you need it more than I do." "Alright," you softly shrug, deciding its best not to push your anything onto this man. Silence hits once again, and you don't even realize you're staring until Flaco makes eye contact with you. He's stood in his doorway, gulping down a can of beans, and you're watching him like a puppy awaiting scraps. You realize how uncomfortable this must be for him, and turn to leave, but the second your eyes trail from his, he speaks up. "Look, you uh..." Flaco pauses. He looks over to the tents, and scowls a little as he notices your partner sat there, minding his own business, pretending like he's never done any harm to anybody. "...you let me know if you need anything, okay?" "Okay," you nod, "thank you." "There's no need to thank me," Flaco tells you, his eyes wandering back over to your partner. "You should get back to him, before that baby kicks up a fuss again." Flaco grins when you begin laughing at his comment, moving your hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter, not wanting to fly any flags and spark up another argument when you return. "Go on," Flaco urges you, nodding his head in your partners direction. You flash him a grin before heading off, overhearing Flaco shut the door behind you. Thankfully, your partner doesn't react when you sit back down; you assume he didn't overhear the interaction, seeing as he's always so eager to jump down your throat at any opportunity. ------------------ The night remains quiet, well, quiet between you and your partner. Light snow begins to fall, and there's a slight breeze that you're certain will pick up throughout the night, and eventually, it does. You wake up shivering, violently vibrating, desperate for any kind of warmth. The campfire has burnt out long ago, and despite all the layers you're wearing, the tent can only provide so much extra heat, if any. You huff, watching the thick smoke trail from your lips, and roll over to curl up against the only other source of heat. Isn't it sad that you're genuinely afraid to cuddle your partner? knowing that he'll shove you off, that he'd much rather let you freeze to death than hold you throughout the night. And that's exactly what he does, almost a second after you wrap your arm around his waist. He lands a nasty nudge to your ribs, making you whimper. You press your hands to your chest, and gently rest your forehead against his back, attempting to salvage any kind of heat you can steal from him. He jabs his shoulder against you, hitting you square in the eye, and this time you vocalize the pain he's just put you in. "Why?" is all you ask. "I don't want you touching me," he murmurs, still half asleep. "I'm freezing here!" you snap. "Go and light the fire then." "I'm not going out there, I'll die!" He lets out an overly-dramatic huff, throwing the blankets off both of you as he sits upright. His hands flex, attempting to relax as he lets out a deep breath and shuts his eyes. As always, your partner puts a specific tone on, a belittling one, one where he's attempting to get the high ground despite knowing he's in the wrong. "I don't want you near me, alright? I need my space," he questions in a patronizing tone, hissing through his teeth. "I'm going to freeze to death, you're probably going to freeze to death too, I can see you shaking!" you point out as you also sit up. "Not my problem," he bluntly replies. "Sort yourself out, and I'll sort myself out," he shrugs, and lies back down, rolling over to face away from you. Like the child he is, he pulls the blanket away from you, hogging the entire thing as if to say 'fuck you, i'd rather you freeze to death!' You don't bother announcing that you're leaving, but you make sure it's obvious as you loudly pack your bags, swinging them over your shoulder and unfastening the tent flaps. Before you leave, you rip the blanket from his hands. It is your blanket, after all. He goes to grumble and yank it back, but you've already exited the tent, leaving the flaps hanging open - it's only fair considering he'd happily treat you the same way. Barely a meter away, you sit down in the other tent, dumping your bag beside you and instantly putting your head in your hands. Your partner hasn't bothered chasing after you, why would he? and you overhear him closing the tent flaps aggressively, because of course, everything he does just has to be aggressive. Another shiver escapes you, and your head rests on your forearms as you look at what's left of the campfire, burnt out long ago. There's no way you're able to re-light it, not when there's a layer of snow settling atop of it; the logs are damp and continue to worsen as every second passes. Face it, you're going to freeze to death out here! But an "oi!" perks your ears up, and you look at your surroundings, wondering where it came from. It's definitely not your partner, and you almost jump out of your skin to see the stranger, Flaco, half-stood out of his doorway, gesturing for you to come over. Did he... over-hear that argument? you're embarrassed, but you're also grabbing your bags and shuffling through the snow to him, stomping your boots as you enter his cabin and shutting the door behind you. "What happened this time?" Flaco questions. His tone of voice is so sincere, as if he's known you for years, and knows that this is a regular occurrence. "Oh, you know... stuff," you shrug, standing awkwardly on one side of his cabin as he settles on the other, sitting down on a well-worn chair in the back left corner. Flaco raises an eyebrow, and silently gestures you to get comfortable on his bed. You don't hesitate, slumping your bag down beside it, kicking off your boots and wrapping your blanket around your shoulders as you sit back, leaning against the cabin wall and turning your attention to him. It's warm in here, thankfully, a lot warmer than those damp canopy walls. Is it bad that you're getting a sadistic pleasure out of knowing that your partner is freezing out there? the fact that you're enjoying his suffering says enough about the relationship, and yet for some reason, you feel bad, as if you shouldn't be taking pleasure in his pain, despite knowing he takes much pleasure in yours. "Stuff?" Flaco repeats. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but Flaco is here to lend an ear, if you need it." The way he refers to himself in third person is sweet. You suddenly feel heat radiating off your cheeks, and you're uncertain if you're blushing, or if the heat is finally catching up to you. "I uh... I woke up shivering, and he wouldn't let me huddle for warmth with him." "He wouldn't?" Flaco almost spits. "What else did he do, huh?" "Pushed me away, you know, quite literally." "This uh, partner of yours.... has he 'pushed' you away before?" "I mean, he's shoved me off him many times. He's never physically hurt me, but I'm used to being literally pushed away." Flaco pauses, sitting back in his chair. One of his heels is bouncing, softly tapping against the wooden floor as his eyes dart around the room. He licks his lips before speaking again. "Well, we'll let him freeze out there, it's what he deserves for treating you like this." You laugh along with him - Flaco is right, this is what he deserves! but your laughter trails off as you begin to get second thoughts, as always. It's unfair, that you know he's a bad person, but you can't help but feel a little sorry for him. Is this right? allowing him to freeze out there? although you're certain that Flaco definitely isn't going to let him warm up in this cabin, especially after his attempted murder and lack of thanks. "You're thinking," Flaco states, drawing your eyes over to his. He's no longer leaning back in his chair, instead hunched over, elbows resting on his knees, quite obviously studying you. "Yeah," you confirm, "I just... I feel a bit bad, willingly let him suffer out there-" "-So what? it's clear that he's allowed you to suffer enough," Flaco cuts you off. He sighs, shaking his head and brushing a few strands of hair off his face. "Look, I haven't known you for very long, but it's obvious that... thing out there doesn't deserve you. Hell, he doesn't deserve to live, speaking to others like that, let alone a woman!" You stumble on your next words, as if the words don't want to fall from your mouth, probably because you know deep down that it's not true. "H-he does love me, and I guess... I guess I am stupid at times... and-" "-No," Flaco bluntly replies, gesturing with his hand to stop. "You've been brainwashed, chiquita. That's... that's not love, that's not normal. That's abuse," Flaco states. "Abuse?" you repeat his words. "I've... I've always questioned on whether this is abuse, and I've never heard another person say it. Our friends, well, his friends, they always say that I'm in the wrong, they always take his side," you explain. "Of course they would," Flaco laughs, "they're his friends, not yours. Of course they'd be stupid enough to follow his lead," Flaco shakes his head. He takes a look at you, sympathy flowing in his eyes, and sends a soft smile your way. "Come on, you know it as well as I do," Flaco urges. Flaco's not wrong, he's far from wrong. If anything, this stranger is the voice of reason you've been looking for this whole time - somebody who isn't afraid to speak your thoughts, to confirm your doubts, to help you see clearly. His eyes trail away from yours, and he softly shakes his head, but it's not directed at you. "What is it?" you question, noticing how wide his eyes go as he looks back over to you, as if you weren't meant to see that. "I was going to ask something stupid," Flaco says with a light laugh. "What was it?" you question again. Flaco attempts to brush you off, but you push on it for some unknown reason. "I was going to ask why you don't just leave," Flaco sighs, "stupid question, I know." Flaco notices how you relax, letting out a sigh of relief. He smiles at you, but tilts his head in confusion as you say "thank you." "For what?" "For not asking that," you explain, "for not... victim blaming me!" This time, Flaco does laugh, leaning back in his chair and letting his elbows rest on the backrest, propping himself up. "Like I said, it's a stupid question. You've got to be a real cabrón to ask that." You let out another sigh of relief, shuffling about on the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest. There's silence once again, and you zone out, thinking about things - thinking about him. Flaco's so right; you are being abused, you are a victim, and you have been brainwashed into thinking you're not. Despite only knowing him for a few hours, he's done so much to help, much more than anybody in your past has. And it seems that he's now willing to be a shoulder to cry on, as you let out a sniffle and wipe your eyes, biting the tip of your tongue to try and hold back. A large part of you feels guilty, not at your partner, but for storming into this strangers life and unloading your emotions onto him. Flaco lets out a small cough, drawing your attention to him, your glossy eyes meeting his warm ones. "You look like you need a friend right now," Flaco states the obvious, "I know I'm a stranger, but I'm here if you need a shoulder to cry on." And you do, you really do. You let out a soft nod, and the second Flaco stands, you begin letting the tears flow. He settles on the bed beside you, wrapping his arm around you and firmly pulling you in, allowing you to begin sobbing against his chest. You're pawing at him, finding just the right spot to settle in and begin letting all your emotions out. His coat is softer than you could ever imagine, smothering your face as you press yourself against his chest, the cold metal of each bullet on his bandoliers resting against your jawline. You feel a little awkward, finding so much comfort in this stranger, but he brushes your anxious thoughts away as he pulls you onto his lap, shuffling back to lean against the cabin wall, letting you cry in his arms. Loving is the right word to describe this man; you can physically feel the warmth and sympathy radiating off him, cooing you softly as you continue to cry. He moves an arm off you for a second, only so he can remove his hat and place it down beside him, then coddles you once again. "Let it all out," Flaco encourages, his hands slowly stroking your arm and back, and you feel his cheek rest atop of your head, pulling you tighter against him. You're uncertain how long you were crying for, your mind turning foggy as you click into a trance, shaking and sobbing, whaling and whining, allowing your body to do whatever it needs to let all these emotions out. But eventually, you begin to burn yourself out, a headache slowly stepping in its place; you give your temple a rub, licking your lips at the same time, and keep your head pressed to Flaco's chest. He's still softly hushing you, gripping you tightly; you question how long he's been up here, if he's all alone, when he last had any kind of human contact. Can you blame him for coddling you so much? he must be losing his mind up here! and yet, he's still treating you with so much kindness, moving his hand off your arm to begin gently running it through your hair. The sound of his heartbeat appears in your conscience, and you listen in, the faint sound of the fire crackling in the distance. Flaco lets out a deep breath, lifting his head off yours to peer down at you. He notices the way you're gripping tightly onto his coat, and how your eyelids flutter, eager to drift off to sleep. Flaco speaks up, his voice softer than you can ever imagine, just about a whisper as to not startle you. "You know, I could get rid of him, if you'd like," he offers with a soft laugh. Your head snaps up to look at him, his warm eyes meeting your red ones. "What do you mean?" you question, needing confirmation to your thoughts. "Men like that, they just jump from one person to the other. Once he's done with you, he'll find another toy to play with. He's a pest," Flaco explains, still running his fingers along your hair as he talks. "I can't do that, I... I can't hurt him," you sigh, curling back against Flaco's chest, your eyes falling shut. "I never said you have to," Flaco lightly chuckles. He rests his head atop of yours, remaining silent for a few moments until he speaks up again, "just say the word, and I'll get rid of him for you." Why does every single part of you want to say yes? all apart from a tiny piece of guilt holding you back, preventing you from protecting yourself and others that he'll almost definitely pounce onto once you're out of the picture. You're thinking about it, wondering if you can live with that guilt, if you can allow his blood to be on your hands. "Chiquita," Flaco speaks up, catching your attention. "you and him, do you live together?" "No, he moved out a few months ago, got his own place," you explain. "Hm, any reason why?" "We just can't live together, too different, we clash." "Strange," Flaco comments. "You know you two aren't compatible, yet you're still putting the effort in." Once again, Flaco is right, but you begin to question your situation once Flaco speaks his next load of thoughts. "Why are you two heading to Barrow Lagoon? It's not a place that anybody goes near, out of respect," he comments. "Huh? respect of what?" you question. "I've forgotten his name, but there's a deceased man there. He used to live there some years back, passed away, and sadly his grave was dug up and vandalized," Flaco explains. "There's not many of us that live in the Grizzlies, but it's an unspoken rule that nobody goes there." "My partner... he told me that his parents have been there before, and he never mentioned anything about a grave," you speak your thoughts, lifting your head off Flaco's chest to speak directly to him, still curled up in his lap. "Something about that partner of yours isn't sitting right, even more now you're telling me this," Flaco frowns. Cogs are turning in both of your heads... this isn't the first time your partner has lied to you, or 'misinformed' you, as he'd put it. Flaco's eyes meet yours, and neither of you look away. He's studying you, his eyes trailing over you, his frown fading away the longer he looks at you. You can feel your eyes swelling up again, and you return to finding comfort against Flaco's chest, his hand coming up to massage your scalp again as you let out whatever tears you have left. There's silence between you two again, just you lightly sobbing in his arms, and Flaco coddling you. He's clinging onto you tighter this time, and you can sense how protective he's become over you, despite knowing you for such a short amount of time. This energy that Flaco's radiating, you've never felt it from your partner before, only the opposite. For a man that claims to be in love with you, he's done nothing but attempt to push you away from the very start, only to go back on his words and actions whenever you do try to break away. Why is he like this? why does he act sweet and kind whenever you try to escape, only to snap back into his abusive place once he knows you're in his grasp again? It's strange, he's strange, but in some ways, Flaco is also strange. You feel more love from this stranger than you've ever felt from your lousy partner, so much love, so much warmth and comfort, protection and sympathy. Your partner has never done anything like this, he's never had the basic respect to hold you in his arms as you cry, instead he pushes you away and tells you to 'sort your own problems out.' Flaco knows you're thinking again as he tells you to "take all the time you need." What a wonderful man, what a wonderful stranger you've stumbled across in your desperate time of need. So, you do what he says, taking all the time you need to think about everything, but mostly the extremely tempting offer that Flaco has gracefully placed in front of you. Are you comfortable with having somebody else's blood on your hands? "What do you have in mind?" you question, making Flaco smile against you, his head resting atop of yours. "That depends on what you're comfortable with," Flaco replies, lifting his head to look down at you in his lap. "I..." you pause, finding the strength to get this over and done with. "I can't hurt him, I can't, but I'm not going to step in the way if you want to." "Oh, I want to do a lot more than hurt him," Flaco lets out a laugh. "Just look at how much he's hurt you in these few hours, and I bet he's done much worse in the past!" "He has," you sigh. "Look," Flaco moves his hand off your head, gently cupping your chin, directing your eyes to his. "I'm no stranger to death. I've killed men before, and I have no problem doing it again. His blood will be on my hands, not yours, okay?" Your eyes trail away from Flaco's, visually showing discomfort to that word - death. Is this really what you want? it is, but it isn't... "I don't know," you reply. "I don't know if I want him dead, but I do know that I don't ever want to see him again." "I'm not going to do anything without your permission," Flaco tells you. His hand moves off your chin, cupping your jawline, his heart thudding in his chest when you snuggle your cheek into the curve of his palm. "...What if I give you permission to do whatever? to take him off my hands and... I don't know," you sigh. "I... I don't want to stoop to his level, I don't want to be like him." "It's okay," Flaco coos. "You leave it to Flaco, he'll sort it out." Once again, you rest your head on Flaco's chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths, his heart beating in the distance, his thoughts running through his mind. The hand on your cheek returns to your head, petting you, comforting you, making your scalp tingle with every touch. You're exhausted, your body hunches over slightly, aching and desperate to rest; and your eyes, so dry and red, with heavy bags settled beneath them. Flaco can't fault you for dozing off in his lap, he doesn't even realize you've nodded off until you let out a soft snore. He sees this as the perfect opportunity to get some rest, gently shuffling you off his lap and tucking you into bed, laying beside you, your body pressed firmly against his, cuddling somebody for the first time in months. ------------------ You don't remember falling asleep, but you do remember how heavy your eyes felt once you'd cried your heart out. A yawn escapes your lips, and you stretch, pulling the blankets back up to your face once you feel your bones click. Wait... blankets? Your eyes snap open, and you take a look around, realizing you're completely alone, tucked into Flaco's bed. Through the cabin cracks you can tell it's morning, or afternoon, you're not entirely sure, but it's definitely light out, and you can hear wildlife singing in the distance. Shit. Your partner! You've been cooped up here all night, taking refuge and comfort in Flaco's cabin, and you're certain you're going to get it in the neck. Oh, you can hear his words now, accusing you of cheating, accusing you of leaving him to suffer in the cold all night, accusing you of whatever else he fancies because as always, you're in the wrong. Your boots are pulled on, and you let the blankets slip off you, peering out the cabin and nervously looking over to the tents. The flaps are wide open, bunched up at the corners, letting the frozen air trail through. You quietly creep out, tiptoeing down each porch step, silently shuffling through the snow until the inside of each tent comes into your sight. They're empty... The tents are in the exact condition that you found them, even your partners belongings are gone. Your eyes dart around, soon realizing that his horse is missing too, but yours is still hitched where you left them last night. There's a sickly feeling in your stomach, but you know it's not a feeling of regret. It's fear of the unknown, you have no idea where your partner or Flaco is, but you're almost certain that Flaco's done something about your dilemma - done something about him. You're unable to re-enter the cabin, instead sitting in the doorway, looking out at the frozen landscape and awaiting somebody's return. There's silence, so much silence that you can hear your own heartbeat, nervously thumping in your chest, making your sickness worsen as every second passes. Time trails by slowly, and you can't do anything apart from sit in the doorway and peer out at that small hill opposite the cabin, waiting for somebody to return. But after what feels like days, somebody does return, and you let out the biggest sigh of relief when it's the person you were hoping for. Flaco comes trotting over the hill, riding on the back of a horse that oddly looks like him; they're built and fluffy, a dark brown coat with thick fur keeping their hooves warm. Flaco makes eye contact with you the second he appears, and is smiling as he dismounts his horse, making his way over to you as you leap up from where you were sitting. "What happened?" you question. "It's done," Flaco explains, "he won't be bothering you no more." "You... you killed him?" you question in shock, and you instantly get the urge to scold yourself for feeling so... mixed about this. "I didn't do anything," Flaco shrugs. "What do you mean?" "I mean, I didn't do anything." Sigh. "Explain, please?" Flaco chuckles as he urges you into his cabin, his large hand placed on the small of your back, signalling for you to sit on his bed whilst he settles beside you. "He was already awake when I came out the cabin this morning, storming over and barking at me, demanding to know where you were. I shrugged and said I didn't know, and he pointed his finger at me whilst insisting that I did know, and that I needed to tell him 'or else'," Flaco lets out a laugh, and you can picture it clearly, not being a stranger to that sight. "I didn't tell him where you were, I didn't want to risk him storming in here and waking you up, or doing something stupid to you. So, I told him you've probably gone out to find firewood, or you've got sick of him and finally left-" "-You actually said that?" you cut him off, your eyes going wide. "Of course, I did," Flaco laughs. "And he was not happy with my comment, but I couldn't care any less. He said that he was going to look for you, and I told him that we're going hunting instead. That stupid, little man began his yapping again, but he quit barking when I stood over him and made it clear that I'm not one to bargain with." "What did you do, exactly?" you question. "I just told him he's going to hunt for me, and he didn't question me, which was surprising... Anyway, I took him down past Barrow Lagoon, and I made sure to point out that that was the place he was looking for," Flaco laughs again, chuckling away like a father laughing at his own jokes. "We trailed off into the forest, and I let him lead the way as he began looking for something to hunt. That partner of yours, he really was a cabrón, heading into wolf territory with only a bow on him... I knew there was a pack in the area the second we began riding through the trees, and I heard them come for us, for him." "What happened?" you question, your tone stern and curious. "I don't know," Flaco shrugs. "I heard the wolves go for him, I heard him cry out, but I didn't look back." "Do you think... is he?" "I don't know," Flaco repeats, shrugging this time. "But have you ever heard of anybody surviving being attacked by a pack of wolves?" "...No," you sheepishly reply. A deep sigh escapes your lips, and you have to bite at your tongue to stop yourself from crying. "I feel awful, but at the same time, I don't? I feel like... like I should... like I'm..." "Don't," Flaco interrupts you, "he deserves it, he got what was coming for him." Flaco pulls you against him, and you accept, resting your head on his shoulder as you find comfort in him once more. He's right, your partner did get what was coming for him. You've heard the phrase 'treat others how you want to be treated,' and well, he must have had a death wish considering the way he treated others, specifically you. Your body runs through every emotion, finding one that fits: Guilty? not really. Sad? not at all. Lonely? not any more. How about relieved? you're free, you're finally free, but for whatever reason, you're crying. "Hey," Flaco speaks up, catching your gaze. "It's okay to be confused," he tells you, and that's just the reassurance you were looking for, as if he was reading your mind. "It's going to take time, you're going to feel confused for a while, but Flaco promises you that you'll eventually feel better," he says with a smile, and chuckles as you practically pounce on him, climbing onto his lap and snuggling up to him once again. Flaco wraps his arms around you, and your cheeks turn red as he places a tender kiss on your forehead. You suddenly feel so warm, so wanted, so loved, and you curl up in Flaco's lap, thanking him for saving you. "I didn't save you," Flaco tells you, "you saved yourself, I just had to give you a little push." "Or give him a little push," you correct him with a laugh. "I think it was his horse that did that," Flaco laughs with you. There are tears flowing from your eyes, yet you're smiling, finding so much more than comfort in this man. Flaco's right, you have saved yourself, and you're forever thankful that Flaco gave you the courage to do so.

Hello lovelies! To everyone who has sent a request in - Thank you so much!!!! I am so excited to get started on these and I am so amazed at some of the ideas and requests sent in, thank you all once again and hopefully your patience will be rewarded with a great piece of writing 💕💕

𝕰𝖘𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖎𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖓'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

☕ = Fluff 🥯 = Smut 🥨 = Angst 🟠 = One-shot 🟣 = Headcanon ☀️ = Male x Female 🌙 = Female x Female

𝕬𝖘𝖘𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖓'𝖘 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖉

male!Eivor the Wolfkissed

Sober ☕🟠☀️

Sleeping with Eivor ☕🥯🟣☀️

Holding Hands ☕🟠☀️

You hurt me first ☕🥨🟠☀️

NSFW Headcanons 🥯🟣☀️

Ivarr Ragnarsson

Dancing with the beast  ☕🟠☀️

Sleeping with Ivarr ☕🥯🟣☀️

How Ivarr behaves when he falls in love with the reader ☕🥯🟣☀️

NSFW Headcanons 🥯🟣☀️

Sigurd Styrbjornson

Sleeping with Sigurd ☕🟣☀️

NSFW Headcanons 🥯🟣☀️

Basim Ibn Ishaq

Sharing clothes ☕🟠☀️

Sleeping with Basim ☕🟣☀️

Hytham

Sleeping with Hytham ☕🟣☀️

Yusuf Tazim

Are you cold? ☕🟠☀️

Ubba Ragnarsson

female!Eivor Varinsdottir

Tyr

Ezio Auditore da Firenze

Federico Auditore da Firenze

Bartolomeo D’Alviano

Niccolò Machiavelli

Malik Al-sayf

𝕽𝖊𝖉 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕽𝖊𝖉𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Sean Macguire

🌺 + Sean ☕🟠☀️

Arthur Morgan

🥶 + Arthur ☕🟠☀️

Dutch Van der Linde

🤬 + Dutch 🥨🟠☀️

John Martson

Bill Williamson

Lenny Summers

Javier Escuella

Kieran Duffy

Flaco Hernandez

Josiah Trelawny

Eagle Flies

𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖑 𝕶𝖔𝖒𝖇𝖆𝖙

Kung Lao

One, None and One Hundred Thousand ☕🥨🟠☀️

Liu Kang

Raiden

Fujin

Hanzo Hasashi

Kuai Liang

Kano

Erron Black

Kabal

𝕷𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 / 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕳𝖔𝖇𝖇𝖎𝖙

Thranduil

My guardian spirit ☕🟠☀️

Feren

Lindir

𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖑 𝕮𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖈 𝖀𝖓𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖊

Loki

A series of absurd coincidences ☕🟠☀️

Helmut Zemo

Bath-time with Zemo ☕🥯🟣☀️

Steven Grant

Marc Spector

Jake Lockley

Bucky

Sam Wilson

Vision

Doctor Strange

Erik Killmonger

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖗

Ah Sahm

Young Jun

Bolo

Wang Chao

Li Yong

Zing

Bill O’Hara

Richard Henry Lee

requests are open woohooo. could you maybe do something with Flaco Hernandez and a female reader who is French? Based on the first encounter you get with him from RDO and hes all charming and flirty but caring :D

Hello Anon!! <3 I tried my best, this was entirely new territory for me so I apologize deeply if it doesn't hit the mark for you! I want to preface by saying I speak neither French or Spanish, but I did find the idea of Reader and Flaco using words from their own languages periodically as they spoke to each other really cute! So I hope I did some justice here, and thank you so much for the challenge!! <3

Flaco Hernández x French f!Reader

Word Count: 1265

Warnings: none

Arriving in the USA after everything you’d learned about it, you had big dreams of spending your humble days enjoying sun-kissed deserts and rolling fields of flowers and wild grasses. As you urged your horse forward, pushing desperately through the knee deep mountain snow in pursuit of a bounty, you cursed yourself for having ever left your homeland.

The snow was coming down harder all around you, blanking out your vision and biting at the exposed flesh of your face. Slowly as you lost sight of landmarks, pushing on aimlessly deeper and deeper into the mountains, you came to the stomach turning realization that you’d probably travelled too far. Disoriented, cold and alone, you knew your only chance now was to find shelter.

The landscape all looked the same, the mountains seemed to envelope you on all sides, each tree identical as they shot up from the icy earth. You were beginning to lose hope, resigning yourself to propping up a tent among the snow and shivering yourself into the grave when you crested a small rise and discovered your salvation.

At the far end of a frozen pond, you saw the shape of a cabin through the storm. From its windows, tiny points of warm light reached your eyes and through its chimney rose a steady plume of smoke. It was warm and inhabited, but apprehension spread through your abdomen as you considered it. There was no telling if you would find kind souls willing to help, or someone vile who would wish to do you harm, but with dwindling options, you knew you had to try.

You guided your horse carefully to the edge of the ice where the harsh winds had blown the snow into shallow, manageable banks and dismounted to lead it safely across. As the cabin came more clearly into view, you could see a makeshift barn and some scattered tents, seemingly empty. Unsure what to expect, you brought your horse to stand safely in the small accommodating stall and climbed through the deep snow that led to the cabin’s door.

Your conviction faltered as you raised a gloved hand to knock. Taking a deep breath, knowing it was this or an icy death, you pounded on the door.

After only a moment the entryway opened suddenly and on the other side of the threshold stood a powerful looking man. He held his revolver pointed at you, it’s cold steel glinting in the lamp light.

“Who are you?” His gruff voice rasped, eyes staring at you intensely. You were shocked not only by his weapon in your face, but by his height and broad frame, made only more imposing by the thick fur coat he wore.

You opened your mouth to speak, but being too cold and too shocked, no words came out. Instead you stared helplessly up at him.

He looked you over for a moment’s pause. A lone woman, coated in snow and looking worse for wear. His next words were gruff but there was an air of lightness to them, “are you going to just stand there, looking pretty?” He raised his eyebrows at you. His accent was strong and in a moment you realized he was probably as far from home as you were. “What’s your name?”

Finally you spoke, forcing the syllables out past your numb lips. His expression softened at the sound of your voice and he lowered his weapon. “Ah get in here before you freeze solid.” He stepped out of your way and lifted an inviting arm to motion you in. You obeyed quickly, relieved at the warmth in the air, emanating from his modest stove.

“So what brings a woman as guapa as you so far north, huh?” He asked with a wink as he took a seat on his worn out cot.

Despite the chill on your cheeks, you felt your nerves prickle to life as your face flushed at his words. You weren’t entirely sure what he meant, but you had a good guess. His handsome face and confident words already made it harder for you to think clearly, but his compliments rendered you nearly speechless once more.

“Don’t be afraid of me hermosa,” he said as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Come closer, stand by the stove and get warm, huh?” He instructed.

You walked deeper into his dwelling, feeling the heat of the stove nip at your frozen skin and finally found the words to speak. “I was hunting a bounty.” You admitted, casually tending to your thawing nose as it began to run.

His eyes narrowed as he looked you over, “your bounty is not Flaco Hernández is it?”

“Non,” you replied quickly, “the man I’m looking for is an Irishman, he escaped his debts by fleeing north.”

“Good!” He laughed, “because I am Flaco Hernández! And now, mi hermosa mujer, you and I have no trouble.”

You smiled at him, he was so charming. You considered asking him why he was that far north too, but as if reading your mind, he explained.

“I came here to find peace. It seems all day and night some cabrone is trying to find me. They’re either fresh outta jail, hoping Falco gives them work, or they’re trying to take me in!” He laughed. “It’s such a rare treat to be visited by a lovely woman instead.” He looked you over before adding flirtatiously, “I don’t doubt you’d give me a run for my money if you did come here for me though.”

You blushed, your cheeks finally feeling warm once more. “Oh I haven’t been doing this for very long.” You said bashfully. “I arrived here, I thought I’d find work doing something I had schooling for, but here I am. C'est la vie,” you sighed.

Flaco chuckled and playfully said, “Coming out in this weather, it’s clear you’re new at this. Ay, no bounty is worth your precious vida.”

You nodded your head in agreement then laughed softly to yourself. Considering you both knew english as a second language, you were pleased you could still understand each other well enough when using your native tongues.

You admired Flaco for a brief moment. He was fascinating, something about him, perhaps his charismatic charm, had you feeling so at home in the icy little shack. Just then, despite your proximity to the stove, a shiver ran through you as the storm buffeted the walls with its vengeful gale.

“Here, come.” Flaco motioned suddenly, patting the spot next to him on the bed. “If you’re going to be stuck here tonight, we might as well keep warm together.”

There were no suggestive tones in his voice, Flaco seemed to sincerely want to help, but it didn’t help your nerves as you agreed and approached the good looking man. As shy as you were, sitting there next to him so closely, when he put a respectful arm around you, you felt relief. He smelled so nice and his touch was strong but tender. He felt safe.

As the night carried on, with Flaco periodically stoking the flames and cuddling you warmly, you shared stories of your lives back home. Despite him being from such a different part of the world from you, knowing you both ended up in the same tiny cabin that night had you feeling closer to him than you thought possible with such a stranger. Sighing as the deep rasp of his voice rumbled through you, for the first time in a long time, you felt like the luckiest woman on earth.

Official “What I Write” Post

-Rules- (See a short FAQ here)

Please check if the ask box is open before sending anything in (It will be in the bio/description) and take a look at this post before too.

No Minors, this blog is 18+

If you are under 18 do not follow/interact with my blog at all or I will block you.

I don’t care if you’re a week away from 18, wait. If I see someone under 18 follows me I will block you. If I block you and you turn 18, message my main and I’ll unblock you.

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What I do:

Headcanons (See this post for the nsft-alphabet)

Match-Ups (See below)

Photo Match-Ups (See below)

Scenarios (Short Imagines/Oneshots)

When sending an ask:

I need more than just a pairing. I'm not a mind reader, I need to know what you want from me. Fluffy Headcanons? General Headcanons? Person A teaching person B "blank"? I don't need a whole plot but I do need something to work with. Don't just give me a pairing and tell me to do whatever cause I won't be able to.

If I don't get inspired by the ask, if nothing comes to me, I won't be able to do it. I don't want to force my brain because it won't be good content. That being said I will try my hardest before I give up.

If I can't do your request for whatever reason I will let you know either by message or by replying to the ask.

Do not send in your ask more than once or I will for sure not do it.

For Match-ups:

Physical description and some things you like to do/are interested in. Please also include sexual preference and gender so I know to match you with a cowboy or a cowgirl and what pronouns to use if needed.

For Photo Match-ups:

Send in a photo of yourself via submission (INCLUDE WHETHER OR NOT YOU WANT THE PHOTO SHARED IN THE POST. If you don't specify I will not include the photo in the post by default.) Obviously no need for description. See Above.

Please include who you would NOT like to be matched with (i.e. if you don’t want Micah as an option)

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Please note: I try to make my stuff gender neutral whenever possible (avoiding “she” and “he” and using “they” (or you) when I can unless a request asks for one or the other) Sometimes I write female only cause it’s easier for me, being a woman myself, especially with smut stuff.

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Who I write for:

🌟 means I think I'm better at writing these characters than the others

★ means I haven't written much for these characters (or at all) and don't know how well I can do them.

( ★ and 🌟 will change as I write more)

🌟 Arthur

★ John

★ Abigail

Karen

★ Tilly

Molly

Mary-Beth

🌟 Kieran

🌟 Micah

🌟 Bill

🌟 Javier

★ Dutch

★ Hosea

Sean

★ Josiah

Charles

★ Lenny

★ Sadie

★ Eagle Flies

Who I do not write for (could change):

Jack - any age (unless it's completely innocent I'm not writing Jack stuff)

Mr. Pearson

Miss Grimshaw

Uncle

Reverend Swanson

Leopold Strauss

Flaco Hernandez (nothing against him I just can’t write him)

I will write for pretty much everyone (if I can't do a certain character well I'll still attempt it still but I'll probably put a lil disclaimer about it).

I might do some of the above characters later on when I think I can write them better.

If anyone asks for an "everyone" post, the above will be included if I can think of anything.

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What I write:

Fluff

Smut

LGBTQ+ (♥️)

Poly relationships (more than 2 people)

Angst (this has moved up from the below list because apparently I’m good at being depressing, who knew XD)

Headcanons for AUs just specify the AU and what about it.

What I DO NOT write:

Non-con

Underage (Under 18)

Daddy kink (that just makes me super uncomfortable)

Watersports

Abuse

Incest (This includes Arthur/John or Dutch/Arthur)

(I may or may not add to the lists above as I learn of things I do and don't write about)

If there’s something or someone you want that’s not listed above send me an ask anyways and I'll let you know if I'll write it or not.

I don’t normally write for Character x Character, I mostly do Character x reader but that doesn’t mean I never do it.

I will do my best to write well enough and hope people enjoy ♥️

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Please note: There’s no guarantee that I’ll do all of the requests I get.

I am just one woman so it will take time for me to write when I have a lot in my inbox. I’m also human, sometimes I have no motivation or writer’s block.

sfw/nsfw hcs being flaco’s “pequeña esposa”? i’m so soft at the thought of being flaco’s wife bc i imagine he’s like john mulaney and will use any excuse to call you his wife if you’re married. i love the way you write him!

do you know how long i've been waiting for THIS request?? do you know how many headcanons i have about being Flaco's lady??? SO MANY. HERE U GO <3

Flaco gives me B I G Gomez Addams vibes; adores his wife, would do anything for her, dedicates his life to her, lusts after her every single day. Flaco fully devotes himself to you, because that's how women should be loved - that's how you should be loved.

Honestly, he started calling you his wife a few months after you two started dating, but not directly to your face.

He slipped up one day and said it by accident; Flaco made a passing comment to his men about you, "my wife should be coming up to see me this week!!!"

His men all looked at him with a grin, they know Flaco's just a big baby, but he'll never admit that to them. Needless to say, he brushed them off and went along with it, to the point that he now only ever refers to you as his wife.

Flaco really tried to hold back on proposing to you; he wanted to ensure you really want him, because we all know how that gunslinger doubts himself. He waited for just under two years until he finally burst and asked you, but he purchased your ring just after your one year anniversary, and has kept it safe in his inner coat pocket ever since.

He cried when you said yes, like full-on broke down and confessed that he's always been worried that he'd spend his final years alone, how he's so lucky to have you, all that good, mushy stuff.

And of course, Flaco cried so much at the wedding, so much at the honey moon. You had to pack extra handkerchiefs just so Flaco could use them.

He gawks over the ring on his finger all the time, and will sometimes take your hand in his just so he can look at your ring - it's as if he needs confirmation that yes, he has married you.

You once woke up in the middle of the night to find Flaco sat on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, hunched over slightly. You shuffled about, wondering what he was doing, only to find that he was just staring at his ring. He does this often, you're just not always awake to see it.

Flaco also loves using you as a threat. He knows you're a tough cookie, and you won't hesitate to knock a bitch out, and Flaco lives to see it.

If somebody upsets Flaco, he'll go "watch out, amigo. I'll set my wife on you."

They always laugh at him, to which Flaco will stand up to them (literally,) looking down and going "I might give you a chance to flee and sort yourself out, but my wife sure won't, and it'd be a real shame if you ever have to meet her."

Honestly, Flaco just jumps at any opportunity to say those words, and sometimes he makes his own opportunities. He'll go "my wife!!" whenever he sees you, or will turn to you and go "my wife?" just to confirm that yes, you're his wife.

"There she is!! there's my wife!!!!" :D

(NSFW)

When it comes to the bedroom, Flaco doesn't say it as often as you might expect him to. He loves saying it to show you off, which he does a lot, but he tends to pick other pet names when he's in bed with you.

Flaco has two horny moods: one where he just wants to raw you like crazy whilst calling you names like his whore, and another where he wants to be gentle and tender whilst he calls you his wife.

When he's in his tender mood, he'll shower you in affection and praise when he's in the middle of making love to you; he'll be rolling his hips, kissing along your neck, all whilst whispering about how much he adores you, how much he treasures you, how much light you've brought into his life.

Flaco can be quite the romantic, and sometimes you swear he's secretly a poet. Maybe he spent all his time in the mountains reading poetry books and fawning over you like a schoolgirl?

After sex, Flaco loves having you lying on his chest, spending some time pillow talking with you, as he fiddles with your hair between his fingertips. Sometimes you feel like a dog because he loves petting you so much.

Can't remember if I sent this or not, so if this is a duplicate just ignore it, but how do you think Flaco would react to a fem S/O who is too small for his cock and they have to spend some sessions working her up to be able to take him? How would he react when she's finally able to take him?

The puny pussy committee is curious.

Thank you.

I never had this appear before so deffo not a repeat, but here you go ^_^

Flaco's an angel, as we all know. He's a very laid back guy, very understanding, will listen and follow your lead.

After all, he does want you to be comfortable.

His fingers are perfect for the job.

Some sessions he spoons you whilst slowly fingering you, kissing along your neck and whispering the sweetest praise in your ear.

Other sessions he'll go down on you, using his tongue to help lube you up and work you open, all still whilst attempting to praise you, even though his mouth is occupied.

"Just a little more for me, you think you can handle that?"

He waits for you to tell him when you're ready, and if he still doesn't fit, then it's back to smothering you in kisses and telling you "it's okay, we'll get there, don't you worry."

Flaco is a big boy after all...

But when you do finally fit, he's probably more excited than you. I can't explain it, but his facial expression is !!!!!!

"I told you we'd get there eventually! Now I'm going to show you how proud I am of you..."

He still follows your lead, fucking you however you want, constantly looking out for signs of discomfort.

He'll ask if you're okay every five minutes; he's really worried, he doesn't want to hurt you!

And once the deed is done, it's time for cuddles and a well-needed nap, where he'll continue to praise you and still check on you, worried you may have some after-pain.

The Wolf

Summary: You can't help that you're unaware of the thick scent you're letting off. But Flaco is aware. Flaco is well aware and he's going to do something about it.

Pairing: Flaco Hernández x f!Reader

Word Count: 3817

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Slight A/B/O/ dynamics, Marking, Manhandling, Creampies, Scenting, Pred/Prey, Height differences, Size kink, Multiple orgasms, Knotting, Dirty talk, Praise kink, Mating.

Notes: Ugh, another Flaco fic?? YES.  I've always had a pred/prey vibe from big Flaco, but that vibe went off the rails during that cutscene where Flaco calls himself 'the wolf,' so I just HAD to write this ;:)

It came to you as a surprise when Flaco told you that he'd be joining you for today's mission. "I'm bored and staying in this cabin is driving me crazy," he explained whilst shoving his knife into its holster and shooing you out the cabin, following closely behind. You had no idea that he even owned a horse, who happened to be hitched in the forest behind his cabin this whole time; he's just as stocky as Flaco with thick fur keeping his hooves warm. Flaco seemed to be in a rush today, despite knowing that the mountain men you were going after wouldn't be leaving any time soon. "Have you found those tracks? Come on, let's go. I've found some here but we can't split up. C'mon, hurry up," he'd barked over and over, making your brows furrow. For once, Flaco was being annoying, he seemed on edge, like something was getting under his skin and he just couldn't shake it off.   The first victims had been found and you and Flaco took cover behind a boulder on the other side of the river. Of course, you were intrigued to see how legendary his skills were. He assumed that you'd be taking the first shot, but once he saw the way you were crouched patiently beside him, looking up at him with excitement in your eyes, he felt his ego filling up and just had to impress you.

"Oh, you want to see what old Flaco can do with this thing, huh?" Flaco said as he lined up his rifle. "Watch and learn, chiquita." He took his time to shoot, clearly irritated at something; his finger continued to brush over the trigger but struggled to pull it, his eyes often locking on to yours as embarrassment began to cross his face. He missed. And he continued to miss almost all of his shots, growing more irritated by the second. By the time you found the last victims, Flaco had stormed ahead up the mountain with his sawn-off shotgun, blowing open the chests of those men. That's what they deserve for stealing off him. The ride back was almost silent. You had opened your mouth to ask if he was okay, only managing to say "are" when Flaco had cut you off and quietly mumbled "I'm fine," dipping his head down so the brim of his sombrero covered most of his face. "I wasn't expecting you to be the one to save my ass," Flaco told you as you both entered his cabin, stomping off the snow on your boots then stretching your hands out over the fire. You noticed that Flaco didn't go over to his usual place, instead, he leaned back against the pole in the middle of the room. His arms were crossed, eyes darting around the room before flicking them over to meet yours. "What's wrong?" you asked him. You thought he'd go on a tangent about whatever was winding him up, he's just an old man who loves to moan about everything and you enjoy it, though you have to hold back your laughter as he gets upset over the littlest things. "You," Flaco had replied, making your eyes go wide as you straightened up your back. You opened your mouth to begin apologizing for whatever you must have done wrong, but Flaco waved his hand before returning it to his crossed arms. "It's not your fault, you can't help it. Hell, you're probably not even aware of it," Flaco grumbled. Flaco stood up from his leaning position, taking a step over to you as he relaxed his hands by his sides. You turned slightly, moving a step away from the fire, your toes almost stepping on Flacos as you stand in front of him. That's where you are now, awkwardly standing there, looking up at a man twice the size of you. He's not exactly scowling, his brows are always slightly furrowed and he always has that pissed off expression, but you notice that there's definitely concentration in his face as he studies you. "You don't know what's wrong, do you?" Flaco questions. You shake your head innocently, worried that this is it; Flaco's finally fed up with you and is planning how to finish you off. "Hmm. As I said, you're probably not even aware," Flaco grumbles, walking past you and over to the door. He pushes his foot against it, jamming it fully shut and locking it. Has there always been a lock? You've never noticed that before? Your stomach begins to turn as Flaco turns back to you. Why did he lock the door? And why are you taking a few small steps back the more he comes towards you? He looks menacing, this giant of a man who's taking his time to pace over to you. Your ass bumps against something and you turn to see that you're now leaning back against his table with nowhere else to go. As you turn back, your gaze meets Flaco's who's almost got his chest pressed against yours. "I'm not going to hurt you," he tells you in a surprisingly soft voice, well aware of your panicked expression. "Chiquita, calm down. Flaco just wants to help," he tells you, calming your nerves. "What is it?" you ask him, still running through every recent interaction to pick out anything that might have upset him, but you find nothing. Flaco goes to dip his head down to speak more directly to you but he quickly straightens his back up, nostrils flaring as he looks around the room. He's got that irritated expression again, something's clearly still crawling under his skin. Flaco turns back to you and grumbles "you stink." Was that it? Did you smell? Was he so worked up because you hadn't had a bath today? You were a clean person, bathing regularly for somebody who's almost always on the road, but it clearly wasn't good enough for Flaco. He notices the way your head is tilting to the side and corrects himself. "I mean, you don't stink... you're clean, but..." Flaco attempts to explain, his hands moving as he talks. "That smell you're letting off, it's... distracting. I haven't smelt anything like that in such a long time, mostly because I never get any visitors up here, especially not ones who are clearly in heat," Flaco tells you, resting one hand gently on your hip as he speaks down to you. In heat? Oh shit. Your supplements had worn off without you somehow noticing, but Flaco had noticed. Flaco had definitely noticed. And it had been distracting him this whole time. That explains why he seemed so eager to get out of this little cabin with you, you were probably stinking up the room when you innocently came asking for more work. And he couldn't focus on any of his shots as you were stood beside him the whole time, batting your lashes at him as if nothing was wrong. Flaco notices how you're piecing everything together, finally understanding that your smell has been the thing under his skin this whole time. "As I said, you were probably not aware. Those supplements can really mess up your own sense of smell, huh?" Flaco says with a gentle laugh. You have no idea how he's aware that you were taking supplements, but it's not hard to work out if you're so unaware of your own scent. "Yeah, I didn't know. Sorry," you tell him. You were well aware of his hand on your hip, but you'd only just realized how big it felt on you, almost as if he could wrap both of his hands around you. It's probably your heat warping your sense of reality, but you can't admit that it's not a nice feeling. A very nice feeling, that feeling growing even more as you look back up at Flaco and meet his warm amber eyes.   "You're not going to calm down, are you?" Flaco asks as he twitches his nose. He's clearly trying to hold himself together, suppressing the urge to scoop you up and fix that problem between your legs himself. You're surprised he has so much self-control as other men that you've met in the past would have pounced on you the second you walked in all those hours ago. "I-" you go to speak, but a feeling between your legs cuts you off. Flaco's pushed his thigh between your legs, settling it gently against your crotch, and you find your hips slowly rutting against it. Your arousal is refusing to go down, your scent stinking up the room and you're finally aware of how badly you smell. Flaco's at his limit, tightening his grip on your hip as his other hand comes up to remove his hat, chucking it over to the chair he always sits on. Surprisingly warm lips are pressed against your neck, his moustache brushing against your skin in such a way that your senses begin to heighten. Your body feels so sensitive, picking up on every little thing Flaco does as you continue to rut against his thigh. Flaco bites down on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark, and the whimper you let out makes his head spin and his cock throb in his pants. "I'm going to take you," Flaco grumbles against you as he continues to kiss along your neck. "I haven't felt like this in so long. You think you can just waltz in here, stinking up the place, and expect old Flaco not to fill you up, eh?"   Another hand on your hip cuts off whatever you were about to reply, and Flaco begins rolling your hips for you, grinding your crotch down hard on his thigh. The seam of your pants is rutting against your clit aggressively, building your orgasm the more he ruts you. Another mark is left on your neck, followed by a trail more; he's marking you, letting everybody know that you're his, that you belong to the Terror of the Grizzlies. And there isn't a single soul out there who would risk trying to snatch you away from such a man. Flacos head lifts up so he can finally kiss you, hungrily licking and nipping at your lips, turning them redder the more he kisses you. You break the kiss with a whimper, your head leaning forward to mewl in the curve of his neck as you grip onto his thick fur coat. "Good girl," Flaco praises you in such a perfectly husk voice that it pushes you over the edge, soaking your pants and dripping onto Flacos as you cum on his thigh. Flaco moves one of his hands off your hip so he can begin to palm at his own erection, and you catch the sight in the corner of your eye. He's just as thick as you thought, his cock pressed deliciously against the tight fabric of his pants. "You like what you see?" Flaco asks with a chuckle, noticing the way you're hungrily staring. at him. "Come on," Flaco says as he moves his thigh from you, pulling you over to the bed. "Get undressed," Flaco orders you, turning his attention to the fire. He chucks another log on it, trying to keep his cabin warm, despite it already being toasty in here. Flaco turns to see you pulling your undergarments off, letting them slip down your legs and fall to the floor. He licks his lips at the sight, yourself in the nude waiting patiently for his next command. Flaco kisses you again as he lays you down, your head settling on the pillow. His hands trail gently over your body, admiring every bump and curve, brushing over your nipples, and kneading at your thighs. He pulls off his gloves, chucking them to the floor, then runs his middle and trigger finger over your folds, chuckling as he admires how soaked you are. The sensation of your heat becomes painfully obvious the second Flaco touches you down there, your thighs instantly twitching as he continues to run his fingertips across your folds. You only have to sigh his name once for him to realize how desperate you are, sinking his fingers into you, two of them at the same time as he knows you can take it. They curl deliciously, almost instantly finding your g-spot. He massages the pads of his fingers over that spot, enjoying the way you squirm underneath him, your scent almost clouding his vision as his own cock throbs in his pants. "Mierda," Flaco sighs as you let out a whimper that makes his head spin. "I need to be inside of you," he announces as he slips his fingers from you, leaving you empty for a few short moments. You shuffle up onto your elbows, watching Flaco unbutton his pants and pull his throbbing length out. He's just as gorgeous as you imagined, his length agonizingly thick with a soft red tip, precum already trailing down your shaft. He's in too much of a rush to remove any more of his clothes, but the image of him fully clothed whilst you're in the nude is playing on that prey instinct inside of you. Flaco places one of his large paws on your hips, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he begins to push his thick member into you. He's almost painful, making you gasp and moan as he slowly slides in, his eyes fixated on watching his length disappear inside of you. Once he's fully sheathed inside of you, he holds himself there for a few moments, letting out heavy pants as praise begins to flow from his lips. "Good girl. Taking me all the way in on your first go. That's my girl, isn't it?" Flaco mutters, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tries to hold back from thrusting into you, knowing that you need a few seconds to get used to his size. Flaco knows you're ready when you begin to whimper beneath him. He pulls his cock almost all the way out and slams down into you, pushing the air from your lungs, making your eyes scrunch shut as you let out a sound that makes Flacos instincts spin. He doesn't bother with slow and tender thrusts; he needs you, and he needs you now. His length begins to pump into you, continuing to push those sounds from you. Flaco has needed you the second you stumbled into his cabin, only he's been able to suppress those feelings, up until your scent accidentally flared up earlier. Your hands trail over his body, gripping onto his biceps, clinging onto his bandoliers, settling around his neck. You're a whimpering mess beneath him and Flaco both loves and hates the sight. "Stop squirming," he mutters as he continues thrusting into you. "Be good for me and take it, alright?" he orders. Flaco lets out a chuckle as he feels your walls clench around him from the way he's speaking to you. The room is already too hot for you even though you're in the nude, but you've noticed the way Flaco's beginning to sweat. He doesn't stop his thrusting as he straightens up his back and begins to swing his bandoliers over his shoulders, chucking them to the floor, eventually followed by his coat. He almost ripped his coat off, quickly becoming frustrated by all the fastenings, but he managed to eventually undo it. Flaco is left in his white undershirt and green bandana, his body radiating more heat than you've ever felt. He dips back down, towering his body over you, his head leaning down to continue leaving marks along your neck. Flaco had always told himself that he'd never mark anybody again, especially not in his 'old' age, but it's hard not to make you his own when you're mewling underneath him. "Mierda," Flaco grumbles again, leaving his head in the curve of your neck. His cock feels heavy, his balls slapping against you with every thrust; you know he's close. "I need to cum inside of you, alright? But I won't be giving you any little ones, I'll make sure of it," Flaco tells you as he dips his head up to meet yours, planting a quick kiss to your lips as he speaks. You've heard that some men are able to do this though you always doubted it, but you trust Flaco with your life, so you trust his word. Once you've managed to nod in agreement, Flaco grins and picks up the pace, making you whimper again as you had no idea he could go that fast. He's complained about his age before, saying his bones ache and his joints feel creeky, but you had no idea that when fueled by lust, Flaco could ignore his age and fuck like this. It boosts your ego, knowing you're the one who's turned him into this beast of a man. Flaco lets out a choked moan as he cums, filling you to the brim, making your walls tighten around him just from the sensation. He rests his head on your chest, panting and moaning, letting out a string of phrases in his mother tongue, though you're unsure of what he's saying. He whimpers against you for a good few moments, collecting himself and eventually lifting his head off your chest so his eyes can meet yours. Flaco dips his head down to kiss you, his breaths are still heavy but not enough to distract the kiss. As he breaks away, he sits upright and peels his shirt off after unfastening his bandana, throwing them to the floor. He finally reveals his stocky build to you, well-toned muscles with a thick coat of chest hair that trails down to his stomach and settles around the base of his cock. He leans down to kiss you again, moving his hands from your hips to wrap your legs around your waist. You know this isn't over. "I'm not done with you yet," Flaco confirms, large paws wrapping around your waist as Flaco pulls you up with him, carrying you over to the cabin wall. You can feel his load dripping from you as his cock slams into you again, making you let out a whimper. "Don't worry, chiquita. There's plenty more where that came from," Flaco says with a laugh, moving his mouth down to leave another mark on your neck. As Flaco pulls off your neck he gazes at the sight, enjoying the thick spread of purple marks across both sides of your neck. Anybody who goes near you will know damn well who you belong to; the other strangers you work for, the general store clerks, the stableboys, even the strangers on the streets. And that's exactly how Flaco likes it. You're his and his only. Flaco begins to thrust into you again, working your sensitive pussy so he can begin building another climax. His thrusts are a little slower this time, more focused on admiring you as his eyes meet yours. "You're my chiquita buena, aren't you?" Flaco asks, his grip tight on your ass as he holds you firmly against the wooden walls. "I am," you nod in agreement, enjoying the way Flacos expression turns into a cocky smile. "Go on, tell me," Flaco orders you. "I'm yours. I'm Flaco's girl," you repeat, making Flaco grin even more. "If you're my girl then who does this pussy belong to, eh?" Flaco questions. "You," you tell him. "But who am I chiquita?" Flaco asks. You remember a term that Flaco's called himself before, something that you thought was a joke, but it seems he meant it. "You're the wolf," you reply. "Very good, I'm the wolf," Flaco repeats with a chuckle. "And what do all those marks on your neck mean?" "That I'm yours, that I belong to the wolf," you confirm. "So good. So good for Flaco, aren't you? So good for the wolf," Flaco hums as he begins picking up the pace, pushing the air from your lungs as he begins pounding you again. The noises that both of you are letting out are loud enough to scare away any nearby bears; hopefully, Flaco won't have to deal with them for a while. You're a sticky mess between your legs, Flaco's fucking his former load from you, oozing from your pussy and dripping down onto his balls. Neither of you seems to mind, especially since Flaco had promised that he'd replace that load with a fresh one. For a man that always seems so grumpy, he's pulling some gorgeous faces; cheeks a vibrant red, mouth constantly parted, hair trailing over his eyes and slowly falling forward from his slicked-back style. It feeds your ego knowing that you have the pleasure of seeing him like this - you and only you. Flaco dips his head down to give you another kiss, his moustache prickling your lip in a way that feels oh-so-sensitive. "Flaco," you sigh as you break the kiss, his eyes meeting yours. "I know, I know. My chiquita is close, isn't she?" Flaco asks. All you can do is nod in agreement as you dip your hand between your legs to begin rubbing your clit, making your thigh muscles twitch, wrapped around Flacos stocky waist. Flaco hums at the sight, praising you, encouraging you. "You'll cum for Flaco, won't you?" he asks, and pleasantly hums again when you confirm that you will. "Ladies first," Flaco tells you, placing a kiss underneath your jawline, right on that sensitive spot that makes your head spin. Within a few more thrusts you're clenching around Flacos length, exhaling heavily as you enjoy another orgasm, your walls tightening almost painfully around Flacos thick length. Flaco lets out a grunt as he pushes his length all the way in and fills you up again, scrunching his eyes shut and burying his head in the curve of your neck, his dark hair flopping over his eyes. You feel the way Flacos cock swells up, your walls tightening a little too tightly, and the both of you know you're going to be stuck like this for a while. Neither of you mind and Flaco lifts his head up to brush his hair from his eyes and give you a tender kiss. He carries you back over to the bed, laying you down and managing to kick off his pants and boots. Thick furs are wrapped around you as you're pulled onto Flacos chest, your cheek resting against his pecs as his arms cradle you tenderly. Not many words are exchanged apart from the occasional "are you comfortable?" from Flaco, and you quickly find yourself lulling off to sleep, Flaco following shortly after as his body heat and the roaring fire keeps you warm throughout the cold night.

Your recent post made me think of a bath fic👀you persuade Flaco to come take a bath with you but you actually make sure he gets a proper scrub down followed by spicy times 👀👀

finally, the bath fic!! i’ve not written any tender/loving stuff before, all my work is so dirty and sinful, so this was a nice and interesting change :0  

Female reader :) 

Trying to sneak Flaco into Strawberry was... hard. More than hard. He's a big guy and a heavily wanted man, but you both waited till the dead of night and had him sneak in and head straight upstairs whilst you distracted the receptionist with some silly nonsense, though he was definitely suspicious. How he got past the Sheriff's office was unbelievable, but the law in this town seems to constantly be asleep, so you're not really surprised. Either way, he's here now, settling into the tub whilst you finish stripping off your clothes, leaving them on a chair in the corner of the room. You turn to face the bath and Flaco's already staring at you, his arms resting on the brim of the tub with that mischievous look on his face.

"What?" you ask as you approach him. "Nothing, nothing," Flaco shakes his head, shuffling back in the tub so you have room to climb in. "You have that look on your face, Flaco," you tell him as you step in, trying to not tread on Flacos legs, even though he takes up far too much room. "I was just admiring you," Flaco shrugs. "Admiring, sure. I know what you're thinking," you say as you settle down, lying back against Flacos' broad, hairy chest, one of his arms coming to rest around your waist. "And what would I be thinking? hm?" Flaco asks you, placing a gentle kiss on your temple as you lie your head back on his shoulder, enjoying the bubbles resting along your chest. "I'll have to find out, wont I?" "You will, if you're patient," Flaco teases, kissing your temple again. "I'm always patient. You on the other hand, hm, not so much," you tell him as your eyes fall shut. "Hey, I am patient... when I need to be," Flaco replies, his thumb rubbing gently against your waist. "Sure, sure," you shake your head. Flaco lets out a chuckle as he leans his head back against the brim of the bath, closing his eyes and enjoying your company. The fire is lit, the room glowing a dim orange shade as it's the only source of light. It's begun to rain outside, and you can hear the faint pitter-patter sound tapping on the window. There's a glass of champagne each on the bath rack, and you peek an eye open so you can lean forward and take a glass, resting back against your lover as you take a sip. You keep one hand on your drink, the other resting on Flacos thigh as you gently move your hand up and down him, enjoying the sturdiness of his structure. The two of you spend some time just relaxing, enjoying not being shivering up in the mountains despite having a hundred layers on. Maybe the two of you should do this more often, or move down to Thieves Landing where Flaco can move about so freely. The law dare not go there, though the Pinkertons might, but that's a discussion you'll have with him another day. You finish off your glass, leaning forward to place it back on the rack. As you lean back, Flaco puts his hand back around your waist, but he quickly trails down south. Your legs are already slightly parted, so Flaco's fingers easily slide onto your clit and begin to rub firmly. The plan was to bring him down here so he could enjoy a hot bath, but of course, the two of you knew exactly what else was going to happen. A sigh escapes your lips as Flaco continues to tease you, taking his time to slowly insert his trigger finger into you, the tip of it rough from all those years of gunslinging, which only seems to satisfy you even more. He gently hums as you moan, dipping his head down to kiss along your neck, his other hand softly holding your jaw as he tilts your head to the side. "Amor?" Flaco gently sighs. "Mhmm?" you ask. "You're far too good for an old man like me. Dragging me down that mountain just so you can give me a bath. And to think, when I first met you I called you a cabrona. Looks like I'm the cabrón for not letting you drag me here sooner, hm?" Flaco tells you between kisses. "You're not a cabrón, Flaco. A grumpy old man, yes, but not a cabrón," you softly reply, your eyes falling shut as you enjoy the way Flacos moustache brushes against your neck, his finger still curling inside of you. "What's the difference?" Flaco asks with a soft chuckle, sliding another finger into you, pushing a louder moan from your lips. "One of them is you, and the other is me," you laugh. "You're a grumpy old man?" Flaco laughs back, placing a kiss upon your temple. "I will be if you don't stop teasing me." "One of me is already enough. Come on, get out of the bath," Flaco orders you as he slips his fingers out, smiling at the way you whimper. "Why?" "I've been eyeing up that rug in front of the fireplace as soon as we walked in here. A more romantic setting than that derelict cabin in the snow, don't you think?" "Oh?" you smile as you look over your shoulder at him. "You're in a romantic mood?" you tease. "I am," Flaco tells you as he leans forward and steals a kiss. "Now get out of the bath so I can make love to you!" How could you deny such a request? You climb out of the bath, thankful that you hadn't got your hair wet yet as that was always a pain to deal with. Flaco joins you by the fire, sitting beside you, propping himself up with one hand, the other resting on your thigh. He quick to steal more kisses from you, the kisses quickly turning into a make-out session. Your lips are still occupied as Flaco lays you down, pinning himself over you. His hand slowly slides down your body, admiring every part of you, taking his time to reach your thigh that he wraps around his waist. The kiss breaks with a pair of moans as he slides into you, his hand trailing up and down your thigh as the other one keeps himself pinned up. "Always so tight," Flaco sighs as he kisses along your collarbone, slowly rolling his hips against yours, giving you time to relax as his length stretches you out. Once you're ready, you softly ask Flaco to start moving. He's usually so rough and feral, pounding you with all of his might, but tonight was different. Flaco continues to kiss all over your body, his moustache softly brushing against your damp skin as he slowly fuck you. Flaco feels romantic, sensual, as he makes love to you against an open fire, the heat of the flames and Flaco's large body keeping you warm. Within time, Flaco picks up the pace, though there's still a perfect roll to his hips, hitting your core with every thrust. Chills continue to trail down your spine, your orgasm building up slowly. Your eyes fall shut as you roll your head back against the rug, moaning loudly and squirming underneath him. Flaco moans at the sight of you enjoying his company; the sight of you alone is always more than enough to get Flaco off, but to see you like this, and to know that Flaco's the cause behind it makes his heart ache for you more than it already does. "Flaco," you moan, catching his attention as he lifts his head to look at you. "Hermosa," he sighs. "So beautiful."   Your eyes open as Flaco speaks. His usually swept-back hair is falling forward against his eyes, so you move your hand from around his neck to brush your fingers along his hair, holding it off his face. He gives you a warm smile. You can tell how much he adores you just from his eyes, always dark and full of lust. Your other hand comes up to cup his jaw, pulling him down against your lips once more. He slows his thrusts so he can kiss you, enjoying the taste of cheap champagne on your lips as it mixes with his tobacco flavoured ones. His hips pick up their pace again, and Flaco has to break the kiss to let out a moan, dipping his head down to rest in the curve of your neck. "You seem different tonight, my love. Are you alright?" you ask your sweetheart. Flaco moves his head back up to look down at you, propping himself up on one elbow as his other hand continues to trail along your thigh, often finding its way to your ass and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm perfecto. I just..." Flaco trails off, his thrusts coming to a halt as his eyes wandering off to gaze at the fire. You cup his cheek and Flaco moves his head against your hand, his eyes coming back to meet yours. "Do you realize how much you mean to me?" Flaco asks. "What's brought this out?" you giggle, moving your hand off his cheek to brush his hair off his face again. "Ah, I don't know! Maybe it's the setting, enjoying a bath with you then making love to you by the fire," Flaco shrugs. "Maybe it's the fact that you look so good tonight. You always look good and you know it, but... I don't know," Flaco shakes his head. "I know what you're trying to say," you inform him. "Good, good. Maybe it's because it's our anniversary, and I just... I dread to think where I'd be without you, amor," Flaco tells you as he takes your hand from his hair, kissing along your knuckles. "Don't think about it then. I'm right here," you smile at him. Flaco places your hand back on his cheek, his hair now falling to the side, mostly out of his face. Your thumb rubs against his thick skin, over his wrinkles and the little scars he's gained from over the years. "Te amo tanto," Flaco warmly tells you, his words coming straight from his heart. "Yo también te amo," you reply. Flaco always grins whenever he hears you speak his native tongue. You picked up a few phrases here and there, and the first time Flaco heard you speak Spanish was when you called a stranger a 'hijo de perra' after they shot a hole in your hat. Flaco let out a heavy laugh, grinning from ear to ear as he told you over and over how good it was to hear you speaking his language. After that, Flaco would teach you phrases here and there, his phrases becoming more intimate when the two of you finally got together. Flaco leans down to give you another kiss as he picks up his thrusts again. He moves his head to rest in the curve of your neck, enjoying the way your hands roam his broad shoulders. You move one hand from him to rub at your clit, softly moaning. "Flaco, cum inside me, please," you beg. "Are you sure?" Flaco asks, his lips against your neck. "Yes," you reply with a small nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him into you more. "You're spoiling me here, chica," Flaco chuckles. Within a few more thrusts your walls tighten around Flacos length, moaning and shaking as your orgasm hits you. Flaco does the same, thrusting his cock deep inside of you as he spills his load. Flaco moves his head up to kiss you, both of you moaning between kisses as you ride your highs. Your ankles cross, keeping him deep inside of you as Flaco moves his hand off your thigh to cup the back of your head. Once the two of you have calmed down, Flaco rolls off you, slipping out as he lays on his back beside you. Both of you spend some time just lying there, catching your breaths, and enjoying each other's company. "I still need to wash you," you tell Flaco as you tilt your head to kiss his shoulder. "Aye, I really am a dirty boy now, aren't I?" Flaco asks with a chuckle. "You're always a dirty boy," you joke. You're the first to get up, picking yourself up from the floor. You check the bathwater and surprisingly, it's still warm, so you climb in, urging Flaco to do the same. He groans but gets up, shuffling in behind you. Both of you take your time washing each other, often getting distracted by kisses but eventually, you're both finally clean. Once you're dry and ready for bed, you head to your hotel room, enjoying the space the double bed provides. Although you enjoyed being snuggled up to Flaco in his single bed every night, it was always nice to have some extra room, along with a nice mattress and warm covers. Flaco snuggles up to you for a change, resting his head against your chest as you attempt to wrap your arms around him, though he's a little too big as your fingertips barely meet. Both of you fall asleep within minutes, more than satisfied with your anniversary treat, and looking forward to another round when morning comes.

The O’Driscolls Daughter - Chpt.1

Summary: You're Colms daughter, stubborn and temperamental like him, but you've got a kind heart and a soft spot for the poor stableboy that Colms gang torments.

Pairing: Kieran Duffy x f!Reader

Word Count: 3468

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Gang war, Colter, Grizzlies west, Strangers to friends to lovers, Slow burn, Flirting, Masturbation, Fantasies, Arguments, Fights.

Notes: UGH, more kieran stuff? yepppp.  I knooooow Colms gang has been around for only a decade but lets just pretend they've been around since before you were born :^) also, I think the Del Lobos don't appear at Lake Cairn till after Chapter 1 buuuut lets pretend theyre there for the sake of this fic.

NEXT CHAPTER  |   Read on AO3

Colm O'Driscoll has laid with many women, though most were not consensual. You were the product of an odd affair, your mother actually falling for the man in his early years. She left you on his doorstep after Colm turned his back on her, calling her nothing more than a 'whore' and 'pity-fuck.' You had no idea who she was, and wouldn't be surprised if Colm had killed her long ago.

To everyones surprise, Colm actually took you in and raised you within the gang. He was a lousy excuse for a parent, barely being there for you throughout the years. You had no treasured memories of him, nothing normal like reading bedtime stories to you, playing games with you, spoiling you on your birthday. There were memoried you tried to treasure, like him teaching you how to shoot, hunt, and kill, but they were definitely not normal. Unfortunately, you had picked up a few of your father's traits, but thankfully not all. You were short-tempered, not afraid to snap, and would shoot first, question later. Oh, and you were just as wanted as Colm. You saw your first ever personal bounty poster at the age of ten. Colm had framed it in his cabin; that was one of the few times you'd seen him so proud.

You're in your early twenties and arguably second in command within your father's gang. Colms other right-hand man, Tom, considered himself to be next in line since he had known Colm since before you were born. Yours and Toms' relationship was... heated. Colm knew the two of you didn't get along, yet would snap at the two of you to 'put your fucking differences aside' whenever he needed you to work together. Colm would usually have to pick one of you to take charge, taking it in turns. Fairs fair, I guess.

Here you are, returning from a failed mission. Colm had asked the two of you and some other disposable men to track down the Del Lobos hideout and clear it, seeing as your hideouts were far too close together. You approach your gangs current hideout, a camp just southwest of Lake Isabella. Yes, it was fucking freezing up here, but Colm ran up here to escape the Pinkertons on his tail. Sadly, his gang wasn't the only one with that idea, but it seemed to work. No one had found you all, yet.

You dismount your horse just as they're riding into the stable, leading them into a pen and hitching them. Tom follows behind, hitching his in a pen beside you.

"You better clean this nag good, boy," Tom shouts over to the stableboy, currently cleaning another horse.

"I will, Sir," he responds.

You don't know his name, he's only been with the gang for a few months. He seems like a bundle of nerves, constantly shaking and flinching around everyone. The men loved to pick on him, they loved watching his tail shake in between his legs as they torment him. You'd seen him get hit over the pettiest of things; their saddles not being clean enough, the horses having a tiny knot in their manes, a nail on their hooves being a centimeter out of place.

You remembered the only time one of the men tried to hit you. You were in your mid-teens, starting to find your role within the gang. One member had challenged your authority, claiming you were just a child and that 'Colms daughter should get no special treatment.' He had gone to hit you over some petty thing you barely remembered, but you did remember the look in his eyes when you gripped hold of his hand just as he tried to swing for you. His wrist felt like it was going to break as you'd tightened your grip. To everyones surprise, you kicked the back of his knee, causing him to fall to the ground. You then let go of his wrist, shoving him forward so he lay flat on his front. Without thinking, you stomped hard, feeling the crack of his bone as you snapped his arm like a twig. It all happened within a matter of seconds. You weren't thinking, enraged that not only was this man constantly picking on you, but had tried to put his hands upon you.

Colm had stormed out of his cabin after hearing the commotion. You were quick to explain what'd happened, the other men watching backing you up. Colm scoffed at the man crying on the ground, telling him to 'get out of my sight.' The guy quickly got up, gripping his broken arm, and ran as fast as he could. Your father seemed proud of you, putting his arm around your shoulder as he lead you into the cabin, fixing you a drink to 'celebrate.' The only other man to pick on you was Tom, though he mostly just said small petty comments behind Colms back. You'd called Tom out in front of your father many times but Colm never seemed fussed, probably not wanting to pick between the two of you.

"You fuck up like last time and I'll beat you till the snow turns red," Tom threatens him.

"Lay off, Tom," you order him. Tom snaps his head over to you.

"Oh oh oh! You soft for this pipsqueak?" Tom laughs, pointing at the stableboy who looks rather uncomfortable. He stays silent, watching the two of you bicker.

"I'm soft on no one. You just pick on anyone you view as lesser than yourself. You must have a lot of confidence issues, Tom," you smirk at him, heading out of the stables with him on your tail.

"I ain't the one with confidence issues here, girl. Just cause you got your whore mommas ugly looks don't mean you can take it out on me," Tom replies, following you over to Colms cabin.

"Why you usin' my insult against me? Can't think of your own?"

"I... what? No. I ain-" you cut him off.

"There there, it's alright, poor little Thomas," you taunt. That was a name that always made him turn red. You look over your shoulder to see that exact expression growing on his face.

"Now you better stop with al-"

"Tom. Shut up," Colm says as the two of you enter his cabin, Tom barking down your ear, not giving Colm a good impression.

Tom huffs but remains silent. Colm looks at the two of you for a moment, sat down at his table. The three of you remain silent until Colm snaps.

"Well? How'd it go? I'm gonna guess from the arguin' and silence that you fucked up," Colm half-shouts.

"Tom fucked up. Again." You state. Colm draws his gaze away from you, over to his right-hand man.

"Now hang on just a damn minute. There's a good fucking reason to why we fucked up."

"You, not we," you correct him.

"And that reason is...?" Colm's losing his patience.

"Well, we took out most of em, till THE Flaco fucking Hernández showed up. Killed all those men we took with us. We bolted just in time."

Colm can't be angry at either of you for this. Flaco was one of the world's most famous gunslingers, the 'Terror of the Grizzlies.' Just about anybody would lose a fight against him, including Colm himself. Colm sighs, rubbing his temples in frustration.

"You're sure it was him?" Colm asks, looking down at the table.

"Not unless you know any other giant Mexican outlaws, yes," you sarcastically respond.

"Great. The two of you, get outta my sight. I gotta think about how to deal with this."

Both of you turn and leave, no one saying a word as you exit the cabin. Tom sulks off, probably going to join his little gang of friends. You make your way over to the stew pot, grabbing yourself a bowl of whatever was on the menu today. You're quick to eat, wanting to check on your horse after today's shootout. You heard them whine during the fight but didn't see anything as you were checking on your ride back.

You find your way over to the stables, looking around for the sun to figure out what time it is. She's getting ready to set, her rays peeking out from behind the many mountains that surround your camp. You enter the stable, stomping the snow off your boots as you shut the door behind you. The stableboys not here for once, which is fine as you weren't in the mood to make awkward conversation.

You approach your mount, feeding them a few pocketed treats as you begin to check for any signs of pains or discomfort. You're quick to notice a bandage on their lower leg, your heart dropping as you begin panicking. You kneel down, peeking under the bandage to see how bad the wound was. The stable doors quickly open and shut, the stableboy returning. He huffs into his gloves, trying to blow hot air onto his face to warm his reddened cheeks up. The two of you notice each other at the same time, looking over your shoulder to watch him stand in his tracks, eyes wide. He looks like you've just caught him doing something he shouldn't have. The two of you are awkwardly silent, both staring at each other.

"Hello," you say. You really had no idea what else to say to break the tension.

"Evening, Miss," he responds, calming himself down as he makes his way over to his own horse.

"You taken care of my horse?" you ask him. He looks a little puzzled till he realizes you're on about their wound.

"Oh. Yes, Miss. It ain't nothin' to worry about, just a little scratch but I didn't want nothin' rubbin' against it," he informs you.

"Thank you," you say as you stand up. "Are they okay to ride?"

"I mean, you could, but they ain't gonna be too happy about it," he responds, feeding his own horse a few pocketed treats.

"You ain't gotta answer me like I'm one of them boys. I wanna know the brutal truth, I ain't gonna snap at you for bein' honest and doin' what's right," you inform him. You have a gut feeling that you shouldn't ride, but you want to hear it from the horse master himself.

"Oh.. I err... Well, no. You should let 'em rest a little while. If you take em out in that snow it could get infected," he tells you.

"The honest truth. I love it. Thank you, Mister...?" you trail off, wanting to know his name. You make your way over to him, leaning back against one of the pen fences, watching him fuss his horse.

"Oh, no, I'm just Kieran. I ain't no 'Mister' somethin'," Kieran looks away, looking defeated.

"Yes, you are. You're a man, ain'tcha?" You ask him.

"The last time I checked, I was, yeah," Kieran jokes. You let out a laugh. This stableboy was funny.

"Well then, Kieran, who are ya?"

"Duffy," he responds.

"Kieran Duffy, that's a real cute name," you tell him. "I'd introduce myself but everybody knows who I am," you shrug.

Is he... blushing? Or still flustered from the sudden change of temperature? A wicked part of you is eager to find out how red he can really go, in a flustered sense, not a bloody one.

"Thank you," Kieran sheepishly replies, stuttering a little. "Yeah, I know you is Colms daughter." Kieran seems nervous as he tells you that, which isn't a surprise. You'd had many people cower once they find out whose daughter you are. Sometimes you enjoy it, liking the little power trip you get, but other times you wished you were just some normal girl that lived a normal life.

"Yeah," you laugh. "Don't remind me."

"Oh... Well, I'm sorry, Miss. I don't wanna tread on no ones toes," Kieran replies. He watches you as you climb up and sit on the pen's fence, your legs resting on the wooden plank below, keeping you in place.

"It's alright, darlin'. You ain't doin' anything wrong," you turn to see him going red again. Darlin'? Something tells you this man doesn't get much attention, especially from women.

"Well er... that's good to hear," Kieran lightly laughs. He looks away, pulling out a brush so he can clean his already overly-groomed horse. You watch him, noticing how his eyes flick over to look at you every now and again, face going redder as he meets your gaze every time.

"You're real good at carin' for these horses, you know that?" you ask him, breaking the silence.

"Oh, thank you, Miss," Kieran replies.

"Do my fathers men not compliment you on your work?"

"I'm sorry to sound so blunt, but all your fathers men do is use me as their punchin' bag." Kieran has sadness in his eyes, trying not to look at you.

"Which ones?" you sternly ask, taking Kieran back.

"W-what?"

"Which ones do that to you?"

"I... I don't know many names here, Miss. But you seen it earlier, that Tom fella is one of the main ones. Most of 'em do it. Usually one will start and the others will join in, bit of a gang thing, you know?" Kieran sheepishly replies. He's internally screaming, worried he's just chucked himself under the bus. He can see rage on your face, yet he's not sure if you're going to snap at him for being a tattletale, or snap at them.

"The next time they do that, you come tell me, alright?"

"Yes, Miss," Kieran says under his breath, giving his head a little nod.

"I'm serious. You work harder than most of those idiots, especially Tom. He's a real fuckin' clown."

"Thank you, Miss. I really appreciate it," Kieran sincerely replies, giving you a little smile.

"I'd tell you to keep up the good work but I know you will," you say as you shuffle off the fence, slowly making your way out. "I'll see you later, sweetheart," you say as you exit.

Kierans glad you've left, only because his face is redder than a tomato. Kieran hears you trudge away through the snow and once he's certain you're gone, he turns to Branwen.

"Sweetheart?! You hear that, Branwen?" Kieran asks under his breath, trying to keep his voice down. He talks to Branwen all the time, but only in private. God forbid anyone ever heard, they'd probably hang him for being so 'weird.'

"She called me darlin' too, and cute. And she complimented my work... and she's got my back. What in gods name is goin' on?" Kieran asks, his face still flustered. He picks at his scarf, trying to let some air in to cool himself down.

"What the hell am I meant to do? That's Colms DAUGHTER, and there she is bein' sweet on me! This must be one big joke. I bet them fellas were listenin' in the whole time, gigglin' to themselves," Kieran huffs, trying to make this situation as negative as his mind will allow him.

Branwen gives Kieran a look. If horses could talk, he'd be saying 'don't be silly, this ain't a prank. That woman's clearly got eyes for you.'

"No way," Kieran responds. "There ain't no way a woman like that would go for a boy like me," Kieran folds his arms, leaning back against the fence. He thinks to himself, going over what just happened in his head. He's trying to pick away at it but everything you said seemed so sincere, so kind, so gentle.

Kieran slumps about the stable, lighting a few lanterns dotted about the place. He gets himself ready for bed, lying down on a pile of hay at the back of the stable. His arms are folded under his head, one ankle over the other. He's still thinking about you, trying to convince himself this is all a joke.

It can't be. It was far too kind.

Kieran puts his hands over his face and lets out a small scream, angry that he has no idea what to do. He's had a soft spot for you the second he laid eyes upon you, but quickly buried those thoughts as soon as he found out who you were. Colm will definitely chop his dick off and force him to eat it if he ever caught even just the tiniest hint that Kieran liked you.

Kieran decides to do what he does best, bury his feelings. He rolls onto his side, facing the wall. He tries to force himself to sleep but as soon as he shuts his eyes, all he can see if you.

Kieran then feels the worst thing that can happen to himself right now.

Kierans rock hard, solid.

His boner rubs against the inside of his jeans, urging him to at least get it out so it's not painful. Kieran sits upright, shuffling so his back is pressed against the stable walls. He undoes his jeans, letting his cock spring free and rest against his white shirt. He wants to touch himself, he really does, but he's telling himself off for getting this hard over such a small conversation. The guys so deprived, it's amazing how just a few kind words have made his heart flutter and his cock hard.

Kieran huffs, crossing his arms, frowning with his cock out, waiting for it to go down.

'I ain't... I ain't jackin' off to her. Again.' Kieran tells himself

There's no denying it. Kierans has gotten off to the thought of you many times, though he's not proud of it. He can't help it, you make him feel so dizzy every time he looks at you. He sits there a little while longer, trying to think of anything but you. He looks around the stable and the first thing his eyes come across is your mount, making him huff. How was he meant to not think of you?

'Fine.' He sighs, talking to himself in his head. 'You're pathetic, you know that? Gettin' off to some poor woman just cause she called you a few sweet names.'

Kieran pulls his gloves off, his warm hands wrapping around his cock. He starts slowly, trying to think of anything else to jack off to, but everything flicks back to you. He eventually gives up, allowing himself to really think about you.

'This is the last time you're doin' this,' he tells himself.

Once he's happy with his little self-discipline talk, he lets his mind wander. Kieran allows himself to get as dirty as he wants, but the first thing that comes to mind is how good your ass looks in that tight pair of jeans. Yes, he's checked you out many times, usually as you're mounting your horse. He's often wanted to pull you off your horse, bend you over the pen's fence, and fuck you there till your knees are weak.

Kieran picks up the pace, letting his eyes fall shut and mouth part slightly. He thinks about earlier, how he wishes you'd have called him over to stand in front of you whilst you were sat on the fence. He wishes you'd grabbed a hold of him by his O'Driscoll scarf and pulled him against you, letting your lips meet. He wishes you'd have wrapped your legs around his waist as you made out with him, uring him to grind against you. Kieran doesn't wish for much, but you're top on his list.

Kieran lets out a small whimper, quickly opening his eyes to ensure himself that yes, no one is around. He shuts them again, huffing and trying to remain silent as he continues, starting to feel himself get close. The only person he wants around is you, fuck the rest of the gang. He'd love for you to come in here and put your lips around his cock, he'd probably cum the second your lips touch him.

Kieran lets out a sharp gasp as he cums, quickly lifting his shirt so it doesn't ruin his already tatty clothes. He rests there for a moment, suddenly realizing how absolutely fucked he is. He's got the hots for you real bad, and he knows that if you decide to keep being sweet on him then Colm will find out sooner or later. Kieran reminds himself that it was probably just a one-time thing, or that you were just messing with him.

Kieran wipes himself down on the hay, not having anything else to clean up with. He chucks it away from him, shuffling back over to his usual sleep spot after pulling his pants back up. Kieran lies back down facing the wall, falling asleep a lot faster this time, still thinking of you.