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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

Note

flaco, kieran, micah, and arthur with a super short s/o? like 4’10 bc im super short and i have a massive size kink 😔 you don’t have to do all!

size kink gang LETS FUCKING GOOOO!!!! yeah i love that shit. here’s some gn!Reader headcanons for you, slight NSFW warning below >:)

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Flaco

Oh god, Flaco is going to play with this sooooo much the second he finds out. He definitely shares the same kink.

It'll become a bit of a pred/prey dynamic with him. He's quite feral when it comes to sex, but he's really gonna make sure he's towering over you at all times. Expect him to manhandle you a lot too, he'll pick you up and put you wherever he wants and there's nothing you can do about it!

Flaco is almost always the dom, but he will sub for you every so often, mostly because he gets the HOTS for a person half his size having so much power over him.

"You like having this power over me, don't you? Telling big Flaco what to do? C'mon, give me your worst."

But when it comes to fluffier things, Flaco loves to see you in his coat. That thing looks HUGE on you, you look like a very cozy burrito and he LOVES IT.

At least you'll never have to worry about being cold as this man can wrap his body around you easily, and he'll jump on the opportunity to do that. He loves having you snuggled up in his arms.

Kieran

Kieran doesn't play about with this kink so much during sex. He's not the kinkiest person out there, but he's similar to Flaco as he also really enjoys subbing for somebody half the size of him.

And when you get him in that state, he will do ANYTHING. He's just in so much awe and gets super into it, so if you want to use that to your advantage, go ahead.

Kieran also thinks the height difference is really cute. If he catches both of your reflections in a shop window, he'll tug your arm, getting you to stop so he can just admire that size difference.

"I-I know I always do this, I just think it's nice, alright? Can't a fella appreciate?"

Kieran also really likes the height difference because he can kiss your forehead without barely having to bend his legs, which is his favourite kind of kiss!!

Whenever you travel with Kieran, he'll put you in front of him on the saddle, his arms reaching around you to hold onto the reins. He loves that you don't need to duck down so he can see, you'll fit very comfortably against him as he rides. Don't be surprised if you feel something hard press against your ass whenever you two go down a bumpy path.

Micah

He's such a dick when it comes to your height difference. He'll use you as an armrest all the time, maybe rest his chin on your head when he's trying to be a little bit affectionate.

Micah NEEDS to see you in his leather coat. He needs to see the way his coat hem drags along the floor, and the way the sleeves look twice the size as they dip far below your knuckles.

"Ain't that the cutest thing? Might need to buy myself some more coats just so I can dress you up in them."

He won't admit it at first, but he really likes the way you fit so snuggly against his chest whenever he's spooning you. Micah is so weak for that!!

He adooooores having you on his lap, especially when you're straddling him during a heated makeout session. You've had to hold him back many times from just taking you on the table in the middle of camp, at night of course, because those makeout sessions get far too intimate to risk anyone seeing.

Micah's quite the slut for missionary because he can enjoy the way he towers over you, pinning you down to the bedroll, leaving marks along your neck as he either praises or scolds you, depending on what mood he's in.

Arthur

Oh my god, Arthur loves it.

He finds it a lot easier to manhandle you and will jump on the opportunity to pick you up and push you against the wall during sex.

I hope you have a praise kink too because you're gonna hear a lot of praise coming out of his mouth.

But when you two aren't having spicy times, Arthur loves to have you cuddled up in his lap at the campfire.

"Come over here, darlin'. Don't you wanna come cuddle up with me by the campfire?"

You'll fit so perfectly snug against him, almost using his body as a blanket as you lean your back into his chest. His arms will always be tucked around you, legs on either side of yours. You can tell when Arthurs getting tired because he'll rest his head on top of yours (and maybe doze off.)

He also enjoys having a bath with you because of the same reason; you'll fit so snugly against his chest as the two of you relax together, eventually helping each other bathe before straddling him and dirtying yourselves up again.

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squibo · 3 years ago

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#rdr2 #rdo #red dead online #flaco Hernández #barbarella alcazar #Carmela montez #carmela ‘’la muñeca” Montez #the huge number of men they both have of their own pose pheeeew😮‍💨#like that’ll do it. you don’t have to worry about me

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funkwhistle · 4 years ago

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Masterlist

It’s here (finally!) - see my Rules for Requesting Fics

ficha marked with * contain nsft content

RED DEAD REDEMPTION

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Dutch Van Der Linde

Get Some Rest (part 1)

Get Some Rest (part 2)

Dancing

Mornings

Bruises

Pregnant?

Two Weeks *

Keep it in the carriage *

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Micah Bell

Quickly

Come Sit

Barbie Bell

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Flaco Hernández

Cold Outside

Home With You

I don’t like Snakes

NSFW Alphabet *

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Arthur Morgan

I Cared

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Random

Sunrise - Micah and reader visit Saint Denis

You - Male gang member x reader fluff

Unrequited - Male x reader kinda angst

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Josiah Trelawny

Two of Clubs

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Charles Smith

Comforted

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Vandermorgan

Illicit Affairs *

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

STAR WARS

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Obi Wan Kenobi

May the fourth be with you *

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daily-escuella · 3 years ago

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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.

#flaco hernández #Flaco Hernández x Reader #Writing requests #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #daily escuella

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splat-dragon · 3 years ago

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and he sits with Arthur as he passes, wishing nothing more that Arthur could know he was there, that he wasn’t alone, trying to run his fingers through his hair only for them to fall through, his tears dissolving before they land on Arthur or darken the ground. And when Arthur joins him, he holds him tight.

Based off this art by @kenconffetti

Hosea had known he wouldn’t live to see the end of it all.

He’d tried to get them all out - he had. Had sat with Abigail, sat with John. Tried to convince them to leave, to get out, before Jack was old enough to start following in their footsteps, before he could become a thief, an outlaw, a murderer like they all were becoming. Had tried to talk Arthur into leaving but he was too damn loyal and that was his fault, wasn’t it? He’d impressed loyalty into the boy from the moment they’d picked him up out of the dirt, he couldn’t blame Dutch for it all, the man held a lot of fault but Hosea did, too.

Javier, Bill. They weren’t monsters, they weren’t innocents but even he could see some good in them - Javier, who’d only wanted to do good from the beginning, a revolutionary in Mexico who wanted to keep his family safe now, but Dutch had saved him, had picked him up out of the dirt too, had put food in his stomach and a gun in his hand and he’d looked so unsettled that Hosea had known he was a lost cause, Bill had called him a crazy old man and the women were thinking of it but they were scared, what kind of jobs could they take if they left?

He’d known he wouldn’t live to see the end of the gang. He was getting old and you don’t live to be old in their line of work, some did but only if they retired and hid away, and even then you still end up dead, shot by a bounty hunter or some upstart, Arthur had come to him all fussed up, talking about Flaco Hernández and Emmet Granger and Billy Midnight and Black Belle, all great gunslingers in their day, all but one he’d shot dead - and it hadn’t surprised Hosea that Black Belle had been the one survivor, he and Susan had known her in her heyday and she was a survivor.

And he wasn’t anywhere near retirement. He could see that things were crumbling - Dutch was buckling, collapsing under the weight on his shoulders, the cloud behind his eyes growing dark and stormy. Their world was closing in on them, the Pinkertons always one step ahead of them, every con going wrong and there was a rat, he could tell you that and he could tell you who but Dutch wasn’t listening to him anymore, so all he could do was try to get them all out as the rat gnawed at their very foundation.

But then he’d been shot down in the street, looking Dutch in the eye as he died, and then all he could do was watch.

Watch as Javier was tortured in Guarma, as he became even more enamored by Dutch though Arthur had saved him just as much, as Micah led the Pinkertons (and he’d been right, damn it all) back to Lakay, as Arthur was diagnosed, could only try to run his fingers through his boy’s hair as he fought for breath only for them to go through, could only watch as Dutch s l i p p e d, could only praise his boy as he got them out, helped the women and Pearson and Trelawney escape, as he tried to do good though he’d always been the best of them all.

Could only pray that Dutch would keep his word as they found the bonds and the storms cleared from his eyes; could only watch as Dutch became unredeemable, screaming and begging ‘Help our boy Dutch!’ as he walked away and the boy died to save theirs, could only scream and beg ‘Help our boy Dutch!’ again as he left John to die though John never did join Hosea, the man kneeling at his side and praising him every time he made an attempt to his feet, coaxing him and promising ‘You can do it son, you can do it,’ until finally he was on his feet and Hosea was slowly, slowly following him back to camp.

Susan joined him, apologizing: she’d failed, she’d failed, she hadn’t saved their boys but it wasn't her fault it was Micah’s and Dutch’s, she faded away and it was just him again. Dutch had a gun pointed at Arthur and Micah - and he was horrified, they’d never hit their boys, never laid a hand on them and here Dutch was aiming a gun at him but he hoped, hoped Dutch would see through Micah finally, but “WHO AMONGST YOU IS WITH ME AND WHO, IS BETRAYING ME?”

and ‘Please Dutch, those are our boys!’ as his guns turned on Arthur and John, and John wasn’t even armed, they always gave someone a fighting chance and John was wounded and unarmed and then poor Javier was so confused, even aimed his gun at the sky, his family was falling apart and though he’d been so cruel he can’t hate him as he never did turn his gun on his boys.

Never had he been glad to see the Pinkertons, but as they interrupted the stand down he could kiss the very dirt they stood on.

Arthur’s dying.

Their baby boy is dying.

He’d always thought Arthur would be one of the ones who made it - who started a new life, even took a wife and had kids, have the ranch they always dreamed of, work with horses like he always loved to do.

But his boy is dying, and Dutch is just staring.

They never hurt their boys, but Dutch had stepped on his fingers.

Hosea had heard them break.

He knows that breathing - that rattling, gasping, gurgling that always precludes death.

And his baby boy is making it.

“N...no…”

He’s never found himself without words before, but he can’t breathe and his boy can’t breathe either - he doesn’t even need to breathe but his chest feels tight and he needs to say something, to get Dutch’s attention because what is he doing, their baby boy is dying, they’d raised him and promised to never let him get hurt again and Arthur is dying.

“I…”

I can’t watch this.

I can’t do this.

I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.

I’m so sorry I didn’t stop this.

I’m so sorry I can’t do anything.

Arthur’s begging Dutch, trying to out Micah who’s right there with his final words and he can’t breathe he should be saving his breath because maybe, maybe someone will come back for him and if he saves his strength he can hold on ‘til then, and Dutch is just staring,

and Hosea’s reaching for Arthur though he knows there’s nothing he can do, can’t pick him up and hold him close, can’t doctor his wounds or comfort him, can’t even let him know he’s here, “Arthur, I…”

I’m here.

I know.

I believe you.

I’ve always believed you.

Dutch takes a step back, a quiet, “I…” and Hosea snaps to him, meets his gaze and how could Dutch leave their boy on the ground? Leave him to Micah’s mercies? Micah is still standing there, huffing and panting for breath but still stronger than Arthur, still on his feet,

“Dutch!” the sound startles even him, tearing from his throat in a way that would hurt if he could feel pain, shrill and panicked, “Help him!” but Dutch doesn’t respond, takes another step back, and Dutch has always been queasy, has always been the one to take watch-duty while the boys were sick because seeing people sick made him sick, but this is something wholly different, the clouds are gone from his eyes, Hosea can see that he’s seeing for the first time in a while but he’s not acting and

“You…” he hadn’t known he could cry, in all this time he’s never cried but tears that dissolve before they hit the ground are trickling down his face, “You better help our boy!”

but Dutch, of course, can’t hear him, and as Dutch staggers away he wonders if, even if he could hear him, he would help Arthur.

“Dutch!” his feet move without him willing them, planting him between Arthur and Micah though the latter is screaming his rage and Arthur is laughing, a horrible rattling sound, but Dutch staggers over the hill and away and maybe it’s Hosea’s desperate, wishful thinking, or his own tears clouding his eyes though even when he blinks he sees, but he thinks there are tears in Dutch’s eyes but damn him he doesn’t get to cry when he’s abandoning their boy to die alone.

And he’s never seen a sight so awful as Arthur, gasping and fighting for breath, dragging himself to the cliff’s edge so he can watch the sunrise and he remembers, clear as day, Arthur laughing what feels like a lifetime ago but is only a few months, if that, when they’d been talking about how they’d wanted to be buried - and hadn’t they been buried as they wanted? He’d been buried with Lenny, he’d heard Sadie say,

“When I go, I hope they cover my grave with roses.”

“When I die, I just want to be buried with friends,”

“Me too. With friends, or with family. I don’t think it matters more than that.”

“What about you, Arthur?”

“Me? Aaah, I don’t care about that nonsense.”

“Come on!”

“Face me to the west, so I can watch the settin’ sun, remember all the fine times we had that way.”

“See Tilly! I told ya Arthur had a soul!”

And when Arthur joins him, he holds him tight.

#art inspired #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr #rdr2 #splat #splatdragon #splat-dragon #splat_dragon #splat dragon #spoilers #red dead redemption 2 spoilers #red dead redemption spoilers #rdr spoilers #rdr2 spoilers #ghost #ghost hosea #ghost hosea matthews

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12timetraveler · 4 years ago

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hmmm what about the reader is a bounty hunter who attempts to capture Flaco since he's got such a high price on his head, only for Flaco to over power them and... well... you can decide what he does with them? >:)

Chapter 39 of Campfire Stories

La Lobita

For you an all the other Flachoes

As much as you tried to avoid it, tried to hope and pray it would never happen, as much as you had avoided it, grabbing any other bounty you could, anyone but him, you were finally handed the poster you never wanted to see. Because of course you should work this bounty. You were one of the most esteemed bounty hunters out there. You were one of the few who actually stood a chance against him.

Flaco Hernández.

You considered tearing it up, burning it, tossing it aside. Maybe spend a few days up in the mountains, take a tumble down one of the rocky inclines to give yourself some bruises and say you couldn’t get him, say he’d escaped. Maybe even protect him some and say he’d fled north to Canada. But what kind of bounty hunter would you be if you let emotion get in the way? A pretty lousy one.

When you’d first been busted out of Sisika, and had been desperate for work, you’d followed a tip deep into the Grizzlies. They said there were two people up that mountain who might have some jobs for you to do. A young couple named the Adlers, and a gruff old outlaw, Flaco Hernández.

So, half frozen, you found yourself stepping into Flaco’s little cabin, only to have a pistol raised to you. He’d threatened you, he’d laughed, he’d shot holes in the floor at your feet. Then he’d send you out on a simple job to get rid of a rival gang who’d set up too close, like the madman he was. It was easy enough for you, even weak and half-starved as you were, having just broken out of prison. And Flaco paid well, well enough that you decided to make the trip up the mountain again.

At least once a week you found yourself making the journey into the mountains to see if Flaco had any work for you. He always did, and you always got the job done (sometimes by the skin of your teeth, but you got it done all the same). In fact, you found yourself working more jobs for the older gunslinger than you did anyone else.

Slowly, the two of you grew closer. It seems wrong to say you were friends with the legendary gunslinger, but you were certainly closer than acquaintances. His most trusted employee he called you, but it was shifting into something more. Sometimes after a job, Flaco would let you stay in his cabin for a few hours, warming up by his little fire while the two of you swapped stories.

Once you’d gotten your bounty hunting badge, wanting to find more legal work, you’d thrown your all into it. You went up the mountain less and less as you earned more notoriety as a bounty hunter. It felt wrong and awkward to do jobs for a man with such a high bounty, now that your job was to bring them in. You’d never managed to bring yourself to tell Flaco. You knew he wouldn’t like it, maybe he’d even feel betrayed. You were afraid of how he’d react.

No. It was more than that. You needed to be honest with yourself here, or you might very well end up dead. You weren’t just avoiding Flaco out of fear of what he’d think. You were avoiding him out of fear that you may be more loyal to him than your new-found role in life. How could a bounty hunter continue any sort of acquaintanceship with someone so infamous? You always knew one day you’d likely be handed his bounty poster, and you needed to make sure you could do your job.

You also had to admit that, at least for you, it was more than a business relationship. Somewhere between hunting down bears in the snow and delivering loot bags to the tops of the mountains, you’d fallen in love with him. It made no sense, but you couldn’t deny your feelings. Especially not if you were going to do this job right. You still had a few hours riding to do. You needed to come to terms with it before you reached Flaco’s cabin.

Riding through the snow, dread filling your stomach, you had to wonder what would have happened if you’d gotten up the courage to act on your feelings. If he had reciprocated. Would you still have become a bounty hunter? Or would you be working jobs for Flaco, living up in that snowy little cabin with him. As ramshackle as the cabin may have been, and as cold as the mountains were, you didn’t think you’d mind, so long as you were with him.

“Shit,” You muttered, shaking your head, as if trying to shake off your feelings. You were deep in the shit.

You’d spent many nights imagining what could have been. A bed of pelts. Soft fur on your bare skin. A warm man on top of you, worshiping you, drawing screams from your throat with every thrust. Burying himself deep inside of him. Oh yes, you’d gasped Flaco’s name many nights while taking care of yourself.

But who were you kidding? He was the Terror of the Grizzlies. You were just some vagrant, hardly of any notoriety, except for one arrest that hadn’t even been for a crime you’d committed. He would never have felt the same. You were just a lackey. Someone to do jobs for him and nothing more.

Consumed by your thoughts, you hadn’t even realized how much progress you’d made, until you came over the little hill and were staring down at Cairn Lake. You stopped your horse for a moment. This was it. If you went down that hill now, you’d be turning your back on Flaco for good. You could still turn around. Every part of your body was screaming at you to turn around. But you steeled your nerves and nudged your horse forward down the slopes.

You didn’t bother trying to sneak up on the cabin. Flaco would have heard you coming the moment you started down that hill towards the lake. You’d have to take a more direct approach. You hooked your lasso to your belt as you dismounted. Your horse huffed and pawed at the snow, as if asking why in the hell you were stopping here.

You took a deep breath and strode toward the cabin, boots crunching in the snow. Slowly you approached the cabin, much like the first time you ever came here. You pushed the door open, expecting to see Flaco sitting in his chair by the fire, like he always was. You were more than surprised when he wasn’t there.

Click

Read the rest on AO3

#Campfire Stories #flaco hernandez #flachoes #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #ao3 #flaco hernandez/f!reader

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redemptionbaby · 4 years ago

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I absolutely love your Flaco hcs with all my heart like thank you so much ❤❤ If you have time, what would Flaco do when his s/o drags him out of the cabin to go out hunting?

Flaco Hernández

How to put this delicately?

Flaco kinda hates hunting

Well, it’s not so much that he hates the actual hunting part, he just hates that it has to be this whole thing every time

There’s the tracking. The shooting. The scaring of deer and being chased by elk and bears. Then there’s the butchering which is a whole other ordeal. He’s not so bad at it, but it’s still messy. Any idea what it’s like to do laundry in the Grizzlies? It’s awful.

But when you ask him to go hunting with you....

It’s a whole different story

The truth is that while he may seem very aloof, Flaco will take any excuse to look cool in front of you. Sometimes that means getting a clean kill on the deer you’ve been tracking. Sometimes it means taking down a moose that’s after the two of you. Sometimes it means making stew from all of the meat.

Flaco knows what all bitches really want. And that’s stew.

So while he may grumble a little when he has to get up and trudge outside, once he’s out, he won’t drag his feet.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #writing #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #headcanon #flaco hernandez x reader #flaco hernandez

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cupofcowboys · 5 years ago

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Everyone Forgot About Flaco - Flaco Hernández x GN-Reader

A/N: Here you go, anon 💕 I hope you like it!

TAGS: Spoiler Free, SFT, Gender-Neutral Reader (Slight Fem leaning), Fluff, Budding Love, Soft-hearted but grumpy Flaco

Flaco thinks everyone forgot about him, but he couldn't be more wrong.

1,538 words

-��-

Your frozen gloved hands gripped the reins tighter as you thought about what he had said.

“You ever think you ain’t got no friends left? That you’re all alone in the world? Everyone forgot… everyone forgot about Flaco.”

You hissed a curse under your breath; the sound manifesting itself as a small white cloud in the frigid air. The audacity of that man. How dare he say that to you after you rode for days into the freezing mountains just to see him. Sure, he paid you for your time, but there were so many less troublesome ways to make the same money. You came up here for him and him alone.

Apparently that meant nothing to him. Not that you were surprised. It wasn’t as though you made a song and dance about it. But to discredit your presence as a lack of friendship stung. Even though he meant it about his old friends and not you, you couldn’t help but feel hurt by his words. Did he really feel that nobody cares about him anymore?

The thought made your heart heavy. It wasn’t true. You cared about him more than you’d dare to admit. Perhaps you should tell him. Even if he laughed or rejected your feelings, at least he would know about them. At least he might feel he still mattered. You drew back the reins, bringing your horse to a halt. You were already halfway to the Dakota river, but you turned your horse around and urged them back the way you had come.

-♥-

The ride back to his cabin took a good chunk of your day. Even with your determined urgency, the thick snow and thin air made it a difficult task for your horse. By the time you reached the frozen lake, it was sunset. The icy mirror reflected the burnt orange glow of the dying sun, leaving you with the impression you were playing with fire. You lingered at the far-side of the lake for a while, preoccupied by an internal battle of wills. Finally, with a bracing sigh, you rode across.

With a nervous bound, you banged open the cabin door. With the agility of a much younger man, Flaco leapt to his feet and aimed his revolver straight at your head. Your breath hitched, and you took an instinctive step backwards, carefully raising your hands in surrender. It reminded you vividly of the first time you met. After an intense moment, Flaco lowered his gun.

“Oh, it’s you.” He sighed wearily. “Thought you were a Pinkerton.”

“I’m sorry.” You let out an unsteady breath of relief, but your heart continued to pound.

“No worries. You looking for more work?”

“Er… not exactly.”

“Then why the hell are you here, huh?”

Flaco sank back into his chair by the fire with a pained grunt as you bit your lip. Not exactly how you’d planned this to go. Feeling self-conscious, you rubbed your cold hands together and stepped closer to the fire to warm them. Flaco watched you closely, but you avoided his eye. How do you say what you wanted to?

Even though you had been rehearsing it over and over in your head on the ride up, it was all forgotten now that you were here.

You tried to go back to the beginning. To the first time he was more than a contact. It was as you headed out the door on a routine job, hunching up as you prepared for the biting cold, when he’d softly told you to “stay warm”. It was the most tender thing you’d heard in a long time. Those two small words kept you noticeably warmer that day than you would have been without them.

Flaco had a habit of slipping warmth and tenderness into his words that so many others had forgotten were important. Small, gentle reminders that you were his friend, that he cared about you. In a world that seemed so caught up in money, power and violence, he never failed to remind you that there was still someone who cared. There was still another reason to continue on. He did that without demanding reciprocation.

That’s what came to you one night after a hard day. Fighting back tears as you fumbled with a fresh packet of premium cigarettes. A card slipped out and fell into the mud. Looking down at it, you saw a familiar face in an unfamiliar form. Flaco Hernández it said, young and free as you had never seen him. You snatched up the card, hastily rubbed off the dirt and stared at it in disbelief. It was as though he had sent you a message to remind you that someone still cared. Clutching it to your chest, you finally let yourself cry.

You reached up and pressed your hand to your chest, right where the card was concealed. It was one of your most prized possessions, even though it’s now worn and bent. It was a private ritual to keep it as close to your heart as possible. A peculiar habit. You supposed everyone had their little good luck charm. You glanced over at him. Flaco’s keen eyes followed your every move with analytical intent. You wondered if he had guessed what was on your mind.

“What do you need?” he asked, his gravelly voice unusually gentle.

You frowned at him, still trying to find the right words. What were you even trying to say?

“I just… I wanted you to know that I haven’t forgotten about you.”

Flaco was taken aback. He stared at you in surprise for a long moment. Then he broke into his fierce, stuttering bark of a laugh. You tensed your shoulders and grimaced at the sound, feeling a rush of embarrassment. Of course he would laugh at you.

“You still thinking about that?” He chuckled. “Old Flaco’s little grumble?”

“Shouldn’t I?” You postured defensively.

“I don’t know…” His humour died, leaving a mournful expression in its wake. “Got used to nobody listening.”

“Well I listen.”

“You do? Why?”

You blinked at him. That wasn’t a response you had anticipated. It made you think. Why? Why did you care so much? Why did his words always have such a profound effect on you?

Perhaps you had misinterpreted your own feelings. What you felt for Flaco wasn’t friendship, at least not the ordinary kind. You became aware of your pounding heartbeat, the unusual sweating of your cold palms, the flutters of anxiety in your gut. That wasn’t how you felt for a friend.

“I don’t know.” You mumbled, looking down at the layer of snow still dusting your boots.

Flaco set his gun down on the table beside him before standing up again. He filled the room with his presence, the flickering fire sending his shadow dancing on the walls of the cabin. He took a few steps towards you, causing you to look up into his shadowed face, meeting his eyes for the first time since you had arrived here.

“You don’t?”

Swallowing, you shook your head. He was intimidating looming over you like that. The bravery you had summoned before crossing the lake seemed to have left you. But he didn’t move any closer. He just looked at you carefully, waiting. It didn’t take long for your nervous energy to get the better of you.

“You always make me feel like I matter.” You murmured. “I’m not just another gun for hire. That’s why I always ride up here. Not for work but… for you.”

“You come here just for me?”

“Yes.”

Now that you had said it, some bravery returned. You looked up at him expectantly, almost daring to be hopeful. Your words had softened his worn face, or perhaps it was a simple trick of the light. He reached out and took your gloved hands in his.

Heat spread up your arms from his touch into your face, making it burn. It was the first time you had ever touched. His large hands were gentle as they encapsulated yours.

“You make Flaco very happy.” He smiled and slowly bent forward.

Your heart skipped several beats as he moved down and pressed a short kiss to your cheek. It lit a fire in your soul you hadn’t realised needed to be lit.

He stepped away and slowly let go of your hands, making his way back to his seat. You still hadn’t taken a breath by the time he sat down. He grinned at you knowingly, picking up a half-whittled block of wood and a knife.

“Come see me again soon. I’ll have something for you.”

His dismissal surprised you, but you were glad of the out. You had no idea how to proceed now that he had rendered you speechless. So you grinned, ducked your head to hide your blush and nodded. When you got outside, you looked up at the beautiful expanse of stars now shining brightly above you. Though those bright suns were an unimaginable distance away from you, you could suddenly feel their warmth.

The next time you visited Flaco, he had whittled you a small wooden plaque with the words “Stay Warm” etched into it. You thanked him with a kiss.

-♥-

AO3 / Masterlist

#Flaco Hernandez #Flaco Hernandez x Reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x reader #hanateawrite #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #request

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admin-cock-creations · 6 years ago

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Take Care

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Fandom: Red Dead Redemption Pairing: Flaco Hernández / F!Reader Summary: You’ve always taken care of whatever jobs Flaco has for you. Maybe he should return the favor? Length: 3,972 words Warnings: (18+) Sexual Content Other Locations: AO3

What kind of twisted mind did you have to think this was even remotely a good idea?

Your long-coat was lined with dense fur, but it did little to nothing to keep warmth in your bones as you pressed on through the blizzard. Whether by pure memory or dumb luck, your horse seemed to recall the familiar path through the snowy wilds that lead up to the frozen lake. Snow clung to your eyelashes in thick clumps and frozen, effectively prevented you from seeing more than a foot or two in front of your horse’s head. You could only pray that the blizzard had deterred the wolves from leaving the safety of their dens, because there was no way in hell you’d be able to get a proper shot on any of them with how violently your body shook with chill.

As the pair of you quickly ode through the small creek, you winced and again asked yourself why on earth you made the journey out here?

Maybe it was because you liked money, or killing, or both. Maybe it was because of the warmth that tingled your fingertips every time you returned to the small cabin in the middle of nowhere with a smoking gun and a few more numbers on your body count. Maybe it was that grin you got every time those gloved hands hands you a fat stack of cash for each job you completed without fail.

Or maybe, it was purely Flaco Hernández.

Yes, you were deep in cahoots with the infamously wanted outlaw and gunslinger. You’d met him by accident one evening, coincidentally also during a blizzard. You’d effectively gotten completely lost on your way to meet a man by the name of Hamish Sinclair and found yourself up to your knees in snow. You’d almost cried aloud when you stumbled upon the little cabin nestled in the trees by the frozen lake, quickly rushing over and settling your mount in a makeshift stall next to the building before pushing inside. Whether it was a good or rather horrible twist of fate that you had found yourself face to face with the barrel of a gun that day, you still couldn’t say. Though, in a way, the outlaw had saved your life. He’d sent you right back out into the blizzard after deciding you were much too small and pathetic to pose a threat, offering a small reward and the name of one of his enemies who was camping nearby in exchange for a night’s rest in the warm shelter of his little home.

Only an idiota would have turned him down.

But that wasn’t the only way Flaco had saved your life.

It was purely dumb curiosity that brought you back the second and third time, wondering what had brought the rough-edged man up to such a remote location. A man of his caliber certainly wasn’t about to willingly turn over his life story to some stranger who’d stumbled into his hideout. So it started out with jobs. Each trip you made up the mountain was a new job opportunity and a chance to learn a fraction more about the gunslinger. At first, it really was just bits and pieces of information you had to piece together, but the longer you lingered around his ankles like a lost puppy, the longer his stories grew. He even allowed you to stay and warm up in his cabin now when he had initially shoved you back out into the cold after handing over your payment and little bit of trivia from his life. His stories sent you to distant places you’d only heard about, making your head swim with images of horses thundering through deserts and skies filled with gun smoke.

You’ll never forget the first real story you got out of the outlaw. A tale of forbidden love and stolen horses that brought a gleam to his eye and a deep laugh in his chest. You had been curled up on the floor close to the fire he’d kindled to life after you’d returned from a job with blood spattering your face and clothes. Knees were pressed up to your chest and an awestruck look rested on your face as you listened intently to him spin his story, much like a child would. Never again would you see a gleam in his eyes like that until you found a cigarette card bearing his resemblance at the end of your pack of smokes.

Holding it up for a moment, you lifted the cigarette from your lips, bringing the card closer to your face until your brows lifted in surprise. Darting your gaze between the man cleaning his gun at the table and the shockingly handsome young man in the artwork you wondered if the image was anything similar to what the outlaw had been like in his younger days.

“Whatchu got there, retaco?”

Slowly handing over the card, eyes still glued to the image, the dark-haired outlaw placed aside his gun before plucking it from your grasp. Sniffing a bit, the card was turned a few time between his finger before that wonderful gleam you’d caught before returned.

“Voy a ser condenado, I can’t believe those fools are still making these things. Ay, I had the looks back in the day but they should update it with mis miradas madura, eh chica?”

The smirk and wink he offered brought a warm flush to your face, unable to form a response or even so much as nod before he threw his head back and laughed. He leaned forward a bit and tossed the card back to you, making you fumble to catch it as he spoke with a chuckle.

“Loosen up there, chica. I’m only having a little fun with you.”

You were certain that he was, but that didn’t stop you from pulling the card out of your coat pocket once you mounted your horse again and began to leave, filthy and sinful images running through your head that made you shiver and quickly shove the card out of sight once more.

In truth, you hadn’t a clue when you began to find the outlaw so attractive. Was it when he handed over enough cash to pay for that new thoroughbred you had wanted after a simple mission to intercept a supply wagon? Or maybe it was when he muttered that single ‘thank you’ when he’d caught you leaving two fresh elk carcasses outside his cabin? Whenever it was you’d decided upon the wanted man’s attractiveness, you would never admit your desire for him loud, especially after that night in your tent when you were left with just your sensitive nerves and wandering thoughts.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you found yourself leaning forward quite a bit in the saddle, meaning you were on the telltale slop leading up to Cairn Lake. Your frozen fingers gripped the reins as tight as you could and you nudged your horse on a bit faster, wanting to reach to potential fire as quickly as possible. Even through the horrendous blizzard, you could faintly see a fire flickering through the small window of the cabin as you reached the top of the slope. Trotting over the ice sheet, you more fell out your saddle then slid off, leading your horse over and tying him in the little makeshift stall. Unfortunately, you were too frozen to even think about spreading some hay for the beast right then, so you shoved your hands under the armpits of your coat and waded through the knee deep snow to the door.

You opened and closed the door as quickly as you could, not wanting to risk an angry Flaco berating you for letting the snow and cold in, but you were quite surprised with what you did receive from him.

“Ay, look what the cat dragged in! Quickly, sit. I had a feeling you would show up.”

Flaco Hernández expecting you to come? And preparing for it?

Turning from the door, you were met with the familiar sight of the outlaw in his favored chair, carving away at a piece of wood while the fire roared warmly. There was a new sight by the fire, though, which was a large pile of rather warm looking furs. As was that… coffee? Certainly you were dreaming. This couldn’t be the outlaw you’d spent the last year and a half doing dirty work for.

“Well? Going to warm up or do I have to toss you back into the snow?”

You shook your head quickly, teeth chattering as you made your place by his feet at the fire, taking up an armful of furs and wrapping them snugly around yourself. Flaco gave what seemed to be a content grunt and returned to his carving, the cabin going silent for a few moments aside from the fire and the wind howling outside. Eventually, he broke the silence again with the thunk of his knife as he drove it into the wooden table. Carving in one hand, he reached through the number of bourbon bottles strewn about and retrieved a shining coffee cup, reaching it out for you to take with numb fingers.

“Get some of that in you before your bones freeze, eh? And get that coat off, let it dry and you stay under those pelts. Can’t have my pequeña asesina up and dying on me over a blizzard.”

The way he chuckled as he spoke sent a different kind of chill down your spine, but you listened to his orders. Dropping the furs for a moment, you placed aside your hat that had somehow managed to stay on through the blizzard before beginning to unbutton your coat, only now realizing why the cold had you succumbing so easily. With an embarrassed flush rising to the bridge of your nose, you made sure to look away from the older man as you slid off your coat and tossed it aside, revealing the silk and lace top you wore that exposed nearly everything.

“Well, now. What’s this, chica? A gift for me?”

You couldn’t tell if the man was poking fun at you or not with the way he leaned forward in his chair and gave a sultry grin. You had an excuse for the top, though your lips seemed to be frozen shut at the moment, leaving you unable to explain your infiltration job and how you had been required to dress like a lady for the evening. That last thing on your mind when you left was changing out of the top, all you had thought about that evening after several disgustingly rich pigs had groped and attempted to flirt with you was Flaco. You’d daydreamed of how he’d swoop in and scare away those swine with a curl of his lip and a snarl before leading you off somewhere more private.

Now the daydream made you feel utterly ridiculous, not only for forgetting to change your top, but for even imagining that the gunslinger would protect you like that.

A cup of coffee was finally in your grasp and the furs were around your body once more, sincerely hoping the warmth that you felt flood your face wasn’t too visible as the outlaw continued to stare you down with that damn smirk. You dared not look at him more than a glimpse from your side-eye, wondering if he was thinking as hard as he appeared to be. Had your silence thrown him off guard? Or was he thinking up a job to send you out on for intruding on his home in the middle of a blizzard? You got your answer as he finally leaned back in his chair and spoke again.

“I know you came for work, and I just so happen to have a very special job that only you can help me with.”

You perked up at the offer of helping him out, having grown so accustomed to working for him that you found great pleasure in killing in his name. The furs slid from your shoulders a bit, and you slightly lowered the mug you held, giving him an attentive look that made him grin and chuckle once more.

“Someone is eager, eh? I like that. Now, come here, I don’t bite.”

Come closer? You’d never been closer to Flaco than the distance between the fire and his feet so you couldn’t help it when you moved rather sluggishly. Was he about to attack you? Had he finally decided no one who knew so much about him and his life could live? Nonetheless, you stood, allowing the furs to fall from your body and taking a half step towards where he sat like a king in his throne. He smirked at you, leaning back a little more and allowing his legs to spread a bit. You knew better than to take it as an invitation, but the sight and indecent thoughts that flooded your head still made you swallow thickly.

“Closer.”

Another half step.

“Almost there.”

Finally, a full step, and you were positioned between his boots, looking down at him as his eyes gave you a once-over.

“Good, good. Sit on my lap, won’t you?”

You blinked in surprise, almost choking on how thick the air had grown in the cabin, and your expression made the man smile and reach out to place a firm hand on your hip.

“I’m not going to hurt you. You still need warming, I can help.”

Oh god, oh god, oh lord. This had to be a dream. No way was this real. You were dreaming this, dreaming of the Flaco Hernández holding your hips and pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap. You were imagining that seductive glint in his eyes and the way he licked his lower lip as your hands pressed to the firmness of his chest that rested beneath his thick fur coat. You wished it was a dream, yet there was no dreaming up how slowly the gunslinger removed his gloves. There was no imagining how those murderous hands reached up and stroked the side of your face and cupped your cheek like you were the most valuable thing in the world. You could never picture the beautifully dreamy look on the man’s grizzled features as his thumb brushed over your lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he spoke, he hand that still rested on your hip gripping a bit tighter and almost rocking you into his lap.

“You think I don’t notice how you look at me, chica? How often you come running up here to see if I have work for you? I may be old, but I have seen desire before, and you have got it bad.”

The second pull was harder, managing to make you gasp this time as you felt the line of his shaft through his trousers.

“You run off so quickly, killing whoever I ask, whenever I ask, and rush back with that smile on your face and your gun still smoking. You like taking care of old Hernández, eh?”

You didn’t dare speak, not wanting to risk shattering this too-good-to-be-true moment and simply nodded, savoring in the warmth of his chuckle as he brought his lips close to your ear.

“Well, perhaps it’s my turn to take care of you, princesa.”

The moan that escaped your lips was one of pure surprise and excitement, your hands withdrawing slightly from his chest as his hands moved to work open your pants. He clearly knew what he was doing, drawing soft gasps and whines from you as his fingers teasingly stroked you through the denim of your pants and his hot breath lapped at the sensitive spot right behind your earlobe. Unable to stop yourself, you found yourself seeking out more friction and reaching one of your own hands between your legs in an attempt to press Flaco’s fingers harder into the seam of your pants. Unfortunately, that action stopped him entirely, and he hummed bemusedly as his larger, calloused hand wrapped around your own.

“Ah, ah. None of that. Let me work my skills and you enjoy the ride.”

Whining indignantly, you allowed the outlaw to place your hand back upon his chest and resume his ministrations. His lips moved down your neck as he teased you, the scrape of his facial hair on your frost chilled skin combined with his touch drawing pleads for more from your lips. It seemed he wouldn’t be listening to your demands anytime soon, so to sate yourself at least a little, you worked his fur coat open and found the broad expanse of his chest hidden beneath a faded green shirt with just a peek of dense hair emerging from the open collar. Your wandering hands explored as much as you could reach, feeling his barreled chest through the thin fabric, allowing your fingers to slip underneath and find a rather lovely happy trail and more scars than you could count on both hands. It seemed the gunslinger was enjoying your curious touches, though, as he offered a pleased growl against your skin.

“Such a curious little thing, prying into my life now exploring my person as you please. It’s only fair that I explore you in return.”

Oh, you enjoyed the sound of that.

Every nerve in your body was alight with anticipation and you found yourself holding your breath as Flaco’s hand finally found the inside of your pants and your awaiting cunt. As those magical fingers slowly dragged back and forth across your lips the breath you had been holding was released in the form of a shaky moan, your hands bracing you on the man’s chest and preventing you from collapsing into him entirely. His mouth was off your neck now, leaning back to watch his handiwork and admire the delicious expressions you gave. Your eyes were blissfully shut as you rocked your hips into his rhythmic movement, slowly looking down at him and feeling your heart jump at how he licked his lips again. Oh, how you desperately wanted to kiss him, not just to wipe that grin off his face but to finally know if he tasted like the whiskey he drank or not. Before you could voice or act upon that desire, however, a large finger was slipped inside you that made you cry out the man’s name.

His digits were much larger than your own and easily felt a dozen times better. He only had one inside you and was simply working it in and out, yet you were already putty in his hands. Every nerve in your body was on fire, sweat had begun to form on your brow now and the blizzard you’d trudged through to get here was far from your mind. All of your senses had been enveloped by the infamous criminal, and it seemed he’d become quite taken with you as well.

“Your thighs are shaking so much, hermosa. How long have you been wanting this? How many nights have you cried my name into the dark?”

Words were failing you at the moment, leaving you unable to do more than keen loudly in response to his questions. The truth was too long and too many. You’d wanted the man shortly after having his gun in your face for the first time, and now, with his fingers working wonders on you, you were no longer ashamed to admit that fact to yourself.

When a second finger joined the first inside you, your arms gave out, leaving you clutching at Flaco’s back from under his coat and resting your head on his broad shoulder. He found great pride in having you moan and beg for him so close to his ear, and that grin he wore only broadened when the rough pad of his thumb found your clit and you had to bury your face into his coat to muffle a scream. He was good and he knew it. Too good, in fact. The combination of his thumb on your clit and his fingers curling inside you left your entire body trembling and the knot in your gut winding tighter and tighter. No longer could you moan, only gasp and keen as you grew ever closer to the precipice of pleasure.

Until suddenly he stopped moving.

Your eyes shot open, leaning back to give him an indignant look only to be met with a serious glare that had you practically melting. The hand holding your hip lifted to your chin, holding in firm between his fingers as he brought your face so close to his you felt his hat being pushed back and your noses brushed together.

“Who do you belong to? Who is the only man who makes you feel this good? Tell me, chica, and I will let you cum.”

Swallowing the excess saliva that had formed in your mouth, you finally spoke.

“You...”

“Qué?”

“You do.”

“I don’t think I quite heard you, little one. If you are too shy to answer then I suppose I can’t finish the job.”

Gripping the front of his shirt, you felt his fingers curl inside of you slightly and that was enough to get you to shout the answer he was looking for.

“You! I belong to you! Every bit of my body, every drop of my blood belongs to Flaco Hernández! You’re the only one I want!”

His hold on your chin tightened as he pulled you in to meet his lips, his fingers finally getting you back to work and bringing that wave of bliss rushing closer. His mouth easily overtook yours, tongue claiming dominance you didn’t bother fighting for. He tasted like spices, cigar smoke, and his signature bourbon. He could tell how close you were, and when you both were out of breath and your climax was near, he pulled back just enough to growl against your mouth.

“Cum, mi princesa. Cum for Flaco.”

And so you did.

His name falling from your lips and your entire body tensing as lava flowing through your veins and fireworks burst behind your eyelids, you let yourself fall apart in the hands of one of the most wanted outlaws in the country. He urged you through your orgasm with gentle praises and soft caresses along your pussy, making your body twitch with aftershocks and causing you to moan softly. Finally, once the waves of pleasure had subsided, you collapsed fully against the man’s chest, your arms loosely wrapped around him and your face pressed against his neck. Watching as Flaco took the time to lick his fingers clean, a soft tremble of want wracked your body again, one that he felt and couldn’t help but chuckle at.

“Are you satisfied, little one?”

You nodded silently, fighting to keep your eyes open now. The powerful orgasm had taken what little energy hadn’t been sapped away by the blizzard, and the warmth that crept through your limbs made it incredibly difficult not to fall asleep then and there.

The gunslinger took notice of this and adjusted your position in his lap so he could take you in a bridal hold, standing with a soft grunt before he crossed the cabin and laid you upon the soft pelts and blankets that lined his bed. His ungloved hand found your face again, caressing your cheek with the tenderness of a newlywed husband and allowing a smirk to cross his face.

“Rest. I’ve got another job for you when you wake.”

Through your lidded eyes, just before they embraced sleep, you caught sight of him palming a rather noticeable bulge in his trousers, and you decided it definitely wasn’t a mistake to make the trip up in the middle of a blizzard.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 online #flaco hernandez #flaco hernandez/reader #flaco hernandez x reader #fem reader #lemons #acc

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

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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.

#rdrwriting #rdrheadcanon #nsft #smut #f!reader #fem reader #female reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #flachoes #flaco hernández #flaco hernandez #flaco hernández x you #flaco hernández x reader #flaco hernández/you #flaco hernández/reader #red dead online #Anonymous

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

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Touch Starved

Summary: Flaco's been by himself for so long, he can barely remember the last time he had somebody to hold, but things are about to change when you can't get off the mountain and stay the night.

Pairing: Flaco Hernández x gn!Reader

Word Count: 2430

Rating: SFW

Tags: Fluff, Feelings, Accidental cuddling, Sharing a bed, Sleepy cuddles, Memories/flashback, Pining, Comfort, Tenderness, Developing relationship.

Notes: So, @a-vast-african-plain hit me with the ‘Flaco must be so touch starved, all alone on that mountain’ and I couldn’t stop thinking about it:( and after my meltdown last night, I just had to write something to make myself feel better

Flaco rolls over in his bed, an arm reaching out to wrap around your waist and pull you closer but to his surprise, his hand can't find you. He waves his hand around the bed, attempting to find where you'd rolled over to but still, you're not there. His eyes finally snap open as he props himself up on an elbow, realising that the space next to him is empty. In a panic, he looks around his cabin, noticing that you're not sat on his chair or tending to the fire, you're nowhere to be seen. Flaco's about to jump out of bed, ready to track you down and ask why you've left but the door opens. He watches you enter the cabin, stomping the snow off your boots as you shut the door and lock it, keeping the ghastly chill out. You slide your coat off, putting it back on the peg you usually hang it from and turn to begin making your way back to bed. You stop, trying not to laugh at the sight of a very sleepy and very grumpy Flaco; his hair is a mess, loose strands everywhere, his eyes are almost fully scrunched shut, and he's sticking out his bottom lip much more than usual. He looks like you've just shaken him awake, insulted him, then ran off. "You alright?" you ask him as he rubs his eyes, his heart slowing down now he knows you're safe. "Mhmm," Flaco nods. "Where did you go?" he questions.

"To use the outhouse," you tell him. It's not uncommon for you to wake up in the night because you need to empty your bladder, but it's always a pain doing so in the cold. You'd forced yourself out of bed, eyes barely open as you trailed out the cabin, huffing to yourself the whole time. "Oh," is all Flaco replies. He lies back down, rolling onto his back, leaving more than enough space beside him. Flaco wants to ask you to come back to bed, he wants to reach out and pull you against him, tucking you in as you curl up on his chest, but the gunslinger doesn't want to come across as needy. You'd never stayed the night before but after doing a job for him yesterday, you rode south and spotted lawmen around the abandoned mine. It was getting late and you knew that if you rode past Barrow Lagoon then you'd be ambushed by wolves, so you rode back to Flaco, knowing you can trust him, and asked if you could stay in one of the empty tents outside. Flaco pushed and pushed for you to take his bed, telling you that he never sleeps away, that he wasn't tired, an array of excuses. You told him you'd share it to which he laughed, reminding you again that he wasn't tired, but you rolled your eyes at him and said "well, when you do get tired you can take the space beside me." You went to bed, leaving more than enough room for Flaco to join you. You tossed and turned a few times throughout your slumber, unknowingly letting out the softest mewls and sighs as you moved. It caught Flaco off guard at first, he thought there was a whimpering puppy outside his cabin, but when you moved again he realised it was you. Flaco leans back in his chair, completely forgetting about the wood that he was whittling, more fixated in watching you sleep (in a non-creepy manner.) You looked so peaceful, the calmest thing Flaco's seen in months, maybe years. His eyes suddenly felt so heavy as he yawned, though it took a while for him to build the confidence to go to bed. Normally, Flaco has all the confidence in the world and you know this from the number of compliments and praise he's sent your way, but this was different; Flaco was going to be close to you, probably accidentally cuddling you as he sleeps. What if you wake up and push him off? Or what if you just leave in the night and never return? Flaco props his hat on the back of his chair as he rubs his eyes, pushing the hair from his face, telling himself that he needs to sleep and that you're understanding, these things happen, and you're both mature and sensible enough to let him down. Well, he expects things to go that way; Flaco's always expected the worst, it's hard not to with the life he lives. He slumps his bandoliers and gunbelt on his chair, then unbuttons his coat as he approaches his bed. He drapes the thick clothing over you, using it as an extra blanket. Flaco sits on the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes and unfastening his bandana, leaving him in his old, white undershirt and dark pants. Flaco still seems hesitant to join you. It's not that he doesn't want to, he very much does, but being this close to another person is just so... nervewracking for him. It's been so long since Flaco's had somebody to hold or to hold him when he needs it. He's been on the run for so long, riding from campsite to campsite, usually avoiding the law before they can arrive. He knows his men sometimes go into town just to find some company, or even hold each other when times are tough, but Flaco's the boss, the leader, the man that can't be seen as needy or desperate. But deep down he feels so empty like there's not much left inside of him, like those lonely feeling have almost finished eating him up. His body constantly aches, but now there's a small opening, one where he might be able to find even just the tiniest bit of affection, but it's been so long that he only feels afraid. Finally, Flaco joins you. He decides to lie on his side facing away from you, not wanting to push his luck into your boundaries, or the boundaries Flaco assumes you have. He watches the fire for a while before shutting his eyes, attempting to fall asleep. He's close, ready to doze off at any second, but you let out another soft mewl as you toss and turn again, rolling over once more. Flaco almost jumps out of his own skin when he feels something touch his waist, but lets out a sigh of relief when he realises that it's just you. It's just you... curling up against his back, wrapping your arm loosely around his waist, spooning a man twice the size of you. A part of Flaco feels sick, only because he's not had any affection in so long that it makes him nervous. He can feel his eyes swelling, his body wanting to cry but he refuses to. You shuffle close to him, pressing your forehead against his shoulders, still in a deep slumber. Flaco can't take it anymore; he gently rolls over, repositioning your arm around his waist as he moves. He's facing you, his hand coming up to move the loose strands of hair from your face, then pulling the blanket and his coat right up against your chin. Flaco's hand rests on the back of your head, fingertips lazily brushing against your hair. His cheek rests on the top of your head, pulling you against his chest. He lets out a sigh, shutting his eyes. Flaco suddenly realises how warm he feels, not in the sense that the cabin is too hot, but his insides almost feel like they're on fire. He's hot and mushy, gulping down this small gesture though he feels like he's using you. You're not awake, you're probably unaware that you've cuddled up to him, and Flaco's certain that you'll push him away whenever you do wake. But for now, Flaco continues to fiddle with the strands of your hair, eventually getting some rest for the first time in days. And that's why Flaco went into such a state of panic when he woke; you're nowhere to be seen and Flaco realises that he's fucked up, he's crossed a boundary that shouldn't have even been looked at, getting cosy with you, and now he'll probably never see you again. But you strolled back into the cabin, not noticing the sigh of relief Flaco let out as you locked the door behind you. It's far too early for you to get up and honestly, you don't want to. You're still tired, bags under your eyes and a pout on your face. Without thinking, you climb back into bed, rolling over Flaco as you take your spot beside the wall. "You could have asked me to move over," Flaco tells you as you curl up under the blankets. "Did want to disturb you, 'specially when you seem so grumpy," you say with a small laugh. "Grumpy?" Flaco questions as he moves his head to look at you. "Eh, when am I not grumpy?" he shrugs. "Hm, true," you reply, your voice just above a whisper as you roll onto your side. You shuffle closer to Flaco, clinging onto his arm as you rest your forehead against his shoulder, a lazy attempt of a cuddle. Flaco's taken aback that you have the confidence to just cuddle up to him, or at least try to, but it's enough to begin eating up at his insides, prodding that touch starved sensation he always feels. Flaco was gripping onto you tightly when you'd woken up, sleeping with you curled up against his chest. You hadn't put much thought into it, you'd always been eager to cuddle that man, both because you want to and because he clearly needs it. So, now that you're back in bed, you've not put any thought into cuddling up to him again, not knowing how much the gesture means to him. "Come here," Flaco says in the softest voice you've ever heard. He rolls onto his side, pulling you against his chest again as you find comfort and warmth in each other. He's cuddled up to you like before, fiddling with your hair yet again as you snuggle against his chest. Your arm wraps around his waist, kneading at the old white shirt he wears. The fabric is so worn yet still thick, you dread to think how long he's worn it as its clearly the same shirt he wears in his cigarette card, back in his younger days. You've teased him about the cigarette card before, completely forgetting he was on one until you opened up a fresh pack to share a smoke with him, revealing the card. "Look who it is," you smiled as you showed him, to which he rolled his eyes and tried to focus on lighting his cigarette. "If it wasn't for that, I would have been forgotten by now," Flaco told you, yanking hard at your heartstrings. You could never forget him, you make it your main priority to see him at least once a week, though you'd never admit it to him, probably because he'd just laugh you off, or so you think. You gazed at the card again, judging the outfit he wears, the playful pose he stands in, that brooding yet cocky look to his eyes. You'd been looking at the card a little longer than you realised and Flaco commented on it. "What is it, huh? What's got you so focused on that thing?" "Oh," you replied as you looked up at him. A playful smile crossed your lips as you decided to prod at him, it's only fair as he prods at you all the time. "You were just so young and handsome back then, such a catch. If only I'd known you in your prime time," you laughed. Flaco grumbled, saying something under his breath in his mother language. "Mierda descarada," he pouted. "And what about me now, huh? I'm still me, maybe not young and handsome anymore but eh, I think I can still be quite the catch," Flaco told you, attempting to act confident but it's obvious how much he doubts himself. "You're still quite the catch," you reassured him. "But you're not young and handsome anymore, you're just handsome now," you smiled. Flaco let out a deep laugh, the kind that comes straight from his chest, making his eyes squint happily as he told you how funny you are. It's always nice to see him like that, seeing that he's not always just a grumpy old man, that he still has quite the spark inside of him. Your hand continues to knead at the fabric as you finish revisiting that memory, eventually deciding that it's too rough to comfortably hold on to. "I'm going to buy you a new shirt," you tell him as you move your hand south, resting it over his hips instead, your forearm pressing against the waistband of his pants. "What? Why?" Flaco questions, his eyes shut and his cheek squishing against the top of your head. "It's so worn and old, almost as old as you," you playfully tease. "Very funny," Flaco replies in a monotone voice. "You seem to forget who you're talking to, as if I'm not some old gunslinger who could off you at any second," he grumbles. "You'd kill me just for insulting your shirt?" you question, burying your face deeper against his chest, feeling the way he wraps his arm around you tighter as you move. "I might do," Flaco replies. You softly laugh, "you would never," you tell him, moving your hand from his hip and sneaking it under his shirt. Your hand glides softly against his back, skin on skin, the gesture making Flaco let out a deep breath that he didn't even know he was holding onto. "You're right," Flaco tells you, tilting his head up so he can place a kiss to your forehead, his moustche gently prickling against your skin. "I could never," Flaco reassures you. You hold onto him and Flaco holds onto you. The pair drift back to sleep, factually knowing now that they have each other, that the hollow feelings they have inside are slowly being filled up. Flaco knows that he won't have any more sleepless nights, that you'll reignite the fire inside of him, that he eventually won't feel so empty. And you know that you'll always have someone to hold you, someone to brush the hairs off your face and kiss your forehead whenever you need him to. Within time, you'll both feel full again.

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

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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.

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