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kaycrowley · 5 months

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Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

You are a Saloon Girl in the lawless town of Xetas, and you have caught the eye of a certain mischievous outlaw.

(Cowboy Loki X Saloon Girl Reader)

(ADULTS ONLY 🔞: Semi-Public Sex, P in V Sex, Doggy Style, Bondage, Gagging, Clothed Sex, Sex in Front of a Mirror.)

Tags: @prince-ben-solo @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @holdmytesseract @high-functioning-lokipath @glitchquake @lokisstarlight

It was a typical afternoon in the Saloon, the patrons were all enjoying their drinks, conversing and laughing with each other. In the corner, a group of patrons were playing Poker, while the ragtime piano was playing as the Saloon Girls danced on stage. All was well until the doors swung open, the afternoon light casting an ominous shadow across the floorboards. Everything came to a stop when the patrons and workers alike saw the tall man at the double doors. He was known by many names; "The Menace of Mischief, Silver Tongue, The Frost-Hearted Foe, but the one name he truly went by was Loki Laufeyson.

His icy blue eyes scanned the Saloon as he made his way towards the bar. The only sound that can be heard was the tinkling of his spurs and the thumping of his boots across the floor. He took a seat on the stool at the bar, his gaze meeting that of the intimidated bartender. "I'll have ma'self a base burner." He finally spoke, his voice deep with a strong drawl. The bartender nodded and poured him a glass of whiskey and slid it over to him. Loki caught the glass and tipped his hat before taking a swig. Sensing that he wasn't here to cause trouble, the Saloon slowly bustled back to life, the conversations flowing, chips clacking, and the ragtime piano playing. Loki swiveled in his seat to watch the Saloon Girls on stage, smirking at the flirtatious display. One particular girl caught his eye, a girl wearing a green dress with black lace and a black feather in her headband. You were that girl, dancing in the center with your peers, Natasha, Carol, Wanda, and Janet, who were each dressed in their respected colors; black, blue, red, and gold.

After the little stage show, you headed for the Powder Room to freshen up. Loki slowly got up and made his way after you, looking behind his back to make sure that nobody was watching. You were in the Power Room, powdering your nose, when you suddenly heard a man's voice say "Howdy there, Missy!" You yelp and jump, placing a hand over your heart. Loki chuckled. "Didn't mean to scare ya, I jus' wanted to say that you look mighty fine up there...and up close too." You blushed at his forwardness, but you forged a smile. "Why thank ya, Stranger." You replied, but Loki got closer. "Oh I ain't no stranger, sweetie. You know damn well who I am, don't you?" You gulped and nodded slowly. "O-of course, Sir..."

"Then say it..." Loki cut you off. "...say my name."

You looked him in the eyes and said. "Y-you're....you're....Loki....Loki Laufeyson, the fella wanted by Sheriff Stark in Yorktown."

Loki smiled and chuckled at your answer. "Good girl."

"What do you want from me?" You queation.

"Don't 'cha worry, I ain't here to hurt ya." Loki reassured. "I just wanna show you mah Ace in the hole." You back away, a little scared. He chuckled again. "Oh no, it ain't no barking iron...well, not the kind ya think." He winked, unbuckling his chaps to lower his pants, revealing his member to you. You gasped and blushed, looking down at the thickened rod. You look up at him and lick your lips. "I guess I can be friendly~" you purr. Loki smiled and grabbed his lasso. "Atta girl~" he tied your wrists together, before wrapping the rope around your torso, tying your arms to your chest. You bit your lip, being tied up to get fucked by a notorious outlaw excited you. Loki bent you over in front of the vanity and lifted your skirt up, pulling your pantaloons down to reveal your ass and quim to him. He took a step back to look at them in all their glory and whistled. "I tell ya what, that's a mighty fine lookin' pussy ya got there~" You couldn't help but blush at that statement. Loki reached over and gently petted your awaiting lips, causing you to gasp and let out a little moan. Loki smiled and continued to rub his long, dexterous digits against your lips, wanting to make sure you were good and ready for him.

Once you were wet with arousal, Loki removed his kerchief from his neck, and wrapped it tightly around your mouth, gagging you. "I'm sorry, Huckleberry..." he said. "...as much as I love to hear ya sing, I'm afraid I'm gon' hafta keep ya quiet so ya won't get caught bein' a floozy." You nodded understandably and you felt his large hands gripping your hips. You anticipated his grand entrance, which he did smoothly. You moaned into the kerchief as he slid inside you, letting out a soft groan. "Oh mah stars..." he whispered, trying to contain himself. He gripped onto the lasso with one hand before he started to buck, keeping a firm grip onto your hip with one hand. Your moans were muffled by the kerchief, and Loki can be heard making restrained panting sounds. He wanted to be louder, but alas, he couldn't chance it, what he was doing was already too risky. You lifted your head and looked into the mirror of the vanity, seeing yourself with the green kerchief around your mouth and Loki behind you, pistoning his hips into your supple ass. He looked into the mirror at you and smiled with a breathless chuckle. "Now ain't that a sight?" He said, referring to how you two looked in the mirror. You weren't going to lie, watching yourself being bound, gagged, and fucked by this man only heightened your arousal, making yourself slick enough for him to pick up the pace. The Powder Room was filled with the sounds of your muffled moans, his panting, the clacking of his bullet belt, and your skins slapping. It was all so erotic and thrilling.

Loki was so close, his panting was increasing, switching his gaze back and forth to the mirror and his cock sliding in and out of you. He leaned forward, pressing his torso into your back and began fucking you vigorously, causing you to moan louder into the kerchief. "That's it..." he huffed. "...come on, girl." After a few good thrusts, Loki gritted his teeth and grunted, pushing his cock as deep as he can before releasing. You moaned into the kerchief and came around him, your walls squeezing his cock as if to milk it of all he's got. Loki shuddered and his cock throbbed at the sensation, giving you a few good extra spurts before slowly pulling out with a wet pop. He huffed and looked down at the results of his hard work, your cunt was now dripping with the man's semen, which was heavily erotic for him. Loki tucked himself back into his pants before removing the kerchief and untying you. You slowly stood up, looking down at the marks the rope left on your bare arms. Loki chuckled and ran his hands along the markings. You saw his hands glowing and the markings disappearing. You gasp and turn around, mouth agape in awe. "How did you...?!"

"Now, now, you know that a magician never reveals his secrets..." Loki grinned. "...now, perhaps you could be my little magician and never reveal our secret to nobody." He winked, causing you to blush. "I won't, Sir!" You reply, earning yourself an even bigger smile from him. "That's a good girl~" he purred before tipping his hat and slowly exiting the Powder Room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the realization of what you've just done. You smirked at the thought...this was going to be a dirty secret that you're sure as hell taking to the grave with you. You began to wonder if by chance you ever encountered Loki again, perhaps he could show you another reason why he's been nicknamed "Silver Tongue"...

#marvel loki #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #what if #what if...?#cowboy loki #spicy content

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supertrxshwrites · 5 months

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Cowboy sheriff!Jason Todd (and the outlaws):

* Jason is sheriff and everyone loves him but the reader.

* Reader thinks he’s a sloppy, careless, drunk who only flashes the badge to get what he wants

*he frequents the saloon the reader bartends at and the second they see that red bandana stumble through the swinging doors they know their night is going to get worse

* he always winds up the crowd which always ends in a bar fight which he conveniently leaves before it gets really bad

* his little posse also irks the reader A LOT

*roy is Sheriff Todd’s right hand man and deputy which meant he also had a badge of sorts

* and the woman her name was Kori she didn’t talk much but every once in a while the reader would catch her tussling with some drunk that made a remark. Breaking a table, putting a hole through the wall or causing any other damage in the process

* Anytime a real crime or disturbance was happening the sheriff would take care of it, but in his own special way

* it rubs the reader the wrong way

*every once in a while they run into each other in town. Whether they are leaving the bank or locking up the saloon and he makes a point to say something just to get under their skin

“howdy, nice day we’re havin’��. He says with a mischievous grin as he follows the reader walking side by side at they carry some groceries

“ oh god not today..” they breathe out picking up their pace

“Woah woah woah now hold yer horses I’m not here to give you any trouble sweetheart” he says standing in front of the reader with a shit eating grin plastered on his face

“ what do you want.” They say flatly

Jason taps the small metal badge

They sigh with an eye roll.

“What do you want, Sheriff”

“You roll em any harder, doll they’ll fall right out” he says with a smirk

“Cmere lemme help you with that” he says taking the bag helping you carry it home. Yeah the sheriff could be an immature asshole but he could also be a gentleman

* when the reader isn’t working at the saloon they make food for the men that work in the mines all day.

*sheriff and his cronies take advantage of that and try to get free food

( I’m prolly gonna add more but if anyone has any other HC’s for Cowboy!Jason feel free to comment or inbox mee)

#Cowboy!Jason Todd #Sheriff!Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #supes writes #supertrxshwrites #supes speaks #jason todd #headcannons #jason todd x black!reader #dc comics #batfam #red hood and the outlaws #roy harper #koriand'r #starfire

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miller-n-morgan · 26 days

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Take Me Home

PART ONE: TEXAS RED

Arthur Morgan x Gunslinger!Reader

18+, mdni

Summary: From the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day. Never spoke to folks around him, didn’t have too much to say. No one dared to ask his business, no one dared to make a slip, for the stranger there among them had a big iron on his hip. (Reader is based on Texas Red, from the song Big Iron)

Warnings: reader is female but is disguised as a young male (use of masc pronouns towards reader for this chapter), guns, violence, duelist behavior. Reader is described to have a masculine outer appearance (for show) and is mentioned to have reddish hair (for the sake of the storyline). A fake name is used but otherwise can be read completely as a reader insert.

Word Count: 6.5k

Howdy y’all ! I’m really excited about this story (arthur is my main comfort man) and this is just a story that I’ve been cooking up since I finished the game. This part (and a lot of the story’s future plot) is HEAVILY influenced by the song Big Iron by Marty Robbins and reader even goes by ‘Texas Red.’

“Men learn fast not to poke fun at me,” you told him, partially as a threat, but followed it up quickly. “I s’pose I’d better compose myself around here.” Arthur laughed, genuinely. He seemed to find you amusing, or maybe he found you to be annoying. Either way, you earned these hearty chuckles to enjoy for yourself. “You may be quick with a gun, kid… but just know, that pistol on your hip couldn’t save you from me,” his voice was in a lower register when he said it, and you didn’t know whether you should be intimidated or completely and totally enamored. He wasn’t completely serious, unwilling to scare you away for Dutch’s sake. But he did want you to understand where you stood with him, and you did

The light from the outside window is what wakes you first, the brightness pooling over your closed eyelids before they even open. You’re still in Agua Fria, the place you've made a name for yourself. Charlie Brooks, but that's not the one that comes to mind.

Texas Red. The unkillable. Nothing more than a duelist to many, and even less so to those who don't care for that sort of thing. But to those who dare challenge the big iron on your hip, you are not anything short of a quick handed master. Only eighteen years old, or so they say - it’s what you’ve told them, but like your name, it isn’t true. Whichever way you spell it out, your reputation is the reason people know you; You have the fastest draw on this side of anywhere.

For someone who's known near and far as the kid who never lost a match, the nickname is a little less than favorable. Texas Red isn't for the blood on your hands, it's for the ginger of your hair. It's factual, not demeaning… but still unfavorable. You do not care much what they call you anymore, just as long as they know what comes with it. Too many men have underestimated your ability, one and nineteen more.

Here in Agua Fria there's folks that will come from far and wide, just to test your trigger finger. Today is no different. You've spent the night in a hotel above the saloon, so by the time you reach the bottom of the stairs, you know there ought to be a man there, ready and willing to die.

“That's him.”

You hear from under the breath of the bartender. He served you only last night, one drink of silky whiskey before bed, nothing more. You told him your name, but not the one people know. Word gets around, you suppose. Your pistol has twenty notches on the handle, folks can tell enough from that alone. One of the outlaws that hangs around here does the same thing… except he takes pride in those marks, as opposed to you. You make those marks to remember the weight of your pistol, heavier every time a notch is made.

The man before you is tall and strong, likely a farmer that does heavy work. He has a sly look about him, but you don't feel bothered too much. You think his hands, worn by the sun and weathered by his work - whatever it may be - will not draw fast enough to even graze you. They are too stiff where they hang by his side, probably from pushing a plow, or milling a field.

He hasn't spoken a word to you yet, but that's what you assume. He's here to challenge me, they always are. No one asks after you otherwise… except for maybe some working women, but that never ends well.

“You're the kid?” He looks you over, a furrowed brow and a smirk brush his features, but it doesn't last. Yes, you think. I'm the kid, and this is my gun.

“Yes sir,” your voice is a little lower, the early morning is stuck in the pitch of it.

His question was so vague, but having been asked about eight times out of twenty ‘are you the kid?’ makes you a pretty damn good guesser of what your answer ought to be.

He takes another once over after a step forward, and now you can see that he stands about a head taller than you. He's not quite intimidating, but you can admit, the anxiousness of a man initiating a duel is always a thing that prickles your skin, warms your very fingertips. Maybe that's why you shoot so fast.

“You don't look like a killer,” he looks down, but his nose is somehow still in the air. He wants to prove something, to someone or to himself you can't be sure, but only the most foolish of men dare your gun this way.

“I'm not one.”

And he laughs. You don't even think to look up at him, you keep my face forward. I don't have anything to prove, but of course you know you’ll have to.

“You shoot folks, got a name for it,” he settled his hands on his belt. It's a gun belt, sure, but the rounds don't even match the gun at his hip. They look bigger, as for a rifle. This farmer likely shoots ducks. Sitting or flying, that’s not the relevant point.

He has experience, and that's what clouds his mind. He thinks you’re a sitting duck.

“I do, but I ain't no killer,” you paused, rounding the man, stepping up to the bar and pointing for a glass of water. This early in the morning, any form of alcohol shouldn't be legal. You reckon it's the very thing that made this gentleman bold and eager enough to try what he's about to. At least you’re pretty darn sure that he's about to, otherwise he’s just an adoring spectator. “I shoot folks as need shootin’, but they always ask for it. I ain't malicious or nothin’.”

“Maybe you's the one that needs shootin’.”

Atta boy, getting to the point. You have to smile. He looks confused by it and he very well should be… people don’t normally crack a grin when being threatened.

“S’pose you wanna be the one that does it,” You take a drink of the water you’re handed, but it does little to wash away the tickle in your throat, trying to climb its way up in the form of the chuckle.

“If I gotta be.”

You’ve never seen this man around town. Being here in this area almost two months, you’ve seen more of the traveling recluses than any of the farmers. Seen more of the local outlaws, too. They never stay long, they cause a little trouble here and there… but never the farmers. They come into town maybe once, twice a month. They harbor most of their own supplies on their land. No need for the town.

“And you think you'll hit me?”

“I've never missed.”

And then that chuckle finally does escape you.

“I knew twenty men who hadn't, either,” but the other's words were a bit more out of ignorance. They wanted to show off, thought they had nothing to lose. You were just a skinny kid with red hair and a heavy gun that you could barely stand to carry.

“I like my odds.”

So you turn to the bartender. He watched this same charade last month. A different man, not quite as tall, but just as confident. He stops wiping down an empty glass, and looks to you with a look of annoyance. What did you do to deserve it? You haven't the slightest clue. When he looks at the challenger with sincerity and condolences, you know what he thinks behind those eyes.

This is a fine young man, he may have a wife and some children. He doesn't know what he's doing, he had a strong drink. He only heard one story, it isn't fair.

But of course, you can't back out. You’ve never backed out. Never having anything to lose, and like today, no one has ever tried to convince you otherwise. If you die now, you can go out a hero of sorts, the gunslinger of Agua Fria. If you live, then you'll someday die a legend. Texas Red, the unkillable.

You will have to step outside, and you will have to shoot this man, but for the first time, you feel you oughta know his name. You stepped to meet him and offered your hand. It's smaller compared to his.

“What’s your name?”

“Robert Sims.”

He shakes your hand tightly, he wants to show how strong he is… as if that somehow makes him shoot faster.

“Glad to meet ya. I'm-”

“The infamous Texas Red,” he finished for me, but every time you hear that nickname it somehow gets worse. Why on earth did the good Lord above curse you with something so nasty as ginger hair?

“Infamous? Don't know about that,” you lean back against the bar for another drink of water when your hands drop to your sides. “I'm just a kid. Name's Charlie Brooks.”

He scoffs, his eyes falling to the floor. Maybe he doesn't wanna do this. He seems to be rolling it over in his head. If he wins he kills you, a scrawny kid with an ugly hat, and not a friend in the world. If he loses, well… he dies.

But as if foolishness ruled his mind, he settles on his thoughts, and you can see it clear as day when he decides.

“Are you ready to step outside?”

And you smile again. He could've been your friend. He seems like a kind enough man, a little arrogant, but a man of honor in himself. He even struck you with a slanted smile of his own, but for no reason other than your reputation alone, he wants to kill you. Always a shame.

“S'pose so.”

And he doesn't say another word… Ever.

Thirty paces apart on the dirt road outside, the poor man never even cleared leather, but a bullet rests between his collarbones, and he himself rests on the ground. He’s got a pouch on his hip you noticed earlier, so while everyone around is frozen in place, you carefully go up to his body, stripping the valuables from him before moving on your way. To the winner go the spoils.

You holster your weapon, turn around and face the folks that stopped their journeys to watch. Some had seen the last one, they expected the outcome. Others were a bit surprised. David beat Goliath. The bigger opponent fell.

You took a walk around the block to settle down, find a nail to notch your pistol yet again. You’ve never forgotten your earlier opponents, but something about this one makes you sadder than the rest. One and Twenty more, and whoever else is stupid enough to have the same idea.

Once you feel at rest you land back in the saloon, but it's not as empty as before, your single friend Robert Sims being the occupant. Now there are three men. There is a tall dark haired man with a mustache and a bowler hat, a darker skinned man beside him against the bar, and a young man that looked all too similar to yourself in complexion and hair color. It was nice to know that you weren’t the only one God would curse that way.

You don't plan on letting yourself be bothered, so you sit down one stool over, beckoning a whiskey you can shoot to chase the adrenaline. You thought you had calmed down, but sitting here it feels as though you’re in the middle of a footrace, with the speed accelerating instead of decreasing.

“Charlie Brooks?” The tall man with the mustache was the first to speak, and directly to you.

These men have guns on their hips, and you hope they are not thinking what the last man thought. You’ve barely calmed down enough from Robert Sims, and your head would hurt having to shoot twice in one day.

“Yes,” your confusion forced through.

“I'd like to talk with you. This man here tells me you're quite the gunslinger,” he gestures to the bartender and you give him a glance, seemingly just doing his job minding his business when he's not running his mouth about you.

“He told ya? Or were you outside?”

The man had a laugh that seemed comforting almost. It was hearty and full of actual joy. He pat you on the back and you had half a mind to turn away from it for a moment, unsure of why he was so friendly or if you appreciated it yet. It’s been a while since you felt the comforting or friendly touch of someone who didn’t later try and shoot you.

“I did in fact see your show of skill, but I wasn't sure if approaching you after a fiasco like that would end up poorly for me.”

And so you smile, because his sense of humor is alike yours, and he looks to be unphased by your violent acts of earlier. You technically didn’t break any laws. Didn’t do anything wrong, even by killing a man. He had threatened to shoot your first, if no one claims they saw the duel, you can write it off as self defense… but this man doesn’t seem too deterred. In fact, he looks all too happy having witnessed your properly provoked quick draw.

“I ain't jumpy, if that's what you're worried about.”

But he had a different point on his mind, so the subject was changed in an instant.

“Look, son. I'm gonna cut to the chase,” he pointed at your pistol, the newest twenty-one mark shining where it peaked out of your holster. “You have a gift for using that. I could use some talent like yours.”

And suddenly you’re confused again. Who is this guy? What does he want?

“I ain't a bounty hunter, sir.”

“I can very well see that. I'm not looking for a temporary gun, kid. I need someone long term.”

And suddenly your interest is piqued. The other men haven't said a word, and yet they seem to be a part of this offer, whatever it is. They are fully invested in your answer, on the edge of their seat - metaphorically, since they’ve been standing - while waiting. It’s strange, as if it’s all been plotted.

“Not sure I quite understand,” You slide the empty glass back after taking the second shot of whiskey, but hold your hand over the top, keeping the bartender from refilling a third.

“If you'd be so kind as to follow me and my friends, I would be happy to explain in further detail,” he steps away from the bar, his hand outstretched to the door. This situation reads danger in every which way, but you don't stray from it. You can’t believe you’re doing it, but you follow along, an open mind.

Nothing to lose.

Your horse was in the stables, an older stallion that was probably bred from war. His coat was full and black, like a starless night sky. Fury, you called him. These other men had put their horses up in the stables as well, but they were quite a bit stranger when it came to interacting with the horse hand. They paid him off so he’d forget any of you had been here.

These men must be outlaws. Dutch, Charles, and Sean… From the time of their introductions, you were watching them with vigilance. You had started to gather that much from the way people ran inside when they passed, but the other behaviors lead you to believe that they weren’t the typical type. They weren’t just bad men looking for trouble and fun. They had reasoning, and they had qualms about who they spoke to about what. They were careful, if that word can even describe an outlaw.

You followed them out of town, and down a road a bit. Agua Fria was a bit drier than other parts of Texas, but it had some nice trees here and there, with ponds and hills to break up the dusty roads. When you came to a clearing, a full on campsite set up, you immediately looked around, taking in who you thought would be the most imminent threats.

“Right over here,” Dutch said, dismounting his horse and leading it to a hitching post. You followed him and the others, and the redhead, Sean, took your horse off your hands.

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

“This is the camp, ain’t much to look at but we’re all very tight knit, here.”

You followed behind Dutch, he was the ringleader of all of this, as far as you could tell. He gave the orders, and the others followed. You couldn’t say you didn’t see why. He had all the capabilities of a natural born leader. His presence, his personable way with words, and even his ability to convince a random stranger to follow him.

“S’cozy,” you said, nodding to each person you passed. He didn’t bother introducing you to them yet, and you figure it’s because he wants to see how well you fit first. No point in getting anyone attached.

“It is indeed. I’ll have you wait here for just a moment, you can mingle, if you’d like. I’m gonna talk to a few friends of mine,” he told you before ducking into a tent, the flaps falling behind him.

You huffed a breath, turning to the first face you saw and tipping your hat.

“Howdy, Ma’am.”

The young woman looked up to you, a sweet smile on her face. She had lovely dark hair and beautiful blue eyes that reflected a clear sky.

From within the tent, tensions were a bit higher.

“First Mack and Davey, now this… kid? You can’t keep picking up people like they’re stray dogs, Dutch…” Hosea Matthews, Dutch’s right hand man was the one to speak first. He’d just heard quite a story - which to be fair, Dutch liked telling grand stories - that seemed to be impossible.

“I know, I know… but you wouldn’t believe it even if you saw it. Hell, even I don’t.”

“Let me get this straight,” another voice piped up from the corner, standing to make his presence more known. “This eighteen year old kid, who can barely hold up a gun… is the fastest draw you’ve ever seen?”

“I blinked and the man was dead,” Dutch furthered his point, hearing a low whistle from the youngest man in the tent. They began to peak through the open tent flaps, not letting anyone else see them.

“Abigail seems to like him.”

“Abigail likes everyone except John these days,” Hosea joked around, sitting himself back down when he’d taken his look at the kid. He was a spry little thing, but looked like a boy still in adolescence.

“Listen,” Dutch began, his hands raised to calm the air. “This kid could mean the difference between life or death in some of our upcoming jobs.”

The younger man looked to Dutch, then to Hosea, and then to the ground, shaking his head. Dutch was like his father, but these fantasies he conjured up sometimes to justify his antics could be wild.

“He can shoot faster than me?”

“My boy, I’d let you challenge him yourself if I wasn’t sure he’d drop you where you stand.” Dutch clapped a hand on his shoulder before turning to Hosea.

“If he’s really as fast as you say, we should keep him. He can’t be of any harm otherwise.”

A moment lasted longer than you thought it would, but you’d garnered the attention of not one but two ladies whilst sitting in the shade of the trees.

Abigail, the heavily pregnant young woman you’d started conversation with, and Tilly, a young lady who seemed to be swooning with every word you said. You didn’t have the heart to say nothing to her, you weren’t even sure you’d be sticking around.

“And then what happened?” Tilly asked, scooting closer.

“Well, I guess I shot him. S’how most these stories end, sadly.”

You suddenly felt a bit sorrowful. You’d shot a man down only today and here you’d moved on so quickly. The time of self recovery was getting shorter and shorter. Maybe you ought to stop shooting folks, then you could make some ground on a normal life… but that’s never really been your way, not since you left home. If you stay with this gang, though… the shooting gets worse, and you know that for a fact.

“But you’re a good shot, probably why Dutch wants ya,” Abigail lifted a brow, nodding towards the tent. You were sure he’d liked you well enough, and you liked this whole tight knit unit well enough. If you shoot enough folk, you reckon you get to stay.

“Speak of the Devil,” Tilly smiled behind where you were standing, and you took it as a queue to turn around yourself.

“We sure as hell want him,” Dutch said, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “I have some people I want you to meet. This is my partner, Hosea Matthews.”

And the man - Hosea - smiled and waved. He seemed nice, and gentlemanly. He had a kind face, like that of a dedicated father.

“And this,” Dutch stood aside, revealing another man stood behind him… “Is Arthur Morgan. My enforcer, and right hand man.”

You froze when he lifted his head, hat tipping upward enough to see his face. Your breath hitched in your throat as you scanned his features, falling to the stretch of his body and then roaming back up to the brim of his hat. You weren’t sure if it was from fear or from awe, but the tenseness in your body was thick and unwavering. He had all the toughness of a rugged outlaw, but his eyes were calm, serene. Like pools of oasis water against a dry and scorching desert. A beautiful man by anyone’s standard, but completely unaware of himself.

Standing before you now, he nodded in greeting, and you had to snap out of the haze that even now surrounded you, clouding your mind and blocking out anything that wasn’t him.

Sweet Lord above, help me look away… and finally you did, begrudgingly.

“He’s gonna show you around, give you the rundown of how things are around here,”

“Sounds-” you coughed once, trying to play off your strange behavior as you cleared your throat. “Sounds just fine.”

“Alright then,” Dutch leaned in towards Arthur at the last second, nudging his arm as he did. “Don’t test ‘im before he’s had a chance to settle. I don’t feel like losing two fast guns on the same day.”

You heard the tail end of the conversation, but pretended it passed over your head. You were standing quietly, still halfway in awe of the man. Sandy strands of hair that fell over the corners of his eyes, his strong jawline stubbled in the same lovely color. He let his hat fall over his eyes again, but you were certain if you’d been able to see them again, you’d not be able to look away.

He fell into a slow walk beside you, beginning to lead through the campsite.

“What’s your name, kid?”

Kid, as if you were actually one…

“Charlie Brooks, sir,” You replied, holding a firm hand out. This was reflectant of a similar introduction you’d made earlier this morning. Didn’t matter what happened though, you wouldn’t be shooting the man before you. Not even if he begged.

“Dutch says they call you Red.”

You dropped your pleasant expression, huffing a fast breath to match the new look on your face.

“Texas Red… But I ain’t even from Texas, so,” and it was true. You’d only earned that nickname here.

“The red part still fits,” Arthur was teasing you. Perhaps this is what Dutch meant by ‘don’t test him.’

You sighed, realizing that you’d found the downside to this ruggedly handsome stranger… “My name is Charlie Brooks.”

Arthur laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t get upset, boy… I’m only poking fun.”

You drop the tension in your shoulders… you didn’t like being teased, but perhaps it wasn’t as bad coming from this Arthur character.

“Men learn fast not to poke fun at me,” you told him, partially as a threat, but followed it up quickly. “I s’pose I’d better compose myself around here.”

Arthur laughed, genuinely. He seemed to find you amusing, or maybe he found you to be annoying. Either way, you earned these hearty chuckles to enjoy for yourself.

“You may be quick with a gun, kid… but just know, that pistol on your hip couldn’t save you from me,” his voice was in a lower register when he said it, and you didn’t know whether you should be intimidated or completely and totally enamored. He wasn’t completely serious, unwilling to scare you away for Dutch’s sake. But he did want you to understand where you stood with him, and you did.

You only nodded, and kept walking.

He had shown you the laundry areas, where the girls nearly strip the boys down just so they have something to do in the daytime. He showed you to Mr. Pearson’s ‘kitchen,’ if you could even call it that. He showed you where the weapons are kept, but not where to refill them. He isn’t sure if he’s supposed to yet. You take in every word he says, committing it to memory, not only so you can fit in around here, but also so you can recall the sound of his voice on a whim.

He shows you down to the sloped rim of the pond, where usually one at the time, members of the camp come to bathe in their spare hours. You wondered how far down the way you would have to bathe, just on the off chance someone might come and see.

“Bill takes care of the horses, mostly. I’m sure he’ll add yours to his rounds if you ask ‘im,” he mentioned, walking back past the horse rails and troughs. Your horse was standing happily in the sunshine, enjoying the blue skies and grass compared to the dusty and dark stables you always put him up in.

“I’ll remember that,” you say, as if you’ll forget anything else. So far you remember everyone’s name - everyone you passed by, at least - and every individual location of the camp.

“Miss Grimshaw and the others should have a tent for ya by sundown… if not, just bunk with me until tomorrow,” he offered, hands sat steadily on his gun belt. Your face flushed, but lucky for you, he was much taller and couldn’t see under the brim of your hat when you tilted your head.

“That’s kind of you,” you nodded in reply, saying nothing more.

He began to back away, needing to attend to something else, but he stopped short.

“You’re alright, kid,” he complimented, as best as he could give one, anyway. “See you ‘round.”

And you stood still, watching him walk away with your hands at your sides.

“I’m in deep shit…”

Early to bed, early to rise, yatta yatta yatta. You still hate mornings. The camp wakes at the crack of dawn, and you stir just as some folks are leaving, mounting their horses and setting off for the adventures ahead. You’re fairly certain it’s Dutch, Bill, and that other man Hosea, the one with the kind face.

You did end up taking Arthur up on his offer to bunk for the night. He was kind enough to set up one of the spare cots for you, unwilling to argue about sleeping on the ground and all that. He pegged you for the arguing type and wanted to leave well enough alone.

He was gone from the tent-like structure by the wagon, away somewhere probably having a cup of that coffee you smelled. They must have had a pot brewing somewhere, because it was the only thing willing you to leave the shaded area you were resting. The sun wasn’t high in the sky, but you could already feel the effects of the heat swirling in around the camp.

It was strange, going about your morning routine with others present. Washing up your face in one of the water barrels, raking your hair back over your head with your wet fingers to let the hair sit flat before you crushed it down with your hat. You’d been nearly presentable, good enough for the morning, anyway.

It wasn’t long before you were sitting close to the congregated group, a cup of coffee in your own hands. It wasn’t the best you’ve had, but hey, it helped you keep your eyes open. You didn’t dare interject into the conversation, unknowing of it they would accept it. Not that it mattered, because you liked hearing them interact as is. They were a rowdy bunch, but they had some wit here and there.

After a while, you zoned out during talks of events you hadn’t been to, people you hadn’t met, things you didn’t get to see before coming here. You watched a bunny that leapt across the camp, running into the wilderness ahead only to disappear behind some rocks. You realized by then you were at the end of your coffee cup. You stood up to take it back to Mr. Pearson, but were interrupted by one of the others in the circle. You remember his name is John.

“How about you, Brooks?” He asked, catching you off guard, for you had absolutely no clue what the conversation was.

“How about me?” you replied, a furrowed brow as you stopped in your tracks and waited.

“Are you really as fast as people say?”

You scoffed, a slanted eyebrow to the man when he seemed in disbelief. You don’t blame him, he’s never seen you shoot.

“Faster.”

“Boy’s got some pride on ‘im. Shouldn’t be too hard to break it down,” the only other redhead in the gang reared his accented voice. “Ay, Arthur?”

You turned to the man, stoic and quiet, his hat covering most of his face so you couldn’t see what his features were saying.

“If Dutch says he’s faster than me, I won’t push my luck.”

Except for he wanted to. He really wanted to, and you were curious to see his skill as well. Maybe not against you, because hell… you ain’t never lost before but there’s a first time for everything, and you like it here too much to throw it away.

“I don’t buy it. That’s just Dutch telling tales like he does,” John stood up and clapped his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Never in my life have I seen someone with Arthur’s shootin’ speed.”

“Never?”

You knew it was probably not in your best interest to boast your ability on the first day, but shit, it was the only thing you had going for you. You had to make way in this group somehow.

“Never.”

“Alright,” you nodded. “I propose a game. Two bullets, our names carved in. We set up a can to shoot and whoever’s bullet gets trapped inside s’the one that got there first.”

Arthur lifted his head, and for the first time this morning, you saw his eyes. Your face instantly got red, but no one seemed to notice, too caught up in the heat of the exchange.

He nodded once, a slow and decisive nod. He was thinking it over.

“Sure,” he said, his thick accent coating the word. “Guess I’ll play along.”

And the group dispersed, grabbing everything needed. Arthur took it upon himself to carve the bullets, and strangely, you trusted him not to tamper with yours. He didn’t seem like the type to play dirty. He didn’t look like he needed to be.

Sean set up the can on a log, a crudely drawn X out of charcoal on the rusty front of it. There were words being exchanged as you both stepped up, opening your guns to drop out all the bullets before Arthur handed yours over. His etching wasn’t too bad, but you dropped the smug look on your face when you saw what he actually put on it.

“I told you my name’s not Red,” you huffed, taking it anyway and dropping it into the cylinder, giving it a quick spin to line it up.

“Doesn’t matter, no one’s gonna see it but you,” he teased, loading his own gun and standing beside you, about five yards away from the can.

“Need me to count?” you joked back, hopefully not in vain. You wouldn’t be pridefully wounded if you lost in all honesty. You’d been waiting for your talent to fail you for a long time now, and without any stakes on the table, you suppose today could be the day.

Both guns now strapped to your hips, you waited in silence, and so did everyone else. It wasn’t something that needed cheering on, but it was definitely something to be on the edge of your seat for.

You saw Arthur drop his hand out of the corner of your eye, so you cleared leather as fast as you could in hopes that your shot would land, and it did… or at least, you thought it did. The can went flying and both guns had been fired.

“Who won?” John yelled over in question to Sean, who went to kneel down by the log, picking up the can.

“Uh…” He held up the can, showing two bullet holes, before dumping out both bullets from the inside. “Both of em’.”

And for the first time in any shoot out you’d ever participated in, you were too stunned to speak. You never doubted this man’s abilities as a talented gunslinger, but given you’d never seen him shoot, and knowing your own track record… it was surprising to see.

“Well,” Arthur turned to you, as the others continued to chat amongst themselves, not sure how to split the bets they had made beforehand. “You beat me.”

He offered his hand to you to shake, but you shook you head, you didn’t understand.

“It’s a draw, both bullets hit,” you tried to reason, but he was set on his own explanation.

“You hit first. Mine went through the top as it was fallin’.”

You shook his hand anyway, but froze in place when he spoke. Could he really tell? Was he that detail oriented when shooting? You’d never known much of your craft, just that you could do it, just that you’d practiced a bunch and got pretty damn good… but you didn’t even think to make that observation.

“That don’t count,” you tried to absolve him, still feeling as though from what he said alone, he was the better gunslinger. “I’ve never said this before… but I would not duel you, Arthur Morgan. You’ve scared me somethin’ awful with that gun.”

He had a chuckle in his exhale as he let it fall from his lips, a nod and the drop of your handshake. “Guess we both met our match today.”

“I’d say so.”

The day was slow. When Dutch and Hosea and Bill returned in the evening, there was some wind of a job coming up, the first one you’d inevitably be invited to. It was discussed quickly and not in great detail, and the heads of the camp still had some ideas churning about it. Hopefully you’d be able to keep up in the heat of the moment, as you’d never done anything like this before. Never robbed folk - alive folk, at least - or taken something as a means to survive. You’ve lived off of bets and fools you shot dead. It was a lousy way to live but it had never gotten as low as stealing or cold blooded murder.

The thoughts turned over in your head and for some reason you couldn’t seem to lose them, but at the end of the night they were momentarily stalled when Arthur helped you carry the already assembled cot into your new tent. It was simple, just a double sided narrow-pitched tent, no room inside for anything but a cot and a single human. You could just kick your boots under the cot when you slept, that would be the extent of your storage space. At least it had the privacy of the two flaps at the front, current parted like curtains to allow entrance.

Once everything was set up, Arthur took a step back, but didn’t leave yet.

“Thank you, Arthur. I’ll owe you one,” you promised, trying to be as casual about his genuine help and concern over you the past day. No one had ever shown this much attentiveness to you, and though you know he’s only acting on orders from Dutch, it feels like he really cares. He’s kind and he’s gentle, despite his rugged appearance and reputation.

“S’no problem,” he scratched the back of his neck, looking from side to side to make sure everyone had either retired for the night or was too occupied to listen in. “I wanted to tell you something.”

You furrowed your brow, crossing your arms.

He sighed and met your eyes again, debating his words in his head. Out with it already…

“I know you’re a lady,” he tried to speak evenly, but the tail end of his sentence got caught.

Your eyes widened before he even finished his sentence. You looked around as well before shoving him inside your tent, too small for one person let alone two.

“You don’t know anything,” you assured him, suddenly self conscious of how he perceived you. What was it? Your voice? The way you walked? Your body? Was anybody else going to notice?

“I wasn’t pryin’, I swear,” he said, reaching into his satchel, still on his hip after a long day. “Bill left early this morning, I took care of your horse. These fell out of your saddlebag…”

He held out to you the most damning piece of evidence there could possibly be. Long cotton wraps and a sanitary apron, the brand new woolen padding you’d gotten was pressed inside and ready.

Shit. You didn’t even think twice about hiding the contents of your saddle bag when arriving here. No one had ever been kind enough to care for your horse, so you didn’t worry.

You looked into his eyes, firm but not judgemental. When you looked at him just a second too long they turned to a silent fear. Like he was a child getting caught stealing sweets.

“Don’t tell Dutch,” you begged, and he huffed a sigh, unsure of what to do.

“I can’t lie to im’,” he shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. You were new, this wasn’t just about loyalty, it was about hierarchy. You, the new soldier, could not dare ask the second in command to deprive his leader of the truth.

“I’m not asking you to. Just don’t tell him, yet. I’ll think of a way to let him know…”

You knew it was a stretch, but he was wonderful with the women of the camp, a man of high honor among the ladies. Surely he would help you, just until you were ready to share your secret.

“We’re different, y’know? If you’ve been hidin’ all this time out there, that’s one thing… but you ain’t gotta do that here.”

“I don’t want them to look at me differently…” you trailed, silently pleading with him.

He nodded, the look in your eyes nearly breaking his heart. There’s a story within you, but he’ll wait to hear it. For now, he just complies, hearing your voice at it’s softest point, the feminine silkiness flowing through. You only ever spoke to yourself like that anymore.

“Okay,” he placed a warm hand on your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze, before maneuvering out of your small tent. “Just until you tell ‘im yourself, ya hear?”

You nodded in understanding, a thankful and sweet smile dining your features. “Goodnight, Arthur.”

“G’night, Red…”

tags are open

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan x you

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mothdruid · 2 years

Text

Fuck You, Hangman

pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x fem!reader

summary: jake had always pissed you off, but today was the final straw. but who knew you had some type of fondness for the resident ass. and even though you never accepted his apology, you might have accepted him.

wc: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, smut, minors dni, vaginal sex, oral sex (m to f), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names (sweetheart and darling), dirty talk, hate sex turned soft???

a/n: howdy howdy, hangman has been plaguing my mind for a little over a week now. so here we are. i hope you all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

If looks could cause harm, there would currently be a hole in the back of Hangman’s head. The two of you had graduated together, and you hated him still the same. His laugh, snide comments, and cocky attitude always had you on the edge. You weren’t much of a people person to begin with, but god did this man make you fucking hate people.

“Ain’t that right?”

“Shut the fuck up, Hangman.” The words came out of your mouth before you could even think. Your eyes connected with Fanboy’s before fleeting over to Rooster’s. Rooster shot you a look of concern while you stared at him.

“What was that? Got something to say?” Hangman boomed as he stood up. You rolled your eyes, hearing his baritone voice grate against your ears. You got on your feet, deciding you had to show your own dominance.

“Yeah, I do. You need to learn when to shut the fuck up.” Hangman’s lips curved down in frown as he stopped in front of you.

“That’s rich coming from someone who doesn’t really talk.” You glared at Hangman, grimacing at his words.Payback and Fanboy snickered at the commotion, glad you were finally standing up to Hangman.

“Not everyone likes to listen to you, Bagman.” Phoenix added in.

“That true, Viper?” Hangman asked you. He leaned into your space, trying to get right up near your ear. You shifted slightly, trying to show your irritation as he started to talk. “Cause if it was, why didn’t you say anything prior?”

An irritated look covered your face, clearly showing that you were down with his bullshit today. You placed your hand on his shoulder and leaned in near his ear. “Cause I thought I could deal with it. Shocker, I can’t. I'm tired of your cocky attitude and inflated ego."

You could hear a small snicker from Rooster after you spoke, which caused Hangman to turn his head. Rooster gave Hangman a fake apologetic look before he turned back to you. "That so?"

"Stop playing dumb, Bagman. You know that all of us have an issue with you, even the 'quiet' ones." You quoted the word quiet with your fingers while you spoke. Jake crept somehow closer to you, your faces only mere inches away from each other.

"Loner feels more like the right word for you, not just quiet." Hangman said with a smirk.

"Fuck you, Hangman." With that you spun around, gathered your items and left. Nobody contested your leave, not even your instructor.

“That was uh, quite the outburst.” Your eyes drifted up from your drink to Rooster. You rolled your eyes at him before downing your drink. “Come on. Even I know that it could have waited till after.” Rooster signaled to the bartender, asking for a tall draft beer.

“Roo, you of all people know how much I hate him. Ever since the first day of training, it’s just-”

“His ego. I know, I know.” Rooster snickered before taking a swig of his beer. Your hand drifted up, silently asking the bartender for another one. The two of you sat chatting for a moment, watching as the hard deck filled up with more people. It had been months since the two of you talked, seeming as this was your first time stateside in a while. Being in Europe had been fun but it just wasn’t the same.

“Well look who it is.” A hand hit you in the back, a greeting of sorts. You turned to see the only person you could care less for right now. A bright smile covered Hangman’s face, a toothpick sticking out from between his teeth. His hand stayed on your mid back, shifting slightly lower to the small of your back. A heat radiated in your cheeks, the heat from his hand was the only thing your brain could focus on. You rolled your eyes and quickly distracted yourself with your drink.

“What do you want?” Bradley’s voice had a standoffish nature to it. Hangman turned to him with a slightly off grin. Jake had barely even started to talk and he was already starting to irritate you.

“I came to apologize, what else would I be here for?”

“Maybe to gloat about yourself.” You tilted your head to look at Jake, wanting to see his reaction to your comment. Jake’s smirk faded a little bit while Rooster chuckled in the background.

“Sorry Viper, not today. That’s on my schedule for tomorrow though if you were interested.” Jake joked back. At least he was seeing the humor in the situation. After you chugged down your drink you placed some cash under the glass.

“I don’t want it.” You locked eyes with Jake as you hopped off the bar stool. Your hand collided with his shoulder, patting the firm shape before walking past him. Jake stood there staring blankly forward. Many people had talked to him like this before, Rooster and Phoenix both had long-term issues with him. He couldn’t place why you specifically bothered him so much though. He looked over at Rooster who was sipping his beer. Bradley raised his eyebrows before speaking.

“Don’t ask me.” Hangman rolled his eyes before turning around to leave the bar.

The warm air of the night wasn’t as refreshing as you thought it’d be. The sun was starting to set as you walked down the sidewalk, headed towards your rental. Irritation swirled through your mind as you thought about Hangman’s words. Why the fuck did he suddenly decide to apologize? He never wanted to apologize for anything. All you kept reminding yourself was that you were almost home and away from this whole situation for the time being.

As you rounded the corner to your street your home came into view, with it only being the third house on the street. That’s when your thoughts were interrupted by a, sadly, familiar voice. “Hey!” You looked over your shoulder to see Jake trying to catch up to you. You rolled your eyes as you picked up your pace, trying to make it home before he caught up. You shoved your hand into your pocket, grabbing your keys at lightning pace. His footsteps became louder as he got closer.

“I already said what I had to say.” You griped while unlocking your door. You turned around only to see him right behind you. A sour look took over your face as he eyed you up.

“I didn’t.”

“I told you I didn’t want to hear it.” The cool air of your home mixed with the outside warmth as you opened your door. You didn’t want to hear what he had to say, but a part of you was nagging to hear it. You walked through the doorway, pausing for a moment before turning around. Jake’s eyes were like emeralds as the sun cascaded on them. The two of you sat there staring for a few moments before you finally spoke again. “It better be a good apology.”

Hangman nodded, shocking you that he didn’t have something smart to say for once. A woodsy scent filled your nostrils as he walked past you, a soft metallic smell clung to him too. “Shoes off.” Those two words were all you could manage out as you realized you now had Jake in your living space. The situation you were trying to avoid was now in your home. Jake nodded as toed off his shoes. It was rare that you got to see him in civilian clothes, the green flight suit and tan service uniform was all you ever pictured him in. Those outfits always somehow looked flattering on him, which is why his loose t-shirt and jeans looked so nice on him. Were you actually checking him out?

“So,” his voice pulled you back from thoughts, “about earlier today.”

“What about it?” You questioned as you walked past him, placing your keys on the small hook in the hallway.

“I’m sorry.” Hangman said, staring at you intently.

“And? Do you want a cookie for that?” You led him out into your living room, neither of you taking a set. The wrinkles between his eyebrows were a sign of confusion, but you knew irritation would be something to follow soon after. Jake Seresin always got his way, but this time you didn’t care what he wanted. For a moment a part of you wondered why you let him in if you weren’t going to accept his apology.

“No, I’m trying to be nice.” A soft chuckle passed your lips at his words. “Was that funny?”

“A little bit.” His face went blank, signaling his irritation was starting to set in. “What?” You started to walk over to him, standing only a few inches from him. “The Hangman says he is trying to be nice. It’s a bit comical.” Jake stared down at you, green orbs burning into your own. “You’ve been an ass the entire time I’ve known you, and now you want me to magically accept an apology? No, I’m good.”

“Then why did you let me in?” Jake prodded. He stared at you, seeing the orange hue of the sun hit your skin through the window. The room was covered in a cascade of orange. Frustration was starting to boil in him, the longer he stared at you the more frustrated he was getting. But he knew there was something else weaved into that frustration. He watched your eyes flick to his lips then back up.

There was a slight hesitation from the both of you before it happened. His lips were on yours in a heartbeat, battling for dominance. His hands latched onto your waist, pulling you into him then snaking up your back. The cotton collar of his shirt was bunched into your hands as the kiss continued. Jake’s hands squeezed on your flesh, one hand snaked up your back while the other rested on your waist.

Adrenaline coursed through the both of you as your make out session continued. The hand on your back moved up to the back of your neck. Jake threaded his fingers into the hair at the base of your head. He tugged your head back, breaking the kiss. “Is this the real reason why you invited me in?”

“Heh, fuck you.” Jake smirked before smashing your mouth back to his. A clash of teeth and tongue pursued, both of you putting your all into the kiss. One of your hands let go of his shirt and moved up to rest on the back of his neck. The two of you slowly started moving, making your way over to your couch. The two of you collided onto the couch, Hangman sitting up as you climbed into his lap.

Jake’s hand skimmed your waist, slowly lifting up your shirt. Even in the heat of an unbroken kiss, he was still asking for permission. You nodded into the kiss while straddling him, feeling him start to harden against your ass. His hand ghosted up the underneath of your shit, not taking it off quite yet. Jake let out a loud groan when his hand grabbed at your bare chest. You pull back from the kiss as you're grounded your ass, rolling it down on his hips.

His other hand found its way under your shirt, one hand kneading at your breast while the other kneaded and directed the rolling of your hips. Jake let his head fall back for a moment, focusing on the way you rolled your hips on him. “Holy fuck.”

Without warning Jake leaned up while grabbing at the bottom hem of your shirt. He lifted it up and you quickly obliged, helping him remove the article of clothing from you. Jake quickly moved forward, kissing at your newly unclothed collarbones and chest. Your hands ran up through his hair as you silently thanked the choice to not wear a bra. One of his arms wrapped around your back and pulled you closer. His tongue flicked one of your nipples before taking it into his mouth.

“You always go braless?” Hangman smirked as he took your nipple back into his mouth. He let out an intentional moan as you rolled your hips again. The vibrations touched your core as he continued worshiping your breasts.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” The words came out of you like venom. As much as you enjoyed your current situation, the frustration from earlier wouldn’t let up. His hands slid down to your ass, grabbing at it over your bottoms. He started directing your hips in a swirling motion. You leaned back, putting your hands on his knees while you rolled your hips to his rhythm.

“That green jumpsuit likes to hide the fact you look like a goddess.” The compliment warmed your heart oddly, helping to subside some of your frustration. Jake leaned over to you again to kiss the spot between your breasts. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips as he peppered your sternum with wet kisses.

Suddenly he pulled you forward, making you collapse into his chest. A haste took over your mind as your fingertips touched the cotton of his shirt, reminding you that he was still fully clothed. “How about we take your shirt off? Gotta see if you look just as good as you do in the jumpsuit.”

“Trust me, I do.” Jake grinned as your hands darted for the bottom of his shirt. He helped you remove it, shucking it off and tossing it behind the couch somewhere. An audible moan escaped you as you stared at his chest, the orange glow cascading down it slightly. Fuck, it was almost painful to know that you had been missing out on this mans body. “Like what you see?”

You rolled your eyes at Jake’s comment before you wrapped one arm around your waist. Jake picked you up before setting you down on the couch. You scooted up the couch slightly as Jake positioned himself between your legs. It was now his turn to roll his hips. His, now, fully hard cock pressed hard against your clothed core. The whine that came from you had Hangman grinning from ear to ear. “So much for accepting my apology.”

“This doesn’t mean I'm accepting it.” You spat back at his words. Irritation scratched at the back of Jake’s mind, why did you have to be so fucking stubborn? He smashed his lips into yours again while rolling his hips into yours. One of his hands had a death grip on your hip. The other was near your head, his elbow propping him up above you. The hand on your hip moved to your thigh, hiking it up on his waist.

Both of your arms were wrapped around his neck, one of your hands trying to hold onto his back. Neither of you were fully nude but everything felt dirty. Who knew that thee Jake Seresin could be this sinful? You broke the kiss by rolling your head back, giving him an invitation to attack your neck. But instead of taking the bait Jake sat up, leaving you cold against the couch cushions.

Jake rested his hands on the top of your pants, fingers tugging at the belt loops of your pants. For a moment you saw him, the soft Jake that Rooster told you about once. The Jake that actually cared about what other people thought about him. His eyes flicked from your eyes to your waist and back up. “Is this okay?”

Your hands trailed down to rest on top of his. Then you went to the button of your pants, undoing it then the zipper. “I didn’t invite you in for an apology.” You sat up slightly, putting a hand on the back of his neck and pulling him closer to you. “Jake, fuck me.”

All you heard was a heavy breath before he smashed his lips into yours. His thumbs hooked into the waist of your pants, messily trying to get them off. You lifted your ass as he pulled them down your legs, helping him as much as possible without breaking the kiss. He made quick work of your panties too before he settled on his knees. He started to trail kisses down your neck and chest while his hand drifted to the apex of your thighs. His finger slipped between your folds easily, wetness gathering on his digits quickly.

“Is this what I do to you all the time?” Jake whispered against one of your breasts. You let out a moan as he slipped a finger inside of you and he latched onto your breast. He swirled his tongue around your nipple, flicking the wet muscle against it every now and then. His middle finger pushed in and out of your cunt, slowly driving you crazy.

“Hangman, please.” Hearing his call sign oddly made his cock twitch. It had to be the context, right? Maybe your comment about his ego wasn’t too far off. He decided it was something he probably shouldn’t feed into, at least not right now.

“You can use my name.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Guess he was going to have to explore it.

He added another finger while starting to travel further down your body.Your fingers dug into his scalp as his lips pressed against your pubic bone. All Jake could now focus on was how tight you were squeezing his fingers, making him wish it was his cock inside of you. Jake used his other hand to part your folds before lapping at your clit.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could last with his tongue flicking on your clit. His fingers felt so good inside of you, prodding at the sensitive area inside of you. It sent waves of pleasure to your nerve ending, preparing you for what was about to come. Within mere moments and another flick of Hangman’s tongue you were coming. His call sign was all you could say, making him wish he was balls deep inside of you already. His fingers kept working you while he lapped at your clit. Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging his mouth away from you.

Jake let out a groan when you pulled him up into a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. He removed his fingers from you and brought them up to your lips. You took them both into your mouth before one of your hands moved to the front of his pants. The thick outline of his cock made your insides flutter. With one hand you undid the button to his pants, slipping your hand inside of his boxers.

A simple ‘fuck’ was all Jake was able to get out once he felt your hand wrap around his cock. The soft feeling of your palm and fingers stroking him made him rest his head on your chest. His hips had started rocking into your hand, craving more. He quickly gripped your hand and pulled it out of his pants. He pushed you back against the couch while barely pushing his pants and boxers off his ass.

Another make out session had started when you felt the head of his cock slide between your wet folds. It brushed against your clit, sending shivers of pleasure through you. You arched your back, pressing your tits up into Jake’s chest. The skin to skin contact felt heavenly. You felt his cock press into your entrance. A gasp escaped you as he sunk deeper into you. The feeling of being split open was all you could then of until he was settled inside of you.

“How are you still this tight?” Jake whispered. He pulled his hips back slightly before pushing in again. Jake sat up a little bit to watch you. Your back was arched and mouth agape. As he started to thrust into you a string of moans started to emanate from you.

“Fuck, Hangman!” You reached out to touch him, your hand brushing against his chest while the other gripped the side of the couch. It had been months, maybe a little over a year since you had anyone see you like this. Let alone thinking Jake would ever see you like this. Jake grabbed both of your wrists and leaned over you, pinning them to the arm of the couch above you.

“That feel good? Like when I fuck you?” Jake spat with heavy breaths in between his words. You nodded fervently, moaning loudly. Your hips rolled into his thrusts while you wrapped them around his waist. Hangman kept fucking into you, each thrust harder than the last. The head of his cock was slamming directly into that sensitive bundle inside of you. Your walls kept quivering around him, squeezing him abruptly before relaxing for a few seconds.

Without warning you suddenly felt empty, Jake had pulled out of you. You went to speak before he let go of your wrists and grabbed your hips. “You have to fucking ride me. That’s the only way this is ending.”

Jake pushed his pants and boxers lower down his legs, the articles of clothing settling around his ankles. A smirk tugged at your lips as you sat up, pushing him back against the couch as you climbed into his lap. You grabbed his cock and guided it back inside of you as you settled into his lap. The both of you moaned in unison as he bottomed out inside you, filling you up to the brink once more. “I fucking hate you.” It was the only thing you could think of to say as you started to ride him. His hands landed on your hips, helping to guide them on his cock.

“I have a hard time believing that, sweetheart.” The two of you continued to moan and groan as you rode him. A sharp smack cut through the air, followed by a gasp. You let out a moan when Jake spanked you again, your movements becoming quicker. The rough grasp of his hands on your ass was intoxicating. You leaned back, planting your hands on his knees as you rode him. Jake let out a loud groan as he watched you, putting everything on display to him.

The view of his cock easily sliding in and out of you was maddening. His hands skated from your ass up to your waist, one of them trailing up your chest to your breasts. A moan escaped you when he rolled one of your nipples between his thumb and finger. You let your head fall back as the burning in your thighs started to become too much to ignore.

“I got you darlin’.” Jake leaned up and snaked his hands up and around your back. Your chest was now pressed flush against his own. Your hands moved to his neck and shoulders, holding on as he started to fuck up into you. A string of moans fell from your lips as he watched your face contort with pleasure.

“Fuck, Jake!” Hearing his name in between your moans made his thrust hard. He could feel you getting closer, your insides clenching around him tightly. Lips latched onto your jawline as you felt your climax creeping closer with every thrust.

“That’s it, let go. Give it to me.” Jake whispered while nipping at your jaw and neck. His thrusts didn’t let up as you tumbled over the edge. Your walls fluttered around him as a white hot pleasure seared your body. The head of his cock kept pressing into that sensitive spot inside of you.

One of his hands moved between the two of you, his thumb pressing on your clit. A choked sound came from you as he started rubbing your clit, trying to get you to come at least one more time. The pleasure from your current orgasm was intensified as Jake rubbed your clit. Your legs started to quiver as he thrusted into you. Somehow, another orgasm was already creeping up onto you. “Jake! I-”

“Come on, I know you can.” Jake’s words were almost like a challenge. A nod was all you gave before your moans became borderline screams. Jake’s thrust immediately started to get sloppy, your walls becoming impossibly tight around him. “I’m gonna come. Do you-”

“You better not pull out now, Seresin.” Jake groaned while you gave him permission to cum inside of you. The grip on your body tightened as his orgasm arrived, his cocking twitching inside of you. You haphazardly tried to roll your hips, milking him of everything he had.

Both of your movements settled as Jake leaned into the couch, you leaning into his chest. His hand drifted up and down your back, tracing small patterns. The sun had disappeared by now, a darkness surrounding the both of you. Jake tilted his head, looking at your face resting on his shoulder. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple, making you stir and sit up in his lap. Your hands rested on his pecs while you sat there.

“Hmm?” Jake hummed as he started to feel himself soften inside of you.

A soft smile drifted to your lips as you stared at him. An irritation pricked at the back of your mind, but you pushed it aside. An odd fondness swelled in your chest as you looked at him like this. The side of Jake nobody ever got to see. His fingers trailed up your thigh, swirling little circles on your hips.

“I- I just didn’t really picture this.” Gesturing between the two of you. Jake let out a small chuckle with a nod.

“You’re telling me.” Jake let out a heavy breath when you lifted up, his now flaccid cock pulling out of you. It felt weird being empty now. You felt his cum start to fall out of you, making you move for the bathroom. The light of the bathroom illuminated the hallway because you didn’t bother closing the door. Jake rested back against the couch before getting up to join you in the bathroom.

A soft knock on the frame of the door caught your attention. You looked up to see a fully nude Jake Seresin. A heat filled your cheeks for some reason, seeing him so natural made your heart flutter. “Washcloths are underneath the sink.” Jake smiled before grabbing on, wetting it with warm water. You sat there on the toilet for only a few more moments, watching him clean himself.

The two of you made your way back to the living room. Jake started to fish for his clothing, finding his boxers and slipping them back on. The both of you sat on the couch in silence for a moment before Jake spoke up. “I’m assuming this stays a secret.” He looked at you, waiting for your reply. He assumed the answer would be yes but a part of him begged it wouldn’t be.

“I don’t know, Jake.” His hand rested on your bare thigh, which you covered with your own. The two of you looked at each other, a small laugh came from the both of you. You shifted closer to him, resetting your head on his shoulder.

“I get it if you don’t want others to know.” Jake understood that he wasn’t the most liked person out of their cohort. It didn’t really bother him but he didn’t want you to get shit for it.

“I’d never hear the end of it.” You whispered into his skin as you placed a small kiss on his shoulder. “But I don’t want to think about that right now.” You took his hand in yours and brought it up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “You can stay the night, if you’d like.”

“That good, huh?” He snickered while looking at you.

You stood up and gathered your shirt and underwear, slipping back into them quickly. Jake smiled as he watched you. He started following you down the hallways as soon as you gestured. “Don’t press your luck.”

“More than I already have?” Jake snickered as he caught up to you. His arms wrapped around your waist, his lips peppering your neck. You wrapped your arms over his while turning your head to meet his lips. It was a soft kiss he gave you. A smile covered your lips afterwards as warmth swelled inside of you.

“Fuck you.”

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