(I Got Spurs That) Jingle Jangle Jingle
Pairing: Zoro x Reader
NSFW
Summary: A taste of freedom leaves you wanting more — and a bounty hunter rolling through your town is more than happy to offer it. Tags: Fem!Reader, Western AU, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Biting (slight), Multiple Orgasms Word Count: 3.2k Notes: This is an unofficial sequel to @froggiewrites' Big Iron, please go read it first if you haven't yet!
It’s been months since your encounter with the outlaw. The gossip has nearly died down, attention moved on from your brief tryst to other, fresher scandals. You have not moved on so well, bourbon doing nothing to dilute the taste of him on your lips.
You haven’t seen him since. It’s probably for the best, you reason, both for your heart and his safety.
The town has been crawling with lawmen ever since— horse upon horse carrying the next self-righteous man that thinks he’ll be the one to catch the outlaw and bring justice to the West. You watch them come, and you watch them go. Most never bother to speak to you. You, in turn, never bother to speak to them, serving their drinks with a thin-lipped smile and slipping their meager tips into your pocket before they get on their way. And you don’t say anything, either, when you see what’s left of them pass back through the other way, a box with a body being returned to wherever it came from. If they found him, it didn’t end well.
Today’s visitor feels… different. He doesn’t have that performative air about him that most of them do. His spurs don’t shine in the sunlight like theirs, dulled with dust and scratches. His gear is weathered, and so is his horse. Both have been in the elements for quite some time. Unassuming, unimpressive. You’d hardly know he was anything other than a regular traveler, were it not for the three— three?— guns on his belt, and the wicked scar across one eye.
That’s not to say he isn’t confident. As he drops himself at your bar, there’s a sparkle in his eye. And unlike every one of them with a shining badge and a brand-new gun that’s found himself at your bar— this one looks at you.
His one good eye looks you up and down for a while, not offering a single word. Eventually you, ever the professional, break the silence.
“What can I get ya?”
“What would you recommend?”
His voice is low, and a little hoarse. He’s been on the road for quite a while.
“Mm…” you pretend to think. “You strike me as a whiskey man. Maybe some lemon and honey for that scratch in your throat.”
The corners of his lips twitch up, the smallest hint of a smile.
“That, then. And maybe some conversation, if you’ve got a minute.”
You survey the bar. Quiet, pretty empty. Your father’s out on a supply run, and shouldn’t be back until dark. A few regulars nurse their drinks and pretend not to watch you, but other than that, it’s just you and him.
“I can spare some time.” You give him a smile and get to mixing his simple drink.
His name is Zoro, he tells you, as you slide him his drink. He’s a bounty hunter, and he’s on the trail of your Blackleg.
He calls him that, not you. Yours. He slips it into his sentence so casually, as if it’s a matter of fact that everyone knows.
For a moment, your resolve cracks.
“What?”
“Blackleg?” He sips his drink, as if nothing happened. “Sanji, if you prefer. Handsome bastard. Good with his hands. But you knew that already.”
You don’t know what to say. You open your mouth to retort back, to argue, to tell him Sanji isn’t your anything, but you decide against it.
He gives a short bark of a laugh when you close your mouth in defeat. And then his gaze darkens, the sudden seriousness piercing you to the core.
“Whatever he gave you, I’ll double it. I just need some information.”
You ponder this. You know he means money, but… well, that’s not what Sanji gave you, now is it?
Focus. Not the point.
“And what makes you think— even if I had met him, which I’m not sayin’ I did— he would have told me anythin’?”
“Oh, he didn’t.” He leans across the bar, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of how he towers over you. “He’s smarter than that. But that’s not what I asked, now is it?”
The regulars are staring, now, as you meet his gaze defiantly. He’s big. He would terrify any normal person like this, send them running for the hills before he even drew his gun.
He could rip you in half.
You kind of wish he would.
“And what kind of information are you looking for?”
He finishes his drink without breaking eye contact.
“The kind you’re already giving me, sweetheart.”
You go to take his glass, and his hand catches yours before you can pull away.
“I want to know how you broke him.”
Another customer breaks the spell before he can throw himself over the counter and take you like an animal in front of the whole bar. Which is good, because you kind of think you’d let him.
“Uh… miss?” An unassuming young man calls for your attention from a few stools away. “Sorry to interrupt, I just—“
“You aren’t interruptin’!” You insist, a little too loud. The bounty hunter leans back, a satisfied smirk on his lips. He got to you, and he knows it. You ignore the look, and instead, tell him like any other customer: “I’ll be back with you in a few. Sit tight for me.”
You bounce away to take the other patron’s order. And once you finish making the drink, serving it with a smile, you turn back to the seat where you left the bounty hunter… he’s gone.
—
“I’m goin’ for a walk, Papa. You got cleanup handled?”
Your father is wiping down the last of the glasses after a long night.
“Sure thing. Be safe, would ya? Don’t want you comin’ back with any trouble.”
“Of course. Just need to clear my head.”
And then you’re gone, slipping out the doors and into the dusk that’s settled over your small town.
You don’t know where you’re going. It doesn’t matter, really, because you always end up back in the same spot. A familiar back alley, where just for one brief night, you knew what freedom felt like. Some part of you hopes, every time you come here, that he’ll be waiting for you. That he’ll whisk you away like he promised, call you “princess” and “angel” every day with the same adoration that he did the very first time.
Instead, however, there is a different man waiting for you. The moonlight catches the edges of his form, making him look less like a man and more like a ghost.
“It’s not safe to be out here alone, sweetheart.” He calls to you. “There’s dangerous men about.”
“Maybe that’s the idea.” You reply. “What’s life without a little danger?”
Zoro chuckles, but doesn’t say anything more. You, however, do.
“You skipped out on the bar.” You walk towards him, trying your best not to look nervous.
“I left you money for the bill,” he corrects. “And enough left over for a pretty nice tip for my beautiful bartender.”
“Well… then you skipped out on me. Wasn’t done talkin’ to you.”
“Never thought you were.”
You’ve nearly reached him, now, and you can see that danger in his eye again. His hands rest near his hips, thumbs slipped behind the belt. Calm, yes, but not relaxed— half a breath’s time and he’d have guns in both hands.
“What did you mean I… broke him?”
“Blackleg’s a careful bastard. Most of these sheriffs and officers can’t even get a whiff of a trail to follow him by. But he comes here… and suddenly he’s sloppy. And it could have been anythin’, really. The town, the timing. I couldn’t put my finger on what could have tripped him up. ‘Til I saw you.”
One hand frees itself from his belt to find your waist, pulling you close. You yelp in surprise, and he laughs. The rumble of it in his chest goes straight to your core.
“You’re different than the others. You’ve got spirit. Attitude. I can see why he’s so smitten.”
A twister of emotions swirls up in your chest. The others. Of course there were others, but it still hurts to hear. Everyone wishes they were the only one. But different, smitten… those words get your heart racing.
Even more so, when his lips brush against your ear to whisper: “I might have to get a taste for myself.”
He doesn’t ask, and you don’t answer. It just happens— like a tornado ripping through the plains, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. The kiss is messy and rough. It’s not quite like the desperate hunger Sanji found you with. This is fierce, claiming. Zoro is not asking. He is taking. And you are more than happy to give.
His hand tangles in your hair to pull you tight, holding your lips against his like you’ll slip away if he lets go. And only when you start to see stars at the edges of your vision do the two of you break for air, panting hard.
“Bet he didn’t kiss you like that.” He grunts, sounding almost… smug. Was he jealous?
You can barely catch your breath, let alone answer. But before you can even form a coherent thought, he’s pressing against you again, strong arms wrapping around your body to hold you tight.
“Fancy a ride, beautiful?”
Something hard presses against you, straining against his pants. You can’t hold back the whine that escapes your throat, and he rolls his hips against you in response, with a satisfied groan.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s get a move on.”
And then your feet are off the ground, your legs swept into his arms as he carries you toward his horse. You don’t know where he’s taking you. You don’t care. All you can think about, as he situates you on the saddle, is about how he’s here, he’s real, he’s big, and he’s holding you like he never wants to let go.
He’s pressed against you for the entire ride, murmuring in your ear about how you’re so patient, so lovely, such a good girl. How he can’t wait to ruin you until you can only remember his name.
Once you reach your destination, he wastes no time in whisking you inside, tossing you onto the creaky inn bed with purpose.
Only now, does he ask.
“You sure you want this?”
You nod enthusiastically, still breathless from the ride.
“Need your words, sweetheart.”
You reach up to find him, and your fingers slip between the buttons of his shirt. They’re already hanging on for dear life without your help.
“I’m pretty damn sure.” And then you yank as hard as you can, ripping his shirt open without a second thought. Buttons go flying across the room, and he laughs. A real laugh, big and warm and excited.
“I knew there was somethin’ special about you.”
He wastes no time in removing your clothes about as forcefully as you did his. You hear some ripping as your blouse disappears, and almost care enough to be sad about one of your favorite shirts. But one look at him and it’s gone, as he looks at your body like a man starved.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, as if on instinct. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”
You reach for his belt, but he stops you. His fingers wrap easily around your wrist.
“Let me handle the firearms, actually. Don’t want a misfire to ruin the mood.”
He carefully removes the belt and holsters, laying the entire setup neatly on the dresser.
“There you go. You got it from here?”
You do. Deftly, you undo the buttons and straps on his tight riding pants.
Both of you groan when you free his cock. It is, to put it simply, big. You don’t know what you expected, really. But there it is, proud and hard, beads of precum already at the head.
Your thumb swipes across the tip, wiping the droplets away, and he groans in pleasure at the touch. Another noise follows, quickly, as you lick your thumb clean.
And then he remembers who’s in charge, and your back slams back against the bed. He straddles you, knees on either side of your hips, and his hands find where they want to be. One hand to your breast, calloused fingers massaging the flesh and toying with the sensitive nipple. The other finds its way between your thighs, pushing your legs to reveal your soaked core.
“Did he get you this wet?” He grunts, swiping a finger through the moisture. You whimper. He tastes it, and practically purrs. “Doesn’t matter. This… is all for me.”
His hand returns between your legs, and he coats a finger in your arousal before plunging it inside you. Just one finger already makes you gasp, and he follows it quickly by another, and then a third. He works you open quickly, fingers rough while he groans your praises with every motion.
“You’re doing so good. Like you were made for me. Such a good girl.”
His other hand continues to work at your chest, and you squirm under the attention.
“Did he get to see you like this?” He asks, suddenly, and you manage to open your eyes enough to see him watching you. His cheeks are red, his pupil blown.
“No,” you answer, honestly. The outlaw hadn’t laid you bare like this. You’d have let him— but he hadn’t gotten the chance. “Only you.”
“Good. Perfect.”
His fingers increase their pace, working you open while his thumb circles your clit. The motions aren’t as deft as the outlaw, but you get the sense mentioning that to him would be a hit to his ego he’d never recover from.
As if sensing your mind wandering, he pulls his fingers from you with a wet sound, the other hand vanishing from your chest, and you whimper at the loss.
“No, please—“ but you stop, as he uses those hands to measure his length. He then carefully lays that measurement along your body, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
“Think we can make that fit, baby?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, and lines himself up at your entrance. “Only one way to find out.”
You don’t try to hold back the scream as he slams into you, all the way to the hilt in one swift motion. Pleasure borders on pain, but doesn’t cross the line into unpleasant. Your eyes flutter shut. He joins your cry, moaning with pleasure as your walls squeeze around him.
“Fuck, that’s perfect. Like you were made for me.”
He, thankfully, gives you a moment to adjust. He waits for your breathing to steady, for your eyes to open again so he can meet your gaze.
“Ready for more?”
“Please,” you gasp. “Fuck, please.”
He grins. It’s sharp and dangerous— just like the rest of him.
And then he’s moving, setting a wicked pace from the start. In and out, in and out, unholy slaps and wet squelches filling the room with every thrust.
He pushes his fingers against your lower belly, the pressure forcing you to feel him even closer. Meanwhile, his thumb matches the pace of his cock in a relentless attack on your clit. He’s not letting you have a moment’s peace on any front. It’s wonderfully overwhelming— you don’t have a single second to think. All you can do is moan and scream, not caring who could hear you like this. You could wake up the whole town— he isn’t stopping you.
You can feel the pressure building in your core, a coil winding tighter and tighter with every passing moment.
“I’m gonna—“ you start to warn, and he grunts in approval.
“Cum for me, sweetheart. Just remember who’s making you feel this good.”
Your eyes close, your back arches, and your first orgasm tears through you with a cry of his name.
“Zoro!”
He grunts in approval, working you through it. He pauses only for a moment as you start to come down. He lets you catch your breath for an instant. Then, when your eyes open once more, he slams back into you, and you gasp.
“You think I’d leave you at just one?”
He doesn’t break his pace as he hunches over you, lips and tongue and teeth finding your ear, then your neck. He nips at you while you cry out, praise murmured against your neck with every new noise that escapes your lips.
You feel yourself getting close again in a matter of just a couple of minutes. As you feel yourself clench around him again, you start to warn him, and he cuts you off.
“Me too. On your mark, beautiful.”
You tumble over the edge together. His name is on your tongue once more, and yours is on his, over and over again like a prayer as his pace stutters and warmth fills you. He fucks you through it, pushing every drop deeper until he has nothing left to give, and he finally pulls out. You can feel his cum leak from between your legs as he pulls out, leaning back on his heels as he admires his work.
“Careful, baby. You’ll make a mess.”
His head disappears from your field of view for a moment, as you flop your head back on the pillow.
Then you gasp. A tongue swipes across your folds. Cleanup work, as he tastes your shared juices with a satisfied hum. A quick flick of the tongue at your clit makes your whole body twitch.
“If I didn’t think it would break you…” he trails off. You would have welcomed it, if you could handle anything more.
After a beat, you feel him shift, and he flops onto the bed beside you. Like this, naked and smiling, he doesn’t seem quite so intimidating as the massive man that rode into your town this morning.
“I’ve half a mind to go to sleep right here like this. Feels right.”
“Mm-hm.” is about all you manage, until you remember. “Oh, shit. I need to get home. Papa’s gonna be furious I’m out so late.”
“You’re a grown woman. You can do as you like.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Now, where’d my skirt go?”
He pulls himself out of bed with a reluctant groan.
“I threw it over here. Stay put, I’ll find everything so we can get you home.”
—
The bounty hunter is back at the bar the next afternoon. Your father, if he had any inkling at what you had been up to the night before, provided no indication. He does, however, insist on serving the bounty hunter himself— telling you “you’ve been handlin’ all the interesting customers lately. Like it isn’t my bar.”
And so, you’re pretending to be very interested in rearranging the glasses for the twelfth time this morning as the men talk.
“Where are you headed next, if you don’t mind me asking?” Your father makes idle conversation, as the bounty hunter sips his drink.
“Y’know,” he answers thoughtfully, “I’ve been thinkin’. Blackleg is a wily little bastard. And as much as I hate to admit it, he’s faster than me. No use in runnin’ after him.”
For a moment, you’re relieved. Your Sanji will be safe, wherever he is. But then the bounty hunter flicks a quick glance to you, and your heart drops.
“But I‘ve got it on pretty good authority he’ll be headed back here sooner or later.”
“Why’s that?” Your father, truly, has no idea.
“I think he got a taste of somethin’ no man in his right mind would leave behind for long. And when he comes back… I’ll be waitin’ right here.”
