laurfilijames

[laurfilijames]

I got you, Bob.

Hello???? Suggestions????

[laurfilijames]

[laurfilijames]

TED LASSO (2020– ) S01E03 | Trent Crimm: The Independent

[laurfilijames]

The best dream ever 💗💗 thank you so much for reading, sharing and commenting!

Live Forever

Pairing: Pete Dunham x reader

Words: 800

Warnings: Mention of marijuana. Otherwise just fluff and too much love for Oasis and me getting emotional at a concert once again.

Summary: Your night at the Oasis concert becomes even more special when an unexpected downpour adds to the magic of it.

A/N: This was my experience last night at the concert and I am still buzzing from it. I laughed, cried, and sang my heart out until my throat was raw, and I am so grateful to be able to see this band live when I never thought I'd have the privilege. Naturally, I kept thinking what it would be like to see Oasis with Pete and had to write this little fic to help commemorate a night I'll never forget. This band will always hold such a special place in my heart, and their songs have helped inspire my series Like My Dreams on more than one occasion.

---

You swore nothing could be more perfect than this.

The music cascaded through the speakers and onto the crowd at the perfect volume; still able to hear Pete singing along to every word, but loud enough it seemed to drown out everyone else around you to make you feel like you were the only two people there.

He stood behind you with his arms wrapped around your chest, holding you against his frame so you were forced to sway along with him, your fingers drawing invisible patterns on his hand to the beat of the song.

Your cheeks were already sore from smiling so much, but each time Pete would press a kiss to the side of your neck between lyrics, you swore your face would stay set in a permanent grin.

The night was cool, the breeze dancing through in bursts that made your hair whip out from where it was tucked behind your ear, the sweet smell of weed carrying through the open stadium as plumes of it were dispersed through the air.

'Little By Little' finished up, the slower tune giving Pete even more opportunity to woo you, and feeling the unmistakable cold drop of wet on the top of your head, you glanced up to the heavens above you.

The glow of the stadium created a haze against the night, the hue a curious mix of mauve and indigo, the clouds looming low enough that it looked like you could reach up and touch them from how high up you were in the bleachers.

It happened a few more times, the rain coming on irregularly enough to ignore it, but over the next two songs, the sky seemed to grow jealous of the concert happening below.

Almost as if willing it to happen as you sang the words to 'Stand By Me', the sky finally opened up, steady streams of crisp water raining down on you.

“So what’s the matter with you?

Sing me something new… Don’t you know

The cold and wind and rain don’t know

They only seem to come and go away”

Pete’s chuckle decorated the words he sang, and when you twisted your head around enough to watch him looking up at the sky, you swore you fell even more in love with him.

“If you’re leaving, will you take me with you?” he shouted into the abyss, his joy in belting the lyrics at the same time they were sung by the Gallagher’s making your heart feel like it would burst through your chest, and you couldn’t imagine anything ever being this euphoric again.

Water dripped off his long eyelashes, and his blue eyes sparkled as they reflected the stage lights, his grin pulling out the creases beside his mouth. His pink lips were already wet from the rain, the temptation to kiss them stronger than usual, and your wish came true when he looked back down and caught you staring, immediately leaning in to crash against your mouth.

Everyone was drenched within seconds, yet no one gave a toss, the rain somehow making everything feel a hundred times more special.

Pete pulled away from you slowly, the draw to keep going the same as needing to breathe, but when Noel announced into the microphone that the next song was 'Live Forever', Pete howled a cheer so loud you swore you were here watching the Hammers play to victory.

“Maybe I don’t really wanna know

How your garden grows

‘Cause I just wanna fly

Lately, did you ever feel the pain

In the morning rain

As it soaks you to the bone?

Maybe I just wanna fly

Wanna live, I don’t wanna die

Maybe I just wanna breathe

Maybe I just don’t believe

Maybe you’re the same as me

We see things they’ll never see

You and I are gonna live forever”

A tear strayed from your eye, one, and then more, mixing in with the streams of water already rolling down your face, the roar of the crowd and validity of the lyrics in this moment sparking so much emotion in you.

It was truly magical, your skin littered in goosebumps that weren’t there from your cold, wet clothes clinging to you, being able to experience this moment that many would deem as flawed something you wouldn't take for granted and knew you would remember for the rest of your life.

When the song ended, Pete glanced at you, catching the raw emotion on your face, reaching his hand up so his thumb could wipe your cheek.

“You alright, love?” he smiled, though his concern was genuine.

“Absolutely perfect,” you assured, your smile through the rain and tears growing into a laugh as the stands began to shake from everyone jumping, the riff to 'Rock ‘n’ Roll Star' tearing through the crowd.

---

Taglist:

@dailydragon08 @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @maggotzombie

@rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics

@spaghettificationandpretzels @whatever-lmaoo @steviebbboi @charethcutestory02 @daryldixonpls

@puffins-muffins @primadonnasdream @glxsyy-itza396 @appalachiancowboy99

@mani-pedro @cindsvibes @aria725 @wittyogredemon

@theesirenteller @inbar-thomas1980 @lilac13 @honeydewwboo

[laurfilijames]

"I don't like reader insert fanfic because I wouldn't say that/do that."

Listen. I understand. I know what you mean. But to engage with a reader fanfic is to put aside the ego and follow an adventure through a slightly different lens for a little while. You don't have to be represented to 1000% accuracy because that is actually not possible. No writer can emulate the personality of every person on earth in a single work.

You are projecting your image onto a blank character for the duration of the fic. Some of them will not align with you. Some of them will. Sometimes, you will live vicariously through a reader insert who says the things you wish you could say. Sometimes they will be gentle in the ways in which you wish you were. That is the nature of the niche.

When you find one that works for you, it's amazing. When you read one you don't like because you could never see yourself doing what they do, you look for a different one.

It's like gambling, but minus the debts and double the fun.

[laurfilijames]

[laurfilijames]

I love him I love him I love him

Charlie Hunnam as Bob Frey Jr. in A Million Little Pieces

[laurfilijames]

Happy Birthday G-Funk!! 🥳💗

[laurfilijames]

CHARLIE HUNNAM as JAX TELLER Sons of Anarchy | 1.02 “Seeds”

[laurfilijames]

[laurfilijames]

@puffins-muffins 💗

[laurfilijames]

I'm so glad this made you feel like you were there too! It was absolute magic and I still can't believe it happened 💗

Live Forever

Pairing: Pete Dunham x reader

Words: 800

Warnings: Mention of marijuana. Otherwise just fluff and too much love for Oasis and me getting emotional at a concert once again.

Summary: Your night at the Oasis concert becomes even more special when an unexpected downpour adds to the magic of it.

A/N: This was my experience last night at the concert and I am still buzzing from it. I laughed, cried, and sang my heart out until my throat was raw, and I am so grateful to be able to see this band live when I never thought I'd have the privilege. Naturally, I kept thinking what it would be like to see Oasis with Pete and had to write this little fic to help commemorate a night I'll never forget. This band will always hold such a special place in my heart, and their songs have helped inspire my series Like My Dreams on more than one occasion.

---

You swore nothing could be more perfect than this.

The music cascaded through the speakers and onto the crowd at the perfect volume; still able to hear Pete singing along to every word, but loud enough it seemed to drown out everyone else around you to make you feel like you were the only two people there.

He stood behind you with his arms wrapped around your chest, holding you against his frame so you were forced to sway along with him, your fingers drawing invisible patterns on his hand to the beat of the song.

Your cheeks were already sore from smiling so much, but each time Pete would press a kiss to the side of your neck between lyrics, you swore your face would stay set in a permanent grin.

The night was cool, the breeze dancing through in bursts that made your hair whip out from where it was tucked behind your ear, the sweet smell of weed carrying through the open stadium as plumes of it were dispersed through the air.

'Little By Little' finished up, the slower tune giving Pete even more opportunity to woo you, and feeling the unmistakable cold drop of wet on the top of your head, you glanced up to the heavens above you.

The glow of the stadium created a haze against the night, the hue a curious mix of mauve and indigo, the clouds looming low enough that it looked like you could reach up and touch them from how high up you were in the bleachers.

It happened a few more times, the rain coming on irregularly enough to ignore it, but over the next two songs, the sky seemed to grow jealous of the concert happening below.

Almost as if willing it to happen as you sang the words to 'Stand By Me', the sky finally opened up, steady streams of crisp water raining down on you.

“So what’s the matter with you?

Sing me something new… Don’t you know

The cold and wind and rain don’t know

They only seem to come and go away”

Pete’s chuckle decorated the words he sang, and when you twisted your head around enough to watch him looking up at the sky, you swore you fell even more in love with him.

“If you’re leaving, will you take me with you?” he shouted into the abyss, his joy in belting the lyrics at the same time they were sung by the Gallagher’s making your heart feel like it would burst through your chest, and you couldn’t imagine anything ever being this euphoric again.

Water dripped off his long eyelashes, and his blue eyes sparkled as they reflected the stage lights, his grin pulling out the creases beside his mouth. His pink lips were already wet from the rain, the temptation to kiss them stronger than usual, and your wish came true when he looked back down and caught you staring, immediately leaning in to crash against your mouth.

Everyone was drenched within seconds, yet no one gave a toss, the rain somehow making everything feel a hundred times more special.

Pete pulled away from you slowly, the draw to keep going the same as needing to breathe, but when Noel announced into the microphone that the next song was 'Live Forever', Pete howled a cheer so loud you swore you were here watching the Hammers play to victory.

“Maybe I don’t really wanna know

How your garden grows

‘Cause I just wanna fly

Lately, did you ever feel the pain

In the morning rain

As it soaks you to the bone?

Maybe I just wanna fly

Wanna live, I don’t wanna die

Maybe I just wanna breathe

Maybe I just don’t believe

Maybe you’re the same as me

We see things they’ll never see

You and I are gonna live forever”

A tear strayed from your eye, one, and then more, mixing in with the streams of water already rolling down your face, the roar of the crowd and validity of the lyrics in this moment sparking so much emotion in you.

It was truly magical, your skin littered in goosebumps that weren’t there from your cold, wet clothes clinging to you, being able to experience this moment that many would deem as flawed something you wouldn't take for granted and knew you would remember for the rest of your life.

When the song ended, Pete glanced at you, catching the raw emotion on your face, reaching his hand up so his thumb could wipe your cheek.

“You alright, love?” he smiled, though his concern was genuine.

“Absolutely perfect,” you assured, your smile through the rain and tears growing into a laugh as the stands began to shake from everyone jumping, the riff to 'Rock ‘n’ Roll Star' tearing through the crowd.

---

Taglist:

@dailydragon08 @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @maggotzombie

@rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics

@spaghettificationandpretzels @whatever-lmaoo @steviebbboi @charethcutestory02 @daryldixonpls

@puffins-muffins @primadonnasdream @glxsyy-itza396 @appalachiancowboy99

@mani-pedro @cindsvibes @aria725 @wittyogredemon

@theesirenteller @inbar-thomas1980 @lilac13 @honeydewwboo

[laurfilijames]

🤭 thank you for reading and sharing!! 💗

Raw

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Dubcon (dubious consent). Unprotected intercourse. Anal fingering. Creampie. Swearing.

Summary: With neither of you prepared for your hookup, Jax takes advantage and can’t resist finishing inside you, fucking you raw and giving in completely.

A/N: I don't have any way to defend myself here 🙈 this idea has been a fantasy of mine for a WHILE and I finally put it into words. A huge thanks to my bestie @puffins-muffins for all her help with this one 💗 Enjoy!

---

Jax was King.

The President patch stitched into the worn leather on his chest was just a mere physical indication of his rule, the way he walked into a room and owned everything in it a more subdued sign of his regency.

His kingdom was anything but righteous, full of lies, crime and dirty money, and within it you were a pawn, something for him to toy with when he got bored, but every time his piercing blue eyes landed on you you could've sworn you were his Queen.

You didn't mind being used, not by him, the way his ringed fingers felt on your skin and his lips left their mark on you made it anything but cheap, and you couldn't imagine ever denying him wanting you.

It was usually planned, meeting each other day or night at what usually felt like the snap of his fingers, but even if it was unexpected or last minute, you were always prepared.

Prepared, safe, and right now this was anything but.

He showed up unannounced, the roar of his bike vibrating the blood in your veins that instantly burned hot the moment you heard the familiar rumble, watching through your window as he stormed up to your door and busted right in as if it was his to do so.

Jax was feral, someone or something getting under his skin that was more than likely a result of club business that you had no business asking about, and now he was your problem.

“Fuck, darlin’, I need you,” he hissed against your neck, his teeth scraping over your thrumming pulse.

You cursed yourself for not having gone to the store when you intended to, knowing you and him had used the last condom you had only two days ago, and you swallowed hard as you readied yourself to break the news to him.

“I um, fuck– I don’t have anything,” you breathed, angling your head slightly to see his face.

The disappointment and hint of annoyance couldn’t be disguised on his features, a huff blowing out of his pink lips that were glistening from yours.

“Do you?” you hoped, your fingers gently sliding down the soft leather that covered his heaving chest.

The lift of his eyebrows creased his forehead as he gave you a look that said ‘you’re kidding’ more than speaking the words could, and when he smirked and shook his head slightly, you ached even more for him.

“Sorry,” you whispered, hating that you were letting him down and denying him the one thing he clearly needed.

You could feel his energy coiled up so tightly, practically buzzing through the layers of clothes he wore beneath his kutte, his body heat radiating onto your palms, and his eyes flashed with a hunger and primal need that ran deeper than just letting off some steam.

“Hey, don't worry about it,” he assured, his tone lighter than you expected. “We can just hang out.”

His eyes flickered down to your lips, his thumb reaching up to press against your lower one before leaning in for more, his moan pouring into your mouth that made your knees go weak.

You should've known it was bullshit the second he said it, because the next thing you knew you were naked, sprawled out on your bed where he hovered over you still fully clothed, his fingers hooked inside you where he worked you with expertise.

“Remember my rule, sweetheart,” he drawled, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed hard, your effect on him undisguisable.

When you didn't answer, Jax retreated from you, standing upright where he peered down at you with a cockiness that you loved seeing, and peeled his kutte off his large frame.

You whined, the loss of him touching you turning you pathetic, and he reveled in it.

“What's my rule?” he demanded, his words holding more bite.

“Not to come until you let me,” you breathed, smiling as you warmed at the thought.

“Good girl.”

You watched as he continued to undress, his simple nod at you giving you the go ahead to touch yourself while he did, your promise to listen to his instructions about to be ignored when the sight of his cock bouncing out of his pristinely white boxers had you wrecked already.

Wearing nothing but his rings and the branded black ink that made him who he was as much as blood and breath did, he crawled over you, his eyes holding a softness you mistook as a promise.

“I just wanna feel you against me,” he whispered, his hand smoothing over your head before capturing your lips.

The truth in that remark was severely understated, the desperation both of you showed in being as close as possible to each other without fucking unlike ever before, and you knew part of the thrill of it all was in holding back.

You’d rarely seen him like this, obsessive and indulgent, completely undone as he laid on top of you, his hair hanging in his face as he made what seemed like every part of you from your lips to your chest raw from his beard.

His cock rested against you, tempting to push through, the threat of him being bare inside your cunt an allurement like no other.

You moved your hips, taunting and teasing, making his cock glide through your wetness so much that he almost slipped inside.

He growled something that resembled a curse against the hollow of your neck, pulling himself back just enough to look down at you, his eyes reflecting the torment that plagued him.

“You’re making this fuckin’ impossible, darlin’,” he warned, flopping himself down on the mattress with a huff.

You smiled, amused by his misery brought on by you, and moved to straddle him, your hands planted on his thick chest.

You had never felt more powerful, watching as you dissolved him down to a groping, deprived mess, the satisfaction in denying him what he wanted from you giving you radiance.

Your King, brought down by the sins of your body, bent around your will so effortlessly he turned into nothing but a man under your touch. But lingering just beneath the surface you knew better than to trust this confidence.

“Is it really that bad?” you asked playfully, grinding yourself on his throbbing length until he hissed and dug his head down into the pillow.

“Fuck…” he moaned, grabbing your hips so hard there would be bruises and bucking up against you. “You’re killin’ me.”

You leaned forward, your hands cupping his cheeks as you kissed him, rolling your tongue with his as you rode on his shaft.

His hands moved to your ass, gripping your flesh and spreading your cheeks apart as you continued to use him, the feel of him rubbing through you but not pushing inside almost as good as if he was.

With a slight shift of his hips, his leaking head pressed into you, making you gasp and jolt away like you were burned, his amusement clear on his face.

He bit his bottom lip, looking at you with warning before he spoke.

“You better be careful or you’re gonna get fucked.”

His threat made you shiver, heat crawling down your spine where it coiled deep in your core, and unable to think of a way to respond, you kissed him again, hard and needy while you continued to tease yourself on him.

The thought of him filling you with nothing but himself had you aching more than ever, nothing separating you from him, the intimacy in that danger turning it into something you suddenly wanted more than anything in the world.

You’d let him have it all if he wanted, feeling like you were dangling yourself right in front of him like a sacrifice, but Jax seemed to be loving the game just as much.

He moved his hips at the same time you rolled yours back, his hands locking on you to force you still the second his tip breached your entrance, the cruelness in his laugh reverberating through you as he kept your mouths pressed together.

You fought to lift yourself off, your cunt aching and dripping from that small stretch, wanting to fully sink down onto him and never remove yourself.

Your hands clawed at the side of his face, moaning into him as you deepened your kiss, still rocking along him where every so often he would slip inside, his body instinctively finding where it belonged in yours.

“Jax…” you whined, completely stupid from lust and desperation, your inhibitions shattering the longer this went on.

Again, and only the tip, Jax pressed inside your hole, a low groan coming out of him while a smug smile played on his lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said like a joke, letting you pull off of him before he drove in, further this time.

You closed your eyes and sat upright, lifting off of him again, grinding on the golden smattering of pubes that trailed from his navel to where he had been made sticky from you, pretending like you were trying to rescue that last bit of resolve even though you both knew it was futile.

There was no use in denying yourselves any longer, throwing caution out the window as you finally let yourself sit fully on it, his size always a shock, but the feel of him raw inside you was what had you gasping.

Your nails dug into his chest, the half-moon indents carved into his porcelain skin to be seen for days, and you hoped the memory of being buried bare inside you would stay imprinted in his mind for longer.

Jax immediately started thrusting up into you, his pleasured sounds unashamed as he grunted and moaned loudly, his praise something you would wear as proudly as a crown.

“Jesus Christ, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he huffed, propping himself up off the bed enough to watch you move up and down on his naked cock, already knowing from the second he had you like this that he was fucked.

You basked in his worship, his gaze and his words enhancing the feeling of every detail of him being imprinted in you, his veins throbbing against your walls, his velvety skin encased in your warmth.

“Lay down,” he ordered, despite already making quick work of doing it for you, and the second you were splayed out in the sheets, he grabbed your body and flipped you onto your stomach.

Immediately sensing your loss of control in the situation, you turned your face and spoke, your words sounding more panicked than you wanted.

“Make sure you pull out, Jax.”

A wicked smile tugged at his lips, his head giving a cockier than usual nod as he shuffled in behind you on his knees, getting close enough that his cock was wedged between your cheeks.

“Don't worry, darlin’. I will,” he spoke after a huff of a laugh blew past his lips, the malice in his voice dripping off his tongue.

His hand that held the two rings that spelled out SONS spread your ass apart as he lined up, driving his cock in slowly, watching your body accept every inch of his girth and length.

Gritting his teeth together tightly, he bottomed out, loving the way your face screwed up almost in pain and your hands clawed at the bedding, your body shifting away from him as if you could escape.

He let out a cruel laugh, pulling your hips back down on him, his hands staying there to keep you on his dick.

Jax’s pace was deliberate and harsh, thrusting into you like a man possessed, everything that was pent up finally being released as he fucked you with everything he had.

He loved watching you take him on any other occasion, but seeing his unsheathed cock pumping in and out of you brought on a level of insanity he couldn’t compare to anything else. The sight of your cream coating him made his mouth water, and he knew for sure this was the best thing he’d ever laid eyes on, watching your pussy stretch to fit him while your other hole gleamed with your arousal.

Jax licked his thumb and brought it down to press against your ass, rimming it in tantalizing circles as he continued to fuck you ruthlessly, a satisfied laugh ringing out as you whined to this additional pleasure.

“Fuck, Jax,” you cried, squirming more in the sheets. “I’m getting close.”

He relished in knowing what he was doing to you, his head tipping back so his blushed face titled toward the ceiling, his hips continuing to pound against you as his thumb pressed in further.

“Fuck, baby,” he chuckled, “this pussy is the best thing I��ve ever felt.”

You heard the truth in his words, his praise making you soar and reminding you once again of your reign over him, the King, your rightful place at the throne beside him despite being at his total mercy.

You were teetering the line, feeling closer to the edge than ever and you knew if he kept up what he was doing or your thoughts worked to aid your body in getting what it needed, you would be done.

The absence of the smell of latex was making the intoxicating scent of sex more heightened to the point your mouth watered, and remembering once again that he was fucking you raw, you came hard, clenching like a vice around his dick that continued to slam into you fast and brutally.

Your spit stained the sheets, feeling it smear from your open mouth as you struggled for air, your orgasm extended as long as possible by him not letting up even for a second.

Everything was soaked under you, the sound of his hips slapping against you wetter and more obscene than before, his grunting making a shiver crawl down your spine.

“This cunt is mine,” he barked, the words greedy and vicious through his bared teeth.

His hand pushed down between your shoulder blades, pressing you into the bed more, your face smushed into your mess as his other collected both of your wrists and planted them at the small of your back, his rough grip making you wince.

There was no escaping his barrage now even if you wanted to, lifting your hips up as much as you could to give him more which allowed him to fuck you deeper, and he happily took the opportunity.

You knew he wouldn’t be far off from his climax, the thought of him waiting to the last second to pull out and wondering where he was going to aim his load making you shudder, and when he removed his hand from the center of your back and wrapped it around to your clit, you lost all control again.

You would've blacked out had you not wanted to feel every single second of it, crying out a broken scream ripped from you out of pure pleasure, the sound of Jax hammering into you to find his own release distant in your ears.

There was no way he was pulling out. Not with you like this, completely powerless to him and what he could give you. Part of him knew it was wrong but he didn’t fucking care, the grasp that greed had on him too strong to fight anymore.

He looked at you through blurred vision, hazy in his ecstasy, adoring how soft and accepting your body looked even as he treated you so disrespectfully, his heart aching in his chest as all of him succumbed to what it sought.

A slew of broken curses and guttural sounds spilled from his mouth, his hair hanging in his face as sweat dripped off his nose and landed on your back, his cock pulsing as he shot his big load deep inside your cunt.

Jax stayed there as long as he could as you both came down, loving the feel of being buried inside your full pussy, a smirk tugging at his lips as he waited for you to notice.

You whined as you shifted slightly, feeling the unmistakable warmth and thickness leaking out of you, realizing in a mix of fear and something else you couldn't place what he had done.

“Jesus, Jax,” you blurted, but even you were unsure whether you were upset or satisfied, your stomach doing a flip out of both anxiety and excitement.

Pulling out of you, he watched with pride as his milky white cum spilled out of your perfect pussy, your hole stretched and lips swollen from his cock and everything he had done to you.

The distinct smell of his cum hit you as you inhaled deeply, and you closed your eyes and took a second to savour the moment, basking in his act of possession, his selfishness quietly excused.

You rolled over, glaring at him with as much conviction as you could manage, though the way he was looking at you forced you to bite your lip to stop from smiling, and it took everything in you to disguise how much you really loved this.

“Well, what did I say?” he quipped, his expression as smug as his words, his head tilting to the side with amusement.

You sighed, about to retort when you were cut off, your witty words stolen as Jax’s two fingers swiped up his wasted load and pushed it back inside you.

You moaned and grabbed at the sheets beside you, closing your eyes as you relished in the feel of him fingering his seed in deeper, his blatant want for it to stay in you leaving no doubt of his claim over you.

“Good girl,” he drawled roughly, his cock already hard again from how accepting you were of this, the need he felt to keep you full of his cum at all times almost unbearable.

He positioned himself between your spread legs, forcing his cock back in your pussy with a hard push, watching a deranged smile dress your gorgeous lips.

“You’re dreamin’ if you think this is the last time I’m filling you up.”

---

Taglist:

@dailydragon08 @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @maggotzombie

@rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics

@spaghettificationandpretzels @whatever-lmaoo @steviebbboi @charethcutestory02

@daryldixonpls @puffins-muffins @primadonnasdream @glxsyy-itza396 @appalachiancowboy99

@mani-pedro @cindsvibes @aria725 @wittyogredemon

@secretlysamcro @bellaxgiornata @glxsyy-itza396 @avastrasposts @casa-boiardi

[laurfilijames]

Ahhh babes thank you so much for the recommendation 🥹💗

I don't write a ton of angst for Jax (it's always smut 🙈 he brings out the worst in me) but my fic Bulletproof is probably the angstiest in my roster!

Thank you again! It means so much to be included along with these stunning writers 🤩

Hey babe love all your Jax stuff I was wondering do you have any fic recs with Jax mostly hurt/comfort I love the smut stuff but I’m in the mood to suffer 😮‍💨❤️‍🔥

Thank you honey!!!! Loves ya 🖤

& honestly I can’t pin point specific fics because my mind? Absolutely BLANK.

BUT I know you’ll love the way these hunnys write for our mans, (if you haven’t already which you probably have because every single one is fucking great)

@bellaxgiornata @samcrosfaith @etclouie @laurfilijames @tinyshyteacup @persephone411 @puffins-muffins @wetpussyju1ce | off the top of my head I know I’ve forgotten so many & I apologise 🤍

[laurfilijames]

[laurfilijames]

Death awaits me when I get to reading this I just know it. And it'll be so fucking worth it!!!!!

Well hiiiiiiya 🥰

5. “Look at you, so perfect with my marks all over you.” with my Jax please and thank you 🥵

My love!

I had a feeling that was the one you might choose.

Boy, am I glad you did.

Enjoy!

Love you 💗💗

You hear the Harley before you see the headlight sweep across the living room blinds, that familiar low growl that always makes your stomach tighten. It’s late and you’re still in his tee and panties, half-asleep on the couch with a glass of water sweating on the table. The door opens, then shuts with a soft click. Leather and gasoline breeze in with him.

“Hey,” Jax says, voice rough with road and smoke. The kutte hangs heavy on his shoulders; his hair is a little wild, like he ran a hand through it too many times. He drops his keys, kicks off his boots, and his eyes drag over you in a slow, deliberate pass that lights your skin from the inside.

“Long night?” you ask, sitting up, letting the hem of his tee ride higher on your thighs like you didn’t notice.

“Yeah.” He thumbs his cigarette pack without opening it, choosing you instead. “Missed you more.”

The corner of your mouth lifts. “You always say that.”

“‘Cause it’s always true.” He’s already crossing the room. He smells like wind and asphalt and something purely him. He catches your chin between his fingers, tipping your head back. The kiss lands warm and heavy, a slow press that turns greedy when you sigh into him. His tongue parts you, tasting, taking. One hand anchors your jaw; the other slides under the tee like he has a right to your skin—and he does. You arch into him, a needy little sound trapped in your throat.

He pulls back, eyes on your mouth, thumb slicking your lower lip. “How bad?”

“Bad,” you whisper. “Fix it.”

He smiles, wicked and fond. “That I can do.”

The tee’s gone in a breath. He drinks you in, bare to the cool air and his stare: the rise of your breasts, the soft give of your belly, the tease of lace at your hips. He drags his knuckles down your sternum, catches your nipple and rolls it, until you tremble, rough until you gasp. “That sound,” he mutters, leaning in to catch your other nipple with his tongue. He draws hard, then sucks harder, deliberate enough to bruise. You feel the pull straight between your legs.

“Baby—”

“Uh-uh.” He nips, not quite cruel, a scrape of teeth that flares heat. “Use my name if you’re gonna beg.”

“Jax,” you exhale, head falling back as his mouth moves lower, damp heat tracing your ribs, the sharp bite of his jaw against your hip. His hands are everywhere—broad, sure, possessive—thumbprints painting your waist, finger marks catching the tender parts of you and holding, claiming. He noses at the lace before peeling your panties down with a lazy patience that’s anything but patient, the elastic dragging wet from your skin.

He kneels between your knees and spreads you, thumbs on your inner thighs, pushing until you’re open and shaking. He leans in and breathes you, eyes closing for a beat like prayer, and then his mouth is on you.

There’s no easing into it. Jax eats you like he’s starving. Long, slow licks that flatten and curl; sloppy kisses against your clit until your hips jerk; the dirty hum in his chest when you grip his hair and tug him closer. He knows your tells—how your thighs start to tremble, how your fingers twitch, how your voice goes breathless and high when you’re close. He rides that edge with you, mouth and fingers working in a rhythm that has you wet and slick, the room filling with the obscene sound of it.

“Eyes on me,” he orders, lifting his head just enough to look at you from under his lashes. His lips are shiny with you, beard damp. “Want you to watch me make you come.”

You try—God, you try—to hold his gaze while he drags two fingers inside, crooks them, and sucks your clit into his mouth like he means to keep it. Your vision whites out. Heat coils tight and dangerous in your belly, begging to break.

“Please,” you choke.

“Say it,” he murmurs against you. “Use your words, babe.”

“Make me come,” you plead, shameless. “Jax, please, please—”

He does. He pins your hips down with one forearm and devours you, fingers stroking that spot inside you with ruthless precision until you’re unraveling, coming apart under his mouth. The orgasm rips through you fast and jagged; like shards of something almost cruel, he takes it, grinds you through it, keeps licking until you’re twitching and pushing weakly at his shoulders.

He slows. Kisses the inside of your knee like a reward, then drags his mouth up your thigh, up your belly, up your throat. You taste yourself when he kisses you again—filthy, intimate. He’s breathing harder now, cock thick and straining under denim. You palm him, rub him through his jeans, loving the way he swears into your mouth.

“Hands,” he says, catching your wrists and lifting them above your head. He traps them there with one big hand against the couch cushion. “Keep ‘em there.”

You nod, dazed. He raises a brow.

“Yes,” you say, heat licking up your spine at the way he waits for it.

“Good girl.”

He stands long enough to strip, leather and denim falling onto the chair with a soft slap, and your breath stutters at the sight of him—tattoos, scars, a body that’s put in work and knows how to use it. He frees his cock from his jeans and your mouth waters. He’s heavy in his fist, thick and flushed, precum shining at the tip. He strokes once, lazy, watching you watch him.

“You want it?” he asks.

You nod. “Yes. God, yes.”

“Where?”

“Here.” You tilt your hips, shameless, wet again just from the look on his face. “All of me.”

He chuckles, low and dark. “All of you is already mine, don't fucking forget that.”

He climbs back over you, cage of muscle and heat, mouth catching yours as he lines up and pushes in. The stretch is exquisite, the sharp-edged fill that makes you gasp into his throat. He groans like it hits him just as hard. “Fuck,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours.

He sinks all the way, pauses so you can feel every inch of him, every ridge, every vein, like they were created with you in mind, then pulls back slow. The first thrust is measured. The second is not. He sets a pace that makes the couch creak, makes your breath stutter, makes you clutch the cushion to keep from grabbing him. He watches your self-control fray, eyes bright with that wicked light that’s half love, half hunger.

“Hands,” he warns when your fingers twitch, and you whimper, arching, giving him everything but that.

“Jax—”

“I know.” He bends, mouths your breast again, sucks hard enough to bloom heat under your skin. Then he drags his teeth higher and bites your throat, not cruel, just deep, a claiming pressure that makes your pussy clamp down around him. He groans, hips stuttering. “Christ.”

“Harder,” you whisper, fearless in your want.

He does, finding that line you love and dancing on it—fingers marking your thighs, mouth leaving constellations on your chest and neck, pelvis grinding just so against your clit every time he slams in. You’re wrecked and perfect, eyes blown, lips wet and swollen, wrists still obediently pinned above your head, bites and bruises littering that elegant sunkissed skin.

He leans back to take you in, thumb dragging your spit-slick lower lip down, and his voice roughens to gravel. “Look at you, so perfect with my marks all over you.”

The words strike like a match in your belly. You clench around him, a broken sound leaving your throat. “Jax—”

“That’s it,” he says, fucking you deeper, harder, the couch thudding against the wall. “That’s my pretty girl. My throat. My tits. My thighs. My cunt. All mine. Say it.”

“All yours,” you gasp, desperate. “I’m yours.”

He rewards you with a filthy snap of his hips that punches a cry out of you. You’re right back at the edge—worse, better than before—pleasure cresting high and hot. He knows, because his hand finally leaves your wrists.

“Touch yourself,” he orders, voice ragged. “Show me.”

Your fingers find your clit, slippery and swollen. You circle twice, and the world tilts. He watches like a man kneeling at an altar, mouth open, hair falling into his eyes, sweat shining on his chest. “That’s it,” he coaxes, breathless. “Come on my cock.”

You break. The orgasm is a flood, a violent, beautiful ruin that rips a cry out of you and bows your back off the couch. He curses, hips jerking, fucking you through it while your hand shakes and your pussy milks him. It’s too much and not enough and then you’re laughing a little, sobbing a little, tears stinging your eyes because it’s so good it hurts.

“Jax—please—”

“I got you,” he says, voice breaking, and then he’s gone, chasing his own edge. He hooks your knees higher, folds you open, buries himself in you with savage, perfect thrusts that drag sparks down your spine. He looks wild—beautiful, wrecked—and the sound he makes when he finally loses it is a punch to your heart. He spills with a groan, deep and hot, hips rolling slow as he rides it out, mouth on your shoulder, biting down just enough to claim.

Silence after, just breathing and heartbeats and the soft tick of the cooling engine outside. He stays inside you, heavy and warm, not ready to let go yet. His hand finds your jaw, thumb stroking your cheekbone as if smoothing you back into yourself.

“You okay?” he asks, and that’s the part that always undoes you—the sweet, earnest concern wrapped in the wreckage.

“Yeah.” Your voice is shaky, happy. “Better than okay.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “Good.” A beat. “Too much?”

“Perfect.” You catch his mouth, bite his lip lightly, and he smiles against you.

He slips out eventually with a soft curse, goes to the kitchen naked and unbothered to grab a warm cloth and a bottle of water. He cleans you with a gentleness that feels like worship. Every place he marked, he kisses afterward, sealing it like a promise. Your throat. The slope of your chest. The crescent of your hip. The handprints blooming on your thighs.

“This one,” he says, lips brushing your pulse. “Mine.”

You hum. “People are gonna ask questions.”

“Let ‘em.” He tugs you into his lap, tucking you into his chest, your legs draped over his thighs, his arms banded around you. The leather of his kutte smudges your shoulder where it’s fallen across the cushion. He kisses your temple. “You want ‘em lighter next time?”

“Mm.” You pretend to think, smug and sleepy. “Maybe darker.”

He laughs, low and fond, fingertips tracing patterns on your skin. “Greedy.”

“For you?” You tilt your head, catch his eyes, let him see it all. “Always.”

He kisses you soft and long, a promise and a brand you’ll never want to wash off. Outside, the night settles. Inside, he wraps you in a throw, pulls you close enough that your breaths sync, and holds you like the world can wait. His marks warm under your skin, tender reminders of the way he loves—fierce, filthy, and completely.

“Round two,” he murmurs against your hair, not asking so much as offering.

“Water first,” you say, already smiling, already arching into his hand. “Then I want you to show me where else you’ll put your marks.”

He grins, wicked and bright. “Babe, we’re gonna need a bigger map.”

[laurfilijames]

I am saving this as a treat after my long peopley-filled day and I CANNOT WAIT!!!!!

Slow Hands

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F!Reader Word Count: 692 Summary: Ray always takes his time with you, easing the tension from your body with every worshipful touch. Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Minors DNI! Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), very, very soft dom!Ray, established relationship A/N: This little idea spawned from me whining to @laurfilijames the other day about my current needs and how I just know Ray would be so purposeful with his touches. I’m convinced this man could heal me. ✨All feedback (reblogs, comments, likes) is much appreciated and encouraged!! ✨ Enjoy babes! 🩷

You’re stretched out on the bed, face-down at first, the low golden light from his bedside lamp turning your skin warm and soft under his gaze. Ray’s domineering presence fills the room; broad shoulders relaxed but commanding, the scent of his cologne is subtle under the faint spice of his skin. His hair is swept back from his face, those clear blue eyes watching you like you’re something to be studied.

“Stay still,” he says, the low rasp of his voice curling through you. “Let me take care of you.”

Ray’s hands are confident when they caress you, moving with the unhurried precision that makes you feel like he’s cataloguing every inch of you in his head. He works from your shoulders down, pressing into tight knots until they melt. His touch is deliberate, slow drags of his fingers along tired muscles, circling his thumbs just deep enough to make you sigh into the pillow.

Every so often, he leans in and lets his mouth trail lazy, open-mouthed kisses over the places his hands have just claimed, the nape of your neck, the slope of your shoulder, the sensitive dip of your lower back.

And when he tells you to turn over, it’s not a request. Ray guides you, his knuckles brushing the inside of your thigh as you shift, and the weight of his gaze alone makes your breath catch. The heel of his hand drags down your arm, over the inside of your wrist, where he pauses to press his lips. “Love the way your pulse jumps here,” he purrs, kissing it again before moving on.

Ray’s thoroughness is its own form of seduction; he misses nothing and lingers everywhere. He maps you – the hollow of your throat, the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips – each one worshipped by his hands, his mouth, and that maddening patience of his.

By the time his lips move lower, you’re already arching for him, chasing the promise of what you know is coming.

“Breathe,” he commands, the softness in his velvety tone edged with authority. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing you feel is the unhurried press of his mouth – the deep, luxuriant glide of his tongue moving with intent. Every stroke is drawn-out, as though he’s savoring the taste of you, unwilling to rush a single moment of this. His free hand smooths over the inside of your thigh, pulling you deeper into the sensation, while the other settles low on your stomach anchoring you in place.

Your fingers find his hair, tangling there as he works you closer to the edge. His full beard is wet, the coarse warmth of it brushing against your clit with every movement. Ray hums when you moan, a sound he knows he’ll replay in his head for days. “That’s it,” he urges with satisfaction. “Let me hear you.”

Each flick, every slow circle is meant to unravel you, to coax the last bit of tension from your body. He teases with just enough pressure to make your hips lift into his mouth, then eases back to graze you with feather-light laps, letting the anticipation coil in your belly until you’re trembling. The warm sweep of his tongue is only broken by his soft, almost possessive hums; each vibration dragging another gasp from you.

Ray drinks in every sound, every subtle movement, adjusting accordingly with that uncanny precision of his until the tension finally bursts. It’s sharp and all-consuming; heat flooding through you in waves that steal your breath. Your hips jerk against his mouth, your fingers tighten in his hair, but he doesn’t relent. He keeps you pinned, tongue and lips working you through every wave as broken moans and whimpers spill from you, your vision blurring and bursting white behind your eyelids. He only slows when you’re boneless beneath him, mouth still on you, drawing out every aftershock until the final shudder fades.

He lifts his head, lips wet, his beard glistening with you, eyes heavy and dark with hunger, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your inner thigh before promising, “I’m not nearly finished with you yet, love.”