#soa x Reader

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

please please please something w jealous / possessive jax

answering as a blurb because I think we all need this on a saturday night in november. smut warning obvs

“Do I not give you enough attention, pretty girl?”

All you can do is whine in response, eyes rolling back in your head as his hips slam into yours.

He had you bent over the kitchen counter the minute the two of you got home, wasting no time ripping your panties down your legs and folding you in half the way he wanted.

“Is that why you kept looking at Chibs? Hmm? You think he can give you something that I can’t?”

You try to shake your head, but a particularly sharp thrust sends you careening forwards. You’re convinced you’d fly over the countertop if it wasn’t for Jax’s bruising grip on your hips.

“You’re mine,” he grits out, mouthing at the spot underneath your ear. “Mine, you hear me?”

Your knees buckle as you grapple for leverage, your boyfriend’s hips the only thing keeping you upright. Your breath is coming out in short, sharp pants, lungs burning as you try to process the intensity of the moment.

“Say it.”

“J-Jax, baby- fuck- huh?”

“Tell me you’re mine. Say it. Now.”

Jax wraps a huge hand around your throat, plastering your back to his front as he hits a spot inside of you that makes you weak.

“I’m yours,” you manage to breathe out. “All yours, Jax.”

“Gonna make sure you don’t forget it. Make sure everyone else knows it too. You’re not gonna be able to walk for a week, darlin’. And you’re gonna wear these bruises all pretty, yeah? Just in case there was any fuckin’ doubt about who you belong to.”

You see stars when you come, legs shaking and sweat dripping down your back. Jax sinks his teeth into your shoulder when he finds his release, marking you up for good measure.

“How the fuck am I supposed to cover up a bite mark, Jax?”

“You’re not,” he murmurs, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “That’s the point.”

[etclouie]

hey giving this another little reblog to say there’s only a week left to send in any requests for my picnic!!

now’s the time to come celebrate if you’ve been thinking on it, loads of characters and games to play!! any questions, feel free to ask them

welcome to louie's one year anniversary picnic event

hey, it's officially been a year since i created this blog!! so to celebrate i wanted to host a little event, it's been a hell of a year and i'm beyond grateful for everything and everyone!

⋆˚✿˖° — event rules;

— you can send as many requests as you want, though please limit it to one request per ask!

— there may be loads of requests, so please be respectful while waiting for your request to get seen to! (i'm also out on the 30th at tyler, the creator so requests may be slow out that day!!!)

— my usual rules apply, please read and heed them before sending in a request!

— event deadline is july 1st 2025! any submission made after july 1st, will not be written! please accept this fact, and refrain from submitting any requests after the deadline, please and thank you

— the masterlist of works produced from this event can be found here!!

⋆˚✿˖° — who can you request;

— as it is my one year anniversary, i'm opening up requests to any character on my masterlist!

— there's a total of 78 characters listed on my masterlists, loads to choose from but please keep in mind that i'm only one person and may fall behind!! (everything will be x fem!reader or gn!reader)

⋆˚✿˖° — games;

🌱 — get to know me. send in a question from this list, and i'll answer it honestly (or send in any other questions you might have about me)

🪷 — prompts. choose a character, and a prompt/s from reuniting lovers prompts, three hundred assorted dialogue prompts or morning after starters and i'll write a fic

🌷 — build a fic. choose between building either a sfw fic or an nsfw fic along with a character and i'll write something for it

🍓 — reacts. choose an au and a situation, and i'll tell you how i think they'd react (idea credit to @nottsangel) || feel free to send in a character that has multiple au's if you're curious about them all

🧁 — recs. send in a character or fandom and i'll rec a fic or author!

⋆˚✿˖° — tag system;

i decided on doing this event differently to my last two, so to navigate easier, here's the tags i've used

⸝⸝ ꒰ louie’s one year 🍪ㆍ₊⊹ is the main tag, everything i write for this event will be found under here

🌱 — louie's one year is for all questions answered about me

🪷 — louie’s one year is for all prompts

🌷 — louie's one year is for all build a fics

🍓 — louie's one year is for all reacts

🧁 — louie's one year is for all recs

if you wish to to avoid spam, please block/filter out all 6 tags!

© 2025 etclouie. I do not condone reposting, plagiarising or translating my work in any form. my blog is 18+, strictly no minors !!

[wetpussyju1ce]

Coconut & Tangerines

jax teller x poc fem reader

1.7k words

tags: pining, love at first sight, size difference, threats of violence, canon-typical jax behaviour/violence, Jax is in lovvveeeee, not beta read, writer is in love w this dumbass and thanks to him, this side blog exists + he brought writer out a writing rut <3 all because he made me horny. don't ever underestimate the power of an ovulating woman and her pussy. amen.

Jax doesn't expect to meet the love of his life in their dingy bar, barrelling through the doors, fuming and crying no less.

Everything was as usual, smoke filled up the place, stinking like tobacco and cheap beer. Men laughed and cheered as they played pool and gambled, random profanities would be shouted once in a while over the radio playing in the background. It was just like any other day, pretty mundane for the gang of bike riders, that is until the doors burst open, a pretty sight graced their establishment.

Jax didn't look up from the game of cards he was in the middle of, that is until she spoke, "Where is he?" The words were growled, more like. With as much ferocity as a kitten in Jax's eyes when he finally looked over.

The girl was panting, standing there while clutching her handbag in one hand, and her phone in the other. Her eyes were glassy and furious, scanning the bar's clientele frantically, looking for someone. And, Jax hoped that no one of the assholes in his gang were dating her because she was oh so pretty. She had on a long sleeved white top, the material soft and fluffy, cropped and falling off one pretty shoulder, her hips were covered in a small jean skirt, held close by a sparkly silver belt, more for show than anything as the skirt was tight and small enough to stay still on her body.

Then came in her heeled boots, that stopped right where her knees started, leaving the soft skin of her thighs exposed to the elements, and to the eyes of everyone in the bar to ogle at.

"Where are you? You stupid dickhead!" She shouts, pushing through the bigger bodies of the bike riders in search of the origin of her anger. Jax leans back in his chair, to get a better view of her glassy eyes and those devastatingly gorgeous and plump pink lips, the lower lip trembling when she's not shouting.

That's when she finally gets her hands on a shoulder, spins the man around and rips the hood off his head, Jax's frowns when he sees a young face, a much too young face to be in here. So he pushes his chair back, placing his cards face down and walking towards the woman and the boy she just grabbed, "Did you lose your fucking mind? What the fuck are you doing here? Your friend told me about your little plan!!"

She's fuming, crying now, hitting the boy on the chest, and be barely budges, her hits not affecting him in the slightest, but her words do make him lower his head in embarrassment at getting caught. "Huh? What do you have to say for yourself?"

The whole bar is watching them at this point, no one moving to interrupt them, watching the drama unfold. Except Jax, who easily makes his way to the crying, distressed girl, "Now, what's going on here?"

He stands next to the girl with the wet Bambi eyes, offers her a small smile and looks at the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder, "How old are you, son?"

The boy shakes his shoulder, trying to escape his grip with an uncomfortable look on his face, "I'm 18-"

"He's 15, and he's my little brother." She sniffles and glares at her brother.

"You're not old enough to drink, but you knew that. So why did you really come here?" Jax asked, bending his head to try and meet her brother's eyes. The boy doesn't say anything and when Jax thinks he won't speak, he looks up, meets his eyes with as much confidence as possible and says, "Let me in your gang."

Jax just stares at him, "Do you even have a motorcycle?"

"I'm not stupid, I know what you do! I'm fast and-" Jax decided he's heard enough and grabs him by the neck like a disobedient pup and drags him out of the bar, his sister right behind them as the boy tries to escape his hold, spitting curses left and right.

"Actually, you are pretty fucking stupid. You want to know to know why?" Jax throws him on the pavement, watching the boy catch himself on his hands and knees. "I'll tell you," He runs a hand through his hair, "You believe made up stories you hear in the streets, and that will get you killed. That's why you need to stay in high-school and never step a foot in our bar!"

Jax sighs, "You better thank your sister for saving your life."

Her brother gets up, looking extremely embarrassed and angry, dusting himself off, he clenches his fist and glares at Jax, at that he can understand, the boy is young and dumb, he was handled like a puppy out in public. But what he can't stand for, is when her brother turns to glare at his sister, and Jax moves the second he sees the boy take a step forward, jaw set and fists clenched.

Jax stands in front of her like a mountain, "Try it, and I'll break your fucking jaw, boy."

Jax hears a whimper and his blood boils, his sister cares for his well-being and the shit wanted to repay her kindness with violence and hurt.

Her brother spits right in front of Jax's feet and takes off. Jax would chase him and set him straight if it was any other day, but it wasn't. He had the prettiest and sweetest girl in his hands to check up on. Jax straightens his kutte and turns around, seeing sadness written all over her smaller face. She covers her face with her hands and lowers her body so she sits on the hard, cold and dirty concrete of the pavement.

He looks around, rubbing the back of his neck as he watches her shoulders slump and her phone to ding with a notification, she wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand and reads the message she received. Her wet, dark eyelashes blink as her eyes read over the message and she sighs again, eyes welling up with tears. Jax sighs and goes to sit next to her as she shoves her phone in her handbag.

"You alright?" He asked, studying the side of her devastatingly gorgeous face.

She sniffles and turns to look at him, their bodies just barely touching, and Jax's heart jumps at the bounce of her dark curls, framing her face like a cloud, a real life angel, "I was meant to go on a date, you know?"

"What happened?" He blinks.

"I'm officially 30 minute late and my date messaged me. Let's just say he isn't happy at being stood up." She mumbles. Jax hums, "Why don't you call him and explain why you're late?"

She closes her eyes for a second, then opens them again, smile wobbly, "He's going on a date with another girl. He hates me now. It won't change anything."

Jax frowns, "Sorry but your date sounds like an asshole. You could have been kidnapped or got into an accident and he's-"

"It's okay," She chuckles, not a ounce of humour behind it.

"It's not. You've had a down right shitty day, darlin'" Jax says, suddenly getting up. "Look, come have a drink or two." He sticks one of his hands out, looking at her expectantly. She bites her lower lip, "I'm sorry I don't- I don't drink." Jax smiles a little, "Then how about this, let's get ice-cream."

She brings her knees to her chest and shakes her head, "I don't-"

"You're already all dolled up, so you may as well do something. Let yourself have one good thing today, hm? On me." Jax added, he's starting to feel a little stupid because he's sure he's not being subtle at all. He hopes he doesn't come off as some jackass who sees her as an opportunity. He wants to help, he really does. And the fact that she happens to be so pretty that it makes his heart melt, wasn't his fault. "And we'll talk about your brother too, if you want."

She thinks about it and nods, finally placing her hand in his. Jax's eyes almost widen at the size difference, but he acts cool and clears his throat, getting his hand back to shove it in his pocket, his fingers tingling where she touched him. She dusts herself off, wiping the back of her skirt with her hand as he rushes inside to settle his tab, slamming cash on the counter and ignoring his guy's hollers and whoops, he shakes his head, a small smile on his lips as he makes his way to his parked bike, pulling his keys out of his pockets.

"Have you ridden a bike before?" He asked, getting his only helmet out as she made her way to him, looking at his bike, "Like this? No."

"I'll drive slow, don't worry." He kindly smiled at her, taking a step towards her, holding his helmet with both hands, "Can I?"

"Oh yeah, of course." She jumps, straightening her back and watching Jax push her curls out of her forehead with his fingers, and then place his helmet carefully over her head, snapping it shut and taking a step back.

She watches him throw a leg over the machine and put his key in the ignition, the beast roaring to life as he pulls it up with his feet and arms, "Get on," He motions with his head and she wears her handbag on one arm and sits behind him, getting comfortable and placing her hands on his shoulders, "What's your name?" She asked.

"Jax. What's yours?" He said loudly over his bike's engine. She replied and he whipped his head back, "WHAT?"

She nudged closer, repeating her name again and he grinned, knowing full well he heard her the first time, he just wanted her closer, for safety purposes of course!

"You smell real nice, what's that?" He shouted over his shoulder. She got closer, her chest pressed against his back, "Coconut and Tangerines lotion!" Jax grinned, she smelled delicious and he was hungry. He hopes wherever they're going, that they'll have tangerines flavoured ice cream, because he really doesn't think she'll let him bury his teeth in her sweet skin like a greedy bastard after knowing him for 10 minutes. Or maybe she would, who knows.

"Where's your helmet?" She asked, wrapping her arms around his waist as he finally turned the bike around, entering the road.

Jax looked over his shoulder, "Don't worry about that. Hold tight, Tangy." That's all the warning she got before he took off, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

"I'll drive slow" my ass.

[purehoney]

WAIT IN THE TRUCK (CHIBS TELFORD)

warnings: may contain references to domestic violence.

note: based on the song wait in the truck by hardi ft lainey wilson

note 2: if you are in this situation, please talk to someone and seek help

note 3: if you liked it, please comment and leave a like

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chibs drove mechanic Teller-Morrow's truck, as his bike was in repair during the week and was the only option left.

The late-season rain made the view of the dark road even worse at night, but the headlights clearly illuminated what appeared to be a person walking.

- What the hell...? - Chibs whispered to himself while still inside the car.

As soon as he stopped, the person turned towards the vehicle's light. She looked scared. The scotsman got out of the car and walked towards her.

- Oi... - he stopped the moment his eyes noticed the state of the woman's clothes. What should have been white had a large red spot, and on her face, there was a mixture of purples in different tones and places.

She just kept looking at him, a low cry sounded between them.

- Come on, get in - he pointed to the car, knowing exactly what that scene was about. She just nodded and got into the car after him.

Chibs didn't ask much about what had happened or how it happened. It actually didn't matter to him at all. Even despite the reputation that the entire club had for other people, there were some moral rules that each of them followed, one of those rules for Chibs, was that a crime worth committing was to end up with idiots who beat women.

The woman next to him was still sobbing, shaking a little due to her body being wet from the rain.

He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, and she thanked him in a low, almost inaudible voice.

- Where is he? - was the only thing he needed to know.

She turned her face, looking into his eyes for the first time. She seemed to decide whether to tell the truth. Finally, she gave the address of her own house, a few blocks back.

The car rumbled louder as Chibs maneuvered and drove again, now to the new address indicated.

Rain seemed to have increased as he stopped in front of the house.

- Wait in the truck...

She watched him get out, walk to the back of the car removing what looked like a crowbar and go to the front door on the porch.

The biker knocked twice and no one responded. His patience running thin, filling him now with only anger.

Suddenly, the door slammed against the wall after Chibs kicked it, making the bald man lying on the couch jump.

Before the other man could reach the gun on the coffee table, Chibs hit him with the crowbar.

Her body still in shock from the whole situation.

Taking out his own gun that he always carried on his waist, the scotsman put an end to the problem that the girl he met on the road had.

The girl, still in the car, jumped when she heard the noise echoing down the street. She knew the biker, after all who in the city didn't know the Sons Of Anarchy? She just didn't know if she should call him an angel for saving her life, despite what he had just done.

Her heart was relieved to know that her justice had somehow been served.

She could see when Chibs finally left the house, a cigarette burning in his lips, he pointed at the car, parked in front of him.

Not many minutes passed before the police arrived, the rain no more than a light drizzle now.

- Just wait in the truck... - he repeated to her, as if perhaps he was waiting for her to get out or do something.

Six months had passed since that night, Chibs felt no remorse in himself as he walked through the cold halls of the penitentiary. He received a one-year sentence after the trial for his crime.

He sat in front of the glass, his hand reaching for the phone hanging next to him. The woman looked like a different person, her face now flushed healthily and her clothes in a pleasant state.

- Thank you! - it was always the first thing she said every time they saw each other, which had become commonplace since the conviction.

- Lass, i might be here forever but it's a whole hell of a lot better than the place I sent him to.

[brunettemarionette]

𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 😈 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞.

💜femalemechanic!reader x sons of anarchy

🔮summary. When you first got hired at Teller-Morrow, you thought you'd just be turning wrenches and fixing bikes, but it quickly became obvious that you're the new favorite around here.

But when a customer gets too bold and puts hands on you, suddenly everyone is reminded you're untouchable when the guys step in.

🌙t.w. Sexual Harassment. Threats of Violence. Intimidation. Mild Language/Crude Remarks. Physical Confrontation

✨wc. 1.1k

This post is what inspired this little femalemechanic!reader series I'm going to do so reblogs, comments and feedback are very highly appreciated. Please feel free to send ideas my way or inbox me (even if just for anonymous feedback). Hope you all enjoy!

The sound of wrenches clinking and engines rumbling filled the air at Teller-Morrow, the familiar scent of oil and grease clinging to your skin like a second layer.

The shop had quickly become a second home to you, though you still didn't fully understand the club's inner workings. What you did understand, however, was that the Sons of Anarchy seemed to take an unusual interest in your presence.

At first, you chalked it up to them being friendly.

Jax, for instance, always seemed to be around when you needed something though, in hindsight, you never actually asked for help. "Need a hand with that, darlin'?" he'd offer, even if all you were doing was tightening a bolt. He'd lean against a nearby workbench, arms crossed, watching with an amused smirk.

It was nice that they were all so willing to help, even if it sometimes felt like you had too many supervisors at once.

Opie had a similar habit of being conveniently nearby. He never lingered as obviously as Jax, but he was always nearby. "Just grabbing this," he'd say, reaching for a tool, rag, or something completely unnecessary. He'd stick around longer than needed, watching with that unreadable expression of his.

Then there was Tig. He had no concept of personal space; that much was clear. "Damn, girl," he'd say, leaning way too close for someone who didn't need to be in your workspace. "You sure you weren't born to work on bikes? 'Cause I swear, watching you turn a wrench is the highlight of my day."

You'd roll your eyes, laughing it off. Tig was just like that with everyone.

Even Chibs and Juice had their own ways of hovering. Chibs would tease, calling you lass and finding ways to keep you engaged in conversation, while Juice, sweet but a little awkward tried to get your attention with random trivia or stupid bets with the other guys.

And then there was Happy, who'd just silently walk into your work area and take a seat, watching as you tinker, all while moving that toothpick around in his mouth before stalking off again wordlessly a while later.

It was all a little overwhelming, but you figured this was just how the Sons were—flirty, overprotective, and oddly competitive with each other. Besides, it was nice to feel included. You'd never had this kind of easy camaraderie before in this environment, and you weren't about to question it.

Gemma, on the other hand, saw right through them. She watched it all unfold with a knowing smirk, arms crossed like a mother watching her kids make fools of themselves.

Even Clay seemed amused by the way the guys found excuses to be around you. "Bunch of idiots," he muttered one afternoon, shaking his head as Jax and Juice argued over who got to hand you a wrench before Happy silently handed one to you.

Gemma chuckled. "Let 'em have their fun."

You, of course, remained blissfully unaware that you were the fun.

That all changed the day a customer got a little too comfortable.

You were at the front of the shop, wiping your hands on a rag as you explained the details of a tune-up to a man who had just brought in his car. He was middle-aged, maybe in his late forties, with a cocky smirk that immediately set off warning bells, not that you noticed.

Smiling politely, you handed him the clipboard, explaining the breakdown and keeping your tone professional. "So, with the labor and parts, you're looking at about—"

"You got a pretty face for a mechanic," He interrupted, looking you up and down.

You blinked partly in shock at his audacity and the other in surprise he was so bold in his words. "Uh, thanks?" You tried to steer the conversation back. You were used to men either hitting on you or speaking down to you. "So, if you're good with this, we can—"

"You sure you wanna be doing this?" He smirked, leaning in slightly. "Seems like a waste. A girl like you should be doing something... prettier. A pretty girl like yourself should have a guy taking care of her."

You felt your stomach twist, your grip tightening on the clipboard, trying not to yell at the customer. "I like what I do," you said, clearing your throat and trying to keep your voice even. "Now, if you're good with the estimate—"

He didn't let you finish as his hand slid to your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your skin crawl. "Come on, sweetheart," he drawled. "maybe I could take you out sometime. Show you what it's like to be treated right. Show you how a real man—"

The hand was gone before you could react. One second, the guy was standing too close, and the next, he was stumbling backward, Jax's fist curled in his collar. The sound of the impact—fabric twisting, shoes scuffing against the concrete—was sharp, final.

Jax's voice was low, dangerous. "You touch her again, you're leavin' in a body bag."

The shop had gone silent. Tools were set down, and chairs scraped against the floor as Tig, Opie, and Juice moved in. Chibs cracked his knuckles, and Happy—who still hadn't said a word—was now staring the guy down with an intensity that made your stomach drop.

The customer, who had, up until now, been cocky and self-assured, realized too late that he had made a very big mistake. His hands shot up in surrender. "Hey, man, it was just a—"

"Get the hell out," Jax snapped, taking a step closer. "Now."

The man didn't hesitate. He turned and practically ran out of the shop, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process, leaving his car behind without a second thought. The moment he was gone, the tension snapped like a rubber band.

It took you a second to realize you were still holding the clipboard in a death grip. You exhaled, forcing yourself to loosen your fingers. Opie was suddenly in front of you; his usual stoic expression softened. "You okay?"

You blinked at him, still processing what just happened. "Uh, yeah. I mean... that was a little intense."

Tig grinned, but there was still something dangerous in his expression. "Welcome to the family, sweetheart. No one touches what's ours."

You frowned at that. "Ours?"

Jax smirked, running a hand through his hair like he hadn't just threatened a man's life. "Don't think too hard about it, darlin'."

You did think about it. For about two seconds. And then you shrugged, figuring it was just their way of saying they had your back, but one thing was clear—this wasn't just a job anymore. These guys weren't just co-workers. They were family, and they had just made one thing very clear.

You are untouchable.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Hypothetically speaking" - Juice Ortiz x Reader

SUMMARY: It's basic etiquette to not try your luck with a friend's girl. But when that friends seems to have no respect for the girl, perhaps it's basic etiquette to give her the affection she deserves.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3k

Truthfully, everyone knew it wasn't going to work out - everyone except for you. Whether you are too pure or delusional, the thought never even occured to you, while the other members of the motorcycle club knew the bitter end the moment they saw you. At first, none of them thought much of it. That's just how Jax Teller rolled, there is nothing new in that matter. It was the subsequent weeks that made them dread the inevitable:

Jax brought you around the clubhouse to help out with the accounting, housekeeping or party-throwing. Usually, you were holding a pan, a broom or a pen in your hand. Or certain other things whenever Jax needed tending to his more carnal desires.

Nonetheless, the other Sons have gotten to know you personally and it was that new friendship that bore dread in their chests. You seemed to have a curious talent for making people feel seen. Even the smallest of details never escaped your attention. Refilling the bar for the night, you'd always find time to ask Happy about his mother's health and how he was holding up. Chibs and Tig have come to expect you to ask them about their children. Their answers rarely changed and so did yours: 'I'm sure they're thinking about you.' The biggest surprise came from the prospects as they had grown accustomed to everyone pushing them around and yelling at them. So when you'd ask them whether they were hungry, at first they were sure it was some kind of a test or a ruse.

For Juice, those little signs of a soft heart were nails in his coffin. Whenever he was spending several hours in front of the computer, you'd appear with a drink and a small snack. On top of that, you always made it seem like these small acts of service are something obvious - it would be entirely strange to not care for others simply because you can. Usually, your presence would slow down his progress as Juice was willing to exchange his worktime for a conversation with you. As desperate as it may sound, he came to the conclusion that his job will still be there in twenty minutes but you will be gone the moment Jax enters the clubhouse and takes you away. Sometimes he wondered if he had Teller's charisma, would you give him a chance? Considering you were seeing his friend, he never planned on acting on his feelings. Even the thought made him cringe: fantasizing about fellow member's girl? That's a rather large 'no-go'.

As usual, the dread settled in the men's chests when you entered the clubhouse. Then, it grew ten sizes as they all silently realised that the inevitable was about to play out in front of their hungover eyes. You passed the threshold in a somewhat hesitant manner like you always did, unsure whether you're interrupting something or are even wanted there. Bobby, Tig and Chibs greet you but they're unable to hide a strange sadness to them. None the wiser, you chalk up their lack of humour to the aftermath of a night filled with vices.

The clubhouse is a temporary ruin. Bottles and glasses are scattered across all flat surfaces. One of the tables is slanted, missing one of its legs. A few pairs of bright-coloured underwear are lying here and there. Something tells you that yesterday you missed a truly historic night of fun.

"Is Jax around?" you ask. The men exchange a meaningful gaze but it goes unnoticed by you. "He left his shirt at mine yesterday afternoon, I was hoping to return it."

Tig's face cringes. There's a sorry look in his eyes. "Sweetheart-"

"He just left, actually," Bobby interjects. "Don't know when he'll be back."

You look between them, beginning to sense tension. "Alright," you answer, unsure what to make of the situation. "Then I'll just leave it in the dorm room."

Their silence makes you wary like there's a piece of information that you're missing while it's fairly obvious to others; something hidden in plain sight. You walk past them, when Tig's conscience puts up a fight once more. He makes a step towards you, hoping to stop the disaster about to unfold. Chibs, however, grabs his arm before the man can realise his plan.

"He's made his bed, brother," the Scotsman says in a low voice lest you hear their conversation.

"Come on, man," Trager answers with a look of disbelief on his face. "She doesn't deserve that."

"Aye, she doesn't." The man nods. His stern expression reveals that he, too, is more than unhappy with the unfolding events. "But it's already happened."

Juice is either really lucky or terribly unlucky to be walking down the corridor at the same time as you. His lips widen in a smile and he's about to call out to you, when he notices the white t-shirt in your hand. In a split second of considering his selfishness and your feelings, Juice decided to act against his own interest. He picks up his pace and manages to block the dorm room door just as you were about to put your hand on the handle.

"You really don't want to go in there. Trust me." Juice is trying his best to sound like he's joking but he's not a good liar - especially when you're the one he's attempting to deceive. True feelings are slipping through the cracks and you notice his nervousness.

"What do you mean?" you ask. The weirdness of the guys' behaviour that day is putting you on edge. What on Earth is going on? "It's not like there's a biological warfare behind that door."

Two laughing voices are audible from inside the room: one belongs to Jax, the other probably to a woman. Something stirs inside you, anxious and dreadful but you push it further down. No need to get upset before you get all the facts, right?

"See? Everything's fine," you say to Juice, although the reassurance is really for yourself.

The door swings open with a slight moan of the hinges. Then, as you take in the scene before you, it feels like time has slowed to a halt. Jax is sitting on the edge of the bed, scandily clad in the thin bedsheets. Maybe he covered himself when he heard the door open or he wasn't planning on getting up just yet. In the bathroom doorway stands Ima, dressed in a rather tacky purple lingerie - the cheap kind that desperately tries to have some semblance of luxury. Had the situation been less agitating, maybe you'd think that it's a fitting piece of garment for a woman of her sort.

It's hard to say whether it's the shock or resilience but you manage to keep yourself whole. The last thing you're going to do is cause a scene.

"Brought your shirt." You disturb the akward silence. Jax's expression is unreadable but Ima appears rather amused - there's a sly grin on her face. Her quiet snickering makes tears pool in your eyes. "Thought you might want it back."

Wanting to evacuate as fast as you can, you lay the t-shirt on the dresser by the door and turn around to leave the room. Juice hesitantly whispers your name as you brush past him but you can only muster a quiet apology.

Jax, suddenly realising the consequences of yesterday's impulsiveness, hastily puts on a pair of pants. He keeps yelling your name, begging you to stop and let him talk to you properly but you don't give in. Running out of the dorm room, he's stopped by Juice, who grabs his arm.

"I think you've done enough, man," Ortiz states in an angered tone.

For a moment, the two of them stare each other down in silence. The tension feels like a forest fire - one moment of carelessness might lead to a true disaster.

Both men are aware of the other's affections. It is only now that they admit this knowledge.

"You need to back off," Jax whispers. Juice is disillusioned that the Vice President would have no inhibitions in caving his face in.

But lovers oh-so-frequently tend to grow just a little unwise the more they love. Perhaps that has made all the difference on that dreadful morning.

"No," Juice says while shaking his head, "I think I should go after the crying girl who just saw her boyfriend naked in a bed with someone else."

"That's not your concern."

Looking over the blond's shoulder, Juice catches Ima's malicious amusement. She knew exactly what she was doing and not for a moment did she feel bad about it. When he looks at Jax again, his dark eyes carry more contempt than anger. "Apparently, she's not your concern either."

Before the young Teller can continue their argument, Ortiz is running down the hallway. Bobby, Chibs and Tig ask him something but he only gives them a disinterested 'later' and continues his search for you.

Despite the perfect view of the parking lot from the rooftop, you didn't notice Juice approaching you. Only when you heard the rattling of the ladder did a wave of shame flood your mind. You didn't want anyone seeing you like this, especially people of formidable grit. Some part of you dreaded being considered weak. If you were just a little more honest with yourself, maybe you'd realise that what you were truly afraid of, was the outside confirmation of what you'd already believed about yourself - too weak, too emotional to ever fit in this life.

The shame, however, seems to evaporate the moment you see Juice's apologetic expression. He always had a strange air about him, an aura you couldn't quite explain. Something about the man makes you think that you could tell him the most asinine or embarrassing thing and he would never think less of you.

With a hesitant, quiet 'hey', Juice sits down next to you. Despite his own desires, he leaves a gap between the two of you. His eyes keep switching between looking at his fiddling hands or the side of your face as though he's unsure what's the correct course of action.

"I'm stupid, aren't I?" you finally speak up. Turning your head to look at Juice, you notice a sudden change in his expression - for some reason, he looks like he's about to burst into tears, too. "Believing that he would settle for me?"

There's so much he wants to say. An entire monologue is prickling at his tongue. You'd be the one settling for him, not the other way around. Never. But Juice manages to keep those thoughts to himself for now as they are not what you need to hear at this moment. Maybe, just maybe, one day he'll get to show you that whoever you decide to marry, no matter how noble or rich, you will be the one settling for them.

"There's only one stupid person in this situation and it's not you," he says in a serious yet gentle tone. "Okay, maybe three stupid people."

Despite his resolve, Juice is only a man and he, too, must break at some point. His hand fearfully reaches for your cheek. When you don't pull away, he hesitantly wipes away a tear rolling down your face.

"Three?" you ask in a quiet voice.

"Jax is one, for obvious reasons." With the back of his hand, Juice wipes away the other side of your face. "Ima is two. And the third... is me."

Confused, you furrow your eyebrows. "You? You're not stupid, Juice. Why would you say that?"

"I'm the king of stupid, actually." He lets out an airy, bitter chuckle. Suddenly feeling small, he retracts his arm. "I just tried to cover for my dick friend, so the girl I'm in love with doesn't get her heart broken. Extra stupid points for running after her like a lost puppy that just wants to make her happy."

"That sounds more lovely than stupid," you manage to whisper before another wave of emotions wreaks havoc. Tears stream down your face again but this time it's not only the bad feelings - there's something nice among them, too. A sense of relief and belonging; an overwhelming realisation that you're loved as a person and not only as a woman.

He doesn't complain or lecture you. Neither does he attempt empty words of comfort and encouragement. Juice doesn't know what he should say, so he settles for silence. However, his quietness speaks volumes. With a soft expression on his face, he keeps wiping your tears away.

"What do I do now, Juice?"

"Whatever you want," he answers with a strange lightness to his voice. It appears that his response is not something carefully woven but rather a cliché.

You sniffle loudly and although there's nothing attractive about that, it's candid. In Juice's eyes, it only makes you more beautiful. "Right now, I don't know if that list is very short or ridiculously long."

A corner of his mouth rises in a nostalgic smile. He seems to be recalling a memory.

"Remember that one time when you couldn't sleep and found me working at the clubhouse?" Juice asks. You only nod, unsure why he would suddenly remind you of that. "Remember what you told me when I talked about all the things I still needed to get done?"

"It's only three things," you repeat under your breath. Truthfully, you have almost forgotten entirely about that conversation. Juice had been going on about all the complicated steps that had to be done before calling it a day but, in the end, it was only three things. Granted, three time-consuming, challenging things but only three nonetheless. You never thought your comment meant so much to him.

"Exactly," he says as though he had just given you the perfect recipe for anything and everything. "I'm suggesting, you do two things now. First of all, get over the guy that couldn't appreciate you."

"Sounds smart but I'm not sure I know how to do that," you admit with a nervous chuckle. Jax Teller has been a tornado to your soul: came suddenly, wreaked havoc and simply moved on. There is no one to clean the mess, no one to put the pieces back together except those that survived. And you're still at the stage of debating whether you have, actually, survived Jax Teller.

"I guess the first step is not going back to him."

As simple as it sounds, the solution might just be one of the hardest things you've ever done. Nothing good comes easy, as they say. If it's true, you're going to reach for something truly incredible with this resolution.

"And the second thing I should do?" you ask. Deep inside, you're paying he's about to suggest something silly or relaxing.

Suddenly, Juice turns shy. This biker guy with tattoos and a loaded gun is fiddling with his hands and stubbornly avoiding your gaze. Despite his appearance, you think he's adorable.

"Well, uh..." He clears his throat in a vain attempt to get rid of his shakey tone. "If you want, no pressure of course but if you find it in yourself, then maybe you could at least think about grabbing dinner with me?" Whatever your expression looks like, it must make him even more nervous as Juice immediately begins downplaying his question. "Like I said, no pressure. I know it's bad timing all things considered, so it's cool if you don't want to, it's okay-"

"I'd love to," you interrupt him.

For a moment, he silently stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. "Cool. That's, um... nice."

You see him ever so slightly cringe at his awkward response but you don't think him weird. No, the nervousness makes you all the more convinced you want to go out with him - the anxiety proves that he cares more than he's brave enough to admit.

"Can we add a third thing?" you ask hesitantly.

Juice smiles at you as if today is the best day of his life; the kind of smile that slowly mends broken hearts. "What's on your mind?"

"Say, just hypothetically, how annoying would it be if Ima's car had slashed tires?"

He nods slowly, a shadow of mischief dancing across his handsome features. "Really annoying."

"And if she had to pay for new ones and there'd be a bullshit charge on the receipt like premium air or something?"

The man laughs. How can a sound leave you breathless?

"She would have a really fucking shitty day," he answers.

"Just hypothetically, I'd be satisfied."

"I think I know a guy. Just hypothetically."

Silence falls between you again. It's not tense. No, it's quite the opposite - the silence of two people who can just be. Now that happiness or at least a lack of sadness has entered your face, Juice is staring at you with an expression you can't describe beyond soft. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was not looking at you but at a rare, priceless treasure he has spent his whole life searching for. But you do know better; you know that, perhaps, people can be priceless, too.

A dark thought suddenly clouds your mind: Jax used to look at you the same way. Not always, not for long but he did. And yet, as he has proven, it meant nothing for him.

You push those thoughts away with all the almost-depleted strength you have left. It's no use crying and ruminating about the past when you have your future sitting right next to you. A bright, terribly good-looking future, one might even say.

"Can you just hold me?" you ask him quietly. The heartbreak of Jax's choice and the elation of Juice's confession have left you tired and vulnerable beyond all imagination. Such opposite emotions are ripping you open in conflicting directions. It's like dying and being reborn all at the same time.

"As long as you need, baby."

Juice wastes no time happily fulfilling your request. He brings your legs over and across his own, nudging you even closer towards him. Gently, he pulls your head to rest in the crook of his neck. As strange as it may sound, the man feels like a fortress protecting you from past and future heartbreaks.

[fanfictionsweetheart]

Third Times the Charm-ing

Pairing: Jax Teller x Reader

Summary: Jax has been married twice before and swore he was burnt out on love, until he met her. And he thinks maybe this time he’s got it right. Maybe this time his family will stay together.

Trigger/Content Warning(s): light angst at the start, tooth rotting fluff, domestic bliss

Word Count: 1611

A/N: It’s 2AM and I can’t sleep, so have another Fic. I think this is one of my favorite SOA Oneshots I’ve written. Cross posting from my ao3. I love Tara, but I needed a reason for them to not be together in this Fic. I don’t know, I just like this one.

Jax had been lost since Tara left him. Left the boys. She had threatened for months to just take the boys and leave. But realizing that she would have to deal with a lengthy court battle to take custody from Jax just to spite him had led her to just leaving and abandoning her family. The last words she spoke to Jax were that she never wanted to be a mother or raise another woman’s child.

He couldn’t believe how she could abandon him like that.

How she could abandon their boys like that.

She paid child support but didn’t visit the boys and rarely called them.

Jax had to watch his sons cry every night and ask why Mommy left them. And supporting them was all he had to keep from spiraling. His sons needed him.

He could still feel the sting of his mother’s slap all these years later from when he was already giving up on Abel right after he was born with severe health risks.

That sting which had literally knocked some sense into him had saved him from that spiral. And he had thought that his heart had hardened completely to love. And then he met his new neighbor. A child psychologist of all things.

Meeting when her chocolate lab, Makoto, dug under the fence to play with his boys.

He remembered how she blushed telling him she named the dog after her favorite character from an anime she loved. Makoto Kino, Sailor Jupiter, from Sailor Moon. He’d never heard of the show but asked then listened as she explained why she liked the character. All while his sons ran around and played with the playful and lovable dog.

Everything from there moved so smoothly.

She gave him gentle advice with ways of helping the boys cope without the only mother they had ever known. She would watch them if he needed help. It had even become a habit of hers when she took Makoto for a walk to stop by and and pick up the boys to bring with her.

He didn’t realize that he had fallen for her until the first party his mother had invited her too. Trying to get him to make a move. She’d realized how he was feeling before he did. As usual.

When he saw her laughing while talking to some of the guys. And how she could shoot a damn good game of pool.

She fit in better than anyone before. Better than Wendy and definitely better than Tara.

They spent the night in his dorm. They didn’t even have sex that night, rather made out like teenagers and lay side by side talking into the early hours of the morning and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

She kissed him goodbye that morning as she drove home to check on her dog. (Who was a total hit with the guys as well as his kids).

He took her on an official first date the week after.

A month later they were official.

A year later she was moving into his home.

Three months after that she found out she was pregnant.

One month after finding out he proposed.

Seven months after that their daughter Serena was born.

Now three months later they were planning a real wedding. And he was so happy to come home to a house full of love and peace.

(Name) brought him peace.

Something he hadn’t ever truly known.

He came home to a house where there was food cooking and happy children and a dog. A picket fence life he was shocked to find he liked.

Today he walked in to smell a roast in the oven, it was one of her favorite things to make on her days off. He grinned as he heard the excited voices of his sons in the living room. He walked in and laughed as he saw boxes of pony beads all over the table and floor a tub of already made bracelets on the table. His sons jumped up and ran over to hug him screaming happily.

“Did a craft store blow up in here?” He teased his fiancé.

“I am making friendship bracelets for the preteen and teen group therapy day camp I’m doing this summer. It starts tomorrow and A goal of mine is that the first bracelet they get from will be from me but will not be the last.” She explained looking up at him and smiling.

She finished tying the stretchy thread on the bracelet she had just made and put it in the tub. She stood up and walked over to press a kiss to his lips.

“Thomas and Abel wanted to play too so they made some pipe cleaner charms that I can use as reward badges for the kids I’m counseling.” She said, “And they are the best little helpers.”

Jax smiled, “They’re the best boys ever.” He said making the boys grin, “How about you two go play with Koto out back.”

The boys cheered and ran out the backdoor to do just that. Jax wrapped his arms around (Name) and kissed her once more. She smiled, the love she felt from him made her heart swell. Before they could say or do anything else the sounds of Serena fussing through the baby monitor on the table had them breaking apart and laughing.

“Go check on our girl, I’ll watch our boys.” (Name) said making Jax beam at her as she called Thomas and Abel her boys.

—

(Name) didn’t return to the beads and bracelets until after all the kids had been put in bed for the night. Jax joined her in the den smiling as she went back to work on her project while they had a movie playing on the TV. He just watched her though, smiling.

“You want to make one?” She asked without looking up from her current bracelet.

“Nah, I’m not creative like you.” He said.

“Come on, have some fun.” (Name) teased and stuck her tongue out at him.

Jax laughed, “Alright, alright, you win.” He teased.

“Always do.” She giggled, “Won you didn’t I?”

“Won me, huh? I mean I am a prize catch.” He laughed with that cocky grin she loved so much.

“I mean, you’re a little banged up for a trophy...but...definitely more than a consolation prize.” She winked.

“Banged up?” He asked.

“Three baby mamas, three kids, soon to be three wives?” She joked.

“Ha, okay, I get it, I got some mileage on me.” He admitted, “But I mean...third time’s the charm right?”

“Oh my god!” (Name) laughed and shook her head, bumping his knee with her shoulder from her place on the floor, “Asshole.”

“You love me.” He said leaning down and kissing her temple.

“I do.” She said and turned her head to catch his lips with a kiss before he sat back up.

They sat in silence for a moment while he worked on his bracelet. Taking more letter beads than she expected. She wondered what he was making. He watched how she tied it off and followed along. He sat back when he was done, playing with the bracelet he had made.

When she finished for the night and stood up stretching he helped her pick up and shut the movie off. He went to put her tub of bracelets in the trunk she had in their bedroom for all of her work craft stuff. Before they went to check on all the kids.

Stopping first at the boys room they peeked in the cracked door. Abel, Thomas, and Makoto were all curled up in Abel’s toddler bed sleeping soundly. Jax smiled at the sight. The soft shine of their motorcycle shaped night light glowing to keep the monsters of their nightmares away.

They checked on Serena who was sleeping so deeply. They watched her for a moment, arms around each other. Her soft baby snores warning their hearts.

“We made that.” Jax murmured.

“We did. And she’s perfect. So are the boys. Our family is perfect.” (Name) said.

Jax smiled and kissed her quickly before they walked back to their bedroom and he grabbed her wrist before she could pull her pajamas out of the dresser.

“Hey, I never showed you the bracelet I made.” He said.

“It’s not in that tub is it?” (Name) laughed because finding it would be nearly impossible.

“No, I kept it out, because I made it for you.” He said.

She let him slip it on her wrist and when she read it she laughed.

THIRD TIMES THE CHARM

Was spelled out in black and white plastic beads surrounded with light pink and dark green pony beads. He remembered the colors Sailor Jupiter wears. She laughed and shoved his shoulder playfully.

“How romantic.” She teased.

“I’m all about that fairy tail, baby.” he said and pulled her into a kiss.

She laughed and called him an idiot against his lips before kissing back.

—

The next morning (Name) was getting ready when Jax woke up. She kissed him and promised to be home by six. She was going to be dropping the kids off with Gemma while she worked at her day camp.

He kissed her again and said he would see her that evening.

He helped her get the kids ready and into the car before waving as she drove off. A smile stayed on his lips.

Not in the least because when he leaned in to kiss her through her car window he saw that she was wearing that silly little kandi bracelet he had made her the night before.

End.

[xh3llfir3x]

𝚃𝚒𝚐 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

“𝙷𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜”

𝙽𝚜𝚏𝚠 𝟷𝟾+

You let out a aggravated sigh as you rested your head against the barely working ac unit. This had been the first trip to Nevada you agreed to go on with Tig and you had already been regretting it.

Sure the bike ride from charming had been amazing. You couldn’t get over the rush that ran through your body as you rode on the back of Tigs bike but more than anything you couldn’t get over the fact that you would actually be spending time with your man instead of him just taking off for days.

Well,that’s what you had thought at least.

Tig had made it clear from the moment you got to the motel that this wasn’t going to be some kind of vacation. That he was there for business and he would be taking off throughout the day to handle that. You understood but what you didn’t understand was the fact he had been gone since 8 yesterday morning and it was now nearing midnight the next day.

The thought of it made your jaw clench. You were so mad at Tig and not only that but the heat of the motel room had only made your aggravation worse.

“Fuck this room.”

You stood up from your spot in front of the ac and grabbed the motel key off the bedside table,slamming the door to the room behind you. The night air of Nevada felt nice against your sweat drenched body. You let out a sigh and looked around,not really sure what you wanted to do out of the room.

The barely two star motel Tig had you all staying at was practically dead. Only three cars parked in the lot and you were sure two of those were workers.

Your eyes scanned the area until you landed on the pool. Remembering earlier you had put on the bikini you bought for this trip when you went out to tan.

“Bingo” you thought out loud and made your way towards it.

As you neared the gate to get in,the sound of Tigs engine broke the silence. You looked behind you and watched as he pulled up. Knowing that he had for sure seen you, you rolled your eyes and continued going for the pool.

“Hey doll!”

You heard Tig call out from behind you but you ignored it.

Your white tank top was stuck to your skin from sweat so you peeled it off,tossing it on a tattered up beach chair. Your American print bikini top that barely covered your breast was all Tig could see as he now walked over.

“Y/n,” Tig called out again “I’m sorry I was gone so long. You wouldn’t believe everything that has happened.”

He pushed himself through the gate and went to walk up to you but you had already finished stripping off your denim shorts and jumped into the pool. Making sure to splash him with water as you did so. You emerged from the water and glared up at him.

“Are you ignoring me?” He asked with an irritated sigh and crossing his arms against his chest.

You huffed “Tig for once I wish you would actually enjoy some time with me.”

You swam away from the side Tig stood and faced the other way,resting your elbows against the side of the concrete pool.

“C’mon doll I told you I wasn’t here for fun.”

You rolled your eyes and continued to ignore him. Silence clung the air and for a moment you thought he had gone back to the room defeated until you heard the clinging of chains and a zipper coming undone.

You looked back in curiosity and was met with quite the surprise. Tig stood there in nothing but his boxers

“What are you doing?” You asked completely forgetting that you were ignoring him.

Tig chuckled as he stood there with his hand on his hip before walking towards the pool stairs.

“I’m spending time with my ol’lady. Is that alright with her?”

You nodded and watched him get in the pool and swim over towards you. He stood in front of you now,his hands instantly resting against your hips under the water and pulling you closer to him.

“I’m really sorry y/n. I wish I didn’t have to do all the things I have to. I hope you know that if I could spend all the time in the world with you I would.”

For once his blue eyes showed a sign of empathy and sincerity. You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip, wanting nothing more but to still punish him, but you just couldn’t.

Moments like these were rare and you didn’t want to ruin it by being stubborn. You stood up on the tips of your toes and kissed him. You both kissed for some time in the middle of the pool. His hands stayed against your hips as he gradually pulled you closer against his body.

Before long you couldn’t help but to chuckle as something familiar had began to press against you.

“Tiggy?” You asked in between kisses. He hummed in response as he moved from kissing your lips to your neck.

“Maybe you and your friend down there should probably contain yourselves until we get back in the room.”

“Absolutely not.” He replied against your neck,biting onto a sweet spot as he did so.

You moaned out in response nearly melting from his sudden action.

“What if people see?” You asked but Tig had already moved his hands into your bathing suit bottoms.

“Let em see.”

His fingers ran against your slick slit before running around your sensitive clit. He knew your body more than you did and knew exactly how to get you going to not have a care in the world except pleasure.

You moaned and nestled your face in the crook of his neck as he worked his magic.

Before long he had two fingers pumping in and out of you. Making you tremble and cling onto him from the pleasure. You hadn’t even noticed that he had slowly been moving you towards the edge of the pool until your back hit the hard edge of it.

“I’m gonna make sure you’re so happy,doll” was all Tig said as he swiftly pulled the stings to your bathing suit bottom making them come undone.

His lips came back to yours and he used his tongue to explore the inside of it leaving you almost dizzy from excitement.

As he kissed you he pulled one of your legs to the side of him,lifting you up in the process and pulling your hips close to his.

You felt his hard erection at your entrance before he slammed into you. You cried out from the sudden mixture of pain and pleasure. He knew doing that made you crazy. Your hands were now gripping the edge of the pool as his hips slammed into yours,making you whine and moan from the intense feeling.

“Fuck you’re so tight baby.” Tig moaned out as he held your leg close against him. His thrust were so fast and rough and it had you wanting to already come undone from it.

He was so good and he knew it. It was something that Tig knew all too well and that something was if he couldn’t do anything right he knew he could have you coming and screaming his name.

He felt you tighten against his thick dick and smirked

“C’mon baby girl,” he grunted “cum all over my dick.”

His words and sudden deep depth had that ball in your stomach tighten to the point your head was thrown back in pleasure. Crying out his name and breathing heavily you came hard.

The feeling of you releasing against his dick and the look of euphoria on your face because of him had Tig cumming in an Instant.

He breathed out heavily almost panting as he rested his face on your chest. He was dizzy from pleasure and stood there with you like that for a few moments,soaking in the moment with you.

“I love you Tiggy. I really do.” You broke the silence followed by a small kiss to his now messy dark curls.

Tig looked up at you with hazey eyes. The feeling from his release mixed with the feeling of absolute love and happiness had him feeling high and he couldn’t do anything but smile in that moment.

He finally locked his lips with yours,kissing you with the most love he’s ever had before.

“God,” he murmured “I love you too y/n. How’s about we get out this pool and go lay down?” You giggled

“only if you can find my bathing suit bottoms for me?”

[dazed-and-confused23]

"Bring her in"

Part 2

"We have never had a female prospect, let alone a woman within the club. So why would we start now?" Bobby demands and eyes Clay and Jax at the top of the table when they just look at him, brows raised and exasperated, he huffs and leans back in his chair, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"All I'm saying is I think it's a bad idea."

"I second that," Opie murmurs across from him and ignores the betrayed head tilt from Jax. He shrugs a shoulder, "Shit we do is dangerous, always has been. I don't feel comfortable putting a woman at risk like that."

Chibs grunts in agreement beside him, arms crossed and a heavy frown on his scarred face. All eyes turn to Juice when the young man speaks up.

"I think it'd be a good idea. Not everything can be solved by the way we do things. No one expects a woman to do the things we do."

There are several nods around the table at his point. There were several situations SAMCRO has faced that could have been solved with a woman's touch, and not from one of their old ladies. Jax leans forward, hand clasped in front of him as he looks at each member of the M.C.

"And that's what we need more of. Smart, capable people who have the club in their best interest. She's got that in her. I can tell, and so can Clay."

As one, the inner members turn and look at the president. Clay sighs heavily and nods after a long moment of silence."

"I don't like it either, but our Vice President isn't wrong. SAMCRO is growing, and we need to be stronger. If bringing a woman into the club is the way to go - well, so be it."

Clay waits for any other objections before continuing, 'Let's vote.'

"They go around the table, receiving yea's from Clay, Tig, Piney, Happy, Juice, and Jax. Chibs, Opie, and Bobby vote in the negative, but the majority has ruled. Clay raises the gavel and smacks it down."

"Bring her in.”

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @tommyflanaganfan-blog @tuesdayaddamss @youngadult9016 @jozzieblood @staley83 @bethexo07 @kellynickelsgirl00 @prettylittlepsycho03 @emeraldpeache @scream4mami @dixonsbridexx @ravennaortiz @buckysteveloki-me @themarvelousmaks @bubblegirll26 @thvxr @death-in-a-tar0t-card @plaidconvers

-------------------------------------------

TW: cussing, prison, angst, fluff, firearms, Tig (man should be a damn warning!)

Part 6

Whiskey & Wee Things - Part 7

The morning sun stretched across Gemma’s kitchen in lazy streaks of gold, casting soft shadows across the counter piled with Tupperware, juice boxes, and sandwiches in Ziplocs.

The clatter of movement echoed around the warm kitchen space—a strange mix of domestic calm and underlying nerves.

You stood near the counter, biting your lip as you double-checked Abel’s backpack—a mothering instinct, despite the fact that you weren’t his mom.

Tara was brushing the boy’s hair at the table, murmuring something gentle, while Gemma lit a cigarette at the sink, one hip cocked, eyeing you in that assessing, queen-bee way of hers.

The kitchen smelled like coffee, leather jackets, and toast.

You glanced at the clock. “He should be back soon, right?” you asked softly.

Gemma smirked, exhaling smoke. “Honey, he’d miss this trip over my dead body.”

The sound of a Harley rolling up out front answered your question before Gemma could.

The growl of that Dyna’s engine was distinct—a low rumble with a temper, much like its rider. You felt your stomach flutter—not with fear, not anymore.

Just anticipation.

Relief.

Safety.

And then—

The door creaked open.

“Jesus Christ,” Chibs muttered in that unmistakable thick Glasgow accent, “smells like a bleedin’ bakery in here.”

You turned to see him striding in, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. His expression softened the moment he saw you, his voice shifting from club-business to something quieter.

“A’right, Mo Chridhe ?” he asked, stepping close, eyes darting down your form quickly.

You nodded, “We’re almost ready. I packed Abel’s bag and yours too Scotsman.”

“Did ye now?” he said with a hint of amusement, but there was something else in his tone—something prideful.

He glanced over at Gemma and Tara, then back at you. “Didn’t think I’d let ye ride up without me, did ye?”

You shook your head, trying not to grin too much. He took a step closer and lowered his voice, so only you could hear.

“Ain’t lettin’ ye outta my sight, love.” He murmured with a gentle press of his lips to your temple.

Chibs' bike gleamed. You opened one of the saddlebags to gently tuck in the sandwiches and a hoodie, just in case the weather turned on the way back.

He was already strapping down a first aid kit—always prepared now.

Since you.

He moved with the ease of a man who’d done this for decades, but when he looked at you, his hands slowed.

His eyes softened.

Even now, even with the weight of the whole club on his shoulders—he was watching you like you were his whole world.

Chibs reached over and adjusted the helmet strap under your chin, careful not to touch the scar extending from your lip.

You flinched only slightly.

“No’ too tight, yeah?” he murmured, brow furrowed.

You nodded. “It’s okay, Filip. Just ... self-conscious.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead lightly to yours, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yer still my right fierce wee thing."

You didn’t have words. You didn’t need them.

You rode behind him, arms tight around his waist, your cheek resting against his kutte.

The rumble of the bike wasn’t scary anymore, it was hard to remember a time when it frightened you at all now.

Not with your biker.

He was a wall of heat and leather and muscle beneath you, your world narrowed to the blur of the road and the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

He adjusted his speed for you—not fast and wild like with the boys. This wasn’t a run. It was something gentler. Protection in motion.

At one point, he tilted his head slightly, voice raised over the wind.

“Still with me, Mo Chridhe ?”

You nodded against him, and he reached down to squeeze your hands, before the lights changed to green.

Stockton State Prison feels like a different kind of battlefield as you and Chibs pull into the visitor lot. It's a far cry from the soft warmth of Abel’s birthday party or the shared laughter in the clubhouse.

This place carries a chill, even under the sun—steel fences stacked with coiled razor wire, looming guard towers, and a silence too heavy for a place meant for living men.

The moment you step off the bike, the difference settles in your bones. There’s a tension in the air, thick and grim, but Chibs walks beside you like armor made flesh—kutte on, jaw tight, and eyes constantly scanning.

His hand never leaves your waist.

Tara waves you both over, Abel in her arms with his little hand smacking her shoulder in excitement.

Gemma’s already lit a cigarette even though the "No Smoking" signs are everywhere. She looks you over with a motherly glance.

As you step toward the entrance, a stocky guard with mirrored sunglasses and a buzz cut holds out a hand to stop you.

"Step to the side, miss. Need to do a pat down."

You blink, startled. “Oh—um… I—okay.” You glance up at Chibs instinctively. He’s standing just behind you, every muscle wound tight.

The guard doesn’t explain further—just gives you a look like you’re another box to tick off, like you’re not a person but a potential threat or some trash they expect to be hiding something in her bra.

His hands are impersonal, but rough, and the gesture alone—being touched by a stranger in this place, under this roof—makes your stomach knot.

You're trying not to flinch.

Trying not to pull away. But you can feel heat climbing your neck and pooling behind your eyes.

Then comes the guards muttered comment, to a younger less experienced guard behind the booth.

“Always got to check the women extra careful.”

It’s low. Not meant to be heard. But it still stings.

You don’t even understand what he means fully, but it sounds dirty. Like an accusation.

You glance back and catch your bikers eye.

His jaw flexes like granite. His nostrils flare. The muscle in his temple pulses like a warning light.

But he doesn’t say anything.

Not here.

Not with the risk of getting thrown out and losing the visit.

He just steps forward—close—and puts a hand on the small of your back.

Firm.

Steady.

“Ye alright, Mo Chridhe ?” His voice is quiet but razor sharp beneath the brogue, a steadying warmth against your temple.

You nod—and he guides you past the checkpoint without another word, his arm settling protectively around you like a silent vow.

The clang of the prison gates echoed behind you like the toll of a warning bell, but Chibs’ hand on your lower back was steady, grounding. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t pause.

He walked like a man used to this place, used to the weight of concrete walls and men’s eyes tracking his every move. But now, there was something different in his gait—a slight stiffness to his shoulders, a protective tension you hadn’t seen before.

Because you were here.

You kept close to his side, your frame dwarfed by the looming, sterile walls of Stockton. Your fingers brushed his kutte now and again—not to get his attention, but to remind yourself you were still tethered to something safe.

Abel squealed as soon as he saw Jax, running across the visitation room with Tara in slow, graceful steps behind him.

The reunion was all warmth and relief—a pocket of joy in a room heavy with the scent of disinfectant and tension.

Jax knelt to hug his son tight, burying his face in Abel’s little shoulder before standing to greet Tara, one hand instinctively rubbing the curve of her growing baby bump.

“Little Tigger in there?” he asked with a half-smirk, his voice cracking just a little.

Tara rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched. “Jesus you’re not naming him after Tig.”

Across the room, Clay was already lighting up at the sight of Gemma. He rose with a grunt, hands rough and eager, tugging her into a firm embrace.

She almost ran to him heels clicking agasint the concrete of the visitors room, her expression soft but unreadable.

And then Clay looked past them.

Straight at Chibs.

You stood near the end of the long table, hands clasped politely in front of you, eyes flicking between Gemma fussing with Abel’s shoelace and Tara’s quiet laughter as she let Jax feel the baby kick.

You weren’t watching the center of the room. Not really. Not the part where Clay leaned forward in his seat, voice lowered, tapping a finger on the tabletop in short, clipped motions.

That’s where Chibs was. Listening. Jaw set. Leaning forward, elbows on the steel table, sleeves pushed up. The way his eyes narrowed told you one thing, that conversation wasn’t meant for your ears.

And someone else noticed that too.

“Hey,” Tig said softly, giving you a crooked, almost playful smile. “Arent you meant to be visiting me Sweetheart?”

You blinked, coming back to earth. “S-shit sorry Tig.”

“Your at the staring stage huh ?,” he said, tipping his head slightly, eyes dancing. "Dangerous stage, that shit leads to love.”

You let out a small laugh, at Tigs exaggerated comical shudder.

Tig’s expression softened then, and for a split second, the humor dropped. His eyes landed on your cheek—the one Jimmy had marked. He didn’t stare too long. But you saw it. The flicker of shame. The guilt he hadn’t quite exhaled.

“I shoulda been faster,” he murmured.

You tilted your head. “You did everything you could, Tig.”

“You don’t get it, do you?,” he said, flashing you that crooked grin again, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “ If I was quicker, you’d still be perfect.”

You reached out gently, touching his arm. “Stop that, if you weren't there I might've had more then just this.” You say pointing to the small curved scar.

Tig cleared his throat, suddenly animated again. “Hey—wanna hear something funny? Juice shaved his head again. Looks like a damn milk dud. We callin’ him Skittle ‘til he gets his head gets it's color back.”

You blinked, laughed softly. “You’re fucking horrible.”

“Only when I’m conscious,” he winked.

You didn’t notice it, but across the room, Chibs had looked up. His eyes zeroed in on the two of you—your shy laugh, Tig’s loose shoulders, the way your hand squeezed Tigs in quiet reassurance.

Clay leaned in, dropping the warmth like a mask slipping off. “We got word from Lin’s guy on the outside,” he said low, voice sharp. “Russians are sniffing around again. Same crew Jimmy was playin’ footsie with.”

Chibs’ posture changed, subtly. His spine straightened. His fists curled just slightly.

“Why am I only hearin’ about this now?” he asked, voice like cold gravel. His eyes darkened.

“Because they’re offering product. And we need it,” Clay said bluntly. “It’s a good deal. All eyes are on us in here. The Irish can’t move right now.”

Jax added quietly, “We can’t afford to pass it up, Chibs. This keeps the club’s cash flow alive while we’re locked up.”

Chibs didn’t answer right away. A storm brewing behind his eyes.

The thought of shaking hands with the same scum Jimmy once drank with—it clawed at him.

But the weight of leadership didn’t care about emotions.

“They were Jimmy’s people,” he said quietly, accent thicker now with emotion. “Ye remember what he did. To her.”

Clay shifted, exhaling through his nose like a bull starting to stir.

“Don’t go soft on me now, Chibs.”

But Chibs didn’t blink. Didn’t waver.

“She was barely breathin’ when I found her." His voice cracked—just a little—before he forced it back down, jaw tight.

"You want me to sit across a table from the bastards who helped Jimmy carve her up?”

Even Clay’s face flinched slightly at the weight in Chibs’ voice. But it was gone just as quick, replaced by that familiar sneer of power and necessity.

“You’re the interim President, not the real one. You’re wearing the patch, but that doesn’t mean you get to make the hard calls without remembering whose seat you're keeping warm.”

The words hit like a slap. Cold. Deliberate.

Chibs blinked slowly, fury simmering behind his eyes.

Clay leaned forward. “This is the club’s survival, Chibs. Not your vendetta. Not the time for you to get soft over some gash.”

Chibs leaned back like he’d been punched.

“That gash, is my Old Lady” he said, voice hoarse. “You think I don’t know the cost? I stitched up what those bastards did to her.”

His voice dropped, slow and full of gravel now. “And ye want me tae make this deal?”

“You’re the Interim President, brother,” Clay said, and something in his tone felt like a test. “This one’s on you.”

Chibs tilted his head. “Aye,” he said at last, voice low. “Any o’ those bastards mention Jimmy... they’ll be bleedin’ out on the floor before they finish the sentence.”

Clay grunted, satisfied. “Then we understand each other.”

Later that night, Gemma had gone to bed early, Tara had taken Abel back home, and the house was quiet in that strange way old houses get—settled deep into the bones of the earth.

You stood in the living room, arms wrapped around yourself, staring at a photo of Jax as a boy. Chibs watched you from the hallway, leaned against the doorframe with his kutte half off, heavy with the day.

He didn’t speak. Not right away. Just looked at you like he was memorizing something that might vanish.

You turned, startled slightly to see him there.

“Ye cannae sleep?” he asked gently.

“I haven’t tried yet,” you answered, voice soft. “Too much in my head.”

He nodded once, then slowly crossed the room to you. Not fast, not forceful. Chibs always moved with this strange kind of carefulness around you—like he was afraid he’d knock over something delicate if he moved too hard.

When he reached you, he touched your upper arm lightly.

“Come sit wi’ me,” he said, nodding toward Gemma’s couch.

You followed, curling your legs beside you as he sat close—close enough to feel the warmth of his thigh, the weight of his presence, but still careful not to press too hard.

He hadn’t said much since dinner, just kept glancing over at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“Ye ever wonder why I’ve not brought ye to my bed yet?”

It was true he hadn’t touched you—not really. Not the way you expected he might by now. Not after everything. The scar was healed. Jimmy was gone.

You'd thought perhaps it was the weight of the presidency weighing on him.

But still… nothing more than a brush of knuckles, the soft press of lips to your hair or cheek, a palm against your back. A soft “Mo Chridhe’” whenever you where alone.

But no heat.

No pull of mouths or tangled sheets.

You finally asked, “Do you not want to, Filip?”

His head lifted. Slowly. Like your voice was the only thing holding him together.

“Christ, love,” he said, breath leaving him. “It’s no' that.”

You blinked, looking at him now, heart suddenly loud in your ears.

He smiled a little. Not smug—soft.

“I’ve wanted to,” he admitted. “Christ, I’ve wanted to. Every time ye look at me… it undoes me.”

Your throat tightened. “So why haven’t you?”

He exhaled slowly, eyes flickering down to your hands, your scar, then back up again.

He didn’t touch you right away. Just stared at the floor. Then—so gently you almost missed it—

“I’m no' sure I deserve it.”

Your brow furrowed. “Deserve… what, Scotsman?”

“Ye. Night's with ye.” His voice was thick with that low Scottish burr now, gravelly and full of ghosts "Ye look at me like I’m a good man, and I know I’m not. I’ve done things, love Things I don’t even speak of when I’m alone.”

You turned toward him, fingers barely grazing his hand. “But you protect me. You are a good man Filip.”

“That’s just the part o’ me that survived,” he murmured, glancing at your touch. “The rest? It’s all just patched leather and blood. Men like me don’t get soft things. Not without breakin’ ’em.”

You swallowed the scoff in your throat. “You think you’d break me, Scotsman?”

He finally looked at you fully, his eyes shining like old whiskey and pain. “Aye. Scares the absolute shite outta me.”

You gently place a hand over his heart. “I’m not asking you to be perfect, Filip.”

He stared at your hand. “You’ve not been with a man like me. Older. Rough. I wake up reachin’ for guns and fall asleep worryin’ how I’ll keep ye whole, Love”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Aye, but I am.” He smiled faintly, tiredly. “I didn’t want ye to wake up and realize ye’d given your body to a man only to realise there’s younger lads out there. Safer ones. One's outta the life.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his temple.

“I'd still choose you, Filip” you whispered.

He made a soft sound—part breath, part prayer—and slid his arm around you, finally, tucking you against his chest. You could feel the tension in him, the restraint.

How tightly he held everything back. How much love lived beneath the scars and stitched-up edges.

He reached up and touched the side of your face now, thumb just brushing the skin beside your scar.

“I couldn’t take you to bed with anything hangin’ between us,” he continued.

You blinked tears back as you stared at him. The weight of it all—his control, his gentleness, the heat simmering just under the surface—it was almost too much.

“Your my Old Man, Filip,” you whispered.

He searched your face, his own jaw trembling just a little with restraint.

“I know Love, but I had tae say it,” he said finally as he rested his forehead against yours.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Handled.

You and Chibs have been walking the line for a little too long.

Pairing - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention.

Word Count - 1.5k ish??

Author's Note - I can only apologise for the wild gif, but I saw it and couldn't not use it. this fic is based on this request!! thank you for this message my love - it sparked so many thoughts. I made chibs a little sweeter than I meant to, oops.

Masterlist. Inbox.

The wind whips through your hair as you speed down the road, sunlight beaming down and warming you both.

You have your helmet tightly strapped on your head, a gift from the man currently in front of you on the bike. He'd grumbled as he'd given it to you, mumbling something about someone has to keep you fuckin' safe and last thing we need is an injury to your pretty face.

It's a complicated relationship you have, to say the least. You're not together. No, Chibs is still technically married to Fiona, and he's not exactly the boyfriend type. You're not sure what you want, reluctant to commit to dating a member of the club and all of the danger that comes along with it.

So, you dance the line. The two of you flirt, laughing and touching. You get close, and then you pull away. You wonder if one day, he'll just crack. He knows that if he starts something, he'll have to finish it. He's not a man who works in halves.

Chibs occasionally takes a hand off the handlebars to squeeze your thigh, a silent communication. He's asking are you okay? And you're reaching forward to squeeze his in reply, answering yeah, I am.

Your arms are wrapped around his middle, safe and secure. You can feel the taut muscles of his back and shoulders through the leather jacket that you're pressed against. You know how big he is - tall and broad and unwavering in the face of danger. He's ruthless, and it turns you on. It probably shouldn't, but it does.

The next time he reaches back to squeeze your thigh, you graze your fingernails along the muscle of his before squeezing back much further up. You feel the tension instantly, his back tightening in front of you. You smirk and hold on again, acting like nothing happened.

He's curious, now. Testing the waters. He squeezes your leg again, firmly, and you squeeze back so high that your fingertips graze his bulge. His breath hitches, and you feel it. You grin.

He pinches your thigh this time, sharply. A warning.

One that you ignore. You dance your fingertips higher, lightly stroking across the tent in his jeans, nails scraping the denim. He hums, low and dangerous, vibrations rumbling through the both of you.

You return your hands to his torso, clinging on tightly as you curve around the bends, scenery flying by. You're back at the clubhouse before you know it, the journey as quick as the blink of an eye.

You act like nothing has happened as you get off the bike. You know the two of you have just crossed a line, moving from friendship to something more. You don't want to address it. So, you hang your helmet onto the handlebars and go to walk away, in desperate need of a drink.

A strong hand grabs your wrist, spinning you back around. You collide with a hard chest, a soft oof leaving you. Chibs looks you up and down slowly, gaze raking across your body and stopping at your mouth. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip before pulling you in closer, hands snaking around your back.

"Where do you think you're goin'?"

You take a deep breath and exhale it in a shudder.

"... Inside?"

"Nuh uh," he tuts, tracing patterns across your skin absentmindedly. "You don't get to pull a stunt like that and just walk away."

You decide to play clueless, hoping it'll get you off easier.

"A stunt like what?"

He pulls you in closer again, so your bodies are pressed against each other. No space between you.

"Oh, sweetheart. This innocent act might work on other people, but it doesn't work on me. I see right through ya."

You find a shred of confidence from somewhere, determined to make him sweat a little. You enjoy getting under his skin.

"And what do you see, Filip? Hmm?"

He smirks, mischievous and knowing.

"I see a strong, independent woman, who wants - no, sorry - needs, someone to put her in her place."

You raise your eyebrows at him, so he keeps going.

"You want to be broken apart and put back together again. You enjoy pushing my buttons, trying to get a rise from me, don't you? You think it's fun. But you've got no fuckin' idea about the things I want to do to you, honey. I'm not sure you want to know."

You're panting, now, your chest heaving with anticipation.

"Tell me," you whisper. "Tell me what you want to do to me. Please."

"Please? You wanna be polite now?"

You practically pout at him, big doe eyes begging him to just give in. But Filip Telford is nothing if not stubborn. He is, in fact, the most adamant person you've ever met.

"Chibs."

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Don't be mean."

"Mean? This ain't mean, baby. You're just used to everyone being sweet to you because you're pretty."

You smile, now. That's a pleasant surprise.

"You think I'm pretty?"

He rolls his eyes at you, chuckling.

"I think you know that by now."

"It's just nice to hear you say it."

He leans forward, pressing his mouth to your ear.

"You know what? Yeah. Let's go inside."

Chibs grabs your hand and leads you with him, pulling you at a quick pace across the yard. When you reach the door, he pulls it open for you, gesturing for you to enter first. Ever the gentleman.

The clubhouse is empty, which makes a change. The minute you’re inside, you feel two hands on your hips, pushing your back into the bar.

“You really wanna know?”

His accent has got thicker, tone low and dangerous.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please. Tell me.”

“You’ll never look at me the same,” he begins, leaning down to speak right into your ear. “When you hear what I want to do to you.. the things I’ve thought about… you won’t be able to look me in the eye, sweetheart.”

You chuckle, tilting your head back to look at his face.

“I think you underestimate me a little, Chibs. Wait until you hear the things I’ve thought about in bed at night, when I can’t sleep.”

He presses a kiss into your neck, nipping at it gently. You groan at the contact, tilting your head to give him better access. One of his hands trails down your side, popping the button on your jeans with ease.

“Gonna take the edge off,” he murmurs, “and then fuck you the way you deserve when I get you home. Alright?”

You nod frantically, gripping onto his biceps to keep you upright. You rest your head against his chest, taking a deep breath to calm down.

“Chibs?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Will you kiss me?”

He smiles at you, all genuine and soft for a moment.

“Yeah, babe. I’ll kiss you. Been waiting for you to ask for a long time.”

He adds the last part quietly, as if he’s embarrassed to say it out loud. He leans down and presses his lips to yours, more tender than you were expecting. You hum in contentment, opening up to let him slip his tongue in. He tilts your head back, licking into your mouth all filthy and debauched.

One of his hands slips into the front of your jeans, tracing you over your underwear. You both groan at the action, lips still connected.

“Fuck, sweetheart. This all for me, hmm?”

You nod almost instantly, resting your head back on his chest. Chibs slips his hand under your waistband, gathering your slick before sliding a finger inside with ease.

“Knew you’d feel like this. Wet and warm and tight and fuckin’ perfect.”

You whine, winding your hips down to chase any friction he’ll give you.

“You’re filthy, darlin’. Letting me finger you in the clubhouse, huh? What if someone walks in, hmm? What if someone sees you like this?”

“Don’t care,” you choke out. “More, please.”

He chuckles darkly, slipping another finger in while rubbing at your clit in circles with his thumb. Your knees buckle, shaking as you grab onto him for dear life.

“I’ve got ya,” he’s murmuring into your ear, crooking his fingers. “I’ve always got ya.”

He speeds up his movements, leaning in to press open mouthed kisses down your neck. He nips you with his teeth occasionally, making you whine all high pitched and breathy. You know you’re gonna smell like cigarettes and gasoline for the foreseeable future.

“You’re close, aren’t ya? Can feel it, pretty girl. Give it to me.”

Chibs snakes his unoccupied hand around your back, holding you up as your legs shake. You fall over the edge, gasping into his chest as he mutters sweet nothings.

“There we go, atta girl. Good fuckin’ girl, hmm?”

You’re nodding, collapsing forwards against him. He pulls his hand from your jeans and instantly puts his fingers in his mouth, making your knees even weaker.

“Kiss me,” you whisper once again.

He obliges, softly connecting your lips. It’s gentle and careful and much more loving than you were expecting, but you’re not complaining. Not in the slightest.

“Now, darlin’. I’m gonna stick you back on that bike, take you home, and fuck you like you deserve. Okay?”

“Okay,” you grin at him, laughing when he chuckles.

You’d have to be insane to deny an offer like that.

@just-a-girl-who-wrytes

[etclouie]

hey, could i get 40 and 41 from the smut prompts with president chibs?

˚୨୧⋆｡ prompt/s; 40) “this isn’t what i had in mind when i yelled fuck you” and 41) “call me that again” — from 150 prompts

˚୨୧⋆｡ warnings; established relationship, husband!chibs x wife!reader, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie + chibs kinda gets reader to lick his fingers clean??, that’s it i’m pretty sure but if not lmk !

˚୨୧⋆｡ a/n; written with this oneshot and the whole fic in mind (tho this doesn’t align with the fic timeline for what i know it as)

— thank you for celebrating 600 with me || submissions are now closed

ever since Chibs had become president, he’d been more stressed than before— which led to more frequent arguments and disagreements between you both. 

which always led to makeup sex between you, like now. 

he had you sat at the edge of the table, your dress hiked up around your hips and your panties stuffed into his back pocket. 

his hips rocking slowly against yours as you clung to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as breathy moans fell from your lips. 

“i know baby”

he whispered, capturing your lips in a kiss as the coil in your belly wound tighter. his thrusts continued at their pace, while your cunt fluttered around him. 

a shaky groan fell from his lips, his forehead pressing to yours and his hands pawing at your hips to pull you closer. 

“this isn’t what i had in mind when i yelled fuck you”

you breathed out, which pulled a chuckle from him. watching him shake his head before he caught your lips again, pouring his need and desperation into the kiss. 

when your cunt clenched around him, it had him hissing. he knew you were both teetering on the edge by now, and he was determined to make you finish first. 

“know you’re there, cum f’me love”

he mumbled, pace picking up ever so slightly and pulling whinier moans from your lips. 

your cunt gripped him like a vice, the sounds of your coupling filling the room alongside your shared moans. 

he pressed his lips to yours again, his tongue moving against yours as he deepened the kiss—muffling your moans in the process as you toppled over the edge. 

cresting over the edge and your cunt gripping him tighter, another hiss leaving his lips as he broke the kiss. 

his head dropped to your shoulder as he chased after his own climax, his thrusts lacking their previous force as he grew closer and closer. 

“gonna finish inside, aye? then later ‘m all yours again”

he murmured against your neck, his voice strained and his cock throbbing inside you. you hummed in response, fingers brushing through his hair while you pressed a kiss to his temple. 

“whatever you say Mr. President”

you told, the words slipping in a teasing tone but you felt the way his hips rolled deeper at the name. 

your fingers in his hair pulled back to meet your eyes, and you hummed at the sight of his pupils blown wider with his lust. 

“call me that again”

he drawled, and it made a shiver run down your spine at the way his voice had dropped an octave. 

you quirked a brow at him but he nodded, capturing your lips in another kiss until you were whispering against his lips. 

“cum inside me Mr. President”

you told, not entirely sure what was doing it for him—but who were you to deny your husband?

he groaned again, his pace faltering once more before he toppled over the edge. his hands gripping tightly at your hips as he spilled himself inside you, followed by a breathy moan as your walls fluttered around him instinctively. 

“christ love”

he murmured, his forehead to your shoulder as his hips rolled slowly until they came to a halt. 

he stayed buried inside for a minute, basking in the throes of both of your climax’s before he reluctantly pulled out. 

a whine leaving you at the loss of him while he shushed you softly, tucking himself back into his jeans and kissing you softly in turn. 

you watched him take a step back before his left hand slid between your thighs, pushing his cum that had spilled from your cunt back into you in one smooth movement. 

lifting his hand from between your legs, his middle and ring finger pushed past your lips— a silent request for you to lick them clean of the remnants of his release. 

“prettiest fuckin’ thing”

he drawled and it had your face heating, almost shying under his gaze. 

you let his fingers fall from your lips, pulling off of the table and pressing a kiss to his lips. 

pulling away from him and grabbing your bag, calling out to him over your shoulder before you left. 

“need to pick up the baby, i’ll see you later Mr. President”

you teased and it had him shaking his head. already counting down the minutes until he got home to have you all to himself again. 

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[wetpussyju1ce]

for @theeternaloptimistt

original post

Jax Teller x Pregnant!fem reader

suggestive content. +18 mdni

the moment jax finds out reader is pregnant, he'll get his shit together for her n the baby, quickly books doctor appointments, gets her vitamins and anything pregnant women need to stay healthy during the pregnancy. he also gets extra protective and some chemicals in his brain shifts where his sense of danger and threat is heightened, or maybe he's just paranoid, but whatever it is, it makes him lowkey dangerous to be around when it has to do anything with his pregnant wife.

he doesn't tolerate mistakes or slip ups when it comes to her, if she's served a beer or something with raw fish in it. and he made sure everyone in the club knew she was pregnant and to be extra careful around her, is that so hard to understand? 

His behaviour gets worse the more she starts to show, he won't even let her walk in the bar anymore because he doesn't want her to inhale the tobacco in the air, or be around stinky sailor-cursing bikers, no offense or anything. But also he really doesn't like how some men look at his wife while she's round and carrying his baby, he knows she's beautiful, a ray of sunshine, and worst of all, even in pregnancy she glows and looks so adorable, and he's a selfish bastard, so he doesn't want to share her with others. 

The only person who can really pry his pretty wife off his hands is his mum, Gemma, and she's so excited to be a grandma. The moment they broke the news to her, she was over the moon, so excited and happy for her son to become a dad. So, at the earliest convenience, she kidnaps Jax’s wife literally out of their bed, while Jax is all groggy and pissed off, hair sticking in all directions, shirtless and georgous. Gemma is literally dancing in their bedroom, with a glass or orange juice in her hand, “Come on, rise and shine, I'm taking you shopping today!”

Jax’s prettiest girl is confused as she sits up in the bed, “How did you get in?”

“Mum, get out,” Jax is not happy at all, glaring at his mum while sitting up in the bed, making sure the sheets stay above his belly button while his wife accepts the glass of orange juice and drinks the whole thing, “Thanks, Gemma, I was thirsty,”

“You were?” Jax rasps, voice deep from sleep, holding his wife's hand in his, trying to blink the sleep away from his eyes. 

“Hm, I was,” His wife nods and he hums, “I'll get you water bottles to keep in the bedroom at night,”

“Thank you,” She smiles and stretches, he watches her stretch her arms above her bed, arching her back and rolling her neck, he suddenly gets the urge to kiss her silly but remembers his mother was still in their bedroom, “Get out!”

“I will! I'll make breakfast, your favourite, so don't go back to sleep,” Gemma says, holding her hands in the air in surrender and slowly backs out of the room, closing the door behind her. 

“How did she even get in? I locked the door yesterday,” Jax asked, running his hands through his hair. 

“You gave her a spare key in case of emergencies, remember?” She says, getting out of the bed and going over to the windows, cracking one of them open to let in fresh air. 

“Does it look like we're having an emergency?” Jax grumbles, annoyed at being woken up before he wakes up on his own, he was planning to sleep in, spend time with his wife and do some planning for the next months but that's all thrown out of the window now because his mum was too excited to call. 

Jax sighs, his shoulders slumping, then he looks up at his pretty wife, wearing one of his old ratty t-shirts and underwear, the fabric hiding the small bump he knew was there. She stood barefoot on the carpet, the sun shining behind her, looking so soft and cute he wanted nothing more than to drag her back in bed and bury himself inside her until they're satisfied. And with that, he feels tingling in his groin and he's reminded of his morning wood, great.

“Do you want to shower together? I'll take care of you,” She smiles and he wants to scream out of the window about how he's the luckiest bastard in the world. So he quickly gets out of the bed, almost tripping on the sheets making his wife giggle. Then he grabs her by the waist and pinches at her sides, making her squeal and laugh, “Stop! Your mum will hear!” 

Jax sighs, right, they had a guest. 

She immediately notices the change of his demeanour and cups his face, “I know you'll talk to her, set boundaries, she knows better than to do that again.”

Jax covers her hands in his, then turns his head, kissing her palm, “Okay, darling,”

“Okay,” She says and he grabs her hands, takes them down from his face and pulls her in the bathroom.

. 

. 

. 

Jax gets cute aggression the bigger his wife gets, and he's shameless with it too, squeezes her tight in his arms, keeps kissing and squishing her cheeks in his hands, bites her thighs when they're at home and coos at her, talks to her like a baby when they're alone, because he enjoys her annoyed reaction to them, but also because he can't help it! When he especially annoys her, she tells him that she's a grown woman who's pregnant because his dick was inside her, and all he does is laugh loudly. 

He's also sweet and patient when she starts to get quickly tired, when her muscles ache and when her feet get sore, also when she's constantly hot and sweating, and all Jax does is buy her more and more of her favourite soaps, shower gels, lotions and shampoos in her favourite scents to make her feel better about the changes in her body. He still loves her either way, and his dick always gets hard when he looks at her, even if she's sweaty and smelly as she claims, but something primal in his brain only understands that she's pregnant, healthy, and his, and that, he really likes. 

As much as her mood swings give her a hard time, with the changes in her hormones and all, Jax finds himself secretly enjoying them, not in a twisted sick way, but in a “my wife cries and I'm the only one who can comfort her” way.

This happens a few times, where he's busy with club activities while she's hanging out with his mum and the other old ladies, then he gets a call from his mum, saying that his wife is crying, sobbing and is on her way to the club, that they tried to stop her but she left anyways. And the first things Jax asks is; is she alone? how is she coming to the club? is she driving??? 

Before any of his questions are answered, he hears her ask for him and he but leaps out of his chair, leaving the meeting they were having and she's right there, dressed like the prettiest thing in the world, her cheeks tender, her nose runny and her eyes glassy and a bit red from crying. As soon as her eyes land on him, she sobs and he quickly goes to her, gathers her in his arms, making sure not to squeeze her bump between them and shushes her, stroking her back, kissing her wet cheeks and letting her burrow in the crook of his neck. 

He ends up sitting somewhere private with her in his lap, sniffling and hiccuping, and Jax doesn't like to see his baby cry, but then he's not too bothered because she's pregnant and if anything bad happened, Gemma would have told him at least.

So he finally asks when she's less frantic, “Why are you crying, babe?”

She freezes and he frowns, squeezing her thigh once, “Are you alright? You can tell me,”

“You'll think it's stupid,” She whispered and he immediately hugged her to his chest, “I'll never, baby, I promise.”

“It's– I read in a magazine about these orphan baby monkeys-” Her voice catches in her throat and she starts crying again, Jax coos, patting her back through her devastated sobs, “There's so much pollution– The poor babies, they're– They're so tiny-” 

“Here, here, I'm sure they'll get rescued and put in a zoo or something,” He says, a small smile on his lips. 

[etclouie-masterlists]

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— * contains smut / suggestive content, warnings posted on each individual fic; read and heed the warnings. all content is 18+, mdni

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[brunettemarionette]

You had spent the night in the dorms with Opie after a long night at the clubhouse, as you knew your brother and the other members would have been too drunk to realize the two of you sneaking away together.

Leaning up to kiss him while the two of you showered, you let out a low moan as he pins your hands above your head, and a spray of water runs over his back.

Someone knocked on the door, "Hey, Ope, you decent?." Jax calls from the hall; your eyes widen when you hear your brother's voice.

"Uh, just in the shower, brother," Opie yells back, eyes widening as you both realize your secret relationship could be caught. "You need something?"

You hear Jax getting closer as the dorm door clicks open, but he stops outside the bathroom door. "Clay wants us to go down to those warehouses again. So say bye to your lady friend, yeah?"

You grimace as you practically hear the smirk in your brother's tone. "Come on, no time for round two," Jax knocks on the door, laughing as he leaves the room.

Looking up at Ope, you realize that the club is already awake, which means they'll be sticking around to see who had managed to get under Opie's skin enough since he hadn't dated much after Donna.

Opie sighs, glancing down at you. "We're screwed, babe".

[short-honey-badger]

Soft spot in a black heart

Pairing: Tig Trager x Female Reader

Summary: Agent Stahl blackmails you and Tig into doing her dirty work and well, things get dirty after the job goes sideways.

Tags: Viginal sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus, pussy drunk Tig, Tig is his warning, possessive behavior, minor character death, and guns. SoA elements.

The two of you stare at Agent Stahl, twin looks of disbelief painting your faces. There was no way that this self-righteous cunt was blackmailing you and Tig into doing her dirty work, but here she was, staring at the both of you with that smug look on her face. She cocks her head to the side and sits back in the booth, pushing forward the manilla folder to your side of the table.

“It’s either this, or both of you face jail time. Actually, most likely the death penalty for all the shit you’ve pulled over the years,” Stahl drawls, and you want to slap the smarmy look right off her damn face.

You see Tig gritting his teeth beside you, his eyes narrowing and knuckles turning white where he grips his dark jeans. He looks seconds away from throwing himself over the table, so you reach out and grip his thigh, ignoring the way he instantly stills under your touch.

You understand his rage, you are just as pissed off. It doesn’t help that the two of you have never gotten on since you joined SAMCRO. The men you now called family weren’t too keen on having a woman out doing the dirty work, but Clay allowed you to stay, so all they could really do was bitch about it.

“We’ll do it,” you hiss lowly and snatch the folder with your free hand, pushing it inside your leather jacket, “But this makes us even.”

Stahl smirks, satisfied, and crosses her arms over her chest, “Good. Glad to see that someone in that little club of yours has some sense.”

You sneer, eyes narrowing, and slide out of the booth, flipping her the bird in response as you lope out of the cafe you and Tig had met her in.

Tig crowds you against his bike the moment the two of you are outside, lips pulled up in a snarl and eyes blazing with fury. His hands land on his seat, bracketing you in as he looms over your smaller form. You stare right back, trying your damnedest not to be intimidated by the dangerous man.

“Don’t you ever speak for me again, _. You’re at the bottom of this food chain, don’t forget that,” Tig snarls down at you, and you grit your teeth, hands coming up and shoving at his chest. Surprisingly, he allows you to push him away from you.

“You would’ve gotten us locked up and killed Tig. I did us a favor,” you hiss and shove past the sergeant-at-arms. You can feel his eyes on you as you sling a leg over the seat of your bike, then slide your helmet over your head, glaring at him from behind the visor, “I’ll see you at the clubhouse.”

Tig snarls wordlessly and kicks the road. He’s pissed that they were being blackmailed, but he was more furious over the fact that you had been roped into this. He’d be stuck with a woman when this was a man’s world that you lived in. It was bad enough that Stahl had shit on them, but working with you was the last straw.

It wasn’t like Tig hated you, far from it in reality. He actually found you incredibly fucking hot, and his cock still hadn’t gone down from where you’d grabbed his thigh in the diner. There was a soft spot for you deep in his black heart, and Tig didn’t want to see you hurt. Not when he knew that everyone got hurt in this line of business.

Tig would much rather see you dressed in skimpy clothes, waiting for him back at the clubhouse, that infuriating smirk on your face, and a beer in hand. He’d never had an old lady before, had never wanted one, but you? Damn it all, Tig Trager wanted you to be his.

He huffs at himself and slides onto his bike. There was no point in dreaming when you didn’t want anything to do with a man like him. Tig shoves those thoughts away and kicks off in the direction of the clubhouse. Clay would be waiting for him.

-----

Two days later found you and Tig cruising down the highway, the sun shining and heating the blacktop. Any other day and it would be a nice day to go for a ride, but the knowledge of being under Stahl's thumb made you a cranky bastard. It didn't help that Tig had literally dragged you out of bed this morning.

The sergeant of arms had burst into your room like he owned the place, ripping the blanket off you and sending you sprawling to the floor in all your naked glory. Your being nude must have caught Tig off guard because you'd gotten a jacket thrown in your face and got to witness a blush spread across his face as he demanded that you hurry up and get ready. You'd blinked at him, confused why your being nude had affected Tig so much before, ultimately shrugging and taking your time in getting ready.

Afterwards, you'd tried to give him back his leathers, you had your own after all, but he ignored you each time, so you'd shrugged and just kept it slung around your shoulders. It was honestly comfy, all warm and cozy-like.

Tig watches you from behind, brain replaying this morning over and over again. He'd seen thousands of naked women over the years, but seeing you had sent him spiraling. You were tan under the many layers you insisted on wearing, your body covered in scars and burn marks from the rough life that you'd lived before finding a home with SAMCRO. It made something dark and dangerous rear its head when he'd seen the marks, and if Tig didn't already know that the people who made those marks weren't already dead. Well, he would have hunted them down himself.

But seeing you in his leathers soothed that dark beast inside of him. It looked right, felt right, to see you wearing his jacket laid across your shoulders. It made it look like you belonged to him, and anyone with eyes would see that, too.

He couldn't help but wonder what you would look like all splayed out on his bed, tan skin on display and ripe for the taking. Tig wanted to leave his own marks behind, show the guys who pined after you at the shop and during club meetings who you belonged to. Tig wanted to own you, mind and body. He shifts in his seat, rolling his eyes at the hard-on straining in his pants. You had him acting like a teen.

A couple of hours later, the two of you are pulling off an exit and to the only gas station for the next hundred miles. You pull off your helmet and shake your hair from your face with a grimace, crinkling your nose when you run your hand through your helmet hair. You never did like wearing it for so long for that exact reason. Tig pulls up beside you and kicks the stand out, sliding off his bike to shadow you inside once you are ready.

Tig glares with a curl of his lips when he catches the grocer leering at you and closes the distance to cover you from view. They were in unfamiliar territory, and he wasn’t about to risk anything, especially you.

“Hydrate yourself,” you say after snagging a water bottle from the cooler. You toss it at Tig, and he catches it with a roll of his eyes.

“Yes, dear,” he draws and pauses when he notices the way your cheeks flush and how quickly you look away from him. Curious, Tig closes the distance, close enough that he can feel the heat you put off.

“What else you gettin’, sweetheart?”

You flush further, eyes going wide, and your body warming at the use of the pet names. Plenty of the men you lived around had called you all sorts of terms of endearment, but hearing it from Tig makes your stomach cramp and your thighs press tightly with arousal. You force the feelings away with a deep breath and settle on a nonchalant shrug.

“Whatever catches my eye, I guess, Tig.”

Even though the sergeant at arms could get on your nerves more easily than others, you could still be civil with the man. It wasn’t that you disliked him, either, but his erratic behavior threw you off more often than not.

You don’t see the way he bites his bottom lip, his eyes going half-lidded as he follows you through the aisles of the store. He grabs a few snacks of his own, easy things that would be able to be eaten on the road, and another couple that he sees you consider before passing over. When you seem to be done, Tig follows you to the counter where the two of you dump your goods to be scanned.

“Pretty thing like you ought not be hanging around with a guy like him, eh, girly?”

You snap your eyes up, narrowing them in disgust, but Tig speaks up before you can.

If looks could kill, the grocer would be a pile of ash on the floor. Tig steps close to you, his front pressing against your back as he raises a hand to settle it along your waist, fingers curling in a possessive hold without thinking.

“How about you mind your own fuckin’ business, Mitch?” Tig rumbles, eyes flashing down to the name tag that the other man wears.

You tense at the unexpected touch before forcing yourself to relax, making a show of leaning into Tig and allowing him to take your weight. You cock your head, giving Mtch an innocent smile.

“You should listen to him, Mitch. I’ve seen him kill men for less,” you murmur sweetly. Mitch flicks his eyes between the two of you before he sneers with a scoff and begins to scan your items. Conflict diverted, and you go to move away from Tig, only to find that your partner is keeping you still, his grip turning harsh but not painful. He doesn’t bother to let you go until it’s time to pay, and you watch with a tight chest as he tosses enough cash on the counter to cover everything and gas for both of your bikes.

“I can stand up for myself, ya know,” you comment once the two of you are outside. You grab the plastic bag from Tig and sort through it, grabbing your stuff to be packed away into the saddlebags that hang from your bike. Tig shrugs and uncaps the bottle of water you’d tossed at him earlier, draining it in one go before tossing it into the closest bin.

“Sure you can, baby girl,” He draws and watches blatantly, wanting to see that cute blush from earlier, and you don’t disappoint.

“What’s with all the pet names all of a sudden, huh?” you ask, tone coming off a bit more snappy than you had intended. You knew Tig was a flirt, all the men in the M.C. were, but this deliberateness was new.

Tig cocks his head to the side, looking at you with those wild, blue eyes that make you squirm in place. He then nods at you, and you look down to see his jacket still seated snug around your shoulders, before cutting your eyes back up to see him giving you a smug, shit-eating grin.

“Makes it look like you're my ol’ lady, don’t it, sweetheart?”

You frown, reaching up to pull his jacket off, not caring for what he is trying to insinuate, but Tig is moving before you can even get it off one shoulder. A big hand grabs your own, where you have a hold of the lapels. The hold he has on you isn’t painful, but it’s tight enough for you to really give notice.

“Keep it on,” Tig murmurs and pushes his jacket back up, warm hands smoothing over your shoulders with a surprising gentleness, “Please.”

You meet his eyes, searching them and finding a franticness that usually isn’t present, that makes you soften. You nod once, face feeling like a pit of lava.

“Okay, Tig.”

Trager feels himself relaxed, shoulders slumping, and that bolt of panic receding like it had never been there in the first place. He grins down at you, wide and wolf-like. Following his instincts, he dips his head and presses a kiss to your brow before pulling away, that grin still bright as ever, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Before you can question the sergeant at arms, Tig leaves you, sliding away to toss his leg over his bike and start it up with a loud rumble like he hadn’t just rocked your entire foundation. You watch him press his helmet down and slide his sunglasses over his face. He turns and looks at you, head cocking to the side.

“You comin’ or what, baby?”

-------

“Fucking Stahl!” you snarl and duck behind the counter, “Last time we ever fo shit for that smarmy cunt.”

This "errand" of hers had gone to shit within the first couple of minutes, and you couldn’t help but think that you and Tig were set up. All that you'd been tasked with was to grab a witness who had been taken by a gang on the outskirts of Arizona. SAMCRO didn't have any dealings with them, so apparently, to Stahl, they'd been the perfect candidates for the job. You knew that the agent wanted SAMCRO to go down, but you didn't think she wanted you guys dead. Not like this, at least.

"I knew this was a bad fuckin' idea, baby. Should have let me call the shots," Tig grouches and grabs you by the back of his cut, yanking you away from the shitty cover.

You fall into him, scrambling to righten yourself and pop up to fire your sidearm out the open window, grinning with feral glee when you hear a scream of pain on the other side. Tig wants to kiss the life out of you at the sight of your bloodlust, his cock hard and aching in his jeans. You had no idea how fucking amazing you looked right now, hair all akimbo and teeth bared like the animal Tig knew you were.

You might be a woman, but you'd proven time and time again that you could hold your own just as well as any man.

“And get dragged to prison where I'd never see any of you guys again? Hell no,” you snap back and duck back against Tig when there is returning gunfire.

“Whole fucking thing is a bust anyway. They killed the hostage before we even got here.”

The two of you had found one Ethan Wilson, a former ATF agent, dead and gone the moment Tig had kicked down the door to the supposed safe house. The former agent looked like he'd been dead for at least a day, with how bloated his body looked. Hell had broken loose moments after.

The gang that Stahl had sent the two of you after had descended on the safe house like a flock of vultures, at least seven of them and armed to the teeth. You counted yourself lucky that Tig never went anywhere without the proper equipment.

The two of you trade shots, thankfully having the advantage of better cover inside the house. The shootout feels like it lasts a lifetime, but couldn't have been longer than a couple of minutes by the time the last gang member falls to the ground, dead. You are breathing heavily, chest heaving, and gun smoking from where it dangles from your fingers.

You turn to Tig, about to demand that they get the hell out of here, when the sergeant of arms crowds you against the counter, hands gripping your hips and lifting you with ease to sit on the counter. You grip his shoulders, eyes going wide when he takes your legs and wraps them around his waist.

Tig can't help himself. He's been good, giving you ample time to turn him away, but never once have you told him to stop. You liked him, wanted him, and Trager knew it. He raises a hand, gripping you by the jaw before he leans in and seals his lips against your own in a searing kiss. His tongue darts out, forcing past your lips to curl around your own slick muscle.

Adrenaline running high, you kiss him back, fingers sliding up into curly hair to grip tightly and push him into you. His facial hair scrapes and burns against your lips, but it just makes the embrace that much sweeter. You don't care that the two of you still stink of road sweat and gunpowder; you don't care about the cooling bodies outside the safe house. All you want now is for Tig Trager to fuck you dumb.

Tig pulls away, pressing his face against yours, breath hot against your cheek. His hands slide to your waist and to the button of your pants, flicking it open with practiced ease and lifting you up enough that he can shove your jeans down around your thighs.

“Been wanting to taste that sweet pussy for ages, baby,” Tig snarls against your throat and presses sharp nips against your flesh, leaving behind little red marks that would most likely fade into bruises. He pulls back just long enough to tug your boots off and rip your jeans from your legs, tossing them to the floor without a care. He drops to his knees, spreading your thighs and burying his face in the apex of your legs.

Your cunt tastes just as delicious as Tig imagined it would, musky and hot from the ride and dripping with arousal. He slurps between your folds, catching your clit between his lips and sucking hard enough that you bow forward, brow furrowed and hands clenching painfully in his hair. Tig groans and pushes himself deeper, tongue digging deep and cream coating the lower half of his face.

You hiss through clenched teeth, whines spilling from your throat. Tig is good at eating puss, you'd know that already from walking into the club house after a wild party and finding him face deep into a club girl's cunt. It had never bothered you before, but after this? Tig was yours.

“Tig, Tiggy,” you groan, and he answers you with a loud moan of his own, lost in his own world and bringing you closer and closer to that lovely edge. Your thighs quake, eyes glassy as you twitch under him.

Tig grins against your cunt when you come, creamy slick pouring from your pussy to drench his face. He sucks down and devours every bit, tongue scooping like a fucking dog. He leans back once he is satisfied, a fucked out and drunk look on his face as he meets your wide eyes.

You look back up, meeting those fiery blue eyes with a wicked smirk, “Gonna fuck me or not, Tiggy?”

“Best fucking pussy I've ever had, sweetheart,” he murmurs and pushes himself back up to his feet, hands dropping to his belt and tugging it free. You watch his cock spring free from his boxers, and excitement shoots up your spine. Tig was big.

Tig laughs, low and mean, and shoves between your legs, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding his cock steady. He keeps eye contact, wanting to watch you break as he bullies his cock into you. Your expressions are almost enough to make him come, your pussy is tight as a vice, sucking him down and making him grit his teeth.

“Feel fucking amazing, baby,” Tig murmurs and cups your face with a surprising softness when he is fully seated inside of you. Your cunt burns in the most delightful way, the stretch of his cock exactly what you need. He leans down, pressing his lips against your own as he begins to rock back and forth, slipping that much deeper into your pussy.

You kiss him back, losing yourself in the feel of Tig. The man, his scent, his touch, surrounds you, and you feel drunk off his presence alone. You want to take your time, to feel the way his cock drags along your walls, the head pressing deeper than anyone has ever been. But you know that time is of the essence. It wouldn't be long before the law would show up from the gunshots.

“Fuck me fast, baby. Come inside me, yeah?”

Tig hisses a curse, brows furrowing as he nods and presses close, hips pistoning in and out, balls slapping against your dripping cunt, and fluid mixing in a hot mess between your bodies. He focuses on the feel of how tight and hot you are, hands dropping to grip your hips and pound into you like a freight train.

You whine at the feel of hot cum pouring into you, cunt fluttering and clenching tight around the thick cock buried deep inside of you. You pant against his shoulder, taking in deep, shuddering breaths and raising a hand to push your sweaty bangs away from your brow. Tig slumps against you, wanting to stay exactly where he is for the rest of his life.

As much as you’d like to bask, the need to get out of the safe house and back down the road is pressing. You lift your head, a soft smirk on your lips, and you tilt your head to the side, meeting Tig's eyes.

“Round two when we get back?”