#sons of Anarchy x reader

[babyybrii]

jax teller is the type of guy who keeps a gun under his pillow and your favorite drink in the fridge. the type who might not say “i love you” a hundred times a day, but leaves you his last cigarette and grabs your hand at every red light. the type of guy who gets real quiet when he’s angry, like he’s scared of what could happen if he yells. he’s the type of guy who ruins you in the garage, but fixes your lipstick before letting you step back outside. the type who growls “mine” into your mouth like a prayer while making you see god. he’s the type of guy who takes you when he wants you; in the shower, kitchen, garage.

[brunettemarionette]

Hi! I was wondering if you had the time to do a request; SOA’s reaction to their s/o wearing a dress or wearing something revealing?

Thank you! Love your blog!!

Thank you! I'm glad you like my work :)

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ ― female reader. no description of features. no mentions of size, race or age.

🇲​​🇦​​🇮​​🇳​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​ | ​🇸​​🇴​​🇦​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​ | ​🇳​​🇦​​🇻​​🇮​​🇬​​🇦​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳

𝗝𝗮𝘅 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

The clubhouse is buzzing, but when you walk in wearing that tight black dress, the world slows down for Jax. His piercing blue eyes lock onto you, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leans back in his chair, cigarette dangling between his fingers. “Darlin’, you tryin’ to start a riot in here?” he drawls, voice low and smoky. He stands, sauntering over, his hand finding your hip, fingers grazing the fabric like he’s already imagining it on the floor. “You look good enough to make me wanna ditch this meeting and take you out back. Don’t tempt me too much, or I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

𝗢𝗽𝗶𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

You step into the garage in a flowy sundress that hugs your curves just right, and Opie’s wrench clatters to the ground. His dark eyes widen slightly, taking you in as he wipes grease off his hands. “Jesus, babe,” he mutters, voice gruff, “you wearin’ that just to mess with me?” He closes the distance, towering over you, his large hands settling on your waist, thumbs brushing the bare skin where the dress dips low. “Gotta be careful lookin’ like that around here. Might have to keep you close so no one else gets any ideas.” His lips brush your ear, promising trouble if you keep teasing him.

𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

You walk into the clubhouse in a red dress that’s all legs and plunging neckline, and Happy’s dark gaze snaps to you like a predator spotting prey. He’s leaning against the wall, toothpick in his mouth, but it stills as he takes you in. “Fuck, girl,” he growls, low and dangerous, pushing off the wall to stalk toward you. His hands find your hips, pulling you close, his breath hot against your neck. “You wearin’ that for me or to make me lose my damn mind?” His fingers dig in, possessive, and you know he’s already thinking about dragging you somewhere private to show you just how much he approves.

𝗝𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

You saunter into the clubhouse in a short, sparkly dress, and Juice nearly chokes on his beer. His wide eyes scan you, a grin spreading across his face as he sets the bottle down. “Yo, babe, you can’t just—damn,” he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly flustered. He steps closer, his hands hovering like he’s not sure where to touch first. “You look… unreal. Like, I’m gonna have to fight half these guys to keep ‘em off you.” His fingers finally settle on your bare shoulders, sliding down your arms, his gaze hungry. “How ‘bout we find somewhere quiet so I can appreciate this properly?”

𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗯𝘀 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

You slip into the bar in a sleek, backless dress, and Chibs’ whiskey glass pauses halfway to his lips. His dark eyes rake over you, a slow, appreciative smile curling under his scars. “Lass, yer playin’ with fire,” he says, voice thick with his Scottish burr as he sets the glass down and beckons you closer. His hand slides down your spine, resting just above where the dress cuts low, his touch warm and deliberate. “Lookin’ like that, ye might not make it out of here in one piece. Lucky for you, I’m good at keepin’ what’s mine safe.” His lips brush your temple, teasingly close to a promise.

𝗧𝗶𝗴 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

You strut into the clubhouse in a leather mini-dress that clings to every curve, and Tig’s head whips around so fast you swear he gets whiplash. His blue eyes gleam with something wild as he lets out a low whistle. “Holy shit, doll,” he purrs, already on his feet, circling you like you’re his next meal. His fingers trail along the hem, teasing the bare skin of your thigh. “You wore this to drive me insane, didn’t you? ‘Cause it’s workin’.” He pulls you against him, his lips grazing your neck as he murmurs, “Let’s see how long you keep this on before I’m tearing it off.”

[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 !!

[bellaxgiornata]

I'm Down For You Series Masterlist

Pairing: Jax Teller x nervous!Reader

Summary: For the few years that you'd been living in Charming, you knew far better than to ever associate with the Sons. They were dangerous and total trouble. But what are you supposed to do when Jax Teller suddenly takes an interest in you?

One-Shot Installments [Each one has it's own warnings/tags]

Five Minutes

While out with your friends at a seedy bar in Charming, you manage to catch Jax's eye–and he's quite determined just to get you to talk to him.

Get on the Bike

When something goes wrong with your car, you're left bringing it into the only auto shop around Charming–Teller-Morrow Automotive. You're surprised when you run into Jax and he still remembers you from that night at the bar a few weeks ago, but when you enthusiastically refuse his offer to give you a ride home on his bike, he finds your fear of his motorcycle incredibly amusing.

Walking into Trouble {coming soon}

The only way you'd find yourself at a Sons' party would be if you were completely out of your mind. So when your friends suggest partying at the clubhouse just this once, you're too buzzed and a little high after a bad day to argue about the idea. Which is how you find yourself directly in Jax's domain��somewhere your nervous, shy self doesn't generally belong.

[wetpussyju1ce]

toxic!ex boyfriend/toxic!baby daddy!jax pls!!!

exbf!/bd!jax who absolutely loses his shit when he realizes he's lost you for good after you move the last of you and your son's boxes in the moving truck. literally shaking, crying, sliding down the wall

remember that scene after abel was kidnapped and he's just in the nursery chain smoking? yeah, that's him but with cigarettes and alcohol that he swiped from the clubhouse's bar

exbf!/bd!jax who lost out on the best pussy of his life because he played with your heart one too many times

was the breakup his fault (again)? yes, but in his defense you weren't supposed to be back home from your business trip for a few more days. you decided to surprise him for his birthday and found him in bed with ima.

you absolutely beat the brakes off her and it took juice and chibs three tries to you off her after luring them to false security that you were good before you attacked her again and opie and clay were manning the door so you wouldn't get in.

exbf!/bd!jax who damn near has to be sedated when your son tells him during dinner that mommy is having a playdate with one of his friends' dads.

it feels like a shock to the heart. you weren't supposed to move on. you were supposed to be mad at him for a week, maybe two, then you'll cave, tell him you miss him. he gets gemma and clay to watch your son so the two of you could "mend your relationship" aka, so he could fuck your brains out, promising that he'll be better, that the two of you will get finally get married.

ex!bf/bd!jax who hates how happy you are without him, that you're not with this guy just to make him jealous.

there's a genuine connection and the guy treats his son with respect, treats you like a queen.

he knows he can't get in between this relationship

ex!bf/bd!jax who realizes that he has to let you go, the further and further he's sucked into the club

idk, just something i thought up

+18 mdni

okay anon. I'm usually NOT into toxic aus like this but this made me giggle. more like cackle like a merry witch! because there's something abt a man crying vomiting sliding off the walls ripping his hair out when he realises he's fucked up BIG TIME that is very satisfying to me. that he fumbled his biggest blessing and gift in life. OH I LOVE IT. HE DOES NOT DESERVE HER. NEVER HAS AND NEVER WILL. HAHAHAHAAAA

oh yeah. def reader would move on. cry a little. drink a little maybe. spend long nights w her toys and then pass out in bed over the sheets only wearing a t-shirt. winnie the pooh style.

but then she picks herself back up again. settles in w her baby if she had one w jax. because OBVS she's taking the baby with her. what the hell. gets a new job. donates half of her wardrobe just because. treats herself once in a while. works out at home. gets a cat or two. keeps a garden w her baby. while jax has red rimmed eyes hunched over a bar counter depressed LOOOLLLL

oh and then he'll try sooo hard to get her back. grovel. beg on HIS KNEES if he needs to. sends flowers. sends groceries. whatever the hell she needs. pays for child support. pays for the baby's clothes or for school supplies if they go to school. he would randomly show up to the house. kick the dirt of her lawn w his shoes like an angsty teenager while reader ignores him inside the house, watching TV in her undies, a big bowl of popcorn resting on her lap, wet hair wrapped in a towel.

and when they cross paths outside in public (more like he stalked her like a maniac) he tries to get her to listen to him. uses every trick to get her to WAIT. lowers his voice. does that thing where he tilts his head to the side. charming. handsome. teasing. he knows she used to like that shit when he did before. he smiles and looks at her w his baby blues. begging for time. Just 10min. please please please please

but she doesn't care anymore. is over it. she only cares abt what her future holds. abt living in the now. so she walks off and his shoulders sag and he sadly looks at her magnificent ass as she leaves him to go shopping or something.

that night he rages and smashes half of his room, smokes a fag or two, gets in bed, all grimmy and dirty, sadly jerks himself off, comes all over himself with her behind his eyelids and cries a little then passes out in bed (shoes still on and everything).

[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.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

jax is THE "obsessed with his girl when she wears sundresses or those slip nightgowns" like theres a CRIMINAL lack of fanfic around him going bark bark awooga over that shit do u agree with me

Sundress.

it’s sundress season. jax can’t keep his hands to himself.

pairing - jax teller x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. jax is a terror.

word count - 1.5/2k maybe? i’ll check later.

authors note - you’re so right. that man is not surviving sundress season.

masterlist. inbox.

You felt it as soon as he walked in.

There’s always an atmosphere between you and Jax. A tension that’s alive, crackling, buzzing with anticipation of itself.

You’ve been waiting for the honeymoon phase to wear off for years. It never has.

All evening, he’s been watching you.

Careful, concentrated blue eyes repeatedly raking over your figure. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

Eventually, it’s making it too hard to work. You ask one of the girls to take over the bar and stride across the space, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him into the back room.

“Okay baby, I like it when you-”

“Cut it out.”

He stops in his tracks, slightly taken aback.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, Jax. Cut it the fuck out.”

He leans against the wall, cool as ever, eyes still wandering.

“Cut what out?”

“That!” you scold, smacking his chest. “The eye fucking. I’m trying to work.”

“I’m just looking at you.”

“You are not just looking at me. You look like you’re going to bend me over the bar at any given moment. Stop it.”

“I can’t help it, darlin’.”

He takes a step forward, sliding his hands across your hips and pulling you into him.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty in this dress. It’s takin’ everything in me to not rip it off you.”

You try to stand your ground, but his warm body pressing into yours is making it difficult.

“You can do whatever you want to me when we get home,” you tease, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “When we get home.”

“That a promise?”

“It is if you can cool it with the stares. You’re scaring people.”

“Good.”

He kisses you roughly, hands migrating down to palm at your ass. You moan into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck to stay steady.

“Jax,” you hiss as you pull away. “Everyone’s gonna think we’re fucking back here. Behave.”

“I like it when you tell me to behave,” he smirks, smoothing out the skirt of your dress.

“Behave,” you repeat, tugging his hair roughly. His eyes close in bliss and for a moment, you debate just letting him have you now.

Remembering the entire reason for this conversation, you slap his cheek lightly.

“Best behaviour until the end of my shift. You hear me, Jackson?”

“Yes ma’am.”

He mock salutes you before stealing a quick kiss. Opening the door for you, he smacks your ass as you walk by, laughing when you turn around to glare at him.

“I mean it.”

“Oh I know, baby.”

To his credit, he reels it in. Slightly.

He’s still watching your every move, but with a little less intensity than before. You catch his eyes occasionally, winking as you grin. He shakes his head, beaming smile on his face telling you everything you need to know.

As the night comes to a close, people start to vacate the bar and make their way home, drunk and merry. Jax sticks around, arm slung over the back of the booth as he watches you clean.

“You two gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, Chibs, we’re good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gives you a kiss on the cheek before leaving, as you hear his bike roar to life.

As soon as Jax has confirmation he’s gone, he’s getting up, sauntering over to where you’re wiping down the bar top.

“What’s my prize?”

“Hmm?”

You look up at him with big doe eyes and he almost melts, leaning across the wood towards you.

“What’s my prize? For behaving myself?”

“You’re insufferable,” you laugh. “You’re supposed to behave yourself.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You shake your head and lean down to throw the rag under the sink. When you stand up, Jax is pressed against you, body warm and firm.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

His big hands cradle your face, rough and gun calloused.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty.”

You flush, heat rising across your chest. Jax lunges in, smashing his lips to yours and pushing you up against the bar. The lip of the wood is digging into your back as he presses you into it further, rocking his hips into yours as he kisses you.

You gasp as he bites down on your lip, so he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like beer and cigarettes and the gum he chews because he knows you like it. You tangle your fingers into his hair, trying to plaster yourself to him.

Jax leans down and presses open mouthed kisses to your ear, your neck, your collarbones, your chest. No skin goes left untouched as you tilt your head to give him more access. He smirks at how quickly you’ve relented.

“I know you wanted this,” he murmurs against your throat. “Wanted it just as bad as me, didn’t you?”

When you don’t respond, he snakes a hand around your neck, squeezing just enough.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, Jax. Please.”

He presses his lips into the junction of your shoulder as his hand slips underneath your dress. He traces you over your underwear, cupping you as he chuckles.

“Filthy girl. So fuckin’ wet.”

You drop your head forward into his chest, trying to take deep breaths so you don’t pass out.

“Can’t take my time with you like I want to,” he murmurs. “Don’t want anyone walking in and seeing you like this.”

In the blink of an eye he’s spinning you around, hand on your shoulder blades to push you down onto the bar top. He flips the skirt of your dress up, bunching it around your waist.

“Been thinkin’ about this all day. Pretty fuckin’ girl.”

Jax pulls your underwear to the side as he fumbles with his jeans, pushing them down just enough. You feel the warmth of him behind you, sliding through your wet heat with ease.

“Please,” you whine. “Don’t tease.”

“Needy baby.”

His tone is so patronising, so condescending, that on any other day you’d slap him. But in this current moment, the only thing you can thing about how is how you might die if he doesn’t fuck you soon.

“Okay, honey. I’ll give you what you want. Only because you look so fuckin’ gorgeous in this dress.”

He slides himself home as both of you groan. You rest your head on your folded arms on the bar as his hands find your hips, setting a brutal pace instantly.

His rhythm is consistent, deep thrusts reverberating through the core of you. Your knees threaten to give out as he knocks your entire body forward, his hips smacking into yours.

His mouth is running constantly, spewing filth right into your ear as he breathes down your neck.

“Prettiest fuckin’ girl I’ve ever seen. This goddamn dress. Drivin’ me insane.”

“Yeah darlin’, just like that. Fuck, baby. S’good.”

“You feel like heaven, fuck. Atta girl.”

“Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. That’s it, there we go.”

You can’t do anything but take it, babbling nonsense right back at him. He chuckles, snaking his hand around your front to circle your clit.

His fingers are your undoing, clenching around him like a vice as your legs give out. All you can do is whine his name, all high pitched and breathy.

“Fuck, baby.”

Jax comes as soon as he feels you, groaning as he rests his head on your back. He squeezes your hips a couple of times, kissing across your skin.

You’re both revelling in your post orgasm bliss when the door flies open, hitting the wall and startling you both.

“Oh, shit. Sorry, lovebirds.”

Chibs is grinning, laughing as he looks around the booth where he was sitting. He finds his keys on the floor, holding them up as he shakes his head at the two of you.

Jax pulls out of you and buttons himself up, smoothing your dress down to preserve your decency. You hide your face in his chest as he chuckles, the sound rumbling through the both of you.

“See ya tomorrow!” the Scotsman yells as he leaves, stupid smile on his face.

“What did I tell you about behaving?”

Jax can’t help but laugh at you, pulling you in to press a kiss to your head.

“Let’s go home, pretty girl. Wanna fuck you in this dress a couple more times.”

@lauratang @ladyjbrekker @myhappyplaceofstuff

[tinyshyteacup]

Can I possibly get Chibs smut like first time together after months of just kissing and slow burn even though both of you wanted to rush bc you both felt it😍😍😍😫😫

Probably a little softer then your request but I was feeling it. (Also wayyy longer then I intended)

TW: smut, tobacco depictions, soft chibs, p in v. 18+ MDNI

• Nightfall •

Chibs moves with the silence of a man used to danger. Soft-footed across the dorm floor, every motion careful. This Lockdown had been a joke, and you'd spent the day on your feet, helpful as you were, putting everyone before yourself.

Chibs, despite his tough exterior has always been careful with you, gentlemanly, you'd kissed, held each other, but never explored beyond that.

You hear the low clink of his rings as he gathers your sweater first, folding it loosely over the back of the chair.

His rough hands lift your tank top, your jeans, each item drawn up off the floor and out of the way with a kind of reverence.

There’s no leer to it. No smirk.

Just a soft focus behind his eyes—like he’s cataloguing every thread, every impression you’ve left behind in his space.

"You leave a wee trail everywhere ye go, don't ye..." he murmurs almost inaudibly under his breath, the hint of a fond smile in his tone, though you’re not meant to hear it.

His kutte comes off with a whisper of worn leather, hung on the same hook near the door.

Then his boots.

His belt.

His shirt unbuttons, one clasp at a time.

A slow ritual, like shedding the weight of the world with each piece.

The click of his lighter breaks the silence—small, brief, familiar. The ember glows warm orange against the low light as he steps near the cracked-open window, letting out the first slow exhale.

He leans against the sill, arms crossed, one hand loosely holding the cigarette between two fingers.

The smoke curls around him like a ghost, clinging to his hair, his collarbone, the soft shadow carved beneath his jaw.

"Still can’t wrap me head ‘round you bein’ here..." he mutters softly to himself, thick Scottish rasp coated in smoke and weariness.

"Look at what ye've bloody done… makin’ a home out o’ this mess."

He turns on instinct—maybe to stub it out, maybe just to check that you’re truly asleep.

But he freezes when he catches your eyes on him. Your voice is barely audible, soft and warm in the low dark.

"I can't sleep."

There’s no startle in him. No mask sliding back down. He just holds your gaze for a long second through the smoke, then lifts the cigarette slowly to his lips again.

"Aye," he breathes around the smoke, tapping ash into a tray. "Me neither."

He finishes it slowly, no rush. Not now. Not with you watching him like that. When the stub is pressed out and the tray is pushed aside, he moves toward the bed again—bare chest catching in the dim light, every scar, every piece of ink a chapter written into his skin.

He doesn’t speak as he pulls back the covers, slipping in behind you, one arm drawing you in automatically. His hand skims over your waist, then stills there.

"Ye wan' talk about it, love?" His voice is low, warm against the back of your neck, his accent thick and rasping.

When you shake your head no, just nudging closer, he presses a kiss just below your ear.

"Alright, then."

You both settle. His breath deepens. Yours matches.

Your fingers curl around his hand where it rests across your middle, holding him there like a lifeline. And he lets you.

He doesn't try to fix your thoughts or chase away the ache that keeps you awake. He just stays. Anchors you with his body, his heat, the steady beat of his heart against your back.

You wrinkle your nose a little, burying your face into the curve of the pillow before letting the words out in a mumble against the fabric.

"You smell all smoky."

For a beat, there’s silence, just your fingers idly tracing the lines of ink on his arm.

Then that low, husky chuckle rumbles up from his chest, warm and unguarded. His breath fans across your temple as he leans his head into your shoulder.

"Aye, well," he murmurs, smile tugging crookedly at the corner of his mouth.

"that’s what happens when y’drag an old bastard in from the window, love."

He turns you in his arms with slow certainty, careful not to jostle you, one hand slipping beneath your shoulder and coaxing you to face him. Your legs shift beneath the covers, tangling softly with his, one of his thighs pressing to yours, anchoring.

His eyes crinkle at the corners when he looks at you—tired but bright, like you’ve flicked a switch inside him.

It starts so quietly that it could’ve been mistaken for nothing more than a breath.

One moment, you're teasing him—soft voice muffled by the dimness and his chest so close—and the next, he's looking at you like he’s never been kissed before in his life. Like this might be the first one that matters.

There’s no rush in him, no heat chasing the moment too fast. Just a long pause. A slight lean in. The barest flick of his gaze to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if asking for something without saying a word.

Then he kisses you.

Not hungrily.

Tenderly.

The kind of kiss that makes you forget your name, not because it steals your breath, but because it gives it back.

His lips move slowly over yours—his stubble brushes your skin, a rough whisper against your softness—but there’s no force, no pressure. Just a quiet pull.

You taste the faint bite of smoke on him, warm and earthy, but even that fades beneath the press of something more.

As the kiss deepens—as his tounge whispers across your lip, a request for entrance—his hand shifts behind your neck, anchoring you to him.

Not in control.

But like he’s afraid the world might wake up and take you away if he lets go.

You don’t realize he’s moving you until you feel the change in pressure beneath you.

The pillows beneath your head are soft, worn from years of use, the faint scent of his cologne clinging to the sheets. Somehow, in the space of a few lingering kisses and the hush between them, he’s gently rolled you beneath him.

But there’s no weight. No pressing need. His body hovers over yours, forearms braced on either side of your shoulders, the line of his thigh resting between your legs, protective, not pushing.

"Didn’t even notice, did ye?" he murmurs against your lips, voice roughened by smoke and the Scotch lilt of his amusement. His accent curls around the words like they’re only for you.

"Slippery bastard, me." You feel more than see his wolfish grin, as he tilts his head and tugs your bottom lip with his teeth.

His fingers drift down, resting at the edge of the button-up shirt you’re wearing—his shirt, too big on your frame, hem brushing your thighs. The sight makes his breath catch, just slightly.

"Jesus Christ..." he mutters under his breath, eyes searching your face as if checking you’re alright with each slow move.

Then, delicately—tenderly—he lifts the first button, slipping it free. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t undress you like a prize to be claimed. He does it like a man peeling away the world to reach you.

He pauses with the shirt hanging open, brushing his knuckles lightly along your collarbone. Not taking, not assuming. Just… being.

"Ye alright?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid to break the spell.

When you answer yes, he doesn’t move fast.

His other hand rests against your ribs under the covers, thumb tracing slow arcs over the skin below your breast, grounding you both in the moment.

“Fuckin’ unreal, ye are.” he murmurs, kissing along your collarbone, voice husky, lilting with that rich Glaswegian lilt.

His hand moves across you— mapping you like you’re a story he wants to learn line by line. The pad of his thumb traces over the gentle curve of your hip, along the slope of your waist, settling at the dip of your thigh.

His fingers still for just a breath. His eyes search yours, quietly scanning—checking that you’re still there, still willing, still you.

His voice is a rasp, barely more than a breath.

"Tell me to stop, lass, an’ I will. But if ye don’t… I swear to God, I’ll be nothin’ but gentle with ye."

And you know he means it.

Not because he says it—but because every moment leading up to this one has proved it.

The laughter. The chase. The quiet way he stood behind you in the clubhouse when things get tense. The cigarette at the window when he thought you were asleep.

Your hands move hesitantly, barely brushing his chest as you explore the warmth of him through tentative touches. The muscles there are solid beneath your fingers—etched from years of battle and burden—but you handle him like he’s fragile.

Like you’re the one who needs to be gentle with him.

Chibs doesn’t move at first. He just watches you, half-shadowed in the low light, expression unreadable—but his breath stutters softly, and that’s answer enough.

"You alright, lass?" he asks quietly, voice thick with his accent, the words low like gravel over velvet. His hand shifts to your hip, grounding you, but he doesn't stop your touch. "Ye don’t have to…"

You shake your head, slowly. “I want to.”

Your answer is barely a whisper, and he swallows hard at the honesty in it. The lines around his eyes deepen as he watches you, waiting to see what you’ll do next.

When your fingertips rise to his face, brushing the edge of his Glasglow smile, he freezes—not tense, but still, like an animal unsure if it’s being hunted or healed.

Your touch is so light it could be mistaken for air, and yet it carries the weight of things no one’s ever dared give him before.

He inhales through his nose, eyes fluttering shut for just a second.

"Ye know what they are, aye?" he asks, voice low and rough, not challenging—just honest.

“Evidence, Filip.”

His lips part slightly, a small furrow of confusion in his brow, like he’s going to say something, maybe a protest, but nothing comes out.

"Evidence that you won, Scotsman" you clarify in a whisper.

He lets out a shaky exhale and leans into your touch.

Chibs moves slow—not because he’s unsure, but because he wants you to feel every second. His weight eases over you, protective rather than pressing. His skin is warm, the scent of smoke still faint on him, but it’s overpowered by something softer—soap, warmth, safety.

He pulls you closer, until his leg slips between yours, the maneuver parting your thighs beneath him.

The pad of his thumb moves in soft teasing circles around your sensitive bud, as he gently aligns his body with yours, the way his hand traces the edge of you knee is so unlike the gruffness he has with his brothers, his breath catches when your knee brushes his hip—but he doesn’t rush.

He shifts and palms himself, a slow delibrate stroke, before notching himself at your entrance.

Cool brown eyes flick to yours and back, before he presses himself forward into your heat.

The slow stretch spreads warm, outward like spilled mulled wine, a slow stain of surrender as Chibs sinks into you.

“Christ, ye ruin me, ye do.” he breathes into your skin.

You slide your arms around his neck, and your fingers brush the hair at his nape—coarse and soft all at once, salt and pepper strands curling slightly beneath your touch.

Your body arched around the intrusion, Chibs leans his forehead to yours, breathing you in like he needs you more than air.

He brushes a strand of hair from your face with a calloused palm and kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the soft place beneath your ear.

The room is quiet save for the low hum of the night outside the dorm walls. No engines. No shouting. Just the soft sound of his lips brushing against yours, and the warmth of skin meeting skin.

You're cocooned and consumed by him in every fragile cell, in every pulse of movement, as he rocks into you in a steady rhythmic roll.

You can feel the heat of him, the way he slides across the spongey spot within you in languid grazes.

Your bodies move like waves, with the same tenderness the break has as it maps its way onto the sand—time seems to slow as his thrusts continue slower, deeper.

Not demanding. Not dominant. There would be time for that, he would make sure, but now here with you, your breath hitching with at apex of each movement, it was like a prayer whispered instead of a promise made aloud.

There’s no hunger in Chibs when he loves you like this—His hands are careful, mapping you like a man reading scripture, fingers moving with reverence. He traces the curve of your waist, the slope of your thigh, like it’s a privilege, not a right.

He keeps checking in, even without words—watching your eyes, pausing when your breath hitches, brushing your hair back so gently it makes your chest ache.

When things grow closer, more breathless, he doesn’t break that tenderness. Every sigh from you makes him slow down, not speed up. Every sound you make earns a kiss, a murmur, a whispered.

Until the crash of your orgasm washes over you like the creeping of the tide, slowly and yet all at once.

Chibs stutters above you as he spills into you, the room is warm, thick with your combined breathing as you come down from your high.

The faint smell of cigarettes, soap and skin, lingers.

You let out a faint whine as he gently withdraws himself from your core.

"Its alright, Love" he murmurs, accent thicker now with affection, his lips ghosting the top of your head. "I got ye."

You lie curled against Chibs’ side, one leg draped loosely over his, Your eyes flutter open only as he shifts slightly, reaching toward the bedside table where his cigarettes lie.

The click of the lighter breaks the quiet, followed by the soft crackle of tobacco catching fire.

He takes a drag, exhales slowly through his nose, then turns his head to glance at you.

His fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, up and down your spine with near weightless affection.

"Ye all right, love?" he asks in a murmur, his voice still a little rough from earlier. There's a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to get a better look at you.

You nod, eyes half-lidded, cheeks warm, limbs pleasantly heavy.

Satiated. Boneless. The word flits across your thoughts, sleep trying to pull you under.

"Christ, yer so bloody soft," he mutters affectionately, brushing his thumb along your back. "Could lie here forever."

He tilts his head back and exhales a slow stream of smoke, the scent curling lazily in the air between you.

You’re just starting to drift when—

CRASH.

The door swings open.

"Hey Chibs, have you seen—OH—OH GOD—OH SHIT—SWEET JESUS—NOPE."

Juice freezes like he’s just walked into oncoming traffic.

There’s a full second of silence, where all anyone does is blink.

You, clutching the blanket instinctively to your chest.

Chibs, exhaling a slow breath through his nose, cigarette held just off to the side.

Juice, wide-eyed, frozen in the doorway with a folder in one hand and utter panic blooming across his face.

"I—I didn’t know—I mean, I wasn’t tryna—like, I wasn’t gonna—" he blurts, already backpedaling verbally but somehow still standing there like a baby deer in leather.

"Shut tae bloody door, Juicy," Chibs says evenly, not raising his voice. Not yet.

Juice flails.

"No, right, right! Totally—door! Got it! I mean, you should lock it next time, man, or maybe put up a sock or something—oh God, you’re not even wearing—is that her shirt?!—shitshitshit—"

You duck your head, cheeks flushing, heart thudding for an entirely new reason.

Chibs sits up slightly, the blanket shifting over his waist. His jaw clenches, cigarette dangling from his lips now, his tone growing colder.

"Juice."

"Yeah?"

"D’ye want tae die tonight?"

Juice stares.

"No."

"Then shut the fuckin’ door and disappear before I put my boot so far up yer arse, ye’ll be coughin’ out shoelaces ‘til Christmas."

"Right!" Juice squawks, spinning on his heel. The door slams behind him.

Silence returns like a drawn curtain.

You stare at the ceiling for a second, pulse still racing.

Then Chibs lets out a sharp, exasperated laugh and mutters around his cigarette.

"Jesus Christ, that boy’s got the subtlety of a fuckin’ grenade in a china shop."

He flicks ash into the tray by the bedside, stubs the cigarette out with two fingers, and settles back in beside you, pulling you against his side again like nothing happened.

You rest your cheek against his shoulder. He's still warm.

"Ye a’right?" he asks softly, voice lower now, gentler. His fingers trace the curve of your spine again like he’s grounding you, bringing your heartbeat back down.

You nod slowly. "That was… a lot."

He chuckles again. "Aye. Jus’ pretend he got dropped on his head one too many times as a baby. Helps it all make sense."

Then he presses a kiss to your hair.

"Back to where we were, aye?" he says, tucking the blanket up over your bare shoulders, "Safe. Quiet. Just us."

You close your eyes.

[willowsages-blog]

Unexpected visitor: chibs telford x female reader

It was lunchtime you were in the car with your toddler,

You placed her in the front seat with the car parked in the parking lot,

Giving her a few napkins in the rear view you could see someone driving a motorcycle

Chibs pulled into the parking spot on your daughter's side.

You made eye contact with him, a smiling form.

“Daddy” she cried out, as he opened the door pulling her into a soft embrace

He sat in her spot, placing her on his lap. Chibs grinned, looking over at You, placing a kiss on your lips.

[chloe-skywalker]

Love Beyond Limits - Chapter 8

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Steve Rogers x Friend!Fem!Reader

Sam Wilson x Friend!Fem!Reader

Warnings: SOA, Mob AU

(In over all them, mentioned at one point)

Word Count: 1,493

Summary: Y/n gets to officially meet Steve and Sam. Bucky's best friends. And both have some more serious things to tell her.

Authors Note: Check out the 'Series Masterlist' for all Parts!

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“So I invited Sam and Steve to come join us. Is that okay?” Bucky planned to introduce her officially to two of his closest friends. They were going bowling and it seemed like a good time to have them meet her. Of course they had seen her and knew of her but a face to face meeting has not occurred yet.

“Of course. So I get to meet your friends today?” Y/n asked, smiling at the prospect of meeting his friends that he’s talked about so highly of.

“Two of my closest, yes.” He nodded, enjoying her excitement about meeting Steve and Sam.

When Bucky had picked her up and told her two of his friends were joining Y/n was excited and nervous, which she was syre was how Bucky felt meeting Wanda and Pietro. “Well you met two of my closest friends so only fair.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bucky rolled his eyes playfully as he parked outside of the bowling alley. Their bowling alley.

He did notice Sam and Steve park not to far away. Of course they had followed, for they always do but Y/n didn’t know that they were always close by just in case and for now he’d keep it that way. They had discussed beforehand that Bucky would take Y/n inside and Sam and Steve would wait a few before entering and joining them.

“Afraid they’ll embarrass you?” Y/n teased nudging his shoulder.

“They’ll try.” Bucky grumbled as he got out of the car and walked around to open her door, before they headed inside.

“Hey fairs fair. When you meet my brother I’m sure he'll embarrass me.” Y/n told him honestly as they got in line to get shoe’s and a lane.

Her statement warmed Bucky more than he could ever express. She had plan’s of him meeting her family. That meant the world to him.

After they got their assigned land and shoes Bucky and Y/n got their bowling balls and sat down to change into their bowling shoes. About 5 minutes later two men approached their lane area.

“So this is the girl that's caught our grumpy Bucky’s attention?” Sam spoke up first, already getting on Bucky’s nerves. Steve smiled at Sam’s teasing of their friend. It was no secret that since Y/n came along Bucky wasn’t as broody to anyone that was close to Bucky.

“This asshole is Sam and the quiet one is Steve.” Bucky introduced them.

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet both of you.” Y/n smiled, reaching out to shake both of their hands.

“You're telling me! Its been a while. We hear all about you but this guy just keeps putting off introductions.” Sam exclaimed, getting his fill of starting to tease his friend.

“It’s nice to formally meet you Y/n.” Steve smiled, greeting her back.

“Likewise.” Y/n nodded at him.

“So are we doing team’s or single?” Sam clapped his hands together ready to beat them all.

With that they started bowling all the while Steve and Sam got to know Y/n and shared stories of Bucky. And Y/n got to know them.

After her turn she went to sit by Steve while Sam and Bucky argued over  bowling balls by the lanes.

“He smiles more since he met you.” Steve spoke up feeling the need to let her know about the impact she’s had on his bestfriends life and mood.

“I’m sure it’s not just me.” Y/n looked at Steve and she was shocked by his words.

“No, it is. I’ve known Buck since we were kids. I’ve never seen him this happy and it’s all been since he met you.” Steve told her further. He had truly never seen Bucky so happy and Steve knew it was this woman. From what he’s seen from before and from today getting to know her for himself, Steve truly could see how she really did care about Bucky. Steve approved of her the more he got to know her.

“Well, he’s made me happy to.” Y/n smiled bashfully and glanced towards Bucky's direction.

“He talks about you a lot. You’ve brought a light to him that I haven’t seen in a very long time. Thank you.” Steve smiled and gave her a nod of appreciation.

“He’s brought a light back to me to.” After everything that had cast a dark cloud over Y/n for so long, Bucky had cleared the storm over her with his light.

“I hope you both last a long time.” Steve didn’t mean for it to sound ominous, he just meant he hoped she’d stick around even after Bucky reveals the darker work they do to her in the future.

“I don’t plan on going nowhere.” Y/n stated strongly, she had no plan of leaving Bucky. And she felt Steve needed to know that.

“Even when things get tough?” All Steve wanted to do was kind of prove himself right that Y/n would stick around when she was let in on the illegal side of business.

“I dont scare easy.” Y/n told Steve, looking him in the eyes. If she was scared easy she would’ve never lasted as long as she did in Charming.

“Yeah. I thought so.” Steve sent her a smile. He knew by the look in her eyes and the conviction in her voice that he was right about her.

“You thought so?” Y/n raised a brow intrigued that he had already thought about this subject and her response to it.

“I think you’ll stick around. I called it, I truly believed that and I was right.” Steve told her honestly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

Y/n studied Steve for a long moment before she felt her lip’s twitch up and a smile formed on her lip’s. She reached forward to grab her glass and took a sip of her drink. “I like you Steve Rogers.”

“Likewise Y/n Winston.” Steve let out a laugh, reaching forward and drinking from his own glass.

“We’re gonna be good friends.” Y/n felt that they’d have no problem getting along.

“Yes we are.” Steve nodded in agreement.

“What are you two talking about?” Bucky asked, walking back over towards where Steve and his girl were sitting and talking.

“Nothing concerning you.” Y/n teased as he walked right over to them.

“Oh really?” Bucky raised his brows in amusement.

“Come here, Y/n/n. Your turn girly.” Sam called her over, motioning with his arms waving her over.

Y/n laughed and stood up heading over to Sam to bowl her turn, but not before kissing Bucky on the cheek as she passed him.

Once she was over by Sam, Bucky took her seat next to Steve. “What’d you talk to her about?”

Steve laughed at Bucky’s protectiveness over Y/n. He found it endearing. “Just told her that she makes you happier than I’ve seen in awhile. Promise.”

“Hmmm Hmm.” Bucky hummed, he didn’t believe that was all they talked about but he also couldn’t deny his friend's statement either.

“You're really good at this.” Sam stated watching as Y/n bowled a strike.

“Well me and Bucky come here often. Muscle memory.” Y/n shrugged waiting for her ball to come back up.

“He’s falling in love with you. He may not have said it yet but I can tell.” Sam told her in a quieter voice so Bucky wouldn’t hear him.

“I’m falling in love with him to.” Y/n told Sam shyly admitting what she had felt happening for a while.

“Look, he doesn’t let people in easily so please try not to break his heart.” Sam glanced over to make sure Bucky wasn’t listening. Sam didn’t want Bucky to get his heart broken after opening it for the first time so deeply. Sam didn’t believe she’d break Bucky’s heart but he wanted her to know that he didn’t let people in easily or often.

“I won’t. I know how that feel’s. I’d never do that to someone.” Y/n told Sam honestly, and Sam could tell she was speaking truthfully by the look in her eyes.

“Good, good. And I’m sorry you’ve experienced that. I’m not trying to intimate you or-”

“You're just looking out for him. My friends did the same for me when he met them. I get it. Our friends are our family.” Y/n cut him off, she understood where Sam and Steve were coming from. Y/n knew Wanda and Pietro did the same. Bucky and her considered their friends their family and you protect your family.

“We are going to be great besties.” Sam smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders with a huge smile on his face.

“Over my dead body!” Bucky called having heard Sam’s declaration of friendship to his woman. Which caused the other 3 to laugh.

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @padawancat97 @maryvibess @gruffle1 @starkleila @bonnyclydecat @bruher @vicmc624

[theangelssing]

Good Evening

prompt: after a hard day with SAMCRO, Chibs could really use a shower, a dinner and your presence. Nothing else but a sweet evening with his s/o.

gender neutral!reader, third pov, Chibs & reader are a couple, reader is friend with Sons of Anarchy, 820 words

warnings: mention of blood, mc’s activites, nudity, smoking, drinking (wine) allusion of sexual activity, age gap, physical touch (romantic way)

a/n: small fluffy imagine with Chibs just bc I love him; don’t hesitate to send request for every character you want (:

masterlist - inbox

“Babe I’m home,” you heard Chibs’ voice across the small apartment you two shared. You got up from your bed you were sitting on and you came to meet a slightly bloody Chibs. “Not mine,” he just whispered as he saw you looking at him.

“You wanna talk ‘bout it?” you simply asked while you both were heading to the bathroom.

“Nope. Right now I want you and me in the shower,” he replied with a grin, which made you laugh.

“You never stop,” you said and he shook his head.

“Never, babe.”

Chibs kissed you, already undressing himself. You did the same, and the both of you went under the hot water. You were used to Chibs’ activities with the Sons of Anarchy. In fact, you were used to the charter’s activities. So when Chibs would returned at home all bloody after a day, you would not freaked out or complained. You would always stayed there for him if he wanted to talk, but you would never pushed him, only doing whatever the two of you wanted to enjoy your evenings.

After your shower Chibs was only wearing a towel around his hips while you were already wearing your pyjamas.

“What d’you want for dinner?” you asked him.

“Ye,” he replied, a crooked grin on his lips.

“Again? You sure you can handle that many rounds?” you were only playing with him, of course.

“Love, I migh’ be more than 15 years older than ya but I still can show ya who’s the boss here.”

He gave you a kiss and a small slap on one of your butt cheek, making you laugh.

“To be honest I’ll eat whatever’s left in the fridge and the cupboards. I think ya’ll need to run some errands tomorrow if it’s alright for ya.”

“Yeah no prob’ I’ll do it.”

You smiled softly, already busy finding what to cook. You knew Chibs could also cook, but sometimes you just like being the one cooking. While you were busy making dinner, Chibs would usually set the table and poured a glass of wine for the both of you, the smell of his smoke blending with the smell of the food.

After having put some sweat pants on, Filip returned in the kitchen, dinner almost ready. You didn’t do anything fancy, only spaghetti, but that was always great for him after a day working with the club. You put the plate before him as he was turning the tv on. You sat next to him and he gave you your glass of wine.

“What d’ya wanna watch?” Chibs asked.

“Let’s watch Pride and Prejudice!” you immediately replied.

“Again? Isn’t it like the third time in two month we watch it?”

“Yeah but I love it,” you said with big pleading eyes.

“‘kay but next time I’m the one choosin’ the movie.”

You smiled and went to put the dvd in the player.

It was your little habit. Just you two and a movie night, relaxing together. Of course Chibs loved to spend the night at the clubhouse but sometimes he was better alone with you than with the club. And sometimes he also loved having you around at the clubhouse. It all depended on his moods, yours, the day you both had. And right now, spending some time with your loved one, felt like the perfect evening.

“Aye, can’t get enough of that movie, can ye?” Filip put an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him as the movie just finished.

“I’m sure you love it too,” you joked.

“Kinda have too, after havin’ watch it that many times.”

Chibs laughed then kissed you and you went deeper in his embrace. You smelt his cologne mixed with the smoke and you felt at home.

He let a hand running through your hair and you stared at the paused screen in front of you. The black background was letting you see yourself in Chibs’ arms. You also could see his disturbed face and look.

“What’s going through that head of yours?” you asked, brushing his cheek with your nose.

“Too many things, babe. Don’t wanna upset ya with the club’s shit.” He kissed your forehead. “Jax’s a good president, I trust him enough.”

You nodded and kissed his cheeks. He lit a cigarette and you looked at him, only to meet his gaze on you.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothin’. Ye’re cute. What if we go to bed?” Chibs asked, a small and soft smile on his lips. You agreed and you both put an end – in your bedroom – to another crazy day.

You knew a small evening with you in his arms could make Chibs’ day better, so that’s what you did tonight. With him, you never felt the need to ask him about his day or about the club’s activities because he was the one to talk to you when he needed to.

[mysticalmallard]

With their drunk girlfriend

Finally finished I have been working on this on and off for a few days as work has been really busy. I hope you guys enjoy it I am not sure what topic the next group drabble will be so let me know what you guys wanna see next ♥︎

SoA Taglist: @arkytiorlecter @aimkatsz @ravennaortiz @darqchilddaydreamz @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @hatersaremymotivators @theshynerdsworld

♥︎ If you wish to be added or removed from this taglist comment or message me ♥︎

SoA Masterlist 🌸 Main Masterlist

Chibs

Chibs looked across at his girlfriend as she laughed loudly at something one of club hangarounds had said. It was easy to see that she was thoroughly drunk, as she stumbled about and slurred her words. He watched her with a mixture of amusement and affection, shaking his head at how adorable she was when she got wasted.

As the night progressed, Chibs kept a watchful eye on her, making sure she didn't do anything stupid or get into any trouble. He even stepped in when some drunk guy tried to flirt with her.

By the time the club party came to an end, his girlfriend was stumbling around bumping into things. Chibs chuckled and steadied her, slinging her arm around his shoulders to support her.

"Come on, lass, you're wasted," he said, leading her towards the exit. She giggled and leaned heavily against him, her legs apparently made of jelly.

"I'm not drunk," she protested, slurring her words. "I'm just... a little impaired."

"Uh-huh, sure you are," Chibs said, humoring her. "Just hold on tight, okay?"

He guided her to the parking lot where his bike was parked. He helped her on to the back seat, making sure she was sitting securely. As he straddled the bike, she wrapped her arms drunkenly around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder.

"Mmm, you smell good," she mumbled, nuzzling her face against his neck. "Like... leather and... and... danger."

Chibs chuckled and shook his head, starting up the engine. "And you smell like beer and trouble, lass."

The ride back to her house was slow and careful. Chibs kept a steady pace, mindful of the inebriated passenger clinging to him like a koala. She kept giggling and commenting on how fun it was to be on the motorcycle, her words a slightly slurred mess.

When they finally arrived at her house, Chibs dismounted and helped her off the bike. She stumbled a bit, but he caught her, holding her against his chest.

"We're here, love," Chibs said, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "You made it in one piece."

She looked up at him with glassy eyes, her face flushed from the alcohol and the wind. "I had the best night ever," she declared, grinning goofily.

He chuckled and shook his head again. "I'm glad you had fun, but you're going to have a hell of a headache in the morning."

He led her up to her porch, his arm around her waist to keep her steady. She leaned on him heavily, her steps uneven.

Once they got to her front door, he pulled her keys from her purse and slowly unlocked the door. He steered her inside, flicking on the lights as they entered the quiet house.

He helped her to the couch and sat her down. She immediately flopped onto the cushions, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

Chibs looked down at her, a mixture of amusement and concern on his face. "Stay there, okay? I'm gonna get you some water."

He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her on the couch. He rummaged through the fridge, finding a bottle of water. When he returned to the living room, she was already fast asleep, her body sprawled across the cushions.

Chibs couldn't help but smile at the sight of her asleep. He knelt down next to the couch, taking a moment to study her face. She looked so peaceful, a stark contrast to the wild laughter and stumbling from earlier.

He carefully placed the water bottle on the table, then reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes.

He sat down on the edge of the coffee table, his gaze never leaving her. He knew he should probably leave her to sleep off the alcohol, but part of him didn't want to go. He liked being near her like this, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath.

After a few moments, he let out a soft sigh. Reluctantly, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Sweet dreams, love," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.

He stood up, giving her one last glance before reluctantly turning away. He switched off the lights as he left, shutting the front door behind him quietly.

Happy

Happy sat on the couch in his dimly lit apartment, holding a glass of whiskey, his eyes fixed on his girlfriend who was currently stumbling around, giggling to herself. She was clearly drunk, and had been for a while.

"Hey there, princess," he called out, setting his glass down on the table. "You need to sit down and rest before you fall down."

His girlfriend looked at him, her eyes half-lidded and glassy, a wide smile spreading across her face. "I'm fiiiine," she slurred, taking an exaggerated step forward, nearly tripping over her own feet. "I can totally walk."

Happy chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I've seen more coordination from a newborn deer," he said, standing up to approach her. "Come on, sit down before you hurt yourself."

His girlfriend pouted but didn't protest as he gently took her by the elbow and led her to the couch. She flopped down onto the cushions with a heavy sigh, looking up at him with a grin that was equal parts cute and ridiculous. "You worry too much," she said, waving a hand dismissively.

Happy sat down next to her, shaking his head again with a slight smile. "Maybe," he admitted, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. "But someone's got to keep an eye on you when you get like this."

His girlfriend snuggled into him, resting her head on his chest and letting out a content sigh. "You're so comfy," she mumbled, her words slightly slurred. "Like a big ol' teddy bear."

Happy chuckled again, gently running his fingers through her hair. "That's me," he said, his tone both dry and affectionate. "Big Bad Biker Teddy Bear."

His girlfriend giggled, nuzzling her face against his chest. "Mmm, I love your chest," she said, her hand slowly snaking down to rest just above his belt buckle. "It's so... hard and muscley."

Happy raised an eyebrow, a devilish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Is that so?" he said, his voice dropping a note lower. He gently took her hand in his, preventing her from moving it any lower. "You're very handsy when you're drunk."

His girlfriend pouted again, trying to pull her hand free, but Happy held it fast. "I'm always handsy with you," she whined, looking up at him with puppy-dog eyes. "Don't you like it when I touch you?"

Happy's grip on her hand tightened just a bit, enjoying the game. "I never said I didn't like it," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But you seem a bit too wasted to be playing those kinds of games right now."

His girlfriend huffed, looking for all the world like a petulant child being denied a treat. "I'm not that drunk," she protested, wriggling a bit in his lap.

"look I'll prove it" she said holding a hand up going to touch her nose with her pointer finger but misses completely.

Happy couldn't help but laugh at her failed attempt. "Yeah, you're definitely wasted," he said, amused. "If you can't even touch your own nose without missing, I think it's safe to say you're done for the night."

His girlfriend stuck her tongue out at him, a childish gesture made even cuter by her inebriated state. "You're no fun," she muttered, resting her head back against his chest. "You never let me have any fun."

Happy chuckled again, resuming his stroking of her hair. "Trust me, princess," he said, his voice dropping back to a deeper, huskier tone, "We can have plenty of fun when you're sober. And you'll remember it the next morning."

His girlfriend nuzzled against his chest again, her eyelids drooping as the alcohol began to pull her towards sleep. "Promise?" she mumbled, her hand once again trying to snake back towards his lap.

Happy gently moved her hand away again, though he couldn't help but smile at her persistence. "I promise," he said, his voice soft. "You get some rest, and we'll pick this up in the morning when you're not seeing double."

Jax

Jax glanced over at his girlfriend, who was slumped against his side, her eyes half-lidded and a goofy smile on her lips. She'd had a few too many drinks and was now completely wrecked. He couldn't help but chuckle seeing her like this.

"All right, come here," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to him. He could feel her body sway slightly, her head lolling against his shoulder.

"Yurrrr so strong," she slurred, giggling.Jax rolled his eyes, his lips curling into a small grin.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm a big, strong man," he teased, gently patting her on the head. "Let's get you to bed, yeah? You're completely hammered."

He carefully helped her to her feet, keeping a tight grip on her as she wobbled. "Come on, babe. You're not walking anywhere like this." He guided her towards his dorm, one arm wrapped around her waist to keep her steady.

Once they were in the room, he sat her down on the edge of the bed with a soft thump, then knelt down in front of her to take off her shoes. "You're a real light-weight, you know that?" he teased as he slid them off her feet, setting them aside.

"Am NOT," she tried to protest, but the words didn't quite come out right. She wobbled again, nearly toppling forward before Jax caught her.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there. Don't go falling over now." He gently pushed her down onto the bed, helping her get comfortable amongst the pillows and blankets. He sat down on the bed next to her, watching her with a mixture of fondness and amusement.

She let out a contented sigh as she settled, her eyes fluttering closed. She mumbled something incoherent, and Jax couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head in amusement. He leaned down, brushing the hair away from her face before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Get some sleep, babe."

He sat there for a moment, listening to the sound of her soft, even breaths as she started to drift off. He knew she'd be out for the night, and he'd have to look after her in the morning when she woke up with a killer hangover. But for now, she was safe and sound in his bed, and that was all that mattered.

Opie

Opie returns home late one night after a long day to find his girlfriend already on the couch in the house, a bottle of beer in her hand and a flush to her cheeks. He can already assume she is drunk and he has to bite back a smirk, knowing the kind of trouble you get into when she is inebriated.

As soon as she hears him enter, she jumps to her feet, almost toppling over, but just about saving herself by grabbing the back of the couch. “O-Opie,” she stutters, a goofy smile on her face. “You're home.”

“Yeah, I’m home,” he replies, unable to hide the amusement in his voice as he takes in the state of you. “And you’re a little drunk, aren’t you?”

"No....I have only had to beers" she whined frowning at the 2 bottles on the table.

Opie chuckles when he spots the bottles realizing she found the super stong home brew he got as a gift from Bobby. “Those ain't beer, baby,” he says, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest. “That's Bobby's 'special brew'. It would get most people drunk within minutes. How are you feeling?”

"I'm totally fine," she mumbles, her words slurred as she tries to lean against the couch but misses and almost falls to the ground if it wasn't for Opie's lightening reflexes. He quickly catches her before she hits the floor and pulls her body up against his chest.

"Yeah, you're definitely not fine," he murmurs, holding her close to him. He can't help but feel amused by how adorable she is when she's drunk. "You're gonna have a hell of a headache in the morning, baby."

She groans and buries her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I feel funny,” she mumbled. “And spinny.”

Opie laughs softly and holds her closer against him, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he tries to steady her. “That’s because you’re drunk, sweetheart,” he says gently, running his hand up and down her back. “Just lean against me, okay?”

She nods and sighs contently as she leans against him more, burying her face in his chest once again. “You smell good, Opie,” she mumbles, her words still slurred and her breath warm against his chest.

He chuckles softly at her drunken compliment and tightens his arms around her, holding her even closer against him. “And you smell like a distillery,” he teases, his voice filled with affection.

She groans again and pouts up at him, her lips in a cute little frown. “You’re mean,” she sulks, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout. “You’re not supposed to be mean to me when I’m drunk, you’re supposed to be nice and tell me I’m pretty and buy me chicken nuggets.”

Opie grins, amused by her drunken requests. "You want chicken nuggets?" he teases, lifting an eyebrow. "At this hour?"

She nods enthusiastically, practically bouncing on the spot in her excitement. "Yes! I'm starving," she whines, her eyes wide and pleading. "Please, Opie, I want chicken nuggets. Please please please."

He laughs, unable to resist her adorable drunken plea. "Alright, alright," he says, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "I'll get your chicken nuggets, baby. But you have to promise me one thing."

She nods eagerly, her focus solely on the promise of food. "Anything," she slurs, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

He grins down at her, amused by her eagerness. "You gotta promise not to throw up on me, okay?" he teases, gently poking her on the nose with his index finger.

Juice

Juice leans against the doorframe, watching his girlfriend stumble around, completely intoxicated. She's laughing and swaying attempting to dance, clearly not in full control of her actions.

"How much did you drink, baby?" he asks, stepping closer.

"Dunno," she slurs, grinning sloppily at him. "A lot."

Juice chuckles, shaking his head.He moves in and scoops her up, pulling her into his arms with ease. She's lightweight to him, and he easily supports her against his chest.

"Let's get you to bed, you're wasted." he says, carrying her towards the bedroom.She giggles uncontrollably, burying her face in the crook of his neck as he carries her. She's making these little hiccup sounds that would be cute if not for the fact that they're coming from a drunk woman.

Juice sets her down on the bed, carefully arranging her head on a pillow. She's still giggling and murmuring incoherent words, clearly oblivious to the world around her.

"You're a mess," he says, rolling his eyes but there's a hint of fondness in his voice. He pulls off her shoes and lays a blanket over her.

She's attempting to say something but it's coming out as garbled nonsense. He leans closer to try and make out her words but they're not making any sense.

"Shhh," he soothes, smoothing a hand over her hair. "Just sleep it off."

He settles down on the edge of the bed, watching her as she fidgets and mutters to herself, her eyes fluttering shut and then opening again. She keeps reaching out for him, her hand flailing in the air as if trying to grab hold of something.

He can't help but chuckle at her antics, despite the situation. He reaches out and takes her hand in his, giving it a squeeze to reassure her.

She mumbles something that sounds like his name, her fingers wrapping around his.

"Yeah, it's me," he replies, his voice soft. He continues sitting there, holding her hand and stroking her hair until her breathing becomes steady, signalling she's fallen asleep.

He sits there for a few more minutes, quietly watching her. She looks so peaceful now that she's asleep, a complete contrast to the stumbling mess she was just a while ago.

Slowly, carefully so as not to wake her, he gets up and turns off the bedroom light, leaving the door slightly ajar so he can hear her if she needs him.

He goes to the kitchen filling a bottle with water and ice taking it back into the bedroom leaving it by her side going into the bathroom to find some painkillers.

He comes back into the room, carrying a couple of painkillers. He sets them down on the bedside table, making sure they're within reach for when she wakes up.

He looks down at her sleeping form, contemplating waking her up to give her the medicine, but decides against it. She's in deep sleep, and he doesn't want to disturb her. Instead, he pulls up a chair and sits down to keep an eye on her, just in case she wakes up and needs anything.

Herman

Kozik and his girlfriend had spent the evening at a party hosted by the club. As the night went on, his girlfriend had indulged in a few too many drinks, while he had remained relatively sober.

As the party began to wind down, Kozik noticed that his girlfriend had become quite drunk. She was stumbling around, struggling to speak clearly, and seemed on the verge of passing out.

Seeing her in this state, Kozik knew he couldn't leave her on her own. He made his way over to her, gently placing his arm around her to help her stand steady.

"Hey, sweetie," he said, his voice soft and caring. "I think it's time to get you home."

His girlfriend protested, insisting that she was fine and wanted to stay at the party longer. But Kozik gently but firmly shook his head.

"No, babe," he said, guiding her towards the door. "You've had a little too much to drink. We need to get you home and into bed."

His girlfriend groaned, but she was too drunk to put up much of a fight. Kozik led her out of the party and helped her into the passenger seat of her car.

As he buckled her seatbelt, he could see that she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Just hang in there," he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We're almost home."

The drive was quiet, with his girlfriend dozing off in the passenger seat. Kozik kept his eyes focused on the road, his hand occasionally reaching over to pat her leg reassuringly.

When they finally arrived at her house, he helped her out of the car and guided her up the driveway. She stumbled on the way to the front door, but he was there to catch her, holding her steady against him.

Inside, Kozik helped his girlfriend into bed, pulling the blankets up around her and making sure she was comfortable. She mumbled something about wanting to stay awake and chat, but her eyes were already shutting.

Kozik chuckled softly, sitting down beside her on the bed. He brushed the hair back from her face and tucked the covers in around her.

"It's time to sleep," he said gently. "You'll feel better in the morning. I'll be right here."

His girlfriend nodded sleepily, her eyes closed now. Kozik stayed by her side, watching her breathing even out as she fell asleep. He leaned back against the headboard, content to keep watch over her until morning.

As the night went on, Kozik found his mind drifting. He thought about the party they had just left, his brothers back at the club, and the life they lived. But throughout it all, his thoughts kept returning to the woman asleep beside him.

He knew he was lucky to have her. She was feisty, spirited and beautiful. And she was all his.

Tig

Tig was watching his girlfriend's every movement from a safe distance. Not because he was worried, but because watching his girlfriend when slightly hammered was always fun. She always let her inner self shine when she's had a few drinks. She's not as shy and reserved when she's like that.

Right now she was giggling up a storm with some of the guys from the club. Her cheeks were a rosy shade and her eyes were bright. A little smile played on his lips as he took another long sip from his beer.

He chuckled to himself, watching as his girlfriend stumbled on her own two feet. She reached out and grabbed onto the nearest person to steady herself, who just so happened to not be him. His smile disappeared into a slight frown, and he took a few steps closer.

He quickly intervened and wrapped an arm around her, steadying her. He kept a tight grip, not too tight but tight enough to keep her from toppling over. "You okay there, sweetheart?" Tig asked, his voice holding a touch of amusement.

She looked up at him, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed with alcohol. A huge smile graced her face and she let out a small giggle. "TIGGY!! I'm good, just got a little dizzy." She replied, leaning a little closer to him, clearly tipsy.

Tig chuckled and instinctively tightened his arm around her. "Yeah, I can tell. You should slow down on the drinks, doll." He teased, looking down at her with a mixture of affection and mild concern.

"I'm fine, really. I can handle my boooze." She stated, trying to sound firm, but the slur in her voice gave her away. She stumbled again and Tig quickly caught her again, pulling her closer against him to keep her steady.

Tig rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah, you're doing a real good job handling your booze right now.." he replied sarcastically. He let out a chuckle, his hand gently rubbing her back, soothingly.

She pouted and smacked his chest playfully. "Shut up, I'm not even that drunk." She retorted, her voice still a little slurred. "I had like, three beers and a shot then another one...Oh then Bobby made a toast so i had another few. I can handle that."

Tig raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "Oh thats all, huh?" He teased, his tone laced with amusement. "Yeah, sweetheart, that sounds mighty reasonable for a lightweight like you."

She huffed in mock annoyance, but couldn't help the grin that tugged at the corners of her lips. "I am not a lightweight." She argued, but her unsteadiness and rosy cheeks said otherwise.Tig couldn't help but chuckle at her denial. He continued to hold her close, enjoying the feeling of her warmth pressed against him. "Right, sure you're not. That's why you can barely stand up straight on your own."

"I can stand just fine, thank you very much!" She retorted, her drunken confidence taking over. She tried to step away from him to spin in a circle and prove her point, but she stumbles again, wobbling on her feet.

Tig quickly wrapped an arm around her again and pulled her back towards him. He chuckled, now finding her attempts to prove her point even more amusing. "Yeah, you're a regular ballerina on those feet, darlin'."

She went quiet too quiet. And has a weird look on her face

"Ah shit" Tig groans and quickly scooped her up with practiced ease, knowing what was about to happen. "Looks like it's a one-way ticket to the porcelain throne for you, sweetheart." He joked as he started to rush her towards the nearest bathroom.

Once they reached the bathroom, he gently set her down in front of the toilet just in time before she started to retch into it. He knelt down beside her, holding back her hair as she emptied her stomach. Tig winced in sympathy as he heard her getting sick.

"There you go, get it all out, doll." He comforted, rubbing her back soothingly. He was thankful that the bathroom was mostly empty, and he knew the guys would keep other people out.

Once she was done, she slumped against him, weak and shaky. Tig pulled her onto his lap, holding her close and letting her rest her head against his chest. He gently stroked her hair, trying to soothe her. "You're gonna be feeling like hell tomorrow, baby." He said with a playful hint of amusement. He knew she was in for a rough morning, but he was also secretly enjoying having her so dependent on him for awhile.

[brunettemarionette]

"Dibs," Tig calls out as he starts walking towards you. The other guys grab him back, and they all start to argue over not being able to call dibs on this.

Unknown to them, an oblivious Opie who had been under a car was walking towards you with a friendly smile on his face. Clearly, he hadn't heard their squabbling.

Happy smacks the back of his hand against Jax's kutte as he motions with his head. They all turn to see you laughing at something Opie is saying.

"may the best man win…" Jax says quickly, making his way over as the others follow, trying to shove and knock each other down to get to you first.

[etclouie]

²⁶⁵⁾ “bit kinky for a monday morning, don’t you think?” and tiggy bc he’s always kinky 😉

title; Mondays (Tig Trager x fem!reader)

prompts; “bit kinky for a monday morning, don’t you think?” — from three hundred assorted dialogue prompts 

warnings; established relationship, they own handcuffs lol, allusions to oral, so minors do not interact!!!, but that’s it i believe? (603 words)

one year masterlist | main masterlist

— come celebrate my one year!!

you’d woken up to the bed cold and empty by your side, a deflated sigh falling from your lips at the realisation.

today was supposed to be just for you and Tig, no interruptions from the club, but of course that didn’t happen.

it never worked like that, and you knew it, but you still wanted some uninterrupted time with him.

with a tired grumble, you curled into Tig’s side of the bed. cold, yet so warm with the memory of him, the way his aftershave lingered on the sheets.

the smell of him easily lulling you back to sleep, acting as a blanket that he often acted as himself.

you were out for who knows how long, but the sun was now shining in through the curtains. 

it was nice, a quiet morning like this with the sun casting a golden hue through your room. but there was a noise somewhere else in the house, the distinct sound of boots moving closer, any other time it would’ve struck panic but you knew those steps all too well.

after a minute, Tig opened the bedroom door, a low chuckle falling from his lips at the sight of you curled into his side of the bed.

“mornin’ doll”

you turned to the sound of his voice, humming as he moved towards you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“just grabbin’ something”

he murmured, opening his bedside table and fishing out the pair of handcuffs he kept in there.

the sight made you pause.

it was first thing on a Monday morning, why was he pulling out the handcuffs? especially when he wasn’t staying to use them with you?

“what are you up to?”

the skepticism was obvious in your tone, slowly sitting up in bed as you quirked a brow at him.

“grabbin’ these”

he told while holding up the cuffs, earning a shake of your head in return.

you couldn’t pin why Tig would need to grab them, but it didn’t stop the amusement that laced your tone.

“bit kinky for a Monday morning, don’t you think?”

you asked, brow still raised curiously even with the amusement filling you.

“club business, but you can never be too kinky for a Monday morning—you know that much”

he leaned in to kiss you again, setting the handcuffs down on top of the nightstand as he lost himself in the kiss.

Tig only pulled back as you grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“why do you need to use our handcuffs?”

a smirk broke out on his face, rugged and wanting, even with his current mission to collect the cuffs.

“great question”

he murmured, not attempting to hide his disinterest in answering your question, instead Tig was kissing you again, hungrier this time.

before you knew it, he was on the bed and his hips nestled between your legs, the bulge in his jeans prominent. 

his mouth moved down your throat, across your chest and down towards where the subtle ache throbbed between your thighs. 

“Tig”

your breathy call of his name had him lifting his head, smirk still on his face under his perfectly trimmed moustache.

“yeah doll?”

he answered without a care for anything else, attention now set firmly on you and your pleasure.

and god did you love him for it.

his willingness to focus solely on you, even if he was meant to be doing something else.

“your thing.. with the handcuffs?”

Tig only chuckled, shaking his head while helping you out of your bottoms and underwear. 

“can wait, hungry now darlin’,”

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[bellaxgiornata]

Over here working on a satisfying sequel for the smutty one shot Something Changed since it took an angsty turn when I was wrapping it up. This final part will have smut and a happier conclusion!

[wetpussyju1ce]

jax teller x fem!reader

how to get jax teller wrapped around your finger 101: easy, really. the nicest girl in town did it. she always smells the same, clean, fresh and sweet. coconuts and tangerines. she always says hello when they meet. always w a pretty smile. she also says hello to his gang. is nice to odd and peculiar personalities. takes everything with a welcoming smile and gaze. she cares abt people. like to ask things. do small things. not too much, because she doesn't have all the time in the world, after all.

she likes to keep sweet treats and snacks in her bag, just for jax. the sweeter, the better. so when he gets an itch to smoke, she just hands him one. and she did so many times, everytime he wants to smoke, he looks around, expecting her to be there and hand him one. a small chocolate bar. a tiny cupcake. a single packaged brownie. and his stomach rumbles. feels the lack of sweetness of his tongue. starts seeing the treats she gives him at the gas station and instantly thinks of her.

when they exchanged numbers. she made a habit of calling him on the same day, at the same time every week, just to say hello and check up on him. and he unconsciously grows to anticipate her calls. gets excited. and when she forgets to call, he gets confused and shows up at her house. he feels like a teenager all over again. laying in his bed, staring at his phone, just for her name to flash on his screen.

the longer they keep meeting and seeing each other. the shorter her skirts and shorts gets. Jax doesn't notice at first. how she started with jeans. complaining that the seats of the bar were always sticky and she hated the texture against bare skin. then her skirts started getting shorter and shorter, and jax at first tried wiping the seats for her, then realised those chairs are a lost caused, so much layers of unknown liquids on them. so he just offers his lap now. she says he's comfy and she smells real nice on him, so it's a win.

and when the smell of the bar gets too much, tobacco and weed and other illegal plants wafting through the air, mixed with sweat, beer and the stench of piss around the radius of the toilets, he just shoves his nose in her hair, inhales long and deep, his own little paradise, right there, on his lap. and it has gotten to a point where if she isn't there on one of those nights, to occupy his lap, he quickly gets a headache of the smell and stuffiness and goes out to take a break, outside, in fresh air. he gets irritated. annoyed. and complains about how people need to start using deodorants.

and the small changes in his behaviour are caught on. the smell never bothered him before she came in his life. but he doesn't want to hear it. doesn't care. especially when he can go to her house. where it's quiet. and gets tucked in her fluffy soft comfy bed, after taking a shower and using her own shampoos. and he gets a kiss on his forehead and cheeks. chokes hugs the life out of her squishmallows and closes his eyes, resting his bruised up body under covers of safety, tangerines & coconuts.