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[noladyme]

soft morning sex with frank?

a/n: not beta read but full of soft smutty frank <3

masterlist // join my taglist

The soft press of Frank’s lips against your bare shoulder is what stirred you awake, slowly bringing you to consciousness out of a deep slumber. You kept your eyes closed, burying your face in the pillow that smelled like home. The subtle sounds of morning in Hell’s Kitchen crept through the window, pulling you further out of your stupor. Frank’s stubble rubbed against your back and you finally blinked your eyes open, squinting in the dim lighting. 

“It’s early, Frankie.” You sighed, content to stay wrapped in his warmth forever. He pulled you closer and nuzzled his nose against your neck, pressing soft kisses to the underside of your jaw. 

“Missed you.” He mumbled, running his lips across your neck. “‘ve been up for hours.”

This tidbit of information didn’t surprise you. Frank was always the first one to wake, sometimes chased from sleep by nightmares, other times blinking out of a dream and realizing he had slept a full night without interruption. He always did sleep better when he was wrapped in your scent. 

“Watching me?” You smiled.

“Always.” 

“Creep.”

You both giggled softly, soaking in each other’s happiness, warmth, and joy like it was something that might not last. Frank knew all too well that it, in fact, might not last. You were here now, but there were no promises that you’d be here forever. He’d do his best to protect you from his family’s demise, but he’d made that promise before and broken it. 

The complexity of the issue made itself present in the room before Frank could do or say anything. You read the shift in the room so quickly that Frank barely had the thought before you were turning to face him, cupping his jaw in your palm.

“Stop all that thinking.” You kissed the bridge of his nose - his least favorite feature and consequently, your favorite thing to kiss - and smiled. “‘t’s too early for that.”

“Sorry.” He smiled, finally able to kiss you properly, now that you were facing him. It was a slow, sensual kiss, one that raised the temperature in the room a degree or two. He tugged your hips against his, and you gasped when you felt his hard length against you. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, an advance that you’d never been able to deny.

You widened your legs in response, pushing against Frank’s shoulders until he was flat on his back, straddling his hips. His muscular body was pliable under your touch, bending and folding to your every whim. He would do anything you asked of him for the rest of his life if that’s what made you happy.

He sighed contently as you relaxed against his chest, arching into his hold. You angled your body so that your achingly wet core would rub against his hard cock, swiping your folds over the tip in a teasingly slow grind. He groaned, tightening his hold on your hips.

“You keep doin’ that and I ain’t lastin’ long, sweetheart.” He breathed, shuttering when you slid your core against him again. 

The rasp of his voice pulled a low moan from your chest, and you couldn’t stop yourself from sinking down on his aching, hard cock. You tensed immediately, the thickness and length of him sending a stinging sensation through your body. 

“Sore from last night?” He questioned, cupping your cheeks with his palms. A small smile formed at the memory of the night before. God, you were so flexible.

“Mhm.” You closed your eyes, waiting for the pain to pass. He carefully sat up, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you flush against him. He watched you, the knot between your eyebrows, the loosened clench of your jaw as the sting finally began to subside, the gasp of pleasure that escaped your mouth when he gently moved his hips against yours. All of it was beautiful. All of it was perfect. He never wanted to be anywhere but here, looking up at your glowing face, buried deep inside you, surrounded by the warmth that was you.

“You’re perfect.” He whispered, peppering kisses along your jaw. “You’re everything.” 

You rocked your hips against his again and again, a slow but increasingly sultry encounter that had you gasping for air. All the while, he pressed soft kisses into your bare skin and lightly ran his fingers along your spine. You could get drunk on his touch, and you sort of felt like you were drunk. The early hour combined with the heat in the room made your head swim. Frank was good at that.

Frank wrapped his arms around you and flipped you onto your back, unable to pull away from you for even a second. You arched into his touch, wrapping your legs around his waist. His lips met yours in a smoldering kiss, and you moaned into his mouth as he ground his hips against yours.

“F-Frankie.” You breathed, trailing your lips over his mouth, jaw, cheek, anything you could press your lips to. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck, grunting.

“You gonna come, baby?” He teased, licking a stripe up your throat for emphasis. You spasmed beneath him, almost coming apart at his words. 

“‘m gonna come, Frankie.” You moaned, focusing on the fire building in your core. He intertwined his fingers with yours, pulling your arms above your head before snapping his hips against yours.

“Wanna feel you come apart around me, sweetheart.” He squeezed your hands, pounding into you as you did just that. Your body tensed up, and you exploded beneath him. Fire coursed through your veins, your limbs trembling with overstimulation as he fucked you through your orgasm. You clawed at his back, clenching around his hard length. 

“Just like that, sweet girl, fuck,” he growled, releasing your hands in order to cup the back of your head instead. You arched into his warmth, clenching around him again. 

“‘m gonna come, baby. Can I fill you up, pretty girl?”

“Please, Frankie.” You moaned, nodding. “Fill me up.” 

It was enough to undo him. His breath hitched, and he groaned as he reached his peak inside of you. Your hearts pounded in unison, and even though you both were spent, your hands couldn’t help but find one another - coaxing each other through the highs.

Frank slumped onto the mattress next to you, pulling your body against his as he moved. The sun had begun its ascent into the sky, spreading its rays across the bedroom floor. You tilted your head up, eyeing the soft smile that had spread across Frank’s face.

“What is it?” You asked, lying your head down on his warm chest.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, sighing contently, “I just think you were made for me, and not a lot of people get to meet the person made just for them. Just feeling lucky s’all.”

Heat creeped up your neck, and you buried your face into his skin to hide your widening grin. It was luck, you thought, that brought him to you, and you’d never stop counting your lucky stars for that.

taglist:

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[noladyme]

Let me handle it.

Frank Castle x F!Reader

summary: After a long day at work you FINALLY get home and Frank decides to offer some help with redirecting your frustrations. warnings: strong language, explicit language, explicit content, pet names, praises, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex. word count: 3.8k an: Hey heeey, me again...trying to get out of my writers block LIKE ALWAYS! I stg there isnt a fic on this blog that isn't my attempt to try and get back into writing but anyway. This was just something short and sweet I wanted to get out to hopefully get the gears moving again. Let me know what you think! I know the ending feels a bit rushed but I hope its alright. Reblogs and feedback appreciated as always! Hope you'll enjoy! OH and of course, thank you @chelseasdagger for helping with this one and im tagging @lucy-sky cause she requested that!

You push the front door open and sigh loudly at the sight of your apartment. The 8 hours of work felt particularly long today, and you swear at some points you weren't really sure if 5pm was actually going to come after all. The tiredness fills every inch of your body to the point that some parts actually, physically hurt as you get your coat and boots off before making your way over to the living room.

“There she is.”

Frank sits on the big couch in front of the TV, his ‘work’ clothes still on, so you assume it hasn’t been long since he got back as well. He looks better than you feel, though, one leg on the floor, the other propped up on the small coffee table. The TV remote is still in his hands, but you notice how he turns the screen off the second he notes your presence. 

Looking up at the sound of his voice, you do your best to smile in response, but the content expression fails to reach your eyes, and you turn your gaze back to the wooden floor before answering.

You mumble a quiet greeting under your nose and walk past the couch, past him and into the small now, thank god, dark bedroom. 

Frank frowns, turning his head as he watches you cross the living room and disappear behind the bedroom door. It’s not hard to pick up on the fact that something is clearly off. It’s not like you two cling to each other the second you step through the front door, but he knows something about the way you act today just doesn't feel how it should feel. He grunts, pushing himself up from his spot on the couch, and makes his way over to the bedroom.

Back in the small room, you attempt to get rid of your work clothes as fast as possible, longing for the simple yet unmatched comfort of one of Frank’s basic t shirts. You pick the one laying by the end of the bed, the one you knew he currently slept in, and softly pull the work shirt up and off over your head before ditching your bra too and tossing it off to the side. You can't be bothered to clean it up, not right now, probably not tonight. With the t shirt now on, you sit at the foot of the bed. 

A loud sigh exits your body as you attempt to take your pants off, but for some reason, the task proves harder than it would be on any other day. You fight with the fabric for another moment, frantically waving your legs back and forth with no avail before hiding your face in your hands, ready to dig the nails into your flesh with all the pent-up frustration of the week. 

“You need help with that?”

You drag your fingers down your face and turn to face him.

Frank stands in the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest as he leans onto the door frame, and you hope he wasn't here long enough to witness your meltdown. 

“I don’t… know.”

You admit, the overwhelming frustration wins over the slight embarrassment of the previous moment. 

Frank nods before pushing himself away from the door frame. He walks over to the bed without a word, and before you can try to explain yourself, you watch him get down on one knee in front of you with a grunt.

“Alright.”

He mumbles softly, fully kneeling in front of you now. Holding your calf softly in one hand, he pulls the fabric of your pants down your leg before switching to the other one. You watch silently as he gets rid of the clothes for you before tossing them off to the side, to be dealt with at some point during the week. 

“That better?”

He asks softly, and you nod, your body relaxing at the sensation of his fingers brushing up and down the back of your calves softly. 

“Work?”

He asks carefully, feeling the need to figure out what was wrong, but not wanting you to have to think about it again.

Closing your eyes, you sigh softly and nod once more, confirming his previous suspicion. 

“Want me to go out there…make sure this shit is sorted?”

The question makes you chuckle, and you breathe out a quiet laugh as your eyes find his again. He never looked away from you. 

“You gonna go beat the shit out of my boss?”

You finally speak up, pushing your fingers through Frank’s short hair, feeling it prickle your skin slightly as you do so. The familiar feeling somehow grounds you in the moment as you feel more present than before. 

Frank scoffs at your words, looking off to the side for a second before turning back to face you. That god-damn cocky smile makes you smile back at him almost instantly. 

“That what you want?”

He moves his hands up, fingers now brushing over your thighs as he pushes forward slightly, you spread your legs open some more to fit his wide frame between them. 

“I mean if you’re offering.”

You joke, and he breathes out through his nose quickly, shaking his head with a semi playful smile.

“Yeah, okay, you got it, kid.”

He mumbles before leaning down to press a kiss onto your thigh. Closing your eyes, you let out a quiet hum, the wet warmth of his lips present on your skin for a long couple of seconds before he finally pulls away. 

“How ‘bout I make you feel good? Hmm? That sounds okay?”

His voice rumbles through your body as he moves closer to you and the bed, gently lifting your one leg up and over his shoulder before he does the same with the other one.

“Fuck.”

You start, already feeling how your body begins to react to him, the warmth between your legs slowly growing more prominent.

“You don't understand how much I’d love that right now, I just…”

He stops, stops immediately and waits to hear you out.

“I’m too fucking tired to move, Frankie.”

“Who says you gotta do anythin’?”

The way he answers makes it feel like the most obvious thing in the universe, like how he doesn't understand how you could've thought of it in any other way than him giving you all he can offer.

“Shit, you think I’m gonna make you ride it or something?”

He looks up at you from where he's kneeling by the bed, eyebrows pulled together in a frown, as if he genuinely can not believe you’d think that.

“Think I’m gonna make you get on your knees? Suck me off and tell you you’re doing a good job, hmm? That what you think?”

You laugh, shaking your head, knowing he would never make a situation like this about himself. Yeah, you two enjoyed it when things got rough during sex, and you enjoyed ordering Frank around just as much as he did with you, but you both also understood the timing and feeling of this situation. You knew not everything always worked the same, and so did Frank. “If you did, you’d get a fucking knee to your stomach, you got that?”

You state and Frank scoffs once again.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He nods, pressing a kiss to the side of your thigh before helping you slide your legs off his shoulder.

“Alright.”

He starts after pushing himself off the floor.

“Lay down, kid, show me how you want it.”

He gestures to the bed, and you give him a big, bright smile for the first time since getting home from work. Turning your back to him, you climb up to the top of the bed before dropping onto one of the big pillows. With a satisfied groan, you bury your face into the soft fabric and close your eyes for a second before pulling one of your legs up, bending it at the knee. The movement causes the fabric of Frank’s shirt to slowly slide down the slope of your back, exposing both your panties and your ass to the man standing at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah? Like that?"

He asks in that deep, groggy voice, and you nod, rubbing your cheek against the pillow without bothering to open your eyes as you do so.

“Alright.”

He mumbles, and you feel the mattress dip under the weight of his body after a moment. You listen to your body, to its needs and wants, and push your ass out slightly towards him with a quiet, innocent moan.

Frank scoffs loudly, shaking his head as he climbs over you, his arms propped up on either side of your body as he holds himself up above you. 

“Thought you were too tired to pull that shit.”

He points out in a teasing manner, and you crack one eye open slowly, the corner of your mouth pulling up into a playful smile.

“Oh no, I’m never too tired to be a pain in the ass to you.”

You mumble, somewhat to him, somewhat into the fabric of the pillow, before he breathes out a small laugh and leans down to press a kiss right on your shoulder. You watch as the muscles in his arm tense when he's pushing himself up again.

“Yeah, okay, you gonna let me do this or do you want to keep being an ass?”

You grin at the word and glance back at him, but he cuts you off before you manage to say anything.

“Don’t, do not fucking answer that.”

You laugh out loud, but the laughter quickly turns into a deep grunt when Frank pushes his hands against your ass. You feel his fingers digging into your body when he squeezes you tight, and you lift your hips up slightly, pushing into his touch. 

“Yeaaah, s’what I thought, you like that?”

You hum softly and hope it’s enough of an answer as the firm grip on your body disappears for a second, just to come back a moment later. 

“I got you now, kid, s okay."

He grumbles, pushing your legs apart some so he can sit in between them, right behind your ass. Pushing the hem of your shirt up, he gently brushes his fingers over your back. His hands make their way to the sides of your body, fingertips brushing up and down your ribs for a moment, and you let out a loud sigh.

“That’s it, good girl, again.”

You repeat the deep breath in and a calm exhale, allowing him to lead you through this, this one time. Dragging his hands lower and lower down your body, Frank works his fingers over your skin. The firm but gentle sensation of his touch spreads from your back and sides to your ass, then lower onto the back of your thighs and then calves when he reaches his arm behind his back. 

“Mmmm, Frankie”

Your hips push up once again when his thumbs dig into the spot right under your ass, and he breathes out a laugh. 

“Yeah, okay.”

You don’t have to explain it to him, he knows how to read your body. Slowly dragging his thumb over the fabric of your panties, he slips his four other fingers between your legs, cupping your pussy over your underwear. 

You whine quietly, your eyes still closed as he begins to draw small circles against your most sensitive spot, the tension in your body releasing into his touch. 

Humming quietly, you snuggle into the pillow, letting yourself fully relax now as the stress of the day leaves with your satisfied hum.

“Yeah? This what you like? Hmm?”

You push yourself back into his hand, leaning harder into his touch as an answer, and Frank tightens his hold onto you in response. The intensity of the sensation rises as he pushes his fingers harder against you. 

The tired, but honest smile on your face indicates how good of a job he’s doing. Well, that and the way the fabric of your underwear dampens more as the minutes pass by.

“Frank-“

You mumble out quietly, reaching your hand behind your back and hooking your fingers under the hem of your panties.

His touch disappears immediately as he pulls his hands away from your body, letting you dictate exactly what happens. 

He watches you fiddle with the fabric for a moment before you quickly tug it down your thighs and assists once it gets stuck behind your ass.

“Yeah that’s it sweetheart, show me what you want.”

You push your ass up slightly with an inpatient sigh once he slides the fabric down past your ankles and tosses it off to the side.

Once again, his big, warm hands find their way to your back, fingers pressing into your skin as he takes a moment to massage your muscles in your back, and then you feel him push the fabric up higher to tend to your shoulders as well. Feeling the bulge between his legs press into your ass the second he leans down to trace the back of your neck with his lips, you hum satisfied, eyes still closed, lips curled up into a smile. 

“Really, Frankie? That much?”

You tease, and he rolls his eyes at your words, shaking his head with a sly smirk still on. 

“Yeaaah yeah, shut up.”

He starts before leaning back down, his lips right by your ear this time. His hand pushes down between your legs, touching you directly now, and you know he can feel your body’s response to the whole thing.

“Really, kid? This much?” 

You huff out a laugh as a response and reach behind you to wrap your fingers around his wrist and keep his hand in place. 

“Not like it's my fault.”

You mumble quietly and hear Frank’s chuckle from behind you.

“Okay, calm down, just tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want to feel good.”

“Yeah?”

You nod.

“Want me to make you feel good, baby?”

Another nod before you feel Frank’s hand push under your body and cup your chest firmly. His thumb brushes over your nipple as his lips brush down your spine, over your back. Feeling your body slow down, you allow yourself to relax properly as the warm, familiar feeling grows stronger between your legs. 

He pushes his hand right there again, touching you right where you long for it the most.

“Mhmmm.”

You hum quietly, as his three fingers push between your folds before he starts tracing circles around your clit. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling, your body finally relaxing after the exhausting day. Maybe in some other circumstances your mind would slip. If you were alone, if you tried to distract yourself on your own, your mind would wander, but not now. Not with Frank right there in the bed with you. He made it…difficult to focus on anything else, knew how to keep your mind occupied, how to prevent your thoughts from wandering where you didn't want them to go. 

His touch strengthens, and you feel your back arching slightly with a quiet moan slipping past your lips.

“Ah-fuck.”

You grunt the moment his fingers slip inside you. 

“Shh shh shh-”

Frank mumbles quietly, pushing them further in with ease thanks to your body’s intense reaction to his generous attempts to help.

“That okay?”

His low, groggy mumbling continues while he pushes his thumb against you, working on your clit as you feel yourself clenching around his thick fingers. Frank grunts loudly, watching your involuntary response to his question.

“Yeaah, s’what I thought.”

“Mmmmm-you’re pushing it.”

You whisper and he scoffs.

“Yeah? Shit, am I- hmm?”

He lowers the tone of his voice to match yours, leaning back down with his lips right by your ear yet again.

“Just tryna make you feel good, baby.”

He reassures you, watching your lips part as you feel the center of his palm push flat against your center, the wet sounds of your body filling the room slowly as he begins to slip his fingers in and out of your body once, twice, and again, again and again.

You hum loudly this time, biting into your lower lip before you angle your lower back up slightly in an attempt to chase the sensation every time he slips his fingers out almost completely. 

“Frank-”

You start, but he cuts you off, pressing his thumb harder against your clit. 

“Mmm, Frank-”

You repeat yourself with a loud moan before your muscles tense up, and you use the built-up force to push your ass back into him when you feel him slip his three fingers out of your pussy again.

“Ah- Fuck!”

He groans at the unexpected feeling, panting loudly when your ass pushes against the bulge in his pants, and you feel his tight grip on your thighs once you push into him again.

“Shit- okay, okay-”

He does his best to focus once again, and you breathe out a laugh, entertained by the slight shift in the dynamic.

“You okay there, Castle?”

You purr, glancing back to watch the way his eyes focus on your ass, feeling his hips buck up into you slightly. 

“Shit-”

Letting go of your thigh, he reaches up, quickly grabbing one of the pillows lying by your head before lifting your hips up a couple inches above the mattress and sliding it right under your body to help with the angle.

“Good?”

He asks, glancing up at you, the big, brown eyes fixed on yours as he awaits your answer for a moment before you nod quickly. 

“Couldn't have done it better myself.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he drags his hand down your back, stopping right above your ass.

“Yeah no shit-”

You roll your eyes at his words and rest your head back on the pillow, closing your eyes one more time. The sound of the metal buckle of his belt travels through your entire body, and you feel a slight tingling sensation between your legs. Pushing them apart softly, you earn yourself another

“Oh, fuck-”

From Frank, as he now gets to properly see the fruit of his labor. You lay in front of him, naked from the waist down, your legs spread open, your pussy wet from how he touched you before. 

“God damn it, kid-.”

He whispers quietly under his breath. 

“You know how perfect you look? Hmm?”

He asks, working his hand under the waistband of his boxers to pull himself out. 

“I ever tell you that?”

“Once or twice.”

You tease, answering the question without opening your eyes, arching your back slightly to make sure he gets a good view. 

“Ffff-”

You glance back this time, the wet sounds convincing you the view would be worth it, and it is. You watch for a moment as he works his hand over the length of his cock, his lips parted as he pants loudly with every other stroke, his fingers wrapped tightly around his length.

Gradually slowing down the movement, Frank holds onto the base of his cock, lining himself up with your exposed center. You hum softly, and your hips rise off of the mattress the moment you feel the head of his cock between your legs.

“Mhmm, just like that.”

You whisper to encourage him, with a slight note of impatience in the tone of your voice. 

“Yeah? So..s that what you want me to do?”

“Frank.”

You warn him, knowing exactly where this is going.

“What if I just-”

He continues.

“Frank, don't you f-”

He cuts you off, pushing his cock in between your folds and your whole body jerks forward at the sudden, unexpected sensation accompanied by a loud moan that slips past your lips.

“Fr- fuck!”

You swear, gripping the bed sheets before pushing your ass back against his cock, feeling it rub over your center, between your folds and nudging at your sensitive clit. 

Frank laughs loudly, louder than he should in your opinion, considering this was his–and his only–fault. 

“Shiiit kid, didn't mean to get you this bad.”

He attempts to calm your body, his big hand resting on your lower back as he continues to slide his cock in between your folds, teasing your entrance and clit with every single one of your now sped up breaths. 

“Frank, this- isn't helping.”

You whine out, listening to your body, desperate to feel him inside now.

“Give- shit, give me a second here, kid, this-”

He pants louder now, his other hand on your ass, spreading you open for a better view. 

“I swear to god if you come before I get to feel you, I’m sleeping alone.”

He scoffs loudly, hanging his head low as he stops touching himself. 

“That a threat?”

He questions your intentions with that sly smirk on his face, and you prop your chest up slightly.

“Wanna find out?”

You glance back, eyebrow raised.

“Nah, won't risk it.”

He states quietly, his chest rising and falling quickly, his cock hard between your legs. 

“You scared of me, Castle?”

You mumble the question out as you lay back down on the big pillow, feeling the head of his cock right at your entrance now. 

“Yeah, actually, how did you know?”

“Luck guess.”

“Yeah?”

He continues the conversation, pushing his cock inside you slowly. You let your lips part, fall open as you feel him deeper and deeper inside you. You can feel the way it stretches you open, a familiar feeling you got used to since being with Frank. 

“That good? Hmm?”

He asks quietly, leaning slowly over your body as he thrusts into you.

“Mhmmm.”

You hum out a confirmation as the movements continue, you feel your body rocking back and forth with his body, with the bed. 

“Good, wouldn't wanna be on your bad side.”

The thrusts grow stronger as he reaches up to hold onto the headboard, grunting loudly as you clench around him. 

With his cock buried deep inside you, you manage another response.

“Keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be safe.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The trusting continues for a while after, as he tries to do his best to keep it together long enough for you to feel satisfied. His other hand wraps around your throat at some point, and he lifts your head up slightly. Your breathing speeds up, and you pant loudly through your parted lips as you feel yourself getting closer to the climax.

"Attagirl, you feel it?"

He asked, no cockiness in his voice this time. It's an honest question, he sounded almost concerned.

"Mhm."

Your quiet hum has to work as an answer for now as you grip the bed sheets tighter, feeling his cock nude the underside of your stomach from within you.

"God damn it, kid-"

He mumbles into your shoulder, lips brushing over your skin when he feels your walls clenching around him harder now.

"Frank-"

"Shh shh shh, I got it."

He reassures you, resting your head back onto the mattress before reaching down between your legs.

"You just relax, kid, let me do this for you."

[noladyme]

I'm ovulating ffs!

JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN | Shirtless Scenes

[noladyme]

Under His Kutte

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Sending a nude photo. Fingering. Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: When Jax forgets his kutte at your house, you make good use of it.

A/N: I am such a slut for this man especially when he wears a hat, and particularly when it's backwards. I stared at this photo for too long and needed to write about it, and with the help from @ramadiiiisme, this happened. Bonus action of The Hat™️ at the end 🫠

---

The same flustered excitement you felt in your stomach every time you saw Jax stirred up again despite having only said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the benefits of him having accidentally left his kutte behind continuing to grace you.

You placed it back on the sofa where he had carelessly discarded it last night, pretending as though you hadn’t seen it there as soon as you walked out of your bedroom earlier that morning, his rush to leave after being woken up by a phone call from Chibs making him forget his most treasured item of clothing.

You sat on the barstool at the kitchen island, sipping from a cup of coffee you had been nursing, smiling into the mug when you heard your door open and Jax strut through it as confidently and comfortably as usual.

“I left my kutte,” he explained, getting right to the point while glancing around your living room quickly, lifting up the blanket and a pillow off of the loveseat before spinning on the spot to begin his search of the sofa.

“Oh, did you? I hadn’t noticed,” you lied, your cheeks feeling a flush that was partly from the heat of the coffee but mostly from the sight of Jax. He had his Reaper Crew hat on backwards, sunglasses still on, and the sunshine had kissed the skin on his face to tint it with a healthy pink that was the same whenever he was fucking you.

Finally locating it, Jax held up his vest with a smile before shrugging it on and walking over to you, his smile bright and playful, and you knew his eyes held the same sparkle behind the black lenses that covered them that you could never forget.

He leaned down and kissed you, bracing his arms on either side of your body to land on the countertop and cage you in, forcing your body to arch back into it as he delved his tongue deep inside your mouth.

You hummed when he peeled himself away from you, your eyes feeling heavy with lust as you watched him lick his lips.

“Did you forget it on purpose?” you teased, slipping your hands beneath the leather panels to feel the warmth radiating off his body through his layers of faded shirts.

He chuckled, his hands reaching up to cup your face while he nudged your legs apart with his, standing close to you where he was able to grind his hips against you.

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”

You giggled when he grinned at you before capturing your lips again, pressing his bulge into your core to make you moan into his mouth, the fervor of your kiss growing with each pass of your tongues.

“Fuck!” he hissed, backing away from you but still holding your face in his hands. “I gotta go.”

You breathed out a disappointed sigh, tilting your head to the side as you watched him step away and try to collect himself, hoping he’d convince himself to stay for a hard and fast fuck.

His phone rang in his pocket, and he dug to answer it immediately, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Yeah, I’ll be right there. I said I’ll be right there…Five minutes! Jesus Christ.”

Jax flipped it shut and shook his head as he replaced it back in his pocket, closing the distance between you again with another smile on his face as soon as he looked at you.

“I’ll see you later.” he spoke sweetly, his tone completely different from the one he had just used to whatever poor soul had called him.

You nodded, smiling again as he kissed you once, then again, chuckling when he finally found the strength to stop and back away from you.

He stormed through to the front door in a few long strides, giving you one last grin as he shut the door behind him, and you grinned to yourself as you picked up your phone and sent him the photo you had taken just after he had called you to say he was stopping by.

You listened for the roar of his Harley to start up, feeling giddy as you waited to see if he checked his phone before taking off.

Standing, you walked over to the window, seeing him sitting on his bike looking at his phone with a huge smile on his face.

Your phone rang, his name and number lighting up the screen, and you answered through a smile so big it hurt your cheeks, “Did you forget something else?”

“Are you kidding me?” he asked, his amusement clear in his voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, how am I going to focus on anything now?”

“It’s just a little something to get you back here.”

“Like I need the help,” he said pointedly, starting his bike where it purred loudly through both the phone and the walls of your house.

“I’ll be back to deal with you soon,” he both promised and threatened, making heat surge through your body like wildfire.

“See you later, Teller.”

You hung up, tucking your lip between your teeth to stave off your smile as you looked at the photo you had sent again, feeling more than satisfied with the reaction it had gotten out of him.

You wore nothing but his kutte, your body that he had already made tired and sore from a sleepless night on full display under his leather, the bare skin on your chest bearing the claiming marks left by his mouth.

He took off quickly, his engine rumbling so loud it vibrated the house and sent a shiver down your spine, and you hoped whatever it was he was going to do was done quickly so he could get back to you soon.

You did everything you could think of to occupy yourself; laundry, dishes, even baked muffins and whipped up a casserole, knowing Jax would be hungry when he got there, or if he wasn’t, that he would be made hungry from all the things you did whenever you were together.

The impatience you felt was beginning to outgrow your arousal, the desperation in wanting to have your hands on him and his on you becoming too much to stand any longer.

Not two minutes later did you hear the distant grumble of his Harley tearing through your neighbourhood, your body conditioned over time to respond to that sound and awaken a neediness and desire that never seemed to be sated.

Even though you expected it, you still jumped when Jax barrelled through the door with a hungry and desperate look on his face as he stared you down while kicking off his white sneakers, his grin sly and crooked.

“Why the fuck aren’t you naked yet?” he panted, crossing the room to get to where you stood waiting for him.

“Isn’t half the fun undressing me?��

“Yeah, but when I’ve been staring at that pic you sent me all day, I kinda want to get to the point,” he explained, his eyebrows lifting upward while he tugged his jeans down to the floor.

He still had his ball cap on, worn with the bill of it facing forward this time, the shade casting on his face making his blue eyes glow like flames in the shadow.

Jax slipped his kutte off, placing it carefully on the back of the sofa as if making a point that he knew where it was or would be needing it again soon, and stepped toward you, tipping his head and giving you a piercing look.

“Now, get naked.”

You obeyed with a grin, crossing your arms to grab at the hem of his ‘SAMCRO’ t-shirt, pulling it over your head where you had the satisfaction of hearing Jax’s breath hitch when your tits became exposed, and tossed it on the floor beside you.

Remaining in your panties, you went to assist him with his clothes, only to have him grip your wrists, his long fingers wrapping around them securely.

“That’s not naked, sweetheart.”

You glared at him as he released you, making a point to slowly hook your thumbs in the waist of them and inch by torturous inch, crept them down your hips.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffed impatiently, even though he was still smiling.

A furious look flashed in his eyes when you pulled them back up to their rightful place, challenging what he would do, and you gasped in equal shock and fear when he grabbed onto your thong and tore them roughly down your thighs.

He crashed against your lips, kissing you with a demand that reminded you that he wasn’t playing games, your body flinching when his fingers trailed along your hip and to your soaked pussy.

Spreading your legs further apart, you moaned into his mouth, rocking on his hand as he drove two fingers inside you, hooking them to massage your g-spot.

Within minutes he had you on the edge, fucking you with his fingers until you were a whimpering mess ready to completely fall apart, but he stopped his movements and withdrew his hand from you, smirking at you with a smugness that managed to turn you on even more.

“Fuck, Jax,” you hissed, your breathing sharp as an untamed feeling ran through your veins.

“Hang on, darlin’” he drawled, his tone all-too happy considering what he just did to you.

He took off his hat and then tore his shirts off his torso, leaving him in his boxers that did nothing to disguise how large and hard he was, and had he not tugged them off himself, you were seconds away from doing it for him, your need for him increasing to the highest point when his cock sprang free.

“Put the hat back on,” you requested, your voice so lusty it was almost unrecognizable.

You squirmed in place, seeing the surprise in his features as he did as you asked and placed it back over his messy, blond tresses that crept out wildly from under it, his expression turned cocky in knowing how horny you were.

A half-satisfied smile pulled at your lips when he stood up against you, wrapping his arms behind your back where his hands carded up and down, returning your smile.

You leaned back slightly, reaching up to grip the bill of it to spin it around, facing it backwards just as he had worn it earlier.

“Happy now?” he chuckled.

You nodded, “Mhm. Are you?”

“Fuck, no!” he admitted jokingly through another laugh, reaching over for his kutte that he hadn’t for a second forgotten about you wearing earlier.

Guiding each of your arms through it, he brought it up to rest on your shoulders, holding onto the edges of its opening as his thumbs moved to rub your nipples until they hardened, making you shiver while a breathy whine passed your lips.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his mouth so close to you that his lips grazed your parted ones when he spoke.

You let your eyes close, waiting for him to give you the pleasure he was never selfish with, holding your breath until you felt his lips press onto your neck and down over your chest, his hands falling to your waist and then your hip, smoothing over the curve of your bum where he squeezed your flesh and gave it a playful slap.

Your giggle was swallowed when he kissed you, and you felt his own laugh shake through his chest when you brought your hands up to it, sliding them up to cradle his neck and let your fingers dance where his hair brushed along his bare shoulders.

In a swift motion that caught you off-guard, Jax lifted you into his arms, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist where he backed you up against the wall, thudding against the drywall as he pressed his body hard into yours.

Your nails raked across his shoulders and upper back, roaming to tangle in his hair that wasn’t trapped beneath his hat, and when he lined his cock up to your spread pussy and guided himself inside, you pulled at the strands that were woven between your fingers, his reaction to both sensations reverberating in your mouth.

Jax unleashed all his power on you, holding you up while slamming into you aggressively, the photos that hung on your wall rattling and banging with his barbaric movements.

Doing the best you could to move with him, you humped up and down in an effort to rub your clit on the coarse, wheat coloured pubes above his cock, feeling your climax begin to build again where it had been left teetering on the edge.

You caught Jax staring at your exposed tits, his vest having opened to put them fully on display where they bounced to the enthusiasm of his thrusts and your erratic rocking, his pupils blown out wide with lust.

“You look so fucking good, baby,” he growled, taking one last look at the erotic scene before meeting his mouth with yours, his kiss sloppy and rough.

A sweat started to break out on both of your bodies, your skin able to slip and glide on his easier with the harder you worked, the hair at the base of his neck damp when you moved your fingers along it.

Jax was always completely enamoured when he fucked you, but for some reason with you wearing his kutte today, he found himself in even more of a state, destroying you with reckless abandon to create the whimpering mess before him that he craved to see, the sounds he pulled from you the sweetest ones he'd ever heard. He was convinced it had something to do with the way his Vice President patch kept swaying beside your right breast as your chest shook in time to his ruthless pace, or the way the worn, faded, black leather and the white on all the labels that had turned dingey over time looked against your supple skin, and the thought of fucking you in it when it ranked him as President one day instead had him ready to explode.

The sense of pride he felt when it came to his club and displaying its logos was something he never took lightly, and seeing them on you intensified it even more, making it seem like no one else could wear them as well as you.

He became almost possessive, wanting to claim you and prove to you all the things he never vocalized all while knowing without hesitation that everything under that piece of leather was his and his only.

He kissed you roughly, not caring that the scruff on his face was turning your skin raw or that his teeth had knocked against yours more than once in his frenzy to get enough of you, feeling your pussy get wetter with every drive of his dick inside it.

“Fucking turn around!” he spat through gritted teeth, giving the order despite forcing you to do it anyway. He dropped your legs and had you spun around and planted against the wall in a matter of seconds, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck to guide you forward, pushing you down so you hinged at your waist and were bent over.

His other hand gripped at your ass to spread your cheeks apart, his cock finding your open cunt without needing any help, slamming into you so hard you had to brace yourself on the wall to stop your face from hitting it.

“God, I’m gonna - fuck! - I’m gonna cum, Jax!” you wailed, your ability to speak properly taken away when he reached around you and started rubbing your clit.

“Yeah?” he huffed, mesmerized in the sight of his glistening cock pumping in and out of you. “You gonna cream all over me, you fucking slut?”

The way he barked that name made you shiver, your mouth filling with saliva to a point you couldn't even contain it anymore, feeling it drool out as your jaw went slack and your climax billowed its way to the surface.

Exhilaration took over you, your moans and cries of approval of how hard Jax was fucking you making him increase his fervor, creating a domino effect of you growing louder and his own moans to sound out and intoxicate you further, the mix of everything so dizzying that it was impossible to imagine a better high.

Jax chuckled behind you, the sound maniacal and deliciously twisted. “That’s it, fuck…”

You let go, accepting the way his body threw you into a trembling orgasm, clenching hard around his cock as he proceeded to pound you mercilessly, hearing his grunts and growls increase in volume and consistency as he honed in on his own end.

He couldn’t look away, watching your combined milky spend leak out of you as he continued to fuck you, your ass cheeks shaking along to his irregular thrusts, the Reaper patch spread out across your back as you took every blow he gave you a sight he would never tire of.

His hand was soaked when he removed it from between your legs, bringing his fingers to his mouth where he sucked them clean, keeping his dick buried inside you until he couldn't anymore.

You closed your eyes as you worked at steadying your breath, your fingers continuing to grip the wall even as you slowly began to straighten your body, feeling full and close to him despite him having slipped from you.

Sweaty handprints temporarily stained the paint when you opened your heavy lids again, smiling at the tingling afterglow that filled your veins, that smile growing bigger when you felt Jax press his lips to your dewy neck where he kissed your sensitive skin with gratitude. You were spun around again, gentler this time, his sweet smile matching yours as he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, your hands wrapping around his damp back to help support you as you stood on unreliable legs.

He was heavenly in his post-fuck glow, small beads of sweat dancing just below the edge of his hat, his skin tinged with a pinkish blush from his efforts, his pulse hammering in his neck. His lips looked more inviting than usual, plump and moist, and when his tongue licked across them before dipping to capture yours, you swore your own pulse ceased in its duties.

The way he looked at you when he pulled away after kissing you slowly was curious, a softness and devotion reflecting in his cerulean blues that made your heart beat faster after having just managed to regulate it.

“You look like you've got something to say, Jax,” you breathed, wondering if there would ever be a day that he would say what he felt.

He shrugged, his thumbs stroking your heated face as he tilted his head, looking between your bodies at yours clad in nothing but his kutte, seeing his cum dripping down your thigh.

“I think I'll be leaving this here more often.”

You both laughed as he kissed you again, shuffling forward to push you against the wall where he was able to press his lips to yours as much as he wanted to.

---

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[noladyme]

Yes!

Important rules/tips I've learned as an adult that helped with anxiety

If people are mad at you, it's their responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess

If they're mad at you in secret anyways, they're the ones in the wrong, not you

If people don't like what you're doing, it's their responsibility to tell you

If they say it's fine when it's really not, they're the ones in the wrong, not you

People are allowed to be wrong about you

If they are wrong about you, wait for them to bring it up, because if you try to, you will inevitably overcorrect

Some people are committed to misunderstanding you. You will not win arguments against them. Yes, even if you explain your point of view. They do not care. Drop it

The worst thing that will happen from a first-time offense is being told not to do it again. Maybe with a replacement if you broke something

You can improve relationships and gauge willingness to talk to you by giving compliments. It's like a daily log-in bonus and nobody thinks twice about it

Most things are better after you sleep on them

Most things are better after you have a meal

Most things are better after you shower

Your brain makes up consequences that are irrational. If the worst DOES come to pass and someone acts like they do in your head, they are overreacting, and you are entitled to say "what the fuck"

If your chest hurts after you feel like you've made a social error, that's called rejection-sensitive dysphoria. It means your anxiety is so bad that it's causing you physical pain, which is a good indicator that you're overreacting. Tense yourself, hold it for 20 seconds, let it go, then find a distraction

If you're suddenly angry at someone after you feel like you made a social error, that's also rejection-sensitive dysphoria. You are going to feel annoyed about it for awhile, but being genuinely pissed off is your anxiety trying to find something to blame to take the responsibility off your shoulders, and getting scared because it can't justify itself. Deep breaths, ask yourself how much you ACTUALLY want to be angry at that person, then find a distraction

"Sour grapes" is more healthy for you than stewing. Deciding you don't like someone who's perpetually annoyed with you, won't talk to you, etc. makes letting go of anxiety over them easier

If people don't like you, they will find reasons to be annoyed with you when they otherwise wouldn't. If people do like you, they will find reasons NOT to be annoyed with you when they otherwise would. People do not ping-pong between the two

You DO have to make a conscious choice not to think about something. If you're having trouble circling back to it, say out loud that you're done thinking about it and why. Then find a distraction

When you're upset, part of you is going to want to make false bids for attention (suddenly texting differently, heavy sighs, etc. but when someone asks you about it, you tell them it's nothing). Do not listen to it. You gain nothing from it except more misery

People like to help people they care about. It makes them feel good about themselves

If you think you're insufferable for needing help, see above. Yes, really. They get a serotonin kick from it

If you think you're insufferable for mannerisms you have, you either have to consciously choose not to do them, or accept that they're part of the package that comes with you. Being apologetic about existing does nothing except make you more miserable

If you do things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it makes it easier to do them when you hate it

If you avoid things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it reinforces and magnifies how bad it feels when you hate it

Seriously. Read those last two points again. If you can make yourself make a phone call when you've got nothing to lose, you will slowly lose that panic you get when you have to make a phone call you haven't prepared for. You do have to CONSCIOUSLY take that step

Hobbies that make you care for something get rid of that nagging feeling that you're not doing enough. Go grow some rosemary

If you don't engage with your hobbies regularly, you will feel miserable, and anxiety will spike

Hobbies are things that give you a bit of happiness. They do not have to be organized or named to do that. Go be creative in something. Play with coins. Make up lists. Start a new WIP

No one cares what you look like

If people point out things they don't like about how you look unprompted, they are being rude. You are entitled to say "what the fuck"

People who like you will find you pretty to some degree. Minor things about your appearance go completely unnoticed. Literally, scars and dots and blemishes do not register to someone who likes your company

You looking at yourself in the mirror is 10x more closely than anyone is going to look at you

If you're anxious about your body type, and you're creatively inclined, make/write an oc with that same shape. Give them nice things and make other characters love them. Put them on adventures. You'll start to see yourself in the mirror more kindly

You care about wording and perfect lines/colors way more than anyone who views your work ever will

Sometimes when you're upset, you're going to feel like not eating. Do not do that. Not eating makes you more miserable

Same with things you normally enjoy. Denying yourself helps no one. You are punishing yourself for being sad. Stop it

Both of these will take conscious decision to break the habit of. Make yourself do it anyways, and it will slowly get easier

And again, to reiterate: If someone is mad at you, it is THEIR responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess

[noladyme]

That third gif should be against the law. He should be against the law. How is that kind of behaviour ok? Think of the damage to my sleep, heart and panties!

PEDRO PASCAL 30th Annual Screen Actors Guild Awards (February 24, 2024)

[noladyme]

This is my thirsty ass right now!

Saying Thanks

Joel Miller x afab!fem!reader

Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesn’t even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joel’s decided he doesn’t like it.

tw: smut, fem reader, afab reader, unspecified age gap, reader is smaller than Joel (shorter, can be picked up by him), oral (m! receiving), p in v sex, crying, fighting, blood, drinking, Joel may be out of character but I don’t care, not proofread.

Word count: 8.1k

minors, fuck off

—

Joel was seething. You’d never seen him like this, rage burning in his gaze and his hands balled into fists at his sides as he was pushed toward the door. Of course you’d seen him in fights before, dealing with raiders and infected on patrol was a bloody business at best, but the second the new guy, Jake? Jack, at the Tipsy Bison put a hand on you—just touching your arm—Joel exploded.

You didn’t even have time to blink before the man grabbing your arm was on the ground, ugly bruises blossoming on his face. You didn’t even launch into action to get Joel off of him, shock leaving you frozen. You only remained plastered against the bar, gaping at Joel’s savage expression and the way his fists bludgeoned Jack's face. The drink in your hand spilled over the sides a bit, a sticky combination of fruit juice and alcohol coating your skin and absorbing in the sleeve of your sweater.

You were already tipsy, your face hot and your eyes a bit glassy. You were more loose with your expressions, the careful filter you kept starting to deteriorate. By the time a bar fight broke out, you were already more than a few drinks in, your heart pounding in your chest along with the soft music and a thin layer of sweat starting to prickle at the back of your neck.

Joel had stayed quiet that night, sticking to the secluded booth in the back of the bar that he usually haunted. There was no acknowledgement of each other, his chocolate-colored eyes had landed on you for a moment when you walked in, shadowed over by his dark brow in its permanent scowl. As always, he didn’t speak to you despite the fact that you spent most mornings together patrolling the outskirts of Jackson.

He wasn’t your biggest fan, even going so far as to complain to his brother when the two of you had been assigned together. Tommy was giving you a shot on the patrol, you were newer to Jackson and needed a job. You could handle a gun and didn’t seem completely clueless, so he figured he would stick you with Joel to see if you made it out on the other side.

But, nevertheless, Joel was now being pulled off Jack by a few other patrons. They hauled him up by the collar of his canvas jacket, his knuckles bloodied and a snarl on his face as Jack scrambled away. You still stood wide-eyed and dopey, your voice caught in your throat as you struggled for something to say.

Joel wouldn’t look at you, eyes drilling into Jack as he was shoved toward the door. He kept hissing threats through his teeth, snippets of ‘I’ll break your fucking arm if you ever touch her again,’ audible above the music as he grappled with the men trying to contain him.

Your gaze traced the outline of his aquiline nose, the way his lips were pursed beneath his dark mustache. It was a struggle to push him out the door. You flinched when it slammed shut behind him, spilling more of your drink.

“You better get your damn dog on a leash.” It was one of the older women in the neighborhood, her brows drawn and a disgusted expression on her face as she regarded you. You finally snapped out of your shocked stupor, looking at Jack’s bloodied and swollen face as he was picked up and put into a booth.

What was Joel even thinking?

You downed your drink in a few gulps, setting the empty glass on the bar before pushing yourself away from the bar top. Wind swept inside the Tipsy Bison as you forced the door open, providing a moment of relief from the humid heat of the bar It was starting to get cold out, dried leaves swirling in the breeze as autumn settled into the bones of Jackson.

You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself as you peered out into the darkness. The leaves crunched under your shoes as you took a few tentative steps, the sweater you wore offering you little protection from the wind.

Joel leaned against the wall of a nearby business, his head tilted back and his throat bared to the dim light of the moon. He was sucking in deep breaths through his mouth, his bloody knuckles limp at his sides. His jacket was off-kilter from where he’d been thrown out the door, his hair mussed.

“Joel?” You approached him like you would a wild animal, on high alert and prepared for any sudden movement.

He looked at you with a bored expression, the moonlight catching on the silver hair that splintered at his temples and in his patchy beard. You hesitated, stopping your approach for a moment before pressing on until you were a few feet in front of him. His dark curls stuck up in every direction, they were a little long now that winter was approaching.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as your weight settled so one hip popped out to the side. You sounded more aggressive than you intended to, the words coming out like an accusation rather than a question.

It was times like this that made the age and size difference between you and Joel apparent. He stood up straight, towering over you a bit as he cleared his throat. Sometimes he made you feel like you were still just a dumb teenager instead of a woman in her mid twenties. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice a deep grumble with a slight southern twang to it.

A scoff leaves your mouth before you can even stop it, the alcohol reducing your filter to near non-existence. “What do you mean, Joel? I watched you beat the shit out of that guy for what? Touching my arm?” You were a little too loud, your voice ricocheting off the buildings around you. Under different circumstances, you would have cringed and apologized immediately, but something forced you to soldier on.

Thankfully no one else was outside that night—it was too cold and still too early for the Tipsy Bison to have a last call. It felt like a standoff. His dark eyes were trained on your face, his mouth drawn into a scowl. You usually backed down to him, acquiescing to his stubborn nature.

“And so what if it was?” Joel grumbled, his attitude matching your own. The way he crossed his arms made his biceps bulge under the fabric of his jacket—your breath hitched for a moment before you glanced away.

You shook your head, disbelief coloring your expression as his words settled in. “You don’t even like me!” You can’t help but gesture wildly, your hands moving like they had minds of their own.

He ignored you regularly. There was an unspoken rule of only acknowledging one another on patrols together. The woods outside of Jackson were the only place that Joel would actually talk to you, otherwise you acted like perfect strangers in town.

His jaw clenched as he pushed off the wall, taking a few steps closer to you. “Who said I didn’t like you?” he asked, his voice lower as his head dipped toward yours.

He couldn’t be serious.

Your eyebrows shot up, disbelief making you smile incredulously. “What, so ignoring me in public and complaining about me to Tommy is how you treat your friends?” You were moments away from leaving and letting Joel find a new patrol partner.

You spent too much time defending Joel from his reputation as the town pariah, arguing that he wasn’t the animal everyone thought he was. He had a hard time blending in, bigger than most everyone except for his brother and unapproachable to a fault. It seemed that Tommy and Ellie were the only people he willingly spoke to, otherwise keeping largely to himself.

Sometimes you wondered if he heard the rumors going around about him—speculation that he used to be a hunter, a smuggler, a heartless killer. You never had it in you to ask him about it.

Not that he would tell you, anyways.

Joel’s scowl deepened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. His silence did nothing but rile you up, it felt like an admission to the fact that you were right. You huffed, the autumnal breeze making dried leaves stick to your jeans and your breath clouding in the air.

“Well, Joel, you should really figure out how to act like an adult,” you snapped, shaking your head as you started to turn away from him. “You’re way too old to be beating up boys at a bar for touching someone you don’t even give a damn about.”

The Tipsy Bison called to you, warm light spilling out the windows and the people moving inside. Your friends were still in there, giggling with one another at the bar. You could see others nursing Jack in a booth, pressing ice wrapped in towels against his face as his blood turned them pink.

“I didn’t like how he was grabbing ya,” Joel finally said after you’d taken a few steps away. The admission made you stop in your tracks, looking back over your shoulder at the man. He looked sheepish as he admitted it, his gaze on the floor like a toddler getting scolded. He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before redirecting his eyes to the sky. “You didn’t… you didn’t hear how he was talking about you… didn’t want you with a guy like that.”

Your eyebrows shot up, your lips parting slightly. Your head tilted up to look at him properly, eyes narrowed slightly as you evaluated him. He seemed shockingly sincere, the awkward expression on his face sealing the deal. “Careful Joel, I’m almost starting to think you care about me.”

There was something in the way his eyes shifted to meet yours that almost made your heart stop.

“Never said I didn’t care,” he mumbled, one of his baseball mitt hands coming to rub the back of his neck. The blood on his knuckles was drying, turning to a rust color under the moonlight. You couldn’t help but purse your lips, tilting your head to one side. It was hard to understand, the alcohol making you feel like you were buzzing as you mulled over Joel’s words.

He cleared his throat again, shuffling a little closer to you in the process. “When I talked to Tommy, I wasn’t complainin’ about you,” Joel said. His cheeks were flushed, making you wonder if he was cold or just from the alcohol. He was notorious for sucking down bourbon like it was water, especially on nights when he had nothing to do the next day.

“You weren’t?” you asked, probing the older man a bit. You had only walked by when Joel was talking to his brother, catching your name in their hushed whispers and Joel’s strained expression. You’d assumed it was because he was stuck with you, a newer recruit, a woman.

Joel sighed, shaking his head. It felt like you were pulling every word from his throat. “Tommy… he uh… he put us together because he thought it would be good for me,” he said, hesitating between parts of his sentence. “Thought you’d be good for me.”

“Good for you?” The alcohol made your voice soft around the edges, the question tumbling out of you before you had the sense to stop it. Joel stepped closer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. He was close enough that you could see the scar on his ear, the scars littering his bloodied hands and the ones across his nose. Sure, you’d seen them on patrol as you walked shoulder to shoulder, but for some reason you find yourself trying to memorize every detail about him in the moonlight.

“Yeah, sweetheart, good for me,” Joel mumbled, looking down at his boots for a moment before making eye contact with you again. Sweetheart. The nickname rattled around in your mind, echoing in time with your heartbeat. You would’ve punched anyone else for calling you sweetheart, but it sounded good coming from Joel.

Your face heated up, an odd smile quirking up the corners of your mouth as you struggled to find words to say. “You’re a liar, Joel,” you manage to spit out.

He let out a chuckle, the kind that hardly made any noise and just let out a sharp breath of air. You earned one every now and then, it always made you beam when you could get him to chuckle on patrol. “Yeah? I could’ve switched a long time ago,” Joel murmured, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Tommy offered to let me switch.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, a sliver of your combative nature rising up your throat. You wanted to argue with the older man, inform him that he was wrong.

Joel must have picked up at the way your jaw twitched, your expression twisting. “It’s nice to listen to ya blabber in the mornings,” he said, his tone lighter than it had been. It was almost easy to forget what happened in the Tipsy Bison, the way you watched him beat Jack’s face into a pulp.

You huffed, shaking your head. There was a small smile on your face as the heat continued to rise on your cheeks. “Then why do you act like I’m a stranger when I see you around?” you asked Joel. You scraped your teeth over your lower lip, scuffing the toe of your shoe in the dirt.

Joel’s face fell a bit, his eyes softening as he became serious once more. “You don’t want to be around me anyways, people would judge ya.” It was like he didn’t want to admit it, his voice low and mumbling.

You hummed your disagreement, deciding to be bold and step even closer to the huge man in front of you. He towered a head over most people in Jackson, strong and wide and sturdy. You looked over his tanned, weathered skin, his dark curls that were starting to show age through scattered silver strands. “You don’t seem too bad to me,” you said, nearly a whisper.

You saw how Ellie looked at him like he was her favorite person in the world. If that girl could trust him, then so could you.

Joel’s warmth radiated onto you in the cool evening, the smell of bourbon on his breath and blood on his hands. He shook his head, maintaining the closeness you’d established. “Sweetheart, you know most of the shit they say about me around this town is true.”

You’d figured as much. You’d watched Joel kill raiders without a blink of an eye and jump into action whenever infected approached the high, protective walls around Jackson. The first time you’d witnessed it, his precision took your breath away. Now it was something that you had come to depend on.

“I assumed as much,” you said with a shrug, folding your arms over your chest and tucking your hands under your armpits to keep them warm. “Never mattered to me,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment.

You considered going back to the bar to avoid the chill, but you didn’t feel like having to answer questions about you and Joel all night. Everyone would want to know what he said to you out here, would have their own ideas about why he did it. There were a few breaths of silence. “But, I should probably go home.”

“Not gonna go back inside?” Joel asked, nodding his chin toward the Tipsy Bison. His gaze was still focused on you. You thought about it for a moment before shaking your head, glancing back at the bar. It had lost its appeal.

“Just home, Joel. Have a good night… thanks for protecting my honor and stuff,” you said with a small smile. There was a lightness in the way you spoke, your eyes sparkling in the darkness.

You started to walk toward your house, living in the opposite direction from Joel. “Make sure you clean up those hands of yours, don’t want to have to get another patrol partner any time soon,” you said without looking back, dead leaves crunching under your feet with each step.

You heard his heavy footfalls behind you until Joel fell into step at your side. “Mind helping me out? Not great at first aid,” he said, holding his knuckles out in front of him. They were blown apart.

“Jesus, Joel,” you muttered, grabbing one of his wrists to inspect his hand as you walked. His wrist was warm and thick in your hand, he didn’t pull away. The wounds overlapped a number of scars beneath them, a snippet of Joel’s past violence. “Were you trying to kill him or just teach him a lesson?”

“I don’t pull my punches,” Joel said with a noncommittal shrug, making you roll your eyes. Of course he didn’t. Joel definitely taught him a lesson. You dropped his wrist, not giving him a response as you followed the path to your home.

Your house was one of the smaller ones, the yellow paint starting to peel off the siding and the wall around Jackson casting a shadow over it in the moonlight. Joel was grumbling about your proximity to the wall as you opened your front door and flicked on the lights.

“Take off your boots before you track mud in, I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” you tell Joel, toeing your shoes off before you head to one of the bathrooms. You can still hear him complaining as his heavy boots hit the floor, his lumbering footsteps going to the kitchen. The layout for all of the homes in Jackson was relatively the same, the sub-development it had been converted from seemed fairly cookie-cutter.

Joel sat patiently at the counter as you brought in the first aid kit, setting it down on the stone countertop and flicking it open. He seemed calm and unconcerned, more like a seasoned veteran to first aid than a novice. “I find it hard to believe that you’re bad at this,” you murmured, opening an alcohol wipe to start cleaning his knuckles.

Joel placed his big, catcher’s mitt hands flat on the counter for you to work. His jaw tensed a few times as you wiped over the largest knuckle on each of his hands. “I’m here for your gentle touch, sweetheart,” he muttered, sarcasm biting his tone and making you laugh.

“I’m not a nurse for a reason,” you said, smearing ointment onto the wounds with your fingertips. You tried to be careful, not applying too much pressure to the irritated skin.

Joel chuckled, watching your movements as you pulled out a roll of gauze and loosely wrapped his wounds to cover them. He flexed his hands as soon as you were finished, the gauze stretching tight when he made fists. “Good as new,” you said, leaning against the countertop. You both looked down at his bandaged wounds, lingering in the closeness before you stepped away.

“Now, you should hold off on bar fights for a while.” Mirth glittered in your eyes as you grabbed a wine bottle from one of the shelves in your kitchen. You grabbed two glasses without asking, methodically going through the motions of opening the bottle and pouring.

It felt like you and Joel were sprinting head-first at a line the two of you had never crossed before. There was a shift from coworkers to something else, and it started the second Joel pounced on Jack. You found yourself studying his face as you handed him a wine glass, categorizing his features as you took a sip. He was handsome, but he always had been—you just didn’t let yourself recognize it.

“No promises,” Joel grumbled, taking a long drink. You watched him swallow, your eyes partially lidded before you remembered yourself. You felt your cheeks and ears heat up as you took another drink, unclenching your fist at your side and focusing on the stretch of the bones and ligaments.

“You really didn’t need to beat Jack up, I can handle myself,” you murmured, your lashes fluttering as you redirected your gaze to Joel.

He just snorted softly, shaking his head. His expression twisted into amusement, the papery wrinkles of his crow’s feet becoming pronounced. Your brows furrowed, your head tilting as you prepared to argue the fact that you could, in fact, defend yourself. “His name is Jake.”

Embarrassment made blood rush to your face so quickly you almost felt light headed. A sheepish smile settled on your features, a giggle working its way through your throat. “He even let me call him Jack like… five times the other day,” you said into your wine glass, a guilty look on your face.

“Poor boy’s got it bad then,” Joel said, smirking at you. His dark eyes appeared even darker in the lighting of your kitchen.

“Don’t worry, I think you scared him enough,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. You picked your glass up off the counter, walking out of the kitchen to your cozy living room.

Joel came to sit on the couch as you stoked a fire to life, burning some of the dried kindling you kept in a bucket near the fireplace to coax the logs to life. You could feel his eyes on your back as you crouched, the flames breathing warmth over you as they crackled. The combination of his gaze, the fire, and the wine you kept sucking down in mouthfuls made a sweat prickle at the back of your neck as you stood up straight.

He made himself comfortable, lounging on the couch with an arm draped on the back of it. He’d brought the bottle of wine, it sat on the coffee table next to his empty glass. One of your eyebrows arched as you sat next to him, leaving enough space between the two of you that you could twist and bring your knees and feet up onto the sofa.

“You really made yourself at home.”

Joel cracked an easy smile, the fire illuminating the deep shadows of scowl lines on his forehead. You felt the urge to smooth them out with your fingertips. “I’ve got a habit of doing that,” he said, his dark gaze sliding to the fireplace. One of the logs popped, sending sparks through the hearth.

There was a lapse of silence where you reached over and filled up his wine glass again. You felt surprisingly comfortable next to him, relaxing your side against the cushioned back of the couch as you faced Joel. “The ladies at the Tipsy Bison called you my guard dog.”

That made him outright snicker. “Yeah? I’m your guard dog, huh?” he asked, clearly teasing. The way his flannel clung to his shoulders was heavenly, wrapped around every well-defined muscle like a second skin. The wine was staining his mouth purple, you were enraptured as his tongue darted out to catch any remaining drops on his lips.

You cleared your throat, blinking as you nodded. “Said I should get you on a leash,” you mumbled, the heat on your cheeks spreading to your neck and ears. You gulped the wine to break some of the tension, your nose scrunching as you swallowed.

There was a shift, it would’ve gone unnoticed if you weren’t paying attention.

Joel stretched a bit, tilting his head back as he finished the rest of the wine in one gulp before setting the glass on the coffee table. When he sat back, he’d moved closer to you. Your knee was nearly touching his thigh, that inch of empty space feeling electric.

“Do you want me on a leash?” he asked, his voice deep. There was something different to his tone, the harsh edges of his voice rounded out more than usual. The question made your breath stutter in your chest. The sincerity in his expression caught you off guard. You opened your mouth to speak, only silence coming out. “If there was anyone who could convince me, it would probably be you, sweetheart.”

You choked on your wine, awkward and clumsy as you sat up straight to prevent it from coming out of your nose. Part of you felt like Joel had turned you inside out as you spluttered, confusion and self-consciousness running rampant.. Finally you got a hold of yourself, sucking in wet breaths with tears in your eyes.

“You okay?” His voice was sweet and soft when he asked, as though he hadn’t caused it. You nodded, waiving off his concern as his paw of a hand grabbed your shoulder. His touch was napalm, igniting your skin through your thin sweater.

“Just surprised me,” you choked out, wiping away the tears with the heel of your hand as you sniffled. Joel’s hand stayed where it was, his thumb rubbing along your collarbone over the black fabric. He did nothing but hum his acknowledgement, patiently waiting for you to catch your breath.

Another cough rattled through you before you could breathe again. Joel’s eyebrows were raised as he watched you, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “You are so full of shit, Joel Miller,” you finally said, pushing his shoulder lightly.

He still was touching you, leaning forward into your space as he did so. Your breaths were shallow, apprehensive and giddy in all the right ways.

“You think I’m full of shit?” he asked, smirking.

“I know you are.” You couldn’t help but flirt, batting your eyelashes and smirking at Joel. You felt electric, lightning just crackling under your skin with the potential thrill of him reciprocating. Sure, you were risking a decent work relationship, but you could get a new patrol partner.

He hummed thoughtfully, his hand creeping toward the back of your neck. The stretch of his fingers to the meat of his palm spanned nearly three-quarters of the circumference of your throat, something that should’ve chilled you to the bone. Excitement sparked in your belly as you swallowed against the firm press of his thumb on your windpipe.

“You don’t seem like an ‘on the leash’ kind of guy,” you murmured, the feeling of the gauze you’d wrapped around his knuckles rubbing against your soft skin making you shiver slightly.

“No, guess I don’t,” Joel agreed, his dark brown gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth and back. It was so quick, but the thrill that followed made you feel like you were glowing. You slicked your tongue over your lower lip, making it shine in the firelight.

The way he spoke made you press your thighs together, the stiff seam of your jeans pressing against you in the perfect way if you shifted how you were sitting. Joel moved as well, his thighs spreading just a bit, a palm quickly smoothing over his lap in an action he probably didn’t think he would notice.

“Sweetheart, we should just get this out of the way.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion before Joel was pulling you toward him, his lips slotting over yours. A soft, startled noise was muffled against Joel’s mouth, shock dissipating quickly as your eyes slid shut. His mustache tickled your upper lip as you accidentally bumped your nose against his.

When he pulled back, there was a hint of a smile on his face. Your face felt like it was on fire, a goofy smile gracing your features as your gaze flickered over him.

Joel’s other hand crept onto your jean-clad thigh, a calloused thumb stroking along the frayed hole at your knee. “So, was that weird for you?” you asked like an insecure teenager, your teeth digging into your lower lip as you waited for his answer.

Your heart was pounding, the irrational side of your brain wondering if he was able to hear it. He surely felt it against his palm, his heavy hand resting near your pulse as he kept you close on the couch. He smiled at your question, shaking his head no as he pulled you back in for a second kiss. It was quicker, a messy stamp of his mouth over yours.

“Didn’t think you’d be into an old man like me,” he said with a chuckle. If you didn’t know better it almost seemed like Joel felt bashful. The apples of his cheeks were dusted pink, whether it was from the kiss or the wine you didn’t know.

Your eyebrow arched, a grin still on your face. “You’re not old,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. Your hands were pressed into your lap, part of you not knowing what to do with them. You looked up at Joel through your eyelashes before your gaze dragged down his torso and to his jeans. The flannel he wore was thin, the fabric well-worn and not tucked into his blue jeans.

“I should, um, thank you,” you murmured, shifting to put your empty wine glass on the coffee table.

Joel chuckled, still watching you like a hawk that set sights on its prey. “Last I checked, you were just lecturing me about fighting your own battles,” he teased, curiosity shining deep in his chocolate eyes as you got off your couch.

The wine must have gotten to your head, because you would’ve thought you were losing your mind. You moved to stand between Joel’s legs, slowly sinking to your knees on the squishy gray carpet that covered your living room. “I don’t have to thank you if you don’t want me to, Joel,” you murmured, your hands hovering over his thick thighs for a moment before resting on them.

He looked dumbfounded and giddy, his hands already resting on the black, leather belt he wore around his waist. “No, sweetheart, you’ve got a…uh… promising idea,” Joel said with a smile, shifting his legs so they bracketed you and his knees pressed against the coffee table.

You laughed softly, hands roaming up his muscular thighs to where his belt rested just under the soft layer of fat covering his stomach. “You sure? I can always get back up,” you said teasingly, working your fingers under the tongue of his belt and pulling the buckle open. It clinked as it fell off to the sides, you didn’t bother pulling it from the belt loops.

Joel shook his head, leaning back farther into the couch and shifting his hips toward you. “M’sure,” he answered, preoccupied on the way your fingers popped open the button of his jeans and worked the zipper down.

He was already hard, the outline of his cock pressing against the denim and toward his thigh. You reached into his black boxers, pulling it out of its confinement with a satisfied sigh.

He was big, bigger than any other guy you’d been with. You held the base of his cock, fingers against the curly, dark hair that covered his pubic bone and ran up toward his belly button. It was hot to the touch, the head already leaking precum that followed the path of the prominent veins down his shaft. It was more pink than the rest of him, the head a shade darker than the rest.

You licked your lips, almost embarrassed to find yourself drooling as you braced your forearm on his thigh and kitten-licked at the underside of Joel’s cock. He grunted at the contact, his hands digging into the plush cushion of the couch as his hips twitched toward your face.

“Eager,” you mumbled, a smile on your face as you looked up at Joel through your eyelashes. He was already looking down at you, his lips parted in anticipation and his breaths heavier than they were. You licked the tip of his cock again, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue. There’s something about the way that Joel lets a breath out through his teeth that makes you feel like you were set on fire.

You let out a breathy chuckle, wrapping your lips around the head of him and hollowing out your cheeks on your descent toward his lap. It was a lot to take, your eyes watering as you swallowed more of Joel’s cock. His moans and sighs were enough to keep you going, your lips curled over your teeth and your head bobbing up and down.

One of his hands found the curve of your jaw, calloused fingers tracing it before hooking around the back of your head. You were fine with his direction, letting Joel gently press your head down to dictate your speed.

The taste of him was salty and heady, a musk that was distinctly Joel filling your nose as you drooled and sucked his cock. It was slick with your spit, the mix of your saliva and his precum coating your lips and chin. You still had your hand wrapped around the base of him and moving in tandem with your mouth, ensuring you could get everything that your throat couldn’t fit.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you suck cock like you were made for it,” Joel said, his words punctuated with soft sighs and moans. It made you want to live permanently with his praise, your gaze flicking up to meet Joel’s for a moment.

He was completely blissed out, his head tilted back toward the ceiling as he bit his full lower lip between his teeth. His Adam’s apple kept moving erratically in his throat, like he couldn’t decide whether to breathe or not. His hand still cupped the black of your head, half-thought praises falling frantically from his lips. Joel was barely speaking in sentences, some words falling to the wayside of his soft grunts.

Feeling emboldened, you move your hand away and try to relax your jaw as your head descends far enough that your nose is pressed firmly against Joel’s pubic hair. It smells surprisingly clean, just the undertone of musk clinging to the dark, curly thatch of hair as you resisted the urge to choke around his cock.

It was thick and heavy in your throat as you swallowed around him, eliciting groans and his hand pressing tightly against the back of your head. Tears burned in your eyes as Joel’s thick cock twitched in your throat, your hands spread flat on your thighs as he moaned your praises.

Joel barely thrusted his hips toward your awaiting mouth, your eyes slipped shut so you could focus on relaxing your throat. Lungs burning, you finally pulled off to suck in deep breaths. Your hand resumed what your mouth had been doing moments before, taking Joel in your fist and using your saliva as lubrication.

“Look at how pretty you are,” Joel murmured, his southern accent thicker than normal as the hand on the back of your head shifted to cup your cheek. Your eyes were watery with a few tears tracking down your face, your lips swollen and saliva coating the entirety of your chin.

You smiled, stroking his cock as you struggled to regain your breath. “Didn’t know you were such a good girl,” Joel drawled, dragging his thumb through the saliva on your chin and smearing the pad of it across your parted lips.

“When I want to be.” Your voice was thick and raspy, your eyes partially lidded. Your knees were digging into the carpet, his legs keeping you where you sat.

He smirked at that. Joel gently moved your hand away from his cock, his arms winding beneath your armpits and lifted you back up to the couch. You squealed in the back of your throat, surprised by his strength as he settled you against the arm of the couch and twisted to face you.

Large hands yanked your sweater over your head to reveal the black bra you wore, a soft groan coming from Joel. He didn’t waste time, finding the back closure and popping it open. You helped him, guiding the thin straps down your arms and tossing the garment aside.

“Christ,” Joel mumbled, his thick fingers brushing over one of your nipples. A jolt of electricity traveled down your spine at the touch, warmth blooming on your cheeks.

You were impatient, panties already soaked through and feeling uncomfortable as you popped open the button on your jeans. “Joel, I need you,” you murmured, leaning forward to kiss him as you shimmied your pants and underwear over your hips.

“So impatient,” he muttered between presses of your lips, pulling away so he could look at you properly. The firelight illuminated the curves and shadows that littered your body, stretch marks and scars visible on your skin. Self-consciousness reared its ugly head for a moment, your gaze fluttering away from Joel’s intensity as he just stared at you.

He grabbed your thighs, pulling you toward him until your back hit the couch. “Joel…” you whined as he pressed your thighs apart, his dark eyes focused on your sex.

He spread the slicked lips apart with his thumb, making you cover your face with your hands out of embarrassment. “Look at you…” he mumbled, hardly even talking to you. He let go of your other thigh, his fingertips teasing your clenching hole to gather some of the wetness dripping down you and smearing it across your clit.

You gasped, your back arching at the contact against the nerves. Joel’s fingers were calloused and thick and warm, drawing tight, slow circles over your clit as his other hand pressed into the crease between your inner thigh and your pubic bone. It kept your hips from squirming away from him.

“You’re so sensitive, sweetheart,” Joel said, the smile audible in his voice. You’d kept your hands over your face, your moans muffled by your palms as you resisted the urge to snap your thighs closed. You felt vulnerable and exposed under him.

“You’re teasing,” you mumbled, your hips twitching in an attempt to get more friction from his calloused fingers. He kept his touch agonizingly light, making you whine and whimper in your desperation for more from him. He chuckled, fingers dipping to tease your entrance again before trailing back up to your clit.

“Let me see ya,” Joel said, his hand leaving the nestle of your thigh to wrap around your wrists and pull them away from your face. He held both in one hand, keeping your wrists captive against your sternum.

Your breaths were heavy, his fingers strumming over the swollen bump of your clit pulling moans from your throat. Joel’s eyes were partially lidded as he looked down at you, a smirk growing on his face at your desperate expression. “Joel, please,” you begged, your cunt clenching around empty space as you wished he would just fucking fill you up already.

He chuckled, clicking his tongue against his teeth with mock disapproval. “If you’re so desperate, get up and turn around, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you up by your wrists. “My knees aren’t what they used to be, help an old man out.”

You’d normally take that opportunity to make a joke at his expense, but you just let him move you around like a doll. He guided you so you were kneeling on the couch, your chest pressed against the back of it. You arched your back as much as you could, sticking your ass out and hoping you looked pretty as you looked at Joel over your shoulder. He didn’t even bother getting undressed, just standing up behind you and taking his cock in his hand.

His other hand still rubbed over your cunt, smearing your arousal over your swollen lips and onto your inner thighs. Much to your relief, he pressed two thick fingers inside you. The sensation made you groan, resting your weight on your elbows and your knees as you pushed back against his fingers. They slid in so easy you were almost embarrassed.

“You’ll take me just fine, sweetheart,” Joel murmured, approval echoing in his voice. He crooked his fingers to press and massage the spongy spot inside of you, making your mouth fall open and your legs jerk.

You twisted enough to glare at him, Joel covered in shadow from the fire crackling behind him. “Quit being an asshole, Joel,” you said through your teeth, making him chuckle.

“Where are your manners, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling his fingers from your cunt. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a sigh before grabbing your hip with a hand. His wet fingers smeared against your heated skin as he pulled you back a little more, making your back arch like a bow pulled too tight.

He slid the blunt head of his cock between your folds until it tapped against your clit, making him when you whimpered. Joel finally granted you what you wanted, lining up with your entrance and pressing his way in. His cock catches, sliding in so slow that it makes you squirm.

“Relax, sweetheart.” Joel’s big hand slid up and down your curved spine, calloused fingers feeling each and every notch of your vertebrae. Your pussy fluttered around him, stretched out and so eager as he bullied his way inside of you. The breath you took in was frantic and overwhelmed, it felt as though he was pushing all of the air out of your body. The two fingers he had pressed inside of you as a test didn’t prepare you at all for his thick cock.

You could hardly breathe, you’d never taken a cock this big inside of you without any preparation–but you were too impatient to wait for him to stretch you out on his fingers. You were pathetic, whining and wheezing as your hands clenched against the cushions on the back of your couch.

You’d never felt anything better in your life.

After what felt like ages, Joel was fully seated inside of you. His coarse jeans were pressed against your soft thighs, the two of you breathing heavily like you’d run a marathon.

“You’ve gotta relax. Feels like you’re gonna squeeze my dick off,” Joel said, slowly grinding his pelvis against the swell of your ass. You nodded, trying to take in deep breaths and get used to the feeling of being stretched full.

“Sorry,” you muttered as you focused on becoming pliant, your taught muscles slowly releasing. His beard rasped against the back of your neck as he kissed you there, a moment of intimacy to calm you down. It felt like a reward, your breaths slowing as you unclenched around Joel and welcomed him deeper.

The sound you made when Joel pulled out and pressed back in was pathetic. It felt like he was sawing you in half, carving a space for his cock inside of you with each thrust. There was some caution to his movements, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he grit his teeth.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart,” Joel said, his voice muffled as his mouth pressed against your neck. Each thrust coaxed a gasp from you, your nails digging into the fabric of the couch as you take whatever Joel is willing to give. Your vision was blurry from the overwhelmed tears brimming your eyes.

The sound of your bodies smacking together filled your living room, the open belt still threaded through Joel’s pants clinking on the off beat. He maintained his pace like a machine, drilling into the gummy spot inside you that made your eyes roll back in your head.

Your nipples were sensitive, rubbing against the coarse fabric of the couch cushions with every thrust. The noises you made were absolutely undignified, the sounds of someone being fucked completely stupid. He was filling you up so perfectly and the knowledge that it was Joel, your hardass patrol partner who never gave affection to anyone, it made you feel like you’d touched a live wire.

“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart,” Joel said, a wide hand reaching around you to fondle your breast. He used it to bring you back, curving your spine so the back of your head was pressed against his collarbone and you looked up at where the wall and ceiling met.

You felt helpless and primal, your mind scattered a million different places. “So good,” you gasped stupidly, hardly able to form words. Your hands grabbed his forearm and fisted in his flannel behind you, an effort to anchor yourself to him.

“I know,” he murmured, kissing the shell of your ear. You were vaguely aware of tears running down your cheeks, your mouth hanging open as you struggled to stay afloat. You were already lost, a sea of sensation pulling you under with only the places where you and Joel were pressed together serving as your lifeline.

Joel’s free hand reached around your belly, finding your neglected clit with practiced ease. You moaned his name like a broken record, your eyebrows furrowing. He rubbed it hard and fast, matching the pace he was rutting into you with. You already felt heat pooling in your lower abdomen.

“Oh god,” you gasped, already shaking from head to toe and your grip tightening around his forearm. “Joel I’m—yes, yes, yes—“

It felt like your whole world shattered as you came with a shout, your muscles convulsing. You clamped around Joel’s cock like a vise, your hips twitching wildly. Pleasure flooded through you from head to toe, warm and fuzzy and all-consuming. The sensation was simultaneously too much and not enough, Joel steadily fucking you through it as your vision went white.

Joel had to pull himself away from you, letting you slump forward on the couch cushion as you came down from your orgasm. You were clenching around nothing, whining at how cruel he was to leave you empty.

The wet, sticky sounds coming from him made you turn your head as you went boneless on the couch. Joel’s cheeks were red as he tugged at his cock, a hand squeezing the flesh of your ass. His dark eyes were focused on you, all loose limbed and spent.

He finally noticed you looking, his mouth open and panting. He took in your fucked out expression, your eyelashes clumped with tears and cheeks red. He’d made a mess of you, the dazed look on your face his undoing as he let out a grunt. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip as he came, spurting thick come over your ass as his fingers dug into you.

You sighed as you felt his hot come land on your ass and back, pooling in the curve of your spine. You were still floaty and out of it, vaguely aware of him milking the last spurts of his spend from his thick cock.

“Jesus,” he grumbled, swaying for a moment before sitting down on the couch next to you. He gathered you in his arms, pulling you onto his lap and against his chest as you went perfectly limp.

You nuzzled against his neck, humming your affection as his hand rubbed up and down your back. The motion smeared his come along your skin, his fingers rubbing it in like body lotion. It was like he’d stuck your brain in a blender, the mush of the aftermath hardly able to form more than feelings as you pressed your forehead against his beard.

“I’ll beat up the whole town if this is the thanks I get,” Joel said, pressing a kiss to your temple. His barrel chest shook beneath you with a chuckle, his hands never straying from your body.

“No one’s gonna want to touch me with a ten-foot pole,” you muttered after a moment of silence, it took you a beat to even process what Joel was saying. He snickered, seeming pleased with himself as you melted deeper into his embrace.

“Good, I should be the only one touching you,” he said, making warmth bloom in your chest. “Unless I’m assuming things.”

You smiled, a sleepy look still on your face as you wound your arms around his neck and snuggled in closer. “So this wasn’t a spur of the moment thing?” you asked, sounding shy as you said it.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “You know how many times I had to go home after patrol and take a cold shower just because you bumped my arm or bent over to pick something up? Felt like a damn teenager.”

You giggled, picking your head up to look at Joel properly. He looked so soft and sweet around the edges, that normal fire and flintiness was gone from his dark eyes. “You gonna stay tonight?”

He pulled you in for a kiss, it was sweet and over all too soon. “If you’ll let me,” Joel said, sounding earnest.

You nodded, tucking your head back against his neck. You were starting to succumb to your drowsy state, your eyes sliding shut as you puddled into Joel. You were vaguely aware of him lifting you off the couch, his good-natured grumbling about carrying you up the stairs filling your ears.

[noladyme]

I can't with this.... love!

A Beneficial Arrangement

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A marriage pact with a Viscount. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), loss of virginity, vaginal sex. Bickering, developing relationship.

Word Count: 6.1 k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Anon request fill from HERE (Anthony and a headstrong independent reader make an unconventional marriage pact). Sorry it's taken so long to write this, but I hope you enjoy! <3

It’s a dreary, rather ordinary Tuesday in spring when your life takes a turn.

“The Viscount is in want of a wife.” 

That statement is all you hear as you walk past the drawing room where your mother is taking tea with her good friend, the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton.

“My eldest needs a husband,” your mother responds, offering you as if merely chattel; bile rises indignantly as she does so. “But I fear she is far too outspoken to be a suitable Viscountess.” 

You sigh in relief, ear pressed to the closed door now.

“Oh, believe me, nothing would be a better match for my darling Anthony than someone who will challenge him, stand up to him,” Violet peals a knowing laugh. “We should arrange a meeting.”

——

3 days later.

He assesses you with a cool eye as your gaze drifts briefly over to both of your mothers, watching expectantly from a nearby table in the tea shop.

“You should know I will only be taking a wife to fulfil my societal duty,” he sniffs airly. “However, I do not expect you to produce an heir. The title may pass to my younger brothers; they are more inclined to form romantic attachments than I. Their offspring can inherit this title; it feels like a curse anyhow,” he adds quieter, his tone mildly embittered.

“Well, on your attitude to marriage, I can wholeheartedly agree,” you state, stirring your tea primly. “I do not wish to be shackled. I wish to remain free. I shall marry, as there is no other path available to me, but I do not plan nor do I ever want to be someone's wife.” You utter the word with disdain as if it is toxic. 

His admittedly very handsome face transforms into one of surprise, a faint dot of colour on his cheeks as he peers at you as if assessing you in a new light.

“What?” You frown at him, his silent stare becoming too heavy to bear as his interest and engagement intensify.

“You are the first woman I have ever met who shares my outlook,” he confesses, seemingly caught off-guard. “It is so utterly refreshing… and, frankly, novel.” He pauses to pass his fingers slowly over his lips in a way that makes your stomach swoop, even if you refuse to acknowledge such even to yourself. “I do believe we should meet again to discuss this further,” he concludes.

And thus, you find yourself with the suit of one Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, both of your mothers overjoyed at the prospect.

——

9 days later.

“If I must marry, you are the most tolerable woman I have met, I must concede,” he states nonchalantly as you meet to promenade. 

It’s quite an opening line for only your third meeting, even for someone as renownedly blunt as the Viscount.

“And a good afternoon to you too, Viscount Bridgerton,” you drawl pointedly with a raised eyebrow, subtly hinting how his greeting may have been lacking.

He chuckles, a flash of what looks like admiration in his dark eyes.

“As such,” he continues, “I would not be averse to a martial arrangement with you. An agreement, a pact if you will, based on our mutual understanding of what we both want from such an endeavour.”

The speed and pragmatism of his apparent proposal do not surprise you in the least. In fact, you are actually grateful for the lack of ceremony around it. If you must marry, you prefer it be swift.

“Did you mean what you said last week? In the tearoom?” You quiz as you begin to walk shoulder to shoulder through Hyde Park, the early summer air heavy with the scent of roses.

“Every word,” he replies solemnly.

“Then, I suppose this is a beneficial arrangement for me too,” you shrug as if agreeing about the weather, not the very course of your future. But there is something about this man that feels inevitable, fateful, but not in a way you dread. Also, his face is so very pleasing. If you must indeed marry, at least the view across the dinner table will be nice.

“Then it is decided,” he nods decisively, a brusque smile passing over his lips. “I so greatly appreciate your candidness with regard to this matter. It makes the whole business so much easier to deal with.”

He offers a hand to shake, and you take it, bemused, shaking on the deal, pretending this mere touch doesn't make every butterfly in your stomach roar to life.

“I shall make the arrangements swiftly,” he states, again with a short smile and nod.

You are married within three weeks.

——

6 weeks later.

‘‘What on earth is this?” he practically spits as he rounds the corner of Bridgerton House onto the back lawn.

“What does it look like?” you sass, tearing the netted visor from your face.

“It looks an awful lot like my wife is fencing,” his reply dripping with conceited judgement.

“Well, I’m glad to know you do not need glasses, husband,” you respond dryly, nodding to accept the excuses of the butler you were sparring with, who suddenly seems very keen to scurry away now the Viscount has arrived.

“Perkins, do not think this has gone unnoticed,” Anthony calls pointedly after the retreating man.

“Leave him alone!” you bark, taking your husband aback with your ferocity, him turning to you and almost gaping in surprise. “Perkins must do my bidding as lady of the house, and I told him to fence with me,” you elucidate, keen that the innocent party not suffer any consequences for your decision. 

“Women do not fence,” he sniffs, changing the subject somewhat.

“This one does,” you riposte, spearing your epee tip into the grass to remove the suede gloves.

“It is unbecoming of a Viscountess,” he adds almost haughtily.

“Good thing such matters hold no truck with me,” you shrug, knowing you are likely provoking him. 

To hell with what is appropriate for a titled lady. The title, and all of its stifling rules and expectations, is the very last reason you married the man standing before you. No, the reason is far, far more simultaneously complex and simple than that. He excites you—in ways you don't even want to admit to yourself.

It’s not something you would divulge to anyone, but arguing with your new husband has become your new favourite pastime. On the rare occasions you see him, that is. Since your wedding day, you have mostly been ships passing at the dinner table; otherwise, your lives have been very separate. At night, his rooms are at the other end of the long hallway from yours, and his days are apparently filled with business obligations. While the utter freedom to fill your days as you wish has been a blessing, it’s also been perhaps a touch lonely.

When you do see Anthony, you invariably end up clashing about something. And, well, it’s often the highlight of your week. A thrill zipping down your spine as you do so. The only person you have met who can keep up with your verbal sparring. It makes you excited, breathless, dizzy, a fizz low in your belly that feels entirely beguiling. Today is no different; you feel that same sensation as he stares at you, arms crossed, exasperated.

“Well, if you insist upon this rebellious pastime,’ he sighs after a few beats, snatching your epee, “the least you can do is improve your grip,” he grouses, rolling his eyes.

You startle as he crowds into your back, a warm hand wrapping around yours as he passes you the blade and demonstrates a different way to wield it that you concede feels better. The spike of victory in your bloodstream from winning the argument morphs into something entirely different as he stands behind you, his breath tickling your ear and the tendrils of your hair as he provides instruction. 

You try to take the details on board, but your thoughts scatter with his overwhelming proximity. How have you never noticed the stirring amber notes of his cologne before? Or how very broad his chest is compared to his slim hips? Perhaps because this is the closest you have ever been, his body heat seeping into your spine, your heart fluttering hard against your ribs. You can’t decide if this effect your husband can have on you is the best or the worst thing. Somehow, it feels like both.

——

1 month later.

You are both relieved to avoid most of the season on the pretence of being on honeymoon, but inevitably, the time comes when you must debut as a married couple. Speculation about you growing ever since Lady Whistledown breathlessly reported your nuptials, a nearly unknown minor Ton member rapidly snaring the most eligible of perenially eligible bachelors.

So when you enter your first ball as Viscountess Bridgerton, all eyes are upon you. You feel mildly uncomfortable bedecked in jewels and a heavy silk dress, but know refinement is of importance at events such as these. You just cannot wait to get home and get out of them. This will never be your preferred milieu, a sentiment you apparently share with your husband—underneath his calm, unruffled exterior, you sense his dampened disquiet.

“Smile politely, nod in acknowledgement, but don't engage for any longer than necessary,” he counsels under his breath as an inevitable hush falls over the room when your arrival is announced. You are grateful for his steadfast support, his arm looped reassuringly through yours as you follow his advice, knowing he has navigated these waters much more than you have needed to. “The best thing to do is seem frightfully ordinary,” he explains quietly as you complete a circuit of the room. “They are ravenous for gossip; if none is to be had, their preoccupation will swiftly wane.”

Indeed, the initial excitement about your appearance soon dies down as other, perhaps more flamboyant, guests arrive. People approach expressing surprise about your union, but once he economically explains you just knew you were right for each other, they often quickly move on, seeming almost disappointed at the lack of apparent scandal.

As the evening progresses, you school your tongue at some of the barbs you overhear, more out of a wish to be left alone rather than any adherence to social rules. Most of the things that appear to preoccupy the Ton you have little patience for. As Anthony spends some time with business acquaintances, you eventually find yourself in the company of the female members of his family, whom you are quickly becoming very fond of with every passing day in their company. Particularly his benevolent mother and headstrong sister, Eloise. In fact, the latter is the primary witness to the flare of your true nature, fatigue overriding your ability to remain silent.

Cressida Cowper is being particularly venomous about a mutual acquaintance. Eloise is quick with her witty tongue in reply, and you cannot stop yourself from piling on your scorn as well.

“Perhaps if the braiding of your hair were less painful, it would allow you greater empathy,” you retort before you can stop yourself.

Eloise’s responding guffaw sprays lemonade all over Cressida, whose shocked mien is the last thing you see before she turns heel to attend to her ruined dress in private.

“That was sensational!” Eloise wheezes in awe as she blots the remnants of her beverage from her chin.

You sigh.

“It was unwise,” you correct, knowing you have probably just made an enemy of one of the worst gossips of the Ton.

“It was wholly accurate and justified,” a cool, authoritative voice cuts in, and you look up to find your husband before you, a rapt glint in his eye that makes your lungs feel tight. It appears he may have also been witness to the moment.

Eloise’s eyes briefly ping-pong between the two of you, and then she loops an arm into the crook of Anthony’s as you continue to gaze at each other, cataloguing something new about each other that you mutually admire.

“I like her,” Eloise nods at you. “Excellent choice of wife, brother,” she grins.

It breaks the spell between you but seems to further ingratiate you with at least one member of his family. And that makes you feel light as air in a way you don't fully understand.

——

2 months later.

Funnily enough, it’s another random Tuesday when your life takes a complete turn. Yet again, you find yourself in another heated debate with your husband of barely twelve weeks. This time while sojourning at your country estate, Aubrey Hall.

“Must you?” Anthony gripes, standing up from his desk and rounding towards where you stand.

“Must I what? Speak my mind?” you bite back, hands on your hips.

“Be so damn argumentative,” he expounds, hands also on hips, chest heaving a little, “urghh, you are so aggravating!”

“Same!” You shoot back. “I have never met a man quite as disagreeable as you,” you add, not realising as you argue that you have taken steps closer and are now huffing irritated breaths close to each other's faces.

“Why did you agree to marry me then?” he snarls, his gaze suddenly fixated on your bottom lip, unbeknownst to you, it’s glistening and swollen from biting in irritation at his demeanour.

“Right now, I have no earthly idea,” you volley in return, but your pounding heart gives away the real reason. No one makes you feel quite as alive as Anthony, even when he is driving you up the wall, like right now. “Why did you agree to marry me, seeing as I am so very ‘aggravating’?” you spit, parroting the word back at him.

His stare blisters as he draws himself to full height right before you.

“We made a pact,” he huffs, “this is duty, nothing more.” 

But the way he breathes and holds himself speaks to something else. A war in his body and mind. The maelstrom in his eyes belying his words… and then it hits you. So singular it knocks the wind from your lungs. This is desire. He wants you. In all the ways a man can want a woman. 

And damn it all to hell if you don’t feel precisely the same.

“For me as well,” your tart, mendacious reply is bitter on your tongue.

The tension in the air is taut like a cord, ready to snap. You both toe to toe, noses almost touching, laboured breaths as you stare each other down like some game to see who will capitulate first. 

“I do believe we are at an impasse… wife,” the last word dripping with disdain, but he is leaning closer than he ever has, his lips fractional inches from yours.

“It would appear so…,” you concur, “…husband,” you roll the last word slowly, lingering on the end of the first syllable as if it is both a treat and a bitter pill on your tongue.

“I have been raised a gentleman,” he hisses, “but there are times that you test my resolve.”

“I do nothing of the sort!” you decry, knowing you are lying even to yourself now. Somedays lately, you live to simply push his buttons, just to see what he will do. “And resolve of what? To not be a good husband? Because I can tell you, forthright, you are doing a wonderful job of being a terrible husband,” you goad, knowing you are poking the proverbial beast now.

“I give you a wonderful home to run as you please, I give you the freedom to pursue whatever pastimes you wish, I let you speak your mind. As Viscountess, the world is yours. What else could you possibly want in a husband? I do not ask you to do things, wifely things, that I could,” he warns, his voice buzzing low. “I could demand you submit to my will; it is my right,” he growls.

A flame behind your ribs catches fire, even as your eyes flash indignant.

“You do not wish for that sort of wife; you told me as much yourself.” It’s a heated whisper, much breathier than you mean it to be.

“A man can change his mind,” he gravels, “same as a woman can change hers if she wishes.”

“What made you change your mind?” 

He fixes you with a hypnotic, weighted stare.

“You.”

The way that one word drips from his lips tilts your whole existence. It’s so loaded you don’t know what to say. Unmoored, your system awash with chemicals, your mind flooding with images of sketches you have seen of men and women together. Of what the marital act can entail. It’s something you believed would not ever be a part of your marriage, your life, even, but now…. 

Now your handsome husband is staring at you, ragged breaths, face wild, telling you he has changed his mind. Maybe he wants that sort of marriage, that sort of union. Something gallops hard in your chest as he steps away, as if wrongly intuiting you are about to turn down his suit, and something bubbles up from deep inside you.

“Do not dare,” you growl.

His mouth falls open in shock.

“Do not tease me so and leave me wanting,” you continue with a boldness and timbre you barely recognise as your own. “‘Tis crueller to build false hope than to take what you want,” you sniff and stare him down, so wholly decisive in your intentions and desires. If this is the nudge he needs, you’ll give it.

“You want me to exercise my conjugal rights?” he falters, appearing utterly stunned.

You don’t answer; just do one thing, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. You close the last few inches and press your lips to his. 

They are soft and plush against yours, making your insides warm and glowing. Then, Anthony makes a noise in the back of his throat, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. So ferociously, you squeak into his mouth as he opens your lips and slides his tongue over yours, his strong arms pulling you into an embrace so you are enveloped by his warm body.

Good lord.

You feel like you are drowning in him as he grabs your jaw, directing the kiss, turning it into something wholly other. Your lips move endlessly together as you both greedily take from the other for what seems like ages. When you pull apart, you are both heaving breaths and staring at each other, almost confused.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” you snarl, wanting to rip every item of clothing from your body and his.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds airily.

And then you crash into each other again. Drinking desperately from each other's mouths, powerless to resist whatever flame draws you together. 

He walks you backwards as your tongues tangle, and you startle slightly as your bottom hits his imposing desk. Hands loop around your thighs, and he hoists you into the surface, never breaking the intoxicating kiss.

He tries to step between your legs, but your column dress is too tight to allow it. You attempt to wiggle the hem upwards as you kiss, then, with a frustrated grunt, he bats your hands away and, using a strength that shocks you, rips the silk material asunder from the hem to your hip.

“I loved this dress!” you decry over his lips, unwilling to admit you’d destroy every single dress you own if he just kept kissing you like this.

“I’ll buy you another,” he dismisses, pushing your thighs wide with his hands. “I’ll buy you as many as you want.” 

“You had better,” you challenge, scarcely able to believe you even have the wherewithal to debate with him, especially as this is the first time a man has ever touched your bare leg.

He pulls back from the kiss to stare intently into your eyes as his fingertips trace from your kneecap up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You don’t mean to, but you tremble, having never been touched this way before. You gasp as his palm cups the apex of your thighs, his hand feeling so warm through the thin silk protecting your modesty, his fingers swirling circles over your patch of hair as the heel of his palm presses against your slit.

“I can feel your heat,” he hisses.

You can barely process what is happening, your body rioting as he touches and teases you, staring you down. Instinctively, you reach for the tiny buttons at your hip, but your hands fall away as he flicks his middle finger downwards and catches a nub that makes your body buck.

“Anthony,” it falls from your lips unbidden with a halting breath. It may well be the first time you have uttered his first name in his presence.

He groans at the sound. “Please, always say my name like that,” he pleads through gritted teeth.

So you repeat it, the same intonation, even as that finger drags slowly up and down over the swollen pearl between your legs, undone by how good it feels.

“Are you chaste?” he inquires; it’s not judgemental in tone, just pure curiosity, his ministrations lighter.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, “but I do know of the marital act”, you add, wanting him to know you are not entirely innocent.

“Hmm,” he hums, looking at once thoughtful and blistering, his finger moving more insistently again, “I am glad to hear it. Then you shall not be entirely shocked by what is about to happen?”

“So… we are to undertake it? The act?” you stutter, his finger making you feel so good you have to bite your lip.

But he doesn’t answer your question directly. 

“Wife, how attached are you to these undergarments?” his tone almost idle, cocking his head to the side as his gaze lingers over them.

You shrug practically. “I have many exactly the same.”

Then, you gasp loudly as the sound of silk tearing fills the room. You are quaking as the warm air of his study swirls around your exposed, damp slit. He shocks you by dropping to his knees before you. Pushing your thighs wide on his desk and looking up at you with burningly intense eyes, he presses his face to your flesh, inhaling deeply, his nose buried in your pubic hair before his tongue peeks out and nudges the swollen nub he was teasing through the silk. 

Your mouth drops open, and something inhuman escapes your lungs. Then he does it again, this time enclosing the whole area between his lips and sucking hard on your flesh, tongue curling and ploughing into your folds. The heat, the suction, the muscular swipe of his tongue feels so good your mind blanks out, a tremor in your splayed thighs that he holds forcibly open with warm hands. He keeps doing so for a few moments as your fingernails curl hard into the edge of his desk, scarcely able to do anything but writhe and gently moan. IIdly you think upon all of your curious research, never once had you heard of or read about a man doing as he is now, placing his head between his wife’s thighs and sniffing, drinking from her body.

“You are plenty ready for me, wife,” he huffs, his warm breath tickling your responsive folds, little ripples of pleasure deep inside scattering your thoughts. “Are you averse to me taking you right here?” he waves a hand nonchalantly at his large, imposing carved wooden desk.

“I… I rather thought su-such things could only ha-happen in a bed,” you confess stiltedly, a quiver in your voice.

He smirks up from between your thighs, turning his head to kiss the fragile skin there. “Oh, no, wife. We can fuck anywhere we please…” he pauses and looks sincere, “however, should you prefer a bed…”

“Here is fine,” you rush out, so very keen to have your husband make a woman of you. As if leaving this room may break the spell you are under. Location be damned. You just want to know him. He smirks again, placing a final quick kiss on your flesh, looking very pleased at your response.

“I wholeheartedly concur,” he rumbles as he hoists himself back up to stand, stepping inwards to rock his clothed pelvis against your pulsing nub. There is something hot and swollen in his trousers now, and you realise this must be his member. 

“Show it to me,” you enthuse, nodding at the insistent bulge.

“So very impatient all of a sudden, wife,” he scolds with a bemused chuckle, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand over the bump. It feels so hot and steely even through the fabric. “Unbutton me,” he orders casually, pointing to the fastening at his hip. 

Exuberantly, you undo them quickly, keen to see if his member matches the sketches you have viewed. As the front of his trousers falls away, he quickly pushes down his white underwear. There, nestled in a thatch of dark hair at the base, is your husband's cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. It seems more considerable than the drawings you have seen, and you are temporarily taken aback by how red and almost angry it looks at the tip.

“Go ahead, touch it,” Anthony encourages, and with a slight tremble in your fingers, you reach forward and make contact with him.

“Oh!” you exclaim without thought, “it’s so soft, your skin, and so hot!” 

He chuckles warmly at your assessment. “Indeed,” he huffs as you wrap your hand instinctively around it, feeling its weight and mass in your palm.

“This will not fit inside me, surely?” you blurt out.

“It will, I promise,” his tone mellow, tinged with understanding even as his breath staccatos when you start to move your hand, the instinct to rub inexplicable, but seemingly precisely what he wants. “Yes, perfect,” he rasps, eyes closing and tongue peaking out to lick his lips.

The odd mix of total honesty and soft appreciation between you as you acquaint yourselves with each other's bodies seems very apt, as if this is the only way such a development would ever transpire. And you realise, as you cradle his most intimate parts, that you trust this man with your very being. Despite your bickering, there is a thread of mutual respect under it that makes you feel safe, seen, and known in a way that no other person has.

“Take me now, husband,” you rattle through your teeth, watching a bead of something sticky form at the tip of his cock as you squeeze him in hypnotic, repetitive motions. The sight makes something in your body turn to fiery liquid, wanting him and that substance inside yourself in a way that doesn't make logical sense. 

He growls at your words, grabbing your hand away from his cock and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the back of your knuckles as your eyes lock, a chaste, almost romantic interlude.

But then his hands grab your hips and haul you almost roughly to the very edge of the desk, your torn dress framing your splayed thighs, his trousers around his ankles as he takes his cock in hand and rubs the tip over your folds of flesh in a way that makes you moan under your breath.

“Are you certain?” he checks, even as he pants anticipatorily.

“God, yes,” you confirm, craving him in a way you have never felt about anything before. An urgent hook tugging deep inside your loins, calling to him like a siren song.

“Watch,” he murmurs darkly, his other hand rounding the back of your neck so your gaze is tilted down to where his cock nudges your opening.

So you do, as does he. Stare down to where your body meet, hissing loudly as his tip slips inside your soaked channel. Your eyes want to roll back at the sheer overwhelming sensation of it, but equally, it's such an enthralling sight that you can’t look away.

He moans loudly, lewdly, decadently as he pushes further into your heat, pausing to readjust your legs wider and tilt your pelvis more open.

“This next part may hurt, darling,” he whispers quietly, the first time he has ever used such an affectionate term for you, making your heart race. 

“It's alright,” you reassure mutely in return, “I have heard as such.”

The hand around the back of your neck slides gently until he tilts your chin up to meet his tender gaze.

“You are quite the woman,” he says, almost reverential, as he leans in and captures your lips in a sweet, soft kiss. 

The movement propels his cock deeper into your body, and you cry out into his open mouth at a stab of sharp pain inside. 

“That's it done,” he mutters reassuringly into your lips as you whimper gently. 

He stills as you adjust to the girth, the heat, and feeling so very filled.

“More…” falls from your mouth spontaneously, the want rising, hungry for a need to be met, a thirst slaked, unlike anything you have experienced.

The smile that breaks out over his face makes your nipples pebble hard in your stays, and he slides deeper as you cling to him, exhaling unevenly as he keeps sinking further into your pussy, pushing you open. Just when you think you cannot take more, he stops, and you feel his body pressing wholly against yours.

You stare at each other, eyes wild and wide, unable to form words but knowing instinctually how good this feels for both of you. He looks untamed, something urgent rippling in his being. And without breaking the gaze, he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock is inside you, then ploughs back in, in one determined, decisive stroke.

You don't stop the decadent noise that escapes your lungs, your toes curling into the soles of your feet at how wonderful and all-encompassing that feels. Same as you don't miss the victorious smirk on his face at your reaction.

Then it’s a hungry blur of movement as your hands grab his biceps through his clothing, clinging on for dear life as he proceeds to move just like that first thrust. Over and over. Building in pace and with increasing intensity, him sensing your need for such things.

“Anthony…” his name spills over your lips again, and the impact on him is nothing short of extraordinary.

His hands clamp vicelike to your hips, branding heatedly over your skin through your dress, straining the tendons of your inner thighs as he pushes your legs open impossibly wide, his pelvis crashing into yours in a way you are certain may leave bruises. And what shocks you most is just how much you want it. Want him to leave signs of his presence, want to look in the mirror and see the outline of his digits in the globes of your bottom.

He moans your name, hot and desperate, into your ear, his pace never wavering, a drop of sweat forming on his forehead that you can't look away from when he pulls back to tilt your heads together.

“I want to see,” you stumble out, pantingly, as he takes you harder.

“See what?” he sounds almost winded, his thrusts still spearing his cock into your body.

“See you entering me,” you huff into his cheek.

His responding noise is feral and has every inch of your body alight. He bows his spine outward so your bodies only touch where you are joined, and his hand feels heated and heavy on the back of your neck as you tilt your chin down to take in the sight.

His cock, rigid and huge, ploughing repeatedly into your body, shining with a slick substance you can only assume is from within you, the sight making you shudder, but not with anything approaching disgust. It’s something primal. A need to chase a conclusion, the power of the vivid tableau burned into your retinas.

“Don't stop, please don't stop,” you petition, looking back up to his face, your hands sliding up and down his torso now, raking urgent fingernails over his clothing.

He swears, and his lips are back on yours, searing and demanding. This feels like a frantic wave you are riding together, a trickle of moisture running down your spine as you start to push your hips forward as much as you can, meeting his thrusts halfway.

“You are fucking perfect,” he snarls over your tongue, and you couldn't agree more.

Time seems elastic as he lowers you so your back rests on the piles of no doubt important paperwork, not that he pays it any mind, him hunched over you, pulling your hips out over the edge now, the range of motion it allows him making you gasp. He is taking you without mercy now, breath hot on your throat as he moans your name, his hand squirrelling between your bodies and making your vision dance with dots as he passes a slightly calloused tip over your clit.

“Come for me,” he breathes, the request both hopeful and commanding.

“What does that mean?” your question puffed into his lush hairline.

“Oh my darling, just you wait,” his voice dripping with promise even as your skin feels like it wants to vibrate off your very bones as his fingers and cock take you somewhere you never envision. An ecstasy both outside but rooted deep in your being.

He murmurs encouragingly as you struggle for air, your lungs burning, scarcely remembering to breathe, skating some kind of precipice that feels dangerous and addictive. Then, with a flick of his thumb and a gentle bite of your earlobe, you fall into an abyss. Everything all at once quiet and loud, eyes screwed shut as colours burst behind them, and every fibre of your being seems to snap and break, rearranging in a mind-shattering way. Your pussy convulsing hard around his cock that now seems impossibly large.

Then, with a deep booming cry, you feel him lance deeper than ever, his whole body tensing and jerking. A warmth spreads inside, and you vaguely realise he is reaching completion, spilling his seed inside you. For what seems like ages, your mind and body float somewhere, utterly sated, suddenly understanding why this act can be so all-consuming and there is so much written of it.

When your mind returns to the room, you are panting into each other's necks, both breathlessly stunned at how animalistic your first intimacy was. Somehow, your antagonistic chemistry transmuting into an explosive, consuming passion.

“We are going to bed right now,” his tone wrecked, rough, so damn irresistible you want to bite his flesh, even while you still recover from what transpired. Fires stoked again just by those seven words.

He pulls up his trousers haphazardly, picks you up bridal-style, and sweeps you out of his office and up the grand staircase, ignoring the shocked looks of staff at your torn dress and his roughly pulled clothing. 

“We are not to be disturbed,” he barks at his valet, who blanches and leaves the room as Anthony practically throws you onto his imposing four-poster bed. Then, as you lay there, he strips naked before you, and you want to nuzzle every inch of his toned, magnificent body. 

___

It’s three days before you reemerge from what is now your joint bedroom. From that day on, you are never without your husband for more than two days; such is your magnetic need for each other. And when your belly swells with the first of your many children, he confesses his ardent, undying love for you, you returning the sentiment instantly, having felt the same for what seems like forever. 

A hurried, naive pact between two proud, independent souls becoming something wholly other—a loving, passionate marriage of equals. You still squabble with unerring frequency, but now it ends in lovemaking, the intensity sweeping you both into an ephemeral bliss.

A beneficial arrangement indeed.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor

[noladyme]

Go ahead.

La Cuervo - Chapter 10

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on on Mayans M.C. are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

10.

Angel brought Nina by the drug-store on the way to the clubhouse. She got herself a new inhaler, but was still confused about where her last one had disappeared to.

They went straight to the scrap-yard afterwards. While Angel went ahead of her into the clubhouse; she decided to do one last check in the trailer, just in case her old inhaler might be there. Opening the door, she found Tig sleeping it off on one cot, and Quinn cleaning his gun on the other. “Have you seen my inhaler in here?”. “No… Do you need it?”, he asked worriedly. “Nah… I got a new one. It’s just weird”. “You shouldn’t leave it laying around, doll. You might need it”, Quinn scolded. Tig jostled in his sleep. “But baby; I wanted sprinkles… It’ll bite you in the ass…”, he mumbled. Nina chuckled, and shook her head. “Chibs?”, she asked Quinn. “Inside. We’ll be there in a minute. I just have to wake sleeping beauty first”, Quinn said. “Keep that gun on hand. You know how he gets”, Nina smiled, and walked out the door again.

Chucky met her in the doorway with a mug of steamy caffeine. She smiled in thanks. “Where were you last night?”. “I don’t like parties like that. It gets noisy”, Chucky replied, and ran off to make a fresh pot of coffee. He seemed – just like her – to be happy, surrounded by both his families. Happy came over, and wrapped an arm around her for a half hug, and a kiss to the top of her head. “’Morning, princess”, he said. “Get some food in you. It looks like you got worked over last night”. “I did”, Nina sighed. Happy laughed, and led her over to the bar, where Chucky had set up breakfast for the hungover Mayans and Sons. “Does he treat you good?”, Happy asked, a warning tone to his voice. He looked over his shoulder at Angel, who was seated by a table with Gilly and Coco. “Yes, Hap’. You don’t have to kill him”, Nina smiled, and began filling a plate of food. It seemed Gabby had been by with some goodies, and Nina quickly took her fair share of leftover mole. “I wasn’t gonna kill him… Just cut a few toes off”, Happy muttered. “Maybe break his arm”. Nina laughed, and patted his shoulder. “I love you, Happy”, she said, and went over to sit by Angel and the rest.

Gilly had a mouth full of bacon and eggs. “You not eating?”, he asked Angel. “Nah, I had cereal”, Angel replied, and shot Nina a panty-ruining look. She felt her cheeks burn, and kicked him over the leg. He grabbed her thigh, and squeezed it teasingly. Sipping her coffee, Nina sat quietly and listened to the tales of debauchery the bikers had gotten in to after she and Angel had left the night before. Angel didn’t seem remorseful about having missed out, simply laughed at the stories, and stole food off Nina’s plate.

The door to the clubhouse opened, and Quinn and EZ came in; dragging Tig between them. Creeper slipped in behind them, ready to catch Tig if he fell backwards. “We need coffee. STAT!”, Quinn laughed. Tig moaned in discomfort as he was deposited on a bar-stool. EZ poured him a mug, and went around to do refills for everyone else, before getting himself a plate of food, and joining Nina’s table. Ratboy arrived soon after, nodding politely at everyone in the room. He swallowed thickly when he locked eyes with Coco, but the Mayan simply gave him a forgiving smile in return. “He was sleeping on my couch when I got home”, he said. “Letty?”, Angel asked. “Nah… I don’t think anything happened. She was out cold on her bed”.

Creeper came over to join them, a displeased expression on his face. “What’s up, bro’?”, Gilly asked. “Did any of you see Camille leave last night?”, he asked. “Who’s Camille?”, Coco asked. “The redhead…”, Gilly said, and smirked at his friend. Coco chuckled embarrassedly. “My bad… She give you the slip?”. Creeper frowned. “We were… getting acquainted in the trailer, and she went to get a rubber from one of her friends; but she didn’t come back”, he said. “When I went out to look for her, she was gone”. Angel sputtered with laughter. “Aw… Did she leave you with blue balls?”. Creeper shrugged. “Nah… I mean, she gave me an hj; but it’s just weird. None of her friends saw her leave”.

Gilly leaned back in his seat and smiled. “Well, except for Creep’s runaway bride, all in all, it was a somewhat successful night. The food was good, the cagefight was good… Letty didn’t get pregnant”, he said. Coco punched him hard in the shoulder, and Gilly laughed. “Even the Vatos seemed happy when they left”. “What about that deal they wanted to make?”, Nina asked, almost afraid of the answer. “On hold for now”, Coco said. “They decided to check out that other lead before using our services”. “Yeah. What was that about?”, Angel asked. “They didn’t say”, EZ shrugged. “Just took off”. Nina frowned to herself, and began poking at her food with her fork. Coco met her eyes. “You good, niña?”. “You think Palo… is he gonna kill some woman…?”, she began. “Nah… You don’t have to worry”, Angel said, trying to calm her. It didn’t work. “I don’t want anyone…”.

“I am not joking, brother. Do not let her cook. I’ve never been more constipated in my life!”. Bishop roared with laughter at Filip’s proclamation, as the two entered the clubhouse. The SAMCRO-president locked eyes with Nina, and grinned. “Speaking of the she-devil… Good morning my love!”. He walked over, and pressed a kiss to her cheek, before accepting a mug of coffee from Chucky. “Chibs was just telling me about the lasagna-incident”, Bishop said. Happy, almost choked on his coffee, and Tig looked like he was looking for the nearest trashcan to barf in. “This I gotta hear”, EZ smiled. “Shut up! Just because your girlfriend is a five-star chef…”, Nina frowned.

They spent the next hour enjoying the food and the good company. Filip took a moment to share some friendly words with Chucky. Through the noise of all the men laughing and talking in the room, all Nina could make out of their conversation was Chucky saying something along the lines of; “I’m happy here…”, and smiling. Chibs nodded, and went to pat Tig’s shoulder. “We need to roll out, boys. T.O.’s waiting for us in Oaktown”. The Sons all got to their feet, and began collecting their belongings to head out. Nina felt her heart sink, and once noticing it, Angel took her hand, and squeezed it encouragingly.

They got up to follow Filip and the rest outside. Tig slipped an arm around her as they walked; holding her tightly, and kissing her temple. “I’m gonna miss you, sweetheart”, he said. “Shit… This wasn’t what we planned for, when we decided to send you down here”. “I know… But it’s the way it has to be”, Nina replied. “Stay in touch, ok?”, Tig said, and pulled her closer for a warm hug. He turned to face Angel. “Get her to quit smoking, would you? It’s not good for her asthma”. Angel gave him a sly smile. Happy nabbed her from behind, and swung her around for a hug, and only grudgingly released her into the arms of first Quinn and then Ratboy. While the rest of the Sons all said goodbye to the Mayans and then got on their bikes, Filip wrapped his arms around Nina, and kissed the corner of her lips. “I love you, little sister”, he said. “I love you, big brother”, Nina croaked. Filip released her, quickly wiped his eyes, and put on his sunglasses, before getting on his bike. Nina took a step backwards, and was immediately caught in the grasp of Angel, who held her close, as she bit her lips to keep from crying. “I got you”, he whispered into her ear. “Let's get the fuck out of this heat!”, Filip called out, and the Sons all rolled out.

Unable to hold it in anymore, Nina let her tears fall. The Mayans all discretely slipped away, to let her fall apart in Angel’s arms. “It’s ok, querida. Let it out”, he said. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and buried her face in his chest, while he rubbed calming circles on her back, and kissed the top of her head. “This ain’t goodbye”. “I know…”, Nina rasped. “It just feels like I’m turning my back on them. No one’s ever taken care of me like they have”. Angel lifted her face with a finger under her chin. “I’d like to try…”.

Nina wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve put yourself on the line for me; and all I’m doing is whining about it”. Angel shook his head, and stroked her cheek. “Nah… You’re just hurting”, he said, and began leading her back towards the porch. “You love them, and they love you back; that’s obvious. And I get it”. “What do you mean?”, Nina asked. He smiled, and halted her before she could open the door to the clubhouse. “You keep saying how they took care of you, and how Teller did…”, he began. “Yeah, but you all do as well…”, Nina said. Angel kissed her softly to shut her up. “Let me finish… We take care of you, because you take care of us”. “I serve beers and pick up papers that Chucky drops”, she muttered. “Yeah”, Angel said and nodded vigorously. “You know everyone’s favorite beer before they ask for it. You put those nice smelling sticks in the bathroom...You fucking killed it with that party last night. That wouldn’t have happened without you”. “Yeah, I know how to run a clubhouse… But…”. Angel groaned and rolled his eyes. “But, but, but… Cállate!”, he chuckled. “You take care of us, ma’. You don’t think Tranq noticed how you organized his dyes…? Riz keeps talking about that stupid ass hair product you recommended for him… Taza told me about…”. “Stop…”, Nina said. Her cheeks were burning. Angel chuckled. “You’re amazing, Nina”. She shrugged embarrassedly. “What do I do for you?”, she asked. “Don’t start, mami”, Angel grinned. He moved his hands down to cup her bottom. “You know what you do for me”. “Is that all?”, Nina scoffed in mock offence. Angel shrugged. “Well, you can’t cook”, he shrugged. Nina frowned at him; and when he leaned in for a kiss, she pulled away, teasingly avoiding his kiss. “Are you gonna make me hold you down?”, Angel asked. “You can try…”, Nina replied. He smirked at her, and was about to make his move, when Nina took a step back. “I have to go clean up after the party”. Angel narrowed his eyes at her, and pulled her back into his arms. “Skip it. The prospect’s got it”, he said. “What kind of den mother would I be if I did that?”. “Are you calling us boy-scouts now?”, Angel scoffed. Nina shrugged with a smile. “I dunno… You’ve got the uniforms”.

She literally had to jump over the railing of the porch to get away.

---

After having changed in to a Romero Bros. shirt – needed after having been sprayed down with a hose by Angel; for, apparently, being a brat – Nina was back to work.

Cleaning up after a biker party was nothing new to her; but due of the success of the event, the state the yard and clubhouse had been left in, meant it took her, EZ and Chucky most of the morning to get it back to normal. While his brothers where busy doing important biker shit – Gilly’s exact words, as Nina had tried handing him a mop – Creeper helped out some, but seemed to be deep in thought, and frowned his way through the work. Nina put a hand on his shoulder as he threw a trash bag in a dumpster. “Are you ok?”, she asked. He seemed surprised at her gesture. “Yeah. I’m… Fuck. I liked Camille. We were talking about taking a ride to the ocean next weekend”. Nina smiled as comfortingly as she could. “I’m sure she just too much to drink… Went home. Try calling her”. “I did”, Creeper sighed. “She’s not picking up”. “Then, give her a few hours. She’s probably sleeping it off”. Creeper sighed. “Yeah… Thanks”, he smiled sadly.

She went to head back into the clubhouse, when Creeper halted her with a hand on her shoulder. “Nina… Look, I’m sorry about how hard I’ve been riding you about that tequila story, and everything else”. Nina shrugged. “Like I said; we’re good”, she smiled. “Besides, my old man kicked your ass for it last night. It’s history”. “So Angel’s your old man, now?”, Creeper grinned. Nina’s face dropped in realization of what she’d just said. “I mean… I don’t… Yeah?”, she croaked. Creeper chuckled and nodded. “I’m just fucking with you… again”, he said. Nina smiled, and felt heat spread through her body; letting the thought of Angel being hers settle in her heart.

Inside the clubhouse, Bishop, Taza and Hank were going over plans for a gun-run. Apparently, Bishop and Filip had agreed on an expanded deal, which could potentially bring both clubs more money in the long run, and the Mayan president was in a good mood. When he locked eyes with Nina, who’d gone behind the bar, he sent her a sly wink. “He likes you”, EZ muttered bellow his breath. “We all do. We’re happy you’re here”. He nudged her with his shoulder, and set down a box of lost and found items he’d gathered around the area. “Yeah… I don’t hate it here either. It was just tough saying goodbye”. “I get that”, EZ said. “Shit, I almost forgot. You dropped this”. He held out an inhaler. Nina frowned in confusion, and patted her pocket, where her new inhaler was still laying. “No, I got…”, she began, before looking at the small plastic container in the prospects hand. Picking it up, she noticed that doses had been taken of it, and it had a small dent from where she’d dropped it on the trailer floor the night before. This was her old inhaler. “Did you take this from the trailer?”. EZ shook his head. “No… I found it in the garage while we were cleaning up”. “I haven’t been in the garage since yesterday morning…”, Nina muttered. “I left it in the trailer, after I used it. Bishop told me to keep it there”. EZ furrowed his brows, and looked as confused as she felt. “Didn’t you go in there with Angel to get on his bike?”. “No, he parked by the gate”, Nina replied. “Right, we all did; to make room for the SAMCRO and VM bikes”, EZ said. “Weird…”. Nina chewed her lips, trying to make sense of the reappearing inhaler.

While she crouched down behind the bar to tie up the last trash bag, the door to the clubhouse opened; and Coco peeked inside. “Are you finished?”, he asked. “Yeah”, EZ replied. All three men stepped inside. “Dodged a fucking bullet”, Angel laughed. EZ shot Nina a look. “You were just trying to get out of clean-up duty, weren’t you…”, he said. “Well, yeah”, Gilly said. “You know she would have made us work, if we stayed”, Angel said. Nina stood back up, and raised a disapproving eyebrow at the three Mayans. “Yeah. I would have…”. Bishop, Taza, Hank and EZ tried to stifle grins. Gilly literally ran over to Nina, and took the full trash bag, muttering apologies under his breath; before moving towards the back door, and the dumpsters. Coco simply bolted for the exit. “Gotta pick up Letty from school…”, he said over his shoulder. “It’s Sunday!”, Taza called after him. “Sunday-school”, Coco yelled, and let the door close after him

Angel tried for a wry smile; but Nina simply rolled her eyes. “Your dad needs his containers back, and EZ needs a break. You take them”, she ordered, and nodded her head in the direction of the back room. “Out back”. EZ threw a set of keys to his brother. “You can take the van”, he grinned. Angel smiled sarcastically at EZ, and went to load up the containers.

After wiping down the bar-counter one last time, Nina went to the back room to check it; and saw that Angel had left behind one of the containers. She picked it up, and ran after him. Outside, Angel was grumpily huffing away on a cigarette, and loading the van. Nina was about to call his name, when she saw Daniella come around the car. The blonde went straight up to Angel, and put a hand on his arm, as if squeezing his bicep; and seemed to be chatting him up. Nina began walking towards them. “It’s just styrofoam”, Angel said, once Nina was within earshot. “Still. Looks heavy… It’s kind of hot”, Daniella smiled, and bit her lip flirtatiously. “Angel… You forgot one”, Nina called out.

Daniella looked dumbfounded. “What are you doing here?”, she asked. Nina shook her head confusedly. “Where else would I be?”, she said, and handed Angel the container. He put it in the van, and turned towards Daniella. “Did you need something, Dani?”, he asked casually. Nina decided to try for politeness. “Did you lose something last night? EZ made a lost and found box”. Daniella looked like she’d been slapped, before a halfhearted smile spread across her face. “I’m… No. I just came by to see if you needed help with the clean-up. I know I haven’t been around so much lately”. “We just finished. But thanks”, Nina said. “But if you wanna help, I guess you can go check if the guys inside need drinks”. The blonde’s eyes were wide, and something unreadable ghosted her face. “Actually, I’m just gonna go”, she said, but didn’t move. Nina and Angel looked confusedly at her for a moment, and Nina suspected Daniella was fishing for a ride from Angel; who either didn’t catch on, or just didn’t care. “I’m gonna call a cab”, she finally said. “Well go inside anyway; while you wait for it. It’s hot as all hell out here”, Nina smiled friendlily. Daniella nodded, and walked towards the clubhouse.

Angel went to get in the driver’s seat. “I’m gonna go drop these off at pap’s”, he said. Nina walked over to him, and linked her pinky with his. “Do you want me to come?”, Nina asked quietly. “On the way there you can apologize for ditching clean-up…”. He smirked slightly. “It’s a ten-minute drive. There isn’t much we can do with ten minutes” “Fine…”, Nina sighed. “But you could buy me a cup of coffee afterwards. Take me on an actual date that doesn’t include beers, babes and bikes”. “But you like beer”, he said, and slipped an arm around her. “And you are a babe”. He pressed a warm kiss to her lips. Nina giggled, and tugged at his beard. “You’re still not forgiven for bailing on me today”, she smiled. Angel sighed. “Alright; what do I have to do, cuervo?”. “Bring me back some of that chorizo from your pap’s, that you didn’t let me have yesterday”, Nina replied. “Then I’ll think about forgiving you”. He kissed her one more time, and gave her butt cheek a quick squeeze; before getting behind the wheel, and driving off the lot.

As Nina walked towards the clubhouse again, Daniella came rushing out the door. Nina was tired of the coldness between them, and decided to try to mend fences. “Hey, Daniella…?”, she said, as the blonde went to pass her. She held her phone in her hand, and looked like she was in a rush. “Yeah?”, she said, an edge to her tone. “I just wanted to apologize for that night…”, Nina said. “You know, your arm. I hope I didn’t…”. “Oh, it’s fine!”, Daniella said with a sugary smile. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about it. You just go… do whatever it is you do around here”. Without another word, she quickly walked towards the gate. “So much for trying to kiss and make up”, Nina muttered to herself, and went back inside the clubhouse, to get a cool drink.

It wasn’t long, before Coco stepped through the door, a somber expression on his face, and carrying a net of fresh apricots. He handed them to Nina. “Instead of that dried shit…”, he muttered. “I forgive you”, she smirked. “How was Sunday-school?”. Coco smirked embarrassedly.

Gilly came over to the table, in the process of hanging up a phone call; and looked at Coco. “We gotta roll”, he said. “What’s wrong?”, Coco asked. “Trouble in Vicky’s tunnel. She didn’t say what”, Gilly said over his shoulder, already on his way out of the door”. Coco went after him. “Call Angel!”, Bishop yelled. “Have him meet you there…”.

---

About an hour later, Nina was seated with Hank, EZ and Creeper, discussing tattoos. “I like the concept…”, Creeper said, after Nina described her idea. “Wouldn’t get one myself, but it’s your skin”. “You know, I could do that on your ribs, but it might hurt less on your thigh”, Hank said. “You think I’m afraid of a little pain?”, Nina chuckled. Hank grinned at her. “No, you strike me as someone who takes pain well. You drink that battery-acid Chucky calls coffee”, he said. Nina, EZ and Creeper laughed out loud.

Taza came over to them, his phone in hand. “That was Gilly. They’re crossing to go see the doc”. Nina’s heart dropped. “What happened?”, she said, trying to keep her voice level. “Is someone hurt?”. Hank nodded. “The guys are fine, but that girl… Camille. Vicky found her beat up just inside the tunnel by her place”, he said. “It’s not good. She’s pretty banged up, and she won’t talk.”. Nina felt ashamed for the sigh in relief she let out, at hearing Angel was ok. EZ – who’d tensed up at what Hank had said – also relaxed somewhat. Creeper, on the other hand, almost ran for the door. “Tell them I’m on my way”, he said. “No, man. We need you here”, Bishop called after him. He walked over and patted Creeper’s shoulder. “They’ll get her taken care of down south. She’ll be ok”. Creeper looked like he wanted to punch something or someone, but went to sit by the table the plans for the run were laying on.

Nina grabbed a cigarette, and went outside to sit on the porch. Something undefinable was bothering her, and she was frowning deeply when Letty arrived in Coco’s car, and got out to greet her. “Have you seen my dad?”, she asked. “He’s crossing to see the doc. A girl who was at the party last night got hurt”, Nina said, and took a draw from her smoke. Something felt terribly wrong – beyond Camille getting hurt. “Who”, Letty said, and sat down next to her. “Camille”, Nina said. Leticia looked confused. “Your wannabe stepmom”. “Oh… I guess she shouldn’t have taken off with that Vato”, Letty said. “What are you talking about?”, Nina asked. Letty shrugged disinterestedly. “I saw her coming out of EZ’s trailer, and then that Sala guy and her talked for a while”. Nina swallowed thickly. “What happened?”. “I don’t know. I was busy getting yelled at by Coco for my top, but I saw them talk, and then they drove off on his bike”, Letty said. “The rest of the Vatos left just after”.

Nina almost tripped over her own feet, running in to the clubhouse. She slammed the door open. “Vatos Malditos took Camille last night! I think they thought she was me…”.

---

After Letty had relayed what she’d seen the night before, Taza called for Angel, Coco and Gilly to get back to the clubhouse as soon as possible. Nina explained how her inhaler had been lost, but showed up in the garage where the Vato’s bikes had been parked, and Bishop pulled Taza into a corner for a private conversation. The two men looked towards Nina a few times, and she was beginning to feel increasingly uneasy. The VM’s had taken Camille at a Mayan party, which could only mean that either they didn’t give a shit about club decorum, and the unwritten rules about not hurting anyone connected to a club they were at peace with; or they rightfully suspected the Mayans of double-crossing them.

She was chain-smoking and pacing the ground in front of the clubhouse, when – after what seemed like forever – Angel and the rest finally pulled into the yard. Without shame, Nina sprang into his arms. He cupped her face and examined her expression. “Nina, what’s wrong?”. Nina didn’t reply, simply pressed her lips to his; desperately needing to feel his closeness.

“Templo!”, Bishop called from the door. EZ came out behind him, and walked up to Nina and Angel. “We should get out of here”, he said to Nina, before looking at his brother. Angel frowned. “What’s going on? Taza didn’t say anything over the phone”. “It’s bad”, EZ said. “We’ll go to pap’s”. “Just take her to mine”, Angel said. “It looks like you’re gonna take a while in there”, EZ said. Nina frowned in confusion. “But…”. “Angel!”, Bishop growled from the porch. Angel cursed bellow his breath, pressed a kiss to Nina’s temple, and went to join the others in templo.

Nina was shaking as he walked off, and almost jumped when EZ tugged at her arm. “Come on, hermanita. Let’s go”. He pulled her over to his bike, and they drove off the lot.

---

[noladyme]

I'm living for your commentary right now. Love you!

La Cuervo - Chapter 7

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on on Mayans M.C. are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

7.

EZ dropped Nina off at Angel’s house on his bike, and used his extra key to let her in. He stood around awkwardly for a few moments, before beginning to move some of Angel’s clutter from the coffee table. “He’s not the best cleaner…”, he muttered. “It’s ok. You should see my place”, Nina chuckled, suddenly feeling a sting in her heart. No matter how much she’d begun to care about the Mayans, she still had a hint of homesickness. “Well, seeing as you’re sticking around; maybe you can get Angel to pull his act together”, EZ smiled, and walked into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. He immediately shut it again. “I wouldn’t look in there”.

She sat leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, deep in thought. “Are you ok?”, EZ asked. “It’s just been a crazy few days…”, she muttered. He walked over to her, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You know we have your back with this thing with Palo, right?”. She nodded slightly. “I know. But I still feel like I…”. She sighed, unable to finish her sentence. “Signed a deal with the enemy?”, EZ said. “With the club, I mean”.

Nina moved into the living room, and picked up her helmet; sitting down on the couch. EZ sat down next to her. “Mayans aren’t the enemy…”, she said. “No, but we’re not SAMCRO”, EZ replied. She met his eyes hesitantly. “Look, I get it. You don’t know us. Not really… And you still have family in Charming”. Nina nodded. “I’m not going back on my deal. And I want to be here; I mean, you guys have been really good to me”. “But you miss home”, he said, and took the helmet from her. “Angel mentioned your brother. Are you worried what he’d think if he knew you were here?”. Nina laughed out loud. “Oh, I know what he’d think. I know what he’d say as well… Chibs sent you down south to keep you safe, darlin’. Not sling beers and screw bikers. And then I’d remind him I’ve been doing pretty much the same thing in Charming up until now… Save the screwing bikers. No need for contraception, when you’ve got Happy looking over your shoulder”. EZ laughed at this, and squeezed her hand, before getting up to stand. “Yeah, he’s pretty scary”, he said. “Look, whether you stay for a week, a year, or however long; you got a home here now as well. And I hope whatever you have going on with Angel continues. You’re doing something to my brother. And I like having you around”. He bent down to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, EZ”, Nina said. “No problem, hermanita… Family; right?”. She felt a smile tug at her lips, and squeezed his hand, before they said goodbye, and EZ left the house.

---

Nina was dozing off on Angel’s couch, a telenovela running on the flatscreen. She was jostled awake, at the sound of the front door opening, and him walking in. He closed and locked the door behind him, before turning to look at the tv. “Fucking Catalina…”, he muttered, took off his cut, and hung it over a chair, before going over to throw himself on the couch with Nina.

He wrapped both arms around her torso, and nuzzled up against her chest. “Everything ok?”, she asked, and ran her fingertips through his hair. “We just made five grand for the club on a kidney”, Angel smiled. “We’re good”. Nina shuddered. “Yeah… I still didn’t need to know”. Angel chuckled softly. “Sorry, querida”, he said. “Did you eat?”. Twirling a lock of his hair between her fingers, Nina shrugged. “Your fridge isn’t exactly stuffed”, she said. She’d gone against EZ’s advise, and checked it, after he left. Angel looked at her disgruntledly. “I got food…”, he pouted. Nina ran her index finger over his lower lip teasingly. “You mean that broccoli pizza you got on the shelf next to the Miller Lights?”. “That ain’t broccoli; that’s…”, Angel began, before meeting her eyes. “Right. I should probably do some grocery shopping. You could cook us a real meal”.

Nina frowned at his words, knowing it was time for some truth. She pushed at Angel’s shoulders, to make him sit up. “What’s wrong?”, he asked. Nina sighed deeply, and took his hand; kissing his knuckles. “I have to tell you something… And I don’t know if you’ll feel the same about me once I’m finished”. Angel looked worried. He tried to meet her eyes, but she looked away. “Nina, you’re scaring me. Talk to me”. He put a hand to the side of her face, stroking her temple, as if to soothe her. She finally looked up – meeting his terrified gaze – and took a deep breath. “Angel… I can’t cook”.

Angel let out a huff. “Fuck, Nina… That’s it? That’s the big secret? You fucking scared me!”. Nina laughed at his guffawed expression. “Oh, you think that’s funny? After everything these last few days; I was shitting myself!”. She put a hand on either side of his face, and went to kiss him. “Aw, poor baby. Come here…”. Angel pulled back, and grabbed her wrists. “Nah, mami. That shit ain’t funny…”. Nina straddled his lap, and attacked his face with kisses, while he continuously moved his head away. “I thought something was seriously wrong”. “I’m sorry”, Nina pouted. She shifted in his lap, grinding against him. “Forgive me?”. Angel groaned, and moved her off of him, with a firm grip on her hips. “I’m gonna go have some broccoli pizza”, he grunted, and got off the couch; moving towards the kitchen.

Nina let out a scoffing laugh, and shook her head. “Seriously? Angel, I was joking!”. She followed him into the kitchen. “I can’t hear you over the sound of the echo in my empty fridge!”, Angel said, and grabbed a slice of cold pizza, before slamming the fridge-door shut. He took one bite of the slice, before wincing, and spitting it out in the trash-can. He dumped the rest of the slice as well. “Angel…”, Nina said. Angel nabbed a beer in stead of the pizza, and opened it; taking a big gulp while theatrically ignoring her. “Angel!”, she repeated. Angel walked past her, and back into the living room. Nina sighed. “Papi…?”.

Angel stopped dead in his tracks, and turned around slowly. “I’m listening…”. Nina walked slowly towards him, pushing out her lower lip. “I’m sorry I tricked you…”, she said, and looked at him innocently. Putting her hands on his chest, she leaned in close. “Please forgive me…”. “Hmm”, Angel grunted. “Kiss it better”. Nina smiled sweetly, and began getting on her toes to meet his lips. “No…”. He looked down towards his groin, before meeting her eyes with a raised brow. Licking her lips, Nina nodded, and took a hold of his hips; lowering herself onto her knees.

Angel looked on – taking another sip of his beer – while she unbuckled his belt, and opened his pants. He was already half hard, when she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, and pulled them down to expose his cock. She sighed in contentment, and made a languid stroke of her tongue up the side of his length. He let out a soft gasp, when she made the same movement on the other side; and she couldn’t help but giggle at the small jumps his cock made, as it hardened fully. She left a kitten lick on the tip, and smiled up at him.

Grabbing himself, and stroking his length; Angel chuckled down at her. “What?”, Nina asked. “Mami, you look so cute like this… I just wanna…”. He touched the head of his penis to her nose. “Boop”. Nina sat back on her heels, and looked at him with a guffawed expression. “Did you just… boop my nose with your dick?”, she asked. “Fuck yeah”, Angel grinned. “Now, open your mouth, or I’ll do it again”. “Angel, you…”, Nina began. “Nuh uh… try again”, he replied. She couldn’t help but smile. “Papi…”, she said. Angel nodded. “Good girl. Now say ah…”.

Nina opened her mouth, and let him enter it. She let out a moan around him, and took over stroking his length, while suckling at the head. She sucked him in as far as she could, and moved her tongue to massage him. Angel put a hand on her cheek, and took another sip of his beer. Moving her hands to his bottom, Nina began moving her head back and forth, while gently squeezing his cheeks. He was letting out soft groans now, and shifted his legs. The sounds of her slurping at him mixed with the sounds of a couple arguing on the tv. “No, Antonio. You know she’s just playing with your heart, man…”, Angel muttered. Nina pulled him out of her mouth. “Seriously?”, she said. Angel looked down at her and shrugged apologetically. “Sorry…”. “No, you’re not”, Nina said, and rolled her eyes, before getting back to work.

She added pressure with her tongue this time, and cupped his balls; massaging them gently. Angel gasped, and grabbed at her hair, moving her head back and forth. The sting from his grasp was strangely delicious, and sent pleasant signals to Nina’s core; making it difficult to sit still. She pressed her thighs together to get some kind of friction to help with the throbbing. Angel moved his hand to her chin, and made her pull back, and look up at him. “You want something, querida?”, he asked. She looked up at him with lips parted, and nodded. “Talk to me. Tell me what you want”.

She got on her feet slowly – her thighs burning slightly, from having been on her knees for so long – and pulled off her top. Turning around to walk towards the bedroom, she opened her bra and tossed it over the chair his cut was hanging on; and then opened her shorts, to step out of them. Once in the doorway, she pulled down her panties, and stood naked in front of him. “Food… I’m hungry”, she said. Angel laughed, and grabbed his phone to order takeout.

The – fresh – pizza arrived after round one; and Angel hardly took the time to put on his boxers, to go to the door to get it. After devouring more than half the pie – letting Nina enjoy a few slices herself – he devoured her for a good while; leaving her still short of breath, when he entered her again. Nina let herself be enveloped in the comfort of Angel’s presence, and in her quiet mind she thought that maybe spending a year in Santo Padre wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

The next morning, it rained for the first time since she’d arrived with the Mayans. The bikers were all miserable, unable to take their fancy road kings for their regular rides; but Nina felt the rainfall as a fresh start.

“What are you smiling about?”, Creeper said, as she was filling the fridges with drinks for the party that night. He was looking over some maps with Riz, by a table near the bar. The two of them were supposed to go for a short run over the border, but the rain had kept them stranded for now. “What’s not to smile about? The air is finally breathable around here, and there’s a party tonight”. Creeper chuckled, and shook his head. “Yeah, if anyone comes. It’s not riding weather”, he retorted. “You think a little rain will keep SAMCRO from riding down here?”, Nina scoffed. “You can’t keep them off the road”. Riz raised a brow at her. “Yeah, well Palo’s riding in as well… I don’t think the rain will stop him either”. She sighed. “Yeah. Thanks for that…”, she said.

Angel and Gilly came in to the clubhouse then, and Angel went behind the bar, to kiss her cheek. She smiled slightly at him, before looking at Riz and Creeper. “Whatever. I’m not going to let that shit ruin the fact that I’m seeing my family for the first time in weeks”, she declared. Angel gave her a short look, and went to sit by the counter with Gilly. “I thought we were your family”, Gilly said. “I’m not saying…”, Nina began. “Yeah; what are you saying?”, Angel said, his voice hard. Nina frowned, and was about to speak, when the door slammed open, and Coco came in with a grin plastered over his face. “It stopped raining!”, he proclaimed. “Thank fuck”, Creeper said. “Let’s get this shit done”.

Riz and Creeper went to leave the clubhouse. Nina walked over to Angel, and took his hand. “Are we ok?”, she asked quietly. He nodded dismissively. “Yeah, ma’. We’re good”, he replied, and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I gotta go help Gilly with a haul that just came in the yard”. “Angel…”. He pecked her lips again. “We’re good, Nina. Go get shit ready for later…”. He squeezed her bottom, and went to do his job.

Trying to ignore the nagging feeling in her stomach at Angel’s behavior, Nina went back to getting the bar ready for the party. While EZ and Chucky were lugging cases of potato-salad, tortillas, and other non-meat foods, she kept herself busy by putting pouring spouts on liquor bottles, and putting snacks in bowls. Coco was leaning against the bar, arguing with his daughter on the phone. “No… Because I said so, Letty”. He looked at the bowl Nina set down in front of him. “Hold up…”. He pulled the bowl towards him. “The fuck is this?”, he asked Nina. She looked down at the orange lumps of deliciousness. “Apricots…”. Coco frowned. “They’re not supposed to look like this”, he grunted. She popped an apricot into her mouth. “They’re dried”, she shrugged with a smile. “Like raisins? Ma’, that’s wrong. They look like shrunken dog’s testicles”. There was a long rant on the other end of the phone, and Coco went back to his conversation. “We got two clubs of dirty ass bikers coming in to this thing. I already fucked up one cabron for you this week. You’re not coming… Letty…? Leticia! Fuck. She hung up”. Nina handed him a cold beer to calm him down. “You trying to keep her out of trouble?”, she asked. “Always”, Coco muttered. Nina gave him a half smile. “Do you really wanna think about what she might get herself into tonight, if she’s not here, though? It’s the weekend…”. Coco looked ahead of himself for a short moment, before something resembling a shudder went through him, and he pulled out his phone again, and called up his kid. “You’re coming here tonight… No arguments, mija. And wear a turtleneck!”.

Gilly ducked in to the clubhouse. “Prospect. Meat incoming”. EZ quickly went for the door, to help his pap unload. Nina followed him outside, and saw Felipe arrive in a flatbed. Angel came out of the office, and went to greet his father. It was the first time Nina had seen the two men interact, and she lingered on the porch for a moment; looking down at the scene. Felipe pulled his eldest son in for a hug, and Angel kissed his father’s cheek. He’d been truthful in telling Nina that Felipe looked at him differently than he did Ezekiel; but she found him selling himself short in his father’s eyes. There was clear pride there; and so much love.

She went down to join them, and Angel went over to take her hand. He looked strangely nervous, when he led her over to Felipe. “Pap’, this is Nina. She’s…”. “We met”, Felipe said, and took Nina’s free hand; squeezing it. “Right…”, Angel said. “I forgot”. “It’s good to see you again, Nina”, Felipe said. “You too, Mr. Reyes”. “Please… Felipe”, he replied. “I brought that chorizo you liked yesterday”. “Thank you!”, Nina grinned. Angel looked between them; a slightly bewildered expression on his face. “Pap, where’s the ribs?”, EZ asked from behind the truck. “I’m coming”, Felipe said, and went to help his youngest son.

Angel put an arm around her shoulder, and looked down at her in wonder. “What?”, Nina chuckled. “He likes you…”, Angel said. She shrugged, and turned to put her arms around his waist. “I guess I have a way with the Reyes men”. Angel smiled softly, and gave her a soft kiss. “I have to go get ready”, she said, and went to get dressed for the party.

---

Zipping up the only dress she’d brought to Santo Padre, Nina gave herself a final once over in the small mirror of the trailer’s bathroom. Spending a little time alone, the fearful thoughts of what was actually going to happen that night, had come back. Palo would be there, with his men; and even the thought of having both Mayans and SAMCRO at her back, didn’t ease her mind. If by some chance Palo managed to figure out who she was, it would be literal war; and not only she, but every civilian attending – and there would be quite a few, she knew – would be caught smack in the middle of it. She was beginning to regret pushing Coco to let Letty come.

As she added a dash of lipstick, someone knocked on the trailer door. Bishop was standing outside when she opened. “Someone told me I’d better knock, before coming in”, he said, stifling a grin. “Yeah, me and Angel might have scarred Coco for life”, Nina replied, and moved for him to enter. “The guy fought the Taleban. He’s seen worse than Angel’s flat ass”, Bishop chuckled. He sat down by the table, and Nina sat down on the other side to face him. “How are you feeling?”, he asked earnestly. “Like I’m about to serve beer to a psychopath who wants me dead”, she replied. “Well, you are…”, Bishop said. She nodded, and looked down at the table. The .38 was lying there, next to her inhaler. Her hands were shaking, and her heart racing. “You need to keep your head down tonight. Act like any other girl here. Serve the drinks, smile…”. “And pretend I don’t notice any of the illegal shit going on”, Nina muttered. “Exactly”, Bishop said. “Once VM rolls in, don’t pay any special attention to SAMCRO. I know you’re close with them, but Palo doesn’t need to know you have connections up north. This is your home. Ok?”. “Ok”, Nina whispered. “Do I bring my gun?”. “Hangarounds don’t carry weapons. Leave it here”, Bishop said. She swallowed thickly; and Bishop reached over the table, and put a hand on her cheek. “We got you, mija”. There was a roar of engines sounding outside in the distance. “And you got your other family coming in as well”. They both got up to stand, and Nina took a deep breath. She fingered her inhaler absentmindedly. “Leave that too”, Bishop said. “No need to add to suspicion”.

There was a hard knock on the door. “Bish! Reaper incoming…”, Hank yelled from outside. Nina closed her eyes, and listened to the arriving bikes. She felt her lips turning into a large smile. “Better break out the Johnnie Walker”, Bishop said. Nina opened her eyes. “Jameson…”, she grinned.

---

The Mayans were all gathered in front of the clubhouse, standing ready to greet the incoming guests. Bishop went to stand in front of them, while Nina waited in the doorway of the trailer. Angel stood with his hands leaning against the railing of the porch, his expression somber.

The roars of five Harleys made its way up the drive. Nina knew the sound of every bike like the back of her hand, and a feeling of comfort and home washed over her, as she watched her family drive in. Filip pulled up, followed by Tig, Happy, Quinn and Ratboy. They all got off their bikes, and it was a struggle for her not to run at them right away; but she knew convention was that the two clubs greet first, and halted herself. Walking up to greet Bishop, Filip, shook his hand, and gave him a half hug. “Welcome”, the Mayan president said. “It’s hot as fuck out here. Did you have to scare away the rain?”, Filip replied. “We wanted Quinn to feel at home. Heard his old lady’s as dry as the Sonoran”, Taza said. “That’s my kids’ mom you’re talking about”, Quinn said, and hugged Taza. “Sorry”, the VP laughed. Quinn shrugged. “Nah, fuck that bitch. We split months ago”.

The two groups merged, and there was a murmur of greetings and pats on backs, before Filip looked at Bishop again. “Where are you keeping our girl?”, he said. Bishop nodded his head at Nina, who practically sprang to greet her brothers. She flung herself around the neck of Filip, and earned about a hundred kisses to her forehead. “I’m so happy you’re here!”, she smiled, and turned to hug Tig, who gave her even more kisses. “We missed you, sweetheart!”, he said. Happy picked her up from the ground, and squeezed her tight. “Are they treating you ok, little sister?”. “I’m good, Hap’”, she replied.

After having hugged Quinn and Rat, Filip once again wrapped her in his arms, and turned them, so his back was to the Mayans. “We need to talk, luv’”, he said. “You should not be here right now”. Nina sighed into the crook of his neck. She locked eyes with Angel, who looked about ready to throttle someone. “I can’t go… I made a deal with them”. “What kind of deal?”, Filip asked. “Look, if this is just about some dick…”. “It’s not… Not just…”. Filip made a displeased grunt, and turned to look at the other club; his arm still wrapped around her. “Which one is it then? His voice was kind of shrill over the phone; I couldn’t make out which one of the eight amigos it was”. She punched his shoulder. “Stop it, you bagpipe-wielding ass!”, she growled. “Ow!”, Filip said. “What have you been feeding her? Don’t tell me you let her cook!”.

“She can’t cook”, Angel said, having come down form the porch. “Thought you’d know that… being family and all”. It was like watching two roosters getting ready to get in to it, and Nina felt a sudden urge to pour a bucket of cold water over both men. “This is the one, then”, Filip said, and let go of Nina; to go face Angel. He got really close, starring the younger biker down; and being somewhat successful, in spite of being a few inches shorter. “Huh…”. With an overbearing look, he passed Angel; bumping his shoulder as he went to walk up the steps to the clubhouse. “Bishop, mind showing me the inside of your templo? We have some things to discuss”. Angel was about to follow him, when Nina grabbed his arm. Bishop came over and looked hard at him. “Cool it, Angel… I’m serious!”. Angel clenched his jaw and cursed below his breath; and Bishop followed Filip up the stairs, and into the clubhouse. The rest of the Mayans and SAMCRO-members went about their business of checking on the incoming bikes. As they all began comparing their phallic extensions, Nina pulled Angel out of earshot.

“Seriously, Angel? This is not the time to…”, she began. “He disrespected me…!”, Angel growled. “Oh come on…”, Nina hissed, trying to shush him. “Think about it. You’ve spent the last few weeks with your hands down his little sister’s panties. How is he supposed to react…? This is how it works. You know that better than me”. “I’m gonna…”, Angel began. “He’s a president of another MC. And he’s my…”. “Family… Yeah, you said”. He scoffed, and pulled his arm from her grasp, almost stomping away.

“Angel!”, Nina called after him. “Don’t walk away from me like that!”. He turned around, and looked at her with hard eyes. “Do you want to go back?”, he asked. “Are you going back with them?”. There was actual hurt in his voice. Nina went over to him, and shook her head fervently. “No! I made a promise to Bishop and the rest of you”. “Is that the only reason you’re staying, though?”. Angel’s expression was anguished. “’Cuz I’ll take you back right now, if that’s what will make you happy. We’ll just get on my bike, and drive north”. “What are you saying?”, Nina asked. A dull pain was forming in her chest, and Angel looked like he was feeling the same. “If you hadn’t made this deal with the club… Would you still want to stay?”. Nina took a moment to ponder her words. Angel looked more and more defeated by the second. “Yeah… Didn’t think so”. Anger bubbling inside her, she grabbed his arm again. “Don’t make me smack the shit out of you again!”, she said. “I want to stay here for you; you stupid dick! You’re the reason I haven’t run and hidden from Palo. Because I might not see you again…”. She gasped at her own words. She only just realized the truth of them as she spoke.

Behind them, the bikers were beginning to make their way into the clubhouse. EZ closed the door behind them, seemingly trying to give Nina and Angel some privacy. Angel looked dumbstruck. “For real?”, he asked. “Yes, for real…”, Nina said quietly. Relaxing his tense stance, Angel cupped her face. “I kept thinking you were just waiting to go home”. “Is this why you so weird after talking to Chibs over the phone?”, she asked. Angel nodded, but didn’t say anything. “If you had asked me a few days ago… Yes, I wanted to leave”, she said. “I didn’t think you and me… I wanted to go back to Charming. But now…”. She sighed, unable to finish the sentence. “Yeah?”, he asked. “Yeah…”, she said. “I’m here… And I want to be”.

Angel let out a deep breath, like all the troubles of the world had been on his shoulders, and he was finally at peace. “Come here”, he said, and put one arm around her back, while his other hand pulled her face in for a deep kiss. “I’m sorry, querida…”. Nina kissed him back, and smiled. “Look, when this impending nuclear detonation we’re calling a party is over, could you just take me back to your place; and we can… fuck it out?”, Nina asked, a crooked smile on her lips. Angel gave her an adoring look. “Oh, mami…”, he said, and pulled her impossibly closer. “You’re so fucking perfect. You sure, though?”. “Yeah…”, Nina said, and bit her lip. “Just remind me to bring my inhaler. Bishop made me leave it in the trailer”. Angel shook his head. “Nah. Pack all your shit. You ain’t spending another night in that piece of shit tin-can”.

Someone cleared their throat. EZ had come back outside. “That’s my piece of shit tin-can”, he said with a wry smile. “Bishop wants you inside”.

---

[noladyme]

These reblogs are like oxygen to my writers block plagued head right now. ❤️❤️❤️

La Cuervo - Chapter 3

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on on Mayans M.C. are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

3.

Bishop was standing outside the clubhouse, smoking a cigarette, when they rolled in. Nina got off the bike, feeling strangely like a teenager caught breaking curfew. She nodded at the president, and was about to move towards the trailer, when Angel grabbed her hand, and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Thanks for… last night”, he said. “You too”, Nina said. He gave her a crooked smile, and was about to say something else, when Bishop called out for him. “Angel… Inside. We need to talk”. Angel nodded. “Daddy’s angry”, he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “Yeah”, she replied, and Angel walked off.

“Yo, sweetheart!”, Bishop called after her, as she once again moved towards the trailer. Nina sighed, and turned to look at him. “I made a promise to Chibs. When you pull a stunt like this, you make it really fucking hard to keep that promise”. Angel halted behind his president, a confused look on his face. “I didn’t leave without a patch”, Nina replied. “Followed your rules”. Bishop narrowed his eyes at her. “His patch ain’t the one you should be worried about…”. Nina swallowed hard, and nodded; though slightly confused at his words. “Ok. Sorry”. Bishop’s expression softened. “Look, just… be careful, ok?”. Nina nodded, and he smirked slightly. “You know, you’re lucky I make him get tested every two weeks”. Angel frowned, and Nina chuckled; before finally turning around, and walking over to the trailer, letting herself inside.

She quickly got dressed in clean clothes. The heat hadn’t exactly waned, so Nina decided to switch jeans for shorts and a top. She reminded herself to ask someone about taking her to a laundromat; not having packed a lot. She’d been told to leave her small apartment at home in as normal a state as possible. In case someone did come looking for her, SAMCRO didn’t want to let them know she’d run. She picked up her jacket to hang it, and a shudder went through her body, as she fished her .38 out of the pocket. It felt heavier than it should, in spite of its smallness, and she felt bile rise in her throat. A hard knock on the door made her jolt, and she quickly hid the gun under her helmet; before she went over to open. EZ was standing outside, with a friendly smile on his face. “’Morning”, he said. “It is”, Nina replied. “I got breakfast-burritos in the clubhouse”, he offered. Nina shook her head with a smile. “You didn’t need to do that”. “I know what’s in my brother’s fridge. I doubt he fed you”, EZ grinned. “Come on”.

She followed the prospect back to the clubhouse, where EZ gestured for her to take a seat by a table. Nina noticed the ginger woman Coco had been spending time with the night before, was seated by the bar; legs crossed and tits pushed out, smiling at the biker, who was trying to ignore her, and focus on his game of pool with Gilly. EZ put a plate on the table in front of Nina, with a delicious smelling burrito. “Gabby… She’s a good cook”, he said, his voice adoring. Nina bit in to it, and couldn’t do anything but agree. “This is delicious. Tell her thanks”, she smiled.

The door to templo opened, and Bishop came out with Taza, Riz and Angel in tow. “She’s business, Angel. You treat her like any other business we have going on”, Bishop said, and walked over to the bar, accepting a beer from the girl behind it. “You wouldn’t shove your dick down the barrel of an mk47, would you?”, Taza asked. Angel stood with his back to Nina, not having noticed her. “It wouldn’t fit, anyway”, he shrugged. “Just, don’t complicate things”, Bishop said. “Bish, it ain’t like that”, Angel said. Bishop looked at him in disbelief. “We fucked, yeah; but…”. Taza noticed Nina watching them, and patted Angel’s shoulder. He turned around, and locked eyes with her; looking like a handsome deer caught in headlights.

Nina looked down, and chewed her lips. At least they were on the same page, she tried to convince herself. She didn’t know Angel from the next guy; all she did know, was that he was damn good in bed, and liked beers, babes and bikes. They’d had sex, that was it. Still, she couldn’t help but feel his words chafe a bit. There was a long moment of silence, before Nina decided to put Angel – and herself– out of their misery. “I was bored, and his shower has good pressure”, she said. Angel let out an embarrassed laugh, and shrugged, while his friends shook their heads, letting a roaring laughter fill the room.

Everyone went about their biker business, and Nina went back to her breakfast; having lost most of her appetite. She wrapped up the burrito, and pushed away the plate. A mug of coffee was set down in front of her, and she looked up to meet EZ’s apologetic eyes. “I’m… sorry, about that”, he muttered. “My brother… he’s a good guy, but…”. “I know how it is. Don’t worry about it”, she smiled in reply. “How is it, then?”, Angel asked, having walked over to them. EZ left them to it. “I got an itch scratched, and you got your dick wet. Life goes on”, Nina said. Angel made a labored sigh, and scratched his bearded chin. “Look, Nina. I’m…”. She got on her feet, and put a hand on his arm. “It’s fine, Angel. We’re good”, she smiled, and got on her toes, to kiss his cheek; doing her best to avoid enjoying his scent. “We had fun”. He chewed his lip for a moment. “Yeah, we had fun…”. Taza called for him, and Angel took a step back. “I gotta go take care of something. See you around, Nina”. He went off to talk to the VP.

Nina took a few sips of her coffee, before walking over to get behind the bar. She smiled friendlily at the blonde girl standing there – the same girl, in fact, that Angel had turned down the night before – who looked at her indifferently, and handed her a rag to wipe down the counter. This was familiar territory, and she smiled to herself, as she handed a pair of cold ones to Gilly and Coco; who’d finished their game, and came over to the bar. The redhead immediately pressed up against Coco, who looked like he wanted to dig himself into a deep hole. “Can I get you anything else, baby?”, she asked, making clear her intentions. “Nah, I’m good. Let me talk to my brothers for a moment, yeah?”, he replied. “Sure… I’m just gonna go fix my lipstick”, the woman winked at him, and walked towards the bathroom. “When’s the wedding?”, Gilly asked. “Fuck you”, Coco snarled, before nodding at Letty, who’d just walked in the door – looking hungover. “I can’t get her to leave”. “Who?”, Letty asked, and accepted a coke from Nina. “Just some chick. I told her the deal, but it’s like she didn’t hear me”, Coco said.

Letty rolled her eyes, and gave the woman a once over, as she came back from the bathroom. When she was once again pressed against Coco – who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second – Letty took pity on him, and walked over to the pair; putting her head on Coco’s shoulder. “Are you my new mommy?”, she smiled innocently at the ginger; who froze in place. Suddenly, it was like she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. “Sorry, I gotta go”, she muttered, and scuttered of in haste. Coco smiled crookedly, and shook his head. “You’re crazy, mija”, he said. “Nah, I just don’t want a stepmom, who wears that shade of lipstick”, Letty said, and went back to her coke.

Bishop cleared his throat. “Well, if everyone’s got their dicks back in their pants, we got some business to tend to”, he said. The Mayans all scattered, and went to their respective jobs around the yard, and wherever else they went, when they did their business.

---

Nina spent the rest of the day getting her bearings around the scrap-yard, and its office. Chucky’s filing-system might have seemed chaotic to anyone else, but Nina knew it well, and was happy to be occupied with something other than thinking about a certain Mayan and his well-shaped body – especially how it looked naked. A gorgeous Latina girl showed up in the afternoon, carrying a fantastic smelling bag of Tupperware, and looking for EZ; and Nina was finally introduced to the person who had made her delicious breakfast. She immediately understood why EZ was smitten with Gabby, and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the two of them dancing around each other like a pair of puppies in love. They took off after an hour or so, so EZ could drive Gabriella home. He returned with the largest smile she’d ever seen on anyone’s face, and went straight to work on a road king in the garage.

During dinner, feasting on Gabby’s delicious tamales with EZ, Nina asked about laundromats. “There’s one, but there’s only one functioning dryer, and it smells like feet”, EZ said. “I can wait a few days, but I still need to go at some point”, Nina said. “And I need to get a prescription filled. That’s kind of urgent”. Her inhaler was almost empty, she’d realized that morning. A roar of bikes came from outside, and Nina got on her feet, taking the plates to wash them behind the bar. EZ followed her, nodding at Bishop, Riz and Angel, as they entered the clubhouse. “Drug-stores round here are closed at this time of night, but I’ll ask Bishop if I can take you in the morning”, he said. Nina groaned, and looked out the corner of her eye at the president. “It’s like needing a fucking hall-pass if I even think about leaving this place”, she muttered. EZ chuckled, and wiped off the plates after she’d washed them. “Yeah, why is that? Are you on the run from the cops or something?”. Nina looked down at her hands, suddenly feeling the need to wash them thoroughly. Scrubbing them hard under the tap, she shrugged indifferently. “Chibs is just protective, I guess. And I hear this area is overrun by outlaw bikers”. “You know it!”, Riz exclaimed, having arrived at the counter with Angel. “Coffee, please; sweetheart. I’m gonna be spending the night prepping for the run tomorrow”. Nina poured Riz a mug, and looked at Angel. “Dos Equis”, he said, his demeanor cool. Nina served him the beer, avoiding eye-contact.

“Do you need me for the run tomorrow?”, EZ asked. “No. Why?”, Riz asked. “Nina needs to take care of some stuff in town, and I was gonna take her”. Angel took a sip of his beer, and looked between Nina and EZ. “What stuff?”, he said with an edge to his voice. EZ scoffed, and shook his head. “Bro, come on…”, he said. Riz raised his brows, and backed away from the counter; obviously uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. “The drug-store, Angel. And then we might go have an orgy; I haven’t decided yet”, Nina said sarcastically. Angel raised his hands in mock defeat. “Hey, Bish told us to look out for you. I’m just keeping my eyes on business here”. “Yeah… I’m gonna turn in. See you tomorrow, EZ”. The prospect looked at her apologetically. “I’ll talk to Bishop”, he said. Nina nodded, and walked towards the door.

A strong hand grabbed her lower arm before she could walk outside. Nina scowled up at Angel, who looked remorsefully at her. “I’m sorry, Nina. That was shitty of me”, he said. “Don’t worry about it. You should be sorrier about suggesting that your brother would cheat on his girlfriend”, she replied. Angel looked back at EZ, and nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I know”, he muttered. “Are we good, cuervo?”. “Of course”, Nina said. “Goodnight, Angel”. She pulled out of his grasp, and left the clubhouse.

---

The next day, Taza, Riz, Creeper, Angel and Coco got on their bikes, and in a van, to go north for the SAMCRO-delivery. “Say hi to Rat and Quinn for me, would you?”, Nina said from the porch, unable to hide the sadness in her voice. “Will do”, Taza promised, and started his bike. “Let’s not keep reaper waiting”. Angel sent Nina a slight smile, before Coco patted his shoulder to make him start the van.

EZ had managed to convince Bishop of the urgency of Nina’s drug-store run, and after helping out at the office for a few hours, she got on the back of his bike, to have him take her in to town. Angel had lied about his brother’s ability to ride with a passenger – a fact that didn’t surprise Nina, by the way – because he was probably the safest driver she’d ever ridden with. Overly safe, some might say. The prospect avoided every bump, and kept well bellow the speed-limit all the way.

After Nina had used her fake ID – No paper trail, luv, Filip had said – to get her new inhaler, EZ asked if she’d be ok with a short stop by his pap’s. Nina couldn’t say no to meeting the elder Reyes; curious to see what kind of man had sired two such different men. Seeing Gabriella behind the counter of Felipe Reyes’ butcher-shop, Nina understood the prospect’s real reason for wanting to visit his father; though there was no lack of love between him and Felipe, that much was evident by the way they looked at each other.

“She’s playing pop-music again, Ezekiel”, Felipe said, gesturing at a small stereo that was blaring the charts, as he came over to greet his son. “Amas mi musica”, Gabby grinned. “Hi, Nina”. “Hey, Gabby. Thanks for all the food!”, Nina replied with a smile. “You’re welcome”. After EZ had kissed his girlfriend’s cheek, he gestured towards Nina. “Pap, this is Nina. She’s new in town”. Felipe shook Nina’s hand. “Is my boy giving you a tour of the potholes?”, he asked. “No, he’s the most boring biker I’ve ever ridden with”, she replied with a smile, getting a guffawing laughter from the man. “See, EZ? I told you!”, Gabby grinned. “Hey!”, EZ laughed. “I’m just safe”. “Boring!”, Gabby said.

As EZ and Gabriella went to whisper sweet nothings behind the counter, Nina went to examine the bookcase Felipe had exhibited in his shop. “Looking for some light reading?”, Felipe asked. “Always… And, giving the lovebirds some space”, Nina replied, and looked towards the smiling pair behind the counter. She picked up a picture of two smiling boys, each on a bicycle; smiling proudly at the camera. For a second, she felt a sting in her heart. “That’s EZ”, Felipe said, and pointed at the smaller boy. “And the other one is my eldest”. “Angel”, Nina said. Felipe chuckled. “You’ve met him”, he said. “I’m staying at the scrapyard”, she replied. Felipe raised a brow at her. “You’re the one who has EZ sleeping on my couch”. Nina felt her cheeks beginning to burn, and put down the picture again. “Yeah, I’m… sorry”, she said. “Don’t be. It’s good to have him home at least some of the time. That… club, takes up a lot of his time”. Nina chewed her lips for a moment. “You don’t like the club”, she said. Felipe met her eyes for a second, looking tired suddenly. “Sorry, it’s not my place”, she muttered. “No… No, it’s alright”, he said, a smile forcing it’s way onto his face. “I suppose all parents have higher hopes for their children, than…”. “Riding around on motorbikes, and wearing leather in the 100 degrees desert sun?”, Nina said, returning his smile. “That too”, Felipe said. “Are you what they call a… hangaround?”. Nina’s jaw almost dropped to the floor. “Pap, that’s rude”, EZ said, having joined them by the bookcase. “I’m sorry, Nina. I’m not clear on the lingo”, Felipe said. Nina laughed heartily. “It’s fine. Really”, she said. “I guess I am. Sort of. It’s a long story”.

EZ put a hand on Nina’s shoulder. “Angel called. They’re on their way back. We should get back to the yard”. Nina nodded, and went to follow him to the door. “Come back some time if you need something to read”, Felipe said. “Or a steak”. “I might take you up on that”, Nina smiled, and followed EZ out to his bike.

They rode back to the yard; this time with EZ hitting a few bumps on the way there.

---

The Mayans that had gone on the run returned to the clubhouse shortly after Nina and EZ. She got right to work behind the bar. It was easy to fall in line as a club hangaround; Nina knew the deal. Serve the beer, keep out of the way, smile, and pretend like you don’t hear or see any of the illegal stuff going on. Her role also made it easier to avoid eye contact with Angel. She was, for lack of a better word, furniture. It hadn’t been completely the same in Charming, though. There, she’d been far from the regular hangaround, and her status as family made it near impossible for her to be a croweater – god knows, Juice had tried, in his day. The memory of the biker made her frown in sadness for a second, before she shook herself, and served a round of whiskey to a Riz, Creeper and Angel; accepting a shot herself.

“Oh yeah. That scrawny guy, Rat, brought something you forgot at their clubhouse”, Riz said. He handed her a leather-bound journal. Nina sighed when she took it from him. She hadn’t as much forgotten it, as left it behind; telling herself it was by accident. Opening it was always a strange mix of warm emotions and pain. “Thanks”, she muttered. “Is it a diary, or something?”, Creeper asked. “It’s… yeah, something like that”. “Yours? Like; dear diary. Today I drank too much tequila, and lost my panties…”, he jeered. Getting a little tired of Creepers attitude, she smirked at him. “More like; dear diary. Today, a stupid ass biker kept bringing up an embarrassing drunk-story; so, I shot him in the head…”. Her heart dropped as she said the final words, and she cleared her throat. Riz and Creeper laughed at what they found to be a great come-back, while Angel seemed less amused, as he examined her face. She gave them all a strained smile. “I’m gonna go get some air. Leave you gentlemen to it”, she said, grabbed the journal, a cigarette and a lighter, and hurried out of the clubhouse.

Once outside, she went over to the cage she’d been told the club settled their internal arguments in. It was cooler now, and the sky was full of stars. She went inside the cage, and sat down on the ground; lighting her cigarette, before opening the journal. For a long moment, she just sat there, looking at the picture fastened to the inside of it; of two young boys, smiling. The youngest one was sitting on the back of a pony, that the older one was holding the reins of.

“You want me to kick Creep’s ass for you?”. Nina looked up at Angel, who’d followed her outside. He stepped inside the cage, and leaned against the fence. “I’ll fuck him up. I don’t care if he is a brother”. “No, it’s fine. He was just joking around”, Nina replied. Angel sauntered towards her slowly. “He’s trying to get in your pants, querida”, he said. “Well, add enough tequila to the equation, maybe he’s got a shot”. She raised a brow at the tall biker. “Ouch… Moving on so soon, cuervo?”, Angel said with a slight smile. “Jealous?”, she teased. “Always”, he replied – exactly as she’d hoped – and sat down next to her.

For a long moment, all that could be heard was the sound of cicadas. Angel ran a finger over the picture of Abel and Thomas. “These your kids?”, he asked quietly. “No… But, they’re family. Sort of”, Nina replied. “You got kids?”. “I fucking hope not”, Angel grinned. “I’d just screw them up”. “You’re not so bad”, she said, and nudged him with her shoulder. “Mind telling my pap that?”. Nina raised a brow at him, not wanting to push him to talk about something he wasn’t comfortable with. He took the journal out of her hands, and looked at the two smiling boys in the picture. “Family, you know. Shit… My old man looks at EZ like he’s the sun and moon combined. Me… I’m the fuckup. Even more now, that I dragged his golden boy in to the club”. “EZ’s a big boy. He makes his own decisions… we all do, at the end of the day”, Nina said, and took back the journal. She took a few huffs of her cigarette. “You look at him that way too, you know”. “I do?”, Angel frowned. “Fuck, I hope he hasn’t noticed”. “It’s not wrong to be proud of someone worthy of it. And in spite of your… bad-boy demeanor, he seems to be proud of you as well”.

Angel pondered her words for a moment, before looking at her “Sorry, I was supposed to make you feel better. That’s why I came out here. I saw how you looked when Creeper was talking about that thing”, he said, and nodded towards the journal. “It’s ok”, Nina said, and closed it; hugging it against her chest. “I’m just protective of it, is all”. “Like with the helmet?”, he asked. Nina nodded. “You wanna tell me about it?”. “What?”, she whispered. “Those kids… Whoever you got that helmet from… Why we’re sitting on you here, like you’re under witness protection or something…?”. He nudged her shoulder like she had his, and smiled a little. His expression was warm, like he actually cared about what she had to say. The closeness between them felt dangerous, at the same time as it felt perfectly safe, and right.

Nina took a breath, and was about to shrug him of – give him some half story, about being friendly with SAMCRO – when she met Angel’s eyes. His gaze was earnest; trustworthy, even. “The helmet used to belong to my… someone I used to be really close to. Those are his kids in the picture…”, she said. “I’m holding on to this until they get older. He asked me to give it to them when they're old enough to read it”. “And he died?”, Angel said. “Crashed his bike into an oncoming truck…”, she said. “Shit… I’m sorry. Who was he to you?”. Nina sighed, and smiled softly. “The sun and moon combined”, she said. “Your brother?”, Angel asked confusedly. “Not biologically”, Nina chuckled. “But he took care of me. Treated me like a sister. After he died, the club still kept me close, like family”. “So, you have a whole club of family back in Charming. Why leave?”, Angel asked. Nina’s throat instantly went dry, and she looked at the ground. “A bad break-up”, she replied, her voice breaking. “I needed a fresh start”. Angel didn’t question her; merely seemed to accept her words for truth, and moved on.

They sat in silence for a moment longer, before he suddenly looked like he was beginning to put two and two together. “Your… brother. He was SAMCRO…”. She nodded. “And he crashed headfirst into a truck”. “Yeah…”, Nina whispered, the air thick with the truth being exposed. “Holy shit… I fucked Jackson Teller’s baby sis!”, Angel exclaimed. Nina felt her stomach churn at his words. “That’s like… royalty! I should get my dick silvered or something”. Nina stubbed out her cigarette. “If he was still around, he’d probably do it himself; while it was still attached to you”. Angel winced. “Shit, yeah. That man had a reputation. He was like the boogeyman to Mayan prospects in my day. I heard that one time, he shot a guy in both legs for pinching some hangaround chick’s ass”. “He didn’t shoot him, he just broke all his fingers”, Nina muttered. Angel’s eyes widened. “That was your ass, huh…”, he said, more as a statement, than a question. “It wasn’t Chucky, was it? Is that why he’s got those…”. He wiggled his fingers in the air. “No… That was something else…”, Nina replied. “Jax wasn’t just that, though. He was a good man”. Angel nodded. “Yeah, I heard that, too”. He studied her face for a long moment. “You loved him”, he said, finally. “Like, loved him”. Nina looked confusedly at him, before she caught his meaning. “What? No…! He was family. Just that”, she replied truthfully. Angel smiled crookedly. “Good. It ain’t easy fighting a ghost over a girl”, he said.

Nina felt a smile tug at her lips, but wasn’t ready to be sweet-talked by the guy who’d openly admitted she was a one-night stand, just the day before. “I thought we agreed what this was…”, she said. “Did we? I didn’t agree to anything”. He raised his brows at her, and smiled wryly. “What happened to consent?”. “That’s not how that works”, Nina laughed. “Let’s agree to disagree about that, ma'”, Angel said. Nina sighed deeply. “You told Bishop; we fucked, yeah. But… “. Angel looked taken aback. “Are you like my brother or something? Do you remember everything?”. “I remember that”, Nina said, a slight edge to her voice. Angel frowned at her. “You never considered maybe I was about to say; we fucked, yeah. But I like this girl? Or; this girl is different?”. “You were probably about to say; she gives good head”, Nina scoffed. “You don’t know me well enough to like me, or think I’m special”. “We could change that”, Angel said. “Spend some time together… I get that you’re just passing through, and that you kind of belong to another club, because of this thing with Teller, but…”.

Nina felt a sudden rage bubble through her. “I’m not a goddamn trophy!”, she hissed. “You don’t get to use me like some big fuck you to SAMCRO, for tapping one of their girls. Fuck that!” “That’s not what I’m saying", Angel said. Nina got to her feet and backed away from him. Her breath was catching, and she felt an oncoming asthma-attack. She often got them when got upset, but couldn’t find it in herself to calm down. “Don’t try to bullshit me. I know guys like you; measuring your pride in the amount of pussy you can get to climb on the back of your bike”. She didn’t realize the harshness of her words, before she saw Angel’s expression. He got on his feet himself, and looked at her with hard eyes. “You should be careful sitting out here, Nina" he said, and looked at the cage-fence surrounding them. “Someone might thing you’re gunning for a fight". While Nina stood frozen in place, he walked out of the cage, and got on his bike; driving out of the lot.

“Fuck!”, she growled at herself, and stumbled towards the trailer. Once inside, she scrambled to find her inhaler, and took a hit; feeling her lungs return to normal function. “Fuck…”, she repeated, and collapsed on the cot; clutching the journal in her arms.

---

[noladyme]

I look good in a hard hat.

me and the joel miller girlies

[noladyme]

hey! i can't find chess ii chapter one? do you have a link? ty!!

https://www.tumblr.com/noladyme/659883186340413440/chess-ii-chapter-2?source=share

😉

[noladyme]

I admit I have a tendency to hyperfocus. These days it's on this gif-set specifically...

There have never been more perfect pits...

Buffy the Vampire Slayer | 6.10 “Wrecked”

[noladyme]

The battle of the shirt buttons!

"Well, if David's gonna do two buttons, I'll do three".

"Dare you to undo four...".

[noladyme]

A beautiful disaster...

photos taken moments before disaster

[noladyme]

This.... this is how I wanna wake up in the morning.

Mornin’ Sunshine

A/N: this is a result of my post horny thots so you’re welcome! ♡ ♡ definitely in the realm of self indulgent hehe.

~word count: 1.5k~

Summary: early morning slow sensual fucking with Joel Miller

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! Reader

Warnings: smut with no plot, consent, unprotected piv (please wrap it b4 u stick it) slow sex, mutual pleasure, handjob, pussy play, creampie, Joel is such a passionate lover, nipple play, edging, praise kink, pet names, hella chemistry between Joel and the reader, he’s in love love, domestic Joel, soft! Joel, caring! Joel!, he just wants to make sure you cum first! Joel, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, mood board is just used to set the vibe, NSFW (+18) minors dni!

Main Masterlist

If there’s one thing that Joel Miller loves to indulge in as he adjusts to living a domestic life again, it’s you. More specifically; early mornings with you tangled in his sheets, thighs still sticky with yours and his cum from the night before simply because you were too worn out to clean up properly. That’s how he likes it, filthy. Raw. Sensual. He likes being able to dip his hand down between your thighs and gather up your pooling arousal between his calloused fingers. The scent of sex still lingers in the hazy early morning air as his arm drapes around your waist, and tugs you firmly against his chest.

You can feel his wiry patchy beard lightly scraping against the thin skin against your neck as he presses soft open mouth kisses, humming as he breathes out through his nose. Your legs are tangled together under the thick quilt, and he knows you’re beginning to awake from your deep slumber when he feels you reach for his hand, threading your fingers over the top of his.

He’s grinning against your skin, nibbling playfully on the shell of your ear with his teeth. You can feel the hardness of his cock pressing against your lower back. You love it when he wakes up immediately desiring you. Although, how could he not? Your beauty shone both on the inside and within.

He slowly rolls his hips forward, letting out a soft pathetic grunt when you gently push your ass back against him. “Mmm. Good morning to you too..” your voice is sticky with sleep, raspy, yet softer than his.

“G’mornin’ sunshine.” He croons. His voice dips down an octave sending a flush of arousal between your thighs. You’ll never get tired of his thick Texas twang. It’s buttery smooth with a hint of smoke and spice. It drips like sticky sweet caramel, and sets a fire deep within your belly like a splash of whiskey does.

The covers begin to rustle and bend as his hand curves around your hip, he gently squeezes as his hips roll forward once more. “D’ya want me sweetheart?” His question sends your thighs clenching together tightly as you suppress a moan from slipping out.

“Always.”

Pleased with your response, and mutual eagerness, his hand slowly slips from your hip, and down to the cleft of your ass. You're wearing nothing but a pair of thin cotton panties as the rough pads of his fingertips gently stroke you through the thin fabric. His eyes are blissfully closed as he feels the dampness pooling. It brings him a sense of pride knowing that he’s gotten you this wet, and he’s barely touched you.

“S’wet.” He hums sweetly into the spot just below your ear, leaving more open mouth feather light kisses. “S’all f’me?” He knows it is, he just likes it when you boost his ego.

“All for you Joel.” You let out a soft-sweet sigh as a smile graces your features. Your arm slowly reaches behind you, fingers finding their way into his soft bed head. He loves it when you play with his hair, especially when your nails scratch against his scalp. He doesn’t even have to ask; your nails are already gently scratching his scalp. He loves it. He lets you know with a soft grunt. It rumbled from deep within his chest before passing through his parted lips.

He scoots his hips back slightly as his hand that was presently toying with you, was now slowly pushing his boxers down over his hips. He sighs as his heavy cock springs free. The bulbous head is weeping with a bead of precum leaking from the tip. He’s heavy in your hand as your fingers slowly wrap around the veiny shaft.

Another grunt, followed by a pathetic whimper as you swipe your thumb across the tip, collecting his arousal as you slowly pump your hand around him. He only seems to grow harder from your gentle touch as his hand brushes across yours, finding your covered slit with ease as he slowly drags his fingers against it, applying just a tad bit of pressure. Your thighs instinctively fall open so that he has easier access to where you drip for him most.

You toy with each other awhile longer, wanting to get yourselves worked up as much as you can. You know exactly what he needs, and he knows exactly what you need. It’s a partnership based on balance after all. Mutual pleasure is something you both deeply relish indulging in.

You’re both a whimpering chorus of sensual sounds. Maestros to your own tunes as you play one another like strings on a violin. He grunts praisingly, you whimper his name.

He’s gently tugging your panties down in a slow movement. He can’t help but chuckle when they stick to your puddle of arousal that has built up between your thighs. He gently peels the fabric down past your calves and ankles.

The sheets rustle as the mourning dove coos just outside the open window. A warm summer breeze kisses your skin as you let out a breathy sigh. He drags the tip of his cock through your sticky wet folds. When he finally begins to sink into your warmth, you both release a shuddered breath as his arms reach up to encase you. His broad size is overwhelming, yet comforting at the same time. He fills you up to the brim, stretching you out as you accommodate his thick size.

You're perfect for him. The perfect partner. The perfect cunt. He knows how much you love when he talks to you in an unbridled, filthy manner. He loves it too. “Perfect fuckin’ cunt.” He murmurs against your skin as he slowly thrusts his hips forward into your ass.

“Always perfect f’me.” He grunts low into your neck. His teeth are scraping your delicate skin while one hand is firmly grasping around one of your breasts with his pointer finger and thumb gently toying with your pebbled nipple.

You mewl out his name, eyes shut in pure ecstasy as he slowly fucks into you. You can feel every inch of his cock move inside of you. God, you love it when he fucks you like this. You love the feeling of him buried so deep inside you, it’s hard to grasp just where he begins, and where he ends.

“Good girl.” He lets out a hot puff of air as he holds you as close as he physically can to his chest. His hips grind against your ass in a circular motion.

Soft giggles are exchanged as he accidentally slips out after pulling his hips back too far.

“Too wet?” You teasingly muse.

He chuckles deeply while gently releasing your breast from his grasp. His hand dips down to where your bodies were previously connected as he grabs ahold of his length and eases it back inside of you. He playfully nips at your shoulder blade, “ain’t ever such a thing of bein’ too wet f’me darlin.”

True.

Instead of grasping your breast once more, his hand gently curves around the crook of your thigh as he coaxes it to rest around his hip with your toes planted firmly on the mattress. He has full access to your pussy, more importantly, your clit as he wastes no time to gently play with you once more.

Your moans increase as his fingers rub your sensitive nub of nerves in quick motions, faster than the rhythm of his hips are fucking into you. It’s a tantalizing combination that has been concocted just for you.

Your moans intensify from the growing sensation in the pit of your stomach. His name falls from your lips like a prayer that is shared just for the two of you. Your sweet little sounds urge him forward. He knows you're close when you try to get away from the intense pleasure surging through your veins. He doesn’t let you. He pulls you right back against his chest, tsking softly under his breath.

“Shh.” He coos. “You’re alright baby. I gotcha. She’s sensitive this mornin’ hmm?” You can feel him smirking against your skin that is beginning to bead up with perspiration. He licks the salty dew like a man starved as he buries his face further into the crook of your neck.

“Jus’ wanna make sure you cum.” He reassures you with one heavy jut of his hips that has you seeing stars between closed eyelids.

“Jus’ wanna love on ya.”

“My baby.”

“My honey.”

“My everythin.’”

Praises fall against your sweat stained skin as he buries himself inside of your warm pussy as deeply as he can reach. Deep enough that his tip is brushing against your cervix. You cry out his name as your nails sink into his forearm. A choked sob, an I love you, a post orgasm laugh as he stays buried inside of you, not wanting to part from your warmth just yet.

He’s kissing you all over as you softly giggle. Your noises that he loves so dearly are cut off when his lips finally find yours. It’s a searing slow kiss. You can taste the passion on his tongue as he breathes out deeply through his nose.

“How d’ya want your eggs? Scrambled, or over easy?” He asks, a boyish grin plastered on his face as he kisses you sweetly.

“Scrambled.” You softly responded, fingers tangling through his hair as you pulled him in close.

Tagging people I think will enjoy: @chaotic-mystery @cavillscurls @dinsdjrn @morning-star-joy @sinsofsummers @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @amanitacowboy @saradika @tessa-quayle @darkroastjoel @kirsteng42 @yazsos @casa-boiardi @lovers-liability @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

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