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#charlie hunnam fanfiction
rayslittlekitten · 7 months
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All Eyes On You
A/N: Okay, it's finally done. This did not go where I had initially imagined it but I mostly like how this came out. I think it's kinda different from what I've written in the past. I tried to make this PWP and Jax being savage but I always add softness to Jax. I can't help it. Also, I don't know how porn sets are so, yeah. Didn't want to focus too much on the logistics of all that. Also, clearly this is AU. Hope this doesn't disappoint.
Rating: E (18+ ONLY)
Word Count: 3,597
Pairing: Pornstar!Jax x Pornstar!F!Reader
Plot: Getting railed by Jax Teller is only one of the perks of your job.
Contains: porn star/shooting porn, sex work, some D/s dynamics, sex (PiV), oral sex (F and M receiving), exhibitionism, voyeurism, degradation, humiliation, name-calling (slut, whore), light spanking, light choking, dirty talking, masturbation, praising (good girl), cream pie, a quick moment of edging if you squint, aftercare
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"We need to find more honest ways of living."
Since Jax became President, he has wanted to steer the club away from the guns and other underground dealings. He was open to all ideas and for him, no idea was a bad idea until it’s been tried. When his business partner running the SAMCRO-funded and protected porn production company jokingly suggested for Jax to star in a few movies, he actually considered it. Getting paid to have sex? He's already doing it for free. Everyone's gotta earn their keep, right? Would it be too degrading? He's supposed to be the leader and he's leading his club into selling their bodies, maybe even their dignity. Not to mention the conflict of interest. Still, he brought it up to the table anyway and they voted on it. Surprisingly most voted yes, although mostly for pure amusement. 
What started as a joke to them actually became one of their honest ways of earning. Well, at least for Jax. The others didn't have the balls to do it, but that didn’t stop them from reaping the benefits of tagging along with Jax whenever he had to go shoot some scenes. Money doesn't lie and when they saw their revenue continuously multiply shortly after his debut released, they knew they had a cash cow. Since then, Jax had dedicated a day each month to shooting his scenes. As long as he agrees with the script, he has no problem. Sometimes he'd even make suggestions. He gets producer credit for those as well.
His content is the most exclusive one they have so they strategically make less of it. Gotta keep teasing his fans. Besides, he actually enjoys the attention. If it was any possible, his ego has inflated to be bigger than his dick and that in itself says a lot. It was as if God himself designed him to be a porn star. It was so effortless for him.
Their business has expanded so they their talent pool did as well and let's just say there is no shortage of women  - and men - wanting a chance at fucking Jax Teller. You're just happy that you're one of them who made the cut.
Your legs are pushed back to your chest as Jax has his face in between your thighs. You toss and turn your head, feeling his tongue and lips licking and sucking your folds. As you look off camera, you notice there are so many pairs of eyes on you as you lay there naked, spread so wide for the whole world to see your pussy getting eaten out by Jax Teller, suddenly getting a rush. Jax flips you over on your belly and he yanks your hips back so you're on your knees with your ass popped up. He shoves his face back in and you push back, moaning when you feel the tip of his nose nudge your asshole. Jax moves away and aligns himself with you. He shoves his thick, hard cock inside of you and you yelp. 
You brace yourself on the bed and turn your head to look behind you, at Jax as he pounds away, already quickly building an orgasm. You notice someone in the far corner behind Jax touching himself through the front of his jeans and you make eye contact, or so you think. He's a bit under the shadows and a studio light is blinding you, but it doesn't matter. This man is turned on by you getting fucked and that's turning you on. You can feel yourself getting more arousd with each plunge Jax takes and each stroke the mysterious man makes.
"Fuck, you're so wet," Jax growls.
"I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum!" You warn and before you know it, your muscles contract on his cock and you moan out loud, maybe embellishing your cries just a little.
Jax continues to fuck you hard and fast, drawing out your orgasm.
"That's my girl," he praises and then smacks your ass.
"CUT! Let's get behind them and get a shot of her getting fucked from behind. Back in positions!" the director shouts.
"You alright?" Jax checks on you.
"Yeah, that was a good one," you breathe out while you wiggle your ass back into position, opening and exposing yourself to him and the camera.
"Think you can do that again, sweetheart?" he asks as his thumb slowly slides in and out of the entrance of your dripping slit, teasing you. 
You push back and mewl. Talents aren't supposed to engage in any sexual contact while cameras aren't rolling. Although it's not a perfect system, it helps to keep interactions professional and avoid unwanted advances. Fluffers exist for a reason. You and Jax are an exception though. You've been scene partners for a while now and are very comfortable with each other. You can't really say how it is for the other women he's done scenes with, but when you and Jax are fucking, you feel it in your soul and you know he can too. There's just this playful and cozy rapport between you two that allows you both to work together very well.
You swear Jax, the pleasure dom that he is - and what his onscreen alter ego is known for - always makes it a point to pull as many orgasms as he can out of you and you can't even fake yours. Not with him. He can tell when they're real but with him, you don’t even need to fake them. Your exes couldn't even figure out 10% of the ways Jax has learned the ins and outs of your body. Heck, he taught you a few things about your own body. 
Between cut and action are the times your pussy aches the most, missing the fullness of Jax's thick cock, stretching you out in all the best ways. People have said porn is fake, but it's not. Scripted? Sure, but it's not fake, at least not all of it. Actual penises are actually penetrating actual vaginas, assholes and mouths. You've sure tasted enough semen to know it's real. Your bruised cervix is more proof of it. Don't forget the sore jaw, but they're all worth it especially if it's all because of Jax. You're also reminded of why you love doing what you do when you notice all eyes on you and Jax again.
"Quiet on set!" the director warns. "Aaaand ACTION!"
You gasp when Jax shoves back into you without warning. He angles himself in favor of the camera, but pushes in deeper and faster. Your eyes wander again and find these two men wearing kuttes off to the side watching. You recognize the one you make eye contact with and you maintain it while getting railed. You've seen him around sometimes whenever Jax comes by. He smacks your ass and you yelp, pushing back against him, chasing another release. The man you're having a staring contest with shifts uncomfortably while adjusting the front of his jeans. You reach for your bare breasts and start pinching your nipples. Your hips stutter when you feel an orgasm close to sliding into home base. You clench and moan as you get closer and closer. 
"CUT! Okay that should be enough coverage. Moving on to uh..."
You growl in frustration when Jax stills his hips.
"Sorry, baby. I'd give you relief, but I think maybe we should save that for the camera," he teases as he makes his cock twitch while still inside you, making you cockwarm him between takes.
"Okay, so we're gonna transition to blowjob. Let's start from where we left off. Jax pulls out and then she turns around and sucks him off," the director tells the crew. "Then at some point, Jax, you put her on her back and go missionary."
You shudder suddenly when Jax spreads your juices around with the pad of his thumb and starts teasing your asshole with it, putting just the slightest pressure.
"Jax..." you pant.
"Shh. Be a good girl and hold it," he coos. ”Can you do that for me, baby?”
The line between fantasy and reality definitely blurs for the both of you sometimes, but you both also just enjoy each other that much. Finally they call action again and Jax starts giving you a few short shallow pumps, making you wail from relief, until he pulls out and spanks you.
"Come suck my dick," he commands, holding his cock out for you.
You manage to turn around so you're on your knees and elbows, face to face with his hard cock that's soaked in your juices. You immediately put your lips over his dark red tip and bob up and down, taking more and more of him each time you push in. As you jerk him, you ram his cock into the back of your throat, fitting as much of him as you can. Feeling your gag reflex surfacing, you encourage it to happen and then Jax fists your hair, pulling out a bit and pushing back in. 
“Danny, go in for the close up of her,” the director jumps in.
When the cameraman moves in, Jax palms the back of your head and you remove your hand to deep throat him again. He gently pushes your head down and you relax your throat, trying to get more of him. When you gag again, intentionally doing it audibly, he instantly lets go and you pull him out. He grabs your chin and tilts your face up so he can see it. Tears leak out of your eyes and spit from your puffy, slick lips.
"Look at you. So pretty," he praises.
His baby blues penetrate your misty eyes. You don't know if he's just a great actor or as charming as people claim he is, but you believe, at least in the moment, that he thinks you're pretty. You continue to look up at him, playing into the camera, as this is a close up.
"Get on your back," he tells you.
As you turn over and Jax climbs over you, the cameraman steps out of your personal space, returning back to a wider shot. Jax leans down and smashes his lips over yours. His hand comes up to your face and cradles the side of it as he deepens the kiss. You kiss back, slipping your tongue between his lips and licking his pearly whites. He opens up his mouth and intertwines his own tongue with yours, tasting each other. Breaking the kiss, he pulls back, kneels and brings one of your legs up to spread them without blocking the camera’s view. He taps his cock against your clit and then slides the tip up and down your slit, teasing you, causing you to moan and your hips to jerk. He finally pushes inside of you and you arch your back. He pumps away as he holds your leg up, the muscles of his tattooed back flexing with each push and pull.
“Are you gonna cum again?” he asks.
You prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at where you meet. Your fingers reach in and you start rubbing your clit.
“Fuck, yeah, keeping touching yourself,” he encourages. “I want to feel you cum all over my cock again.”
With your next orgasm reaching the edge, your eyes wander to the man in the shadows behind Jax again. You see his hand is now in his pants and he’s unabashedly rubbing one out to this whole scene. Maybe he doesn’t think you can see him. You rub yourself a little faster and his hand matches your pacing.
“Oh god…” you start as you get closer to popping.
Jax drives into you faster and harder and before you know it, the coil snaps inside you and you cry out and arch up, thrashing as you ride the wave. You’ve already lost count of how many you’ve had as you’ve been doing this with Jax on and off already for the last hour or so.
“CUT! Okay, I think we’re gonna get to the money shot now. Are you ready for that Jax?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he replies. “Can we get five?”
“Alright. Let’s do five!” the director shouts.
As the crew breaks, you let your legs fall to the sides and stretch out a bit while Jax slips off the bed, standing next to it. He starts massaging your hips and helps you rotate your leg one at a time.
“How do you feel? Do you need a longer break?”
“No, I’m good. Let’s just finish this,” you reply. “You really like to stretch me out. It’s like I’m getting a yoga session in whenever we pair up. In fact, it’s probably good for my body.”
“Here we go, biiiig stretch,” he says as he throws one of your legs over, twisting your torso and applying firm pressure on your thigh, stretching out your lower back and glutes. Then he does the same with the other side.
A satisfying moan rumbles from your throat as you feel your muscles loosening.
"Are you ready to show everyone what a fucking star you are?" Jax asks as you straighten your body out.
Your smile reaches your eyes and that tells Jax all he needs to know. You sit up and then bring your legs behind you to kneel on the bed. Jax licks his lips as he looks at you with an equally proud smirk. While biting your lower lip, you reach down and start stroking his semi-hard cock, bringing it back to life.
As people start returning to set, the director checks on the both of you.
“Just another minute,” Jax winks at the director as you continue to jerk him.
“Alright, everyone in your places!” 
You start changing up your pace and technique, making him hiss and groan.
“Lay back,” Jax directs you and you fall back to return to your previous position.
He climbs back onto the bed and repositions you to the same one he put you in before the break and pushes into you, your dampness still so present. Your body melts, feeling so delightfully full again. 
“Are we rolling?” the director asks. After confirmation, he calls action.
Jax pumps a few times into you, getting you both back on track. He pushes your leg back even more, spreading you out and changing his angle. When it feels like the right time, he then switches positions, curling up behind you and slipping himself back inside you, still holding your leg up and back.
His other hand snakes up to the front of your throat and he pulls your head back. You can hear him panting right into your ear as he thrusts away, You couldn’t be anymore exposed right now with your legs splayed open so wide and Jax fucking you from behind. Only way this could get better is if you had a few more cocks to fill your other holes.
“Look at all those people looking at you,” Jax grunts quietly into your ear, meant only for you and not the camera. “Watching you being such a fucking slut for me.”
His words just about pushed you closer to yet another orgasm which you know is the intentions behind them. You push back against him, trying to match his thrusts and get a deeper penetration as you glance over at all the people watching you. Jax starts pinching your nipple and you feel it shoot down below your belly.
“They’re memorizing how your juicy pussy looks and sounds as I pound into you. Imagining it’s their cock your pussy is gripping. The sexy sounds you make every time I stroke you just right. How shameless you are and loving every fucking second of it.” Jax’s dirty talk is rapidly fueling your next release and it’s evident as the wet sounds get even louder.
"I bet those perverts are gonna sniff these sheets after the shoot too just to feel a little closer to you."
Nothing gets you off more than knowing the power you know you have over your viewers. The thrill of them watching you getting stretched out and brazenly defiled especially when they need to jerk off to you, imagining they are the ones balls deep inside you. You don't get to see most of your actual audience but the thought is enough to intoxicate you. It also helps that Jax knows how you bring the inner slut out of you. The dirtier it gets, the more you want. You're putting on a different kind of show than what your viewers may think. You're not doing this for them; you're doing this purely for yourself, getting off on these people watching you on display.
“They’re storing it in their spank bank for later and when they need to rub one out, they’ll pull it right up, jerking themelves and cumming to you because you so desperately need to get fucked like a whore over and over again, cumming all over every cock that fills up your pussy,” Jax adds as he punches up into you, your ass slapping against the top of his thighs. The squelching increases with each thrust, pushing your arousal out of you.
You also get a different kind of rush from being so sexually freeing. The blood rushes to your face and your groin when you suddenly feel like you’ve been caught doing something so naughty. Shamefully being shameless as your holes get stuffed over and over again. Embarrassed to be seen in such a state but at the same time not wanting to stop because it just feels so damn good to the point you don’t care who is watching.
"You're gonna give me one more?" Jax asks as he continues to pound into you. “Huh, baby?”
He hooks his arm under your knee to hold it back, spreading you even wider and this time, it’s his long slender fingers that dip down between your legs to rub your clit. 
"Come on, baby. Cum on my cock again," he encourages. “Just one more time.”
You slam your hips back against him, chasing your next release. Between his fingertips digging into the sides of your neck, the sweet filthy words spilling into your ear and him driving his hard, thick and long cock into your cunt, your body is already close to the end, but now him rubbing your swollen clit, it launches you right over to the line.
“Be a good girl and cum for me,” he grits.”Cum for me, you fucking slut.”
With that, your eyes roll back and you cry out. You are convulsing over him, your walls clamping down hard over his cock. 
“That’s it! That’s my fucking girl,” he growls.
His pacing maintains even after you stop flopping around.
“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum too,” Jax pants, and then lets out a low moan as he empties himself inside you.
“Great! Danny, make sure you get a close up of the cream pie shot,” the director reminds him.
After Danny quickly repositions himself, Jax slowly pulls out of you and slaps your clit a few times, making you shudder. His hand reaches between your legs and spreads your lips open. You bear down and push his seed out of you. It leaks out of you and runs down to the crack of your ass. With your juices mixed in with his, he coats your lips with it using his fingers and runs it over your clit as well before sliding his fingers inside you, gently pushing it back in.
Jax turns your head to face him and leans in to kiss you tenderly. 
“Okay, that’s a wrap! Let’s break and clean up for the next shoot.” 
You continue to lazily make out with him, even well after cut was called. As the crew works around you and Jax, you stay lying in bed for a few more moments while stretching your muscles. Jax slips some shorts on and re-joins you, cuddling and spooning you after draping your robe over your naked body.
“Jax!” you giggle as he kisses a trail up the back of your shoulder and neck.
It’s almost unheard of but Jax always gives you aftercare after every shoot, especially the ones where it gets a bit degrading and painful. He does that with all his scene partners, but sometimes you like to imagine he only does it with you. Your mind starts drifting, falling into this comfortable and peaceful lull as he runs his fingers up and down your body that’s cocooned in his.
“Hey,” he nudges the tip of his nose against the back of your ear as he inhales your scent, waking you from your state.
“Hm?” you reply drowsily.
Then Jax finally pops the question you never thought he’d ask.
"You think you're ready for your first gang bang?" Jax asks.
Suddenly getting your second wind, you twist your body to face him and plant a kiss on his cheek, his smile now matching yours as your heart now grows full.
“Really?!” you ask as your eyes light up.
“I’ll even let you pick out your partners.”
Unable to contain your excitement, you squeal as your smile widens even more. 
“Okay, I think we should go get cleaned up and get outta here before they have to kick us out,” he suggests. “I’m laying on a wet spot.”
Jax affectionately boops the tip of your nose with this finger and then kisses your forehead before helping you out of bed.
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hotdamnhunnam · 3 months
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On Your Knees
A/N: So as I noted in this teaser thingy, I don’t really intend to be back on tumblr actively, BUT I just couldn’t resist writing for Kai!! This fic will be smutty, while also providing a bit of backstory that I feel he needs and deserves honestly. I fucking love this guy 💗
Pairing: Kai x F!Reader Warnings: smut (p in v, oral), swearing, dom!Kai, dirty talk (but it’s not until Part 2 that shit gets degrading and dark) Word Count: ~3.8k
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“On your knees.”
It’s been forever and a day, since you last laid your eyes on Kai. Since then you’ve searched for him across the whole entire fucking sky. Whatever words you had expected him to say… you never would have dreamt of these.
On your knees.
The blood in your veins is on fire; it burns as the blue of his gaze starts to freeze. The blaze rises higher, so desperate to melt down this fortress of ice that you hadn’t believed you would find. Paid the rumors no mind—he’s a bounty hunter or a gun for hire, who would sell his soul to any well-paying buyer, or so everybody agrees—yet you’ve come here to seek out the true heart of gold that you know lies behind. But all gold can be sold and it seems that he’s taken his fees.
And now he’s set on taking whatever he damn well may please.
Your voice escapes your throat pathetically. “Kai, it’s me…”
Cocks his head. Lifts his brow. Silent laughter at what you just said. Obviously. But who you are doesn’t mean shit to him now. “Aye, I see.”
You might just choke. The heart that never once stopped beating for this godforsaken rogue just fucking broke.
He snickers down as if the beating of your heart is just a joke. The curl of those cruel lips holds even more force than his words. And that’s what brings you to your knees and makes you weak, so weak it hurts, as he comes close and rests his palm against your cheek, piercing your soul straight to the core with just one stroke.
Straight to the core. Summon what strength you have to speak, unsure whether the vows that you once made have any value anymore. “I’ve come back to you just as I swore…”
“Of course,” he utters as those ice-blue eyes seek out and strike the deepest truth in yours. “You’ve come to me just as you were before: still nothing but a worthless fucking whore.”
***************
--- Years Earlier ---
“Impressive.”
You smile over your shoulder as he comes up from behind to wrap his arms tightly around you, in a warm embrace that’s all at once affectionate and aggressive. Passionate and possessive. Just as his touch is every night when he pins you to bed and pounds you.
Kai is wildly impressed to see you standing tall at the helm of this ship where he’s found you. The ship is in shambles and beaten down, long since abandoned here out on the plains past the outskirts of town. Still the grandeur of spacefaring vessels like this never fails to astound you. The freedom that they represent gives you hope that someday you and Kai might escape from this planet that’s bound to the rule of a ruthless imperial crown.
Yet this starship is broken and dead. It feels good to stand here for a bit and pretend you can steer it—steer something for once in your life so that you can cling onto what little is left of your spirit, forge on towards the future instead of just having to fear it… but you know it’s best not to let false hope get to your head.
“You’d make a fetching pilot, love,” Kai purrs into your ear while he plants kisses on the soft skin of your neck. “So fucking hot I think you might stir up the engine of this wreck. Won’t be surprised if you just up and fly it off.”
The laughter on your lips melts into his, as you lean back to taste his kiss. “I wish I could. The two of us would fuck shit up in space so good.”
“Aye, that we would.”
For now Kai is more than content to fuck you up against the window of this spacecraft and you both know that’s exactly what’s in store. Know you were put upon this planet just to serve him as his filthy little whore. On any planet you would always be just that and nothing more.
Through the layers of both of your clothes you can feel the thick length of his shaft, pressed up against your lower half. Desperate hands reach into his pants to set him free and grasp at every perfect inch of him that you exist to worship and adore.
“Impressive,” you echo his words from before.
He chuckles in that playfully suggestive, sinful way that always hits you in the slick heat of your core. The man knows he’s massive. He wields his cock like a damn weapon of war.
But with you it’s a war fought for love and he makes it so pure.
It’s just unfathomable to you that this man is fucking yours.
You’ve only ever been to this small corner of the vast expanse of space, yet when you look upon his face, you have no doubt that he’s the most beautiful man in all the universe.
As ever in his presence you’re tempted to fall on your knees. It’s your favorite position: to kneel before him in submission. To swallow his cock till he fills your throat with his delicious release. Kai knows this but is ever the tease. He knows just what you’re wishing, but holds you up right where you are to prevent you from sinking so he can keep kissing your lips, one hand gripping your hips, while the other roams over the parts of your body that nobody else ever sees.
“K-Kai please…”
“What is it you want?” he sadistically taunts, and then animalistically grunts, as he feels the wetness of your cunt.
You can’t speak, at the touch of his fingers exploring the treasures they seek.
So he feeds you the words. “This big cock in that sweet little mouth of yours?”
“Yes—please, yes…!” you gasp, heightening his desire as well as your own as you handle his hardness with long strokes and squeezes, loving how it throbs in your tightening grasp.
Kai loves making you plead, getting off on the way that you moan for him over and over again. Till he’s ready to finally provide what you need. Ready now then he reckons. A wicked smirk crosses his mouth and it threatens to end you this second. “Indeed. Since you’re beggin’.”
At last then he lets you sink down to the floor, where you instantly bury your face in his crotch and start slobbering madly all over his cock because this is what you fucking live for.
He smells and tastes simply divine. Better than any man fucking should. Smash your nose in the fine golden hairs at the base of his dick and get drunk on his scent like it’s wine… swipe your tongue up the length in a sensuous line…God it’s good. The salt and sweetness and the musk with earthy undertones of wood. You know nothing of what gods exist in this world or the next, other than being certain that Kai is a living breathing god of sex.
His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer into him and holding you right fucking there. It’s heaven when he plows your throat. No other feeling could compare. You reach to clutch at the firm muscles of his ass and meet his blue gaze as you eagerly wait for him to unravel and explode. The twinkle in his eye reminds you that you’re his and that he never wants to share, just as he’s yours and no one else deserves the privilege to take his precious load.
You take it down with your cheeks hollowed, throat contracting tight around him as he groans in utter bliss. Your love for him deepens with every drop you’ve swallowed, since the day when you first met and every day and night that’s followed. Didn’t think it would be possible to love him more than this. To be so cock-drunk and so lovestruck… fuck, it’s glorious.
Your worship of him always takes him somewhere far beyond the stars. So fucking far. He loves the whore you are, just as you love the whore he is. The kind of love that heals as deeply as it scars. You’re only whores for one another which is why the love you make is always pure no matter how dirty it is.
He worships you in turn, that filthy mouth on him a fire-breathing sin. Making you burn. Laying his claim to every last inch of your skin and every fiber of your being deep within. Your impulse is to be down on your knees for him but when the man insists on pleasuring your cunt—because for him your pleasure’s always at the forefront—well of course you just give in.
And then he fucks your cunt to pieces to make sure you won’t ever forget that his sex is the reason you’re living.
You can’t begin to wrap your mind around him being so damn perfect. But you sure as hell can wrap your pussy tight around the war weapon that’s pumping deep inside of you so powerfully erect. Both of you like it good and rough, and soon enough, this stranded spaceship’s not the only thing that’s wrecked.
The vessel tilts a little bit with his last thrust; this ship is huge but so is Kai, and he’s apparently so strong that he just rocked the goddamned deck. That shit is so insanely hot you might just die. Combust. Crumble to dust. As you both come down from the high, your pulse is racing and he traces its pace with his parted lips pressed to your neck.
The two of you remain entwined for hours, as you always do. Whispering sweet nothings that you wish could be true. Let’s just pretend this ship is ours. That the universe is ours. That we’ll fly away, and soar the skies someday, just me and you. But nothing is nothing regardless of how sweet it seems, and you can’t fly away from the fact that the universe bows to formidable powers. To forces that devastate dreams, through and through.
To the powers that be. Powers that crush all hopes of ever being free or being happy.
Kai reads your mind as your thoughts drift to that dark place. Knows that it’s time to tell you what he came to say, when he found you aboard this ship today, before he got distracted and ended up fucking your brains out past the farthest reaches of space. It’s not a message that he’s eager to convey. But it’s an order that you can’t really afford to disobey.
Still he wants you to stay, blue eyes begging you to as he softly caresses your face. Yet he knows on some level that dreams of resistance are silly to chase. That the price of just one slice of heaven is steep and there’ll be hell to pay.
He clears his throat and breathes in deep, wishing the price weren’t so damn steep. “Meant to tell you that he’s been… requesting your presence again.”
You had known to expect this. Chosen to neglect this. As if you could run to some empty abandoned starship to hide from the constant demands of that monster who thinks he’s a god among men.
But you can’t and to even attempt this… is useless and reckless. Though Kai referred to the imperial officer’s order as just a request, it was obviously a command. So you stand, smooth your skirt with a trembling hand—knowing Kai wishes he could hold on to you now and protect what is rightfully his—but your honor is yours to defend. No one else’s. All yours in the end.
He knows this too but wishes he didn’t. He hates this part. Watching you leave is the part when he cages his heart, locking it in a block of cement. “So you’ll just run off to him then?”
All too familiar with his defense mechanisms, you don’t halt your rhythm. The whole fiasco of this moment is always the same with him, despite the fact that he must know this isn’t something either one of you enjoys. So rather than rushing to blame him, or letting the swell of emotions inside you erupt into violence, you cast him a side glance, remind him in silence: it’s not as if I have a choice.
Evidently today the cement is much thicker than usual; the next words off his lips at your lack of response come off particularly cruel. “What, lost your dignity and your voice?”
God, he knows how to hit your inner slut, and make her want to die. To bleed her dry. His name escapes your throat in a defeated sigh. “Kai…”
He hates himself right now more than that monstrous fucking officer or anyone at all. Down to his core. Your knees just buckled and he rushes to catch you before you fall, but he’s so broken now himself that you both end up on the floor, down on your knees. The words he’d just uttered were driven by demons he’s struggling to bury—lately there have been a whole lot of these. Pulls you in close and releases his heart from its stone wall, as he dissolves into a mess of regrets and apologies. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Inevitably you end up making love, which is the only answer when words aren’t enough. Soft and slow. But it has to end quickly, because you have somewhere to be. Can’t hold on to the afterglow. Leave before tears overflow. Just a few words then you have to go.
You wish Kai could see things from your point of view. He gives you every reassurance that he gets it; his response earlier was impossibly harsh but he clearly regrets it. Still you can’t help but feel as if he’s disappointed in you. Despite how authoritative the Imperium is and the consequences that are sure to ensue if you stand up against it… he sees your obeying the officer’s orders as something you’re making the choice to do.
And that view baffles you because how could you possibly choose to do something that fucking destroys you?
The officer knows all your weaknesses. If you should ever defy him he’d go after Kai, to hit you where he knows it would hurt you the most and you can’t stand to think or to speak of this. You’d rather die. And your fear of that terrible punishment forces your hand; you must heed his command. Without having to spell this shit out you just wish Kai would understand why.
“I understand,” he says, but he can’t meet your pleading gaze. He’s not quite certain whether what he said is true, and surely you would see right through. Instead looks out the spacecraft window at the distant stars that deign to cast their rays upon this conquered stretch of land. It feels like pity and that shit infuriates him in a million fucking ways. “I understand, I do. It just kills me to think of someone else inside you—”
“Kai, I’ve told you time and time again to trust me that he hasn’t…”
“That’s not even what I meant.”
“It’s what you said.”
With worlds of pain behind his plaintive eyes he reaches out to cup your cheek then smooths his thumb across the creases in your forehead. “What I meant is that I just can’t shake this sense that he’s gotten inside your head. To men like that nothing is sacred. He’s attracted to your spirit ‘cause he knows that he can break it. Wants to wait for you to give your body to him though it’s well within his power to just take it. And whatever little honor you’ve got left down to the final fucking shred… he won’t stop till it’s fucking dead.”
His warning chills you to the bone, because you know it to be true. For better or worse you’ve got some defense mechanisms of your own. Just a few. Brush off his touch and clench your jaw and let a little bit of spite sharpen your tone. “So then what would you have me do? Not all of us can be as honorable as you.”
Now his jaw clenches too. So hard that he might be at risk of breaking it. “The choice is yours, of course,” he mutters, eyes flashing an icy shade of blue. “Just know you’re making it. Don’t hide behind the lie your hand was forced.”
At that you turn to leave him with a scoff, throwing a bitter glare that tells him to fuck off.
But just before you disembark, you catch a glimpse of some metallic thing that glimmers in the dark. The mess of clothes that Kai had flung off of his shoulders when he fucked you up against the window, some hours ago… he’d had a gun tucked in among them and the sight of it right now is fucking stark. You have no reason to be shocked about it though.
He wasn’t hiding it from you; the fact that he’s been packing unauthorized arms is something you already knew. That doesn’t mean it’s something you wanted to know. Seeing this fatal metal thing strikes you as such a blunt reminder of what he intends to do. And you know where it’s bound to go.
Where your gaze and your thoughts wander his always follow. “There’s a strategy session set up for tomorrow,” he states in reference to the folks in your town who believe independence is something that any respectable person would die to defend. Even if it means battling forces against which they can’t even try to contend. “May be able to make concrete plans now that we’ve finally got enough guns stashed in our secret cargo. I already know better than to ask whether you’d want to attend. Guess the answer will always be no.”
The two of you have talked about this countless times before. And every time it turns to fucking when you both can’t bear the talking anymore. It’s irresponsible and immature, but in the rosy throes of youth, it seems to you love is the only fucking truth, the only thing you know for sure. The only thing that’s clear and pure. Love keeps you whole so you don’t fall apart from fear of what your hopeless-looking future has in store.
But you’re not that young, and you can’t just fuck away these pressing issues for that long. He can’t just kiss you to prevent the words from falling off your tongue. He knows it too and so you sit and talk for once and hope shit doesn’t go too wrong.
You admire and love him for being so brave and so strong. Tell him so. But that small band of big-hearted rebels is not somewhere you feel you’ll ever belong. He has to let it go.
And you have to let go of your hope that he might change his mind. That he might decide doing what makes sense to simply survive matters more than misguided delusions of honor chasing after some kind of freedom he won’t ever find.
You tenderly caress his face and feel the warmth of his blood rush to meet your hand. It’s all that you can do to pray his precious blood won’t spill someday fighting a war over some worthless stretch of land. This lovely planet is your home but in your eyes it’s all worth nothing without Kai. “I know how fiercely you believe in your brothers, and in your friends. In the rebellion that all of you have planned. What terrifies me is this feeling that it’s fucking doomed to fail and if you die… I can’t fathom anything worse. Of course I know the choice to fight with them is yours, but for my part I’m not as brave as all the others. I can’t bring myself to stand behind this cause when I’m afraid it won’t be worth it in the end. Please understand.”
Kai leans into your touch and turns his face to kiss your palm, cracking a sad smile to fight the tears that otherwise would come. Unshed they shine like stars hiding behind his eyes so blue. “Aye, I do.”
It’s a lie. Lie as big as the sky. But he hides behind it till it might become true, or at least fucking tries to.
At that it’s time for you to go, fearing that you should have done so hours ago. The sheer pressure of fear shatters you; fact is deep down it shatters him too. He just copes with his hopes and fears in a more complicated way.
“I promise I will always come back to you.” These are the same words that you always say, when you leave—words you fiercely believe—to assure him that nothing could keep you away.
When you leave him with those words Kai usually lets you, eventually once he’s done venting all his pent up rage and dealing every card he has to play. But evidently not today. “You wouldn’t have to. If you’d just stay.”
The way his voice trembles with gentleness, with selflessness, as he abandons every one of his defenses… it fucking kills you when he gets this way. It doesn’t happen often, and it always makes your heart open and soften. “That’s true. Maybe I can keep him waiting just one day…”
His eyes go wide, unable to believe that this is something you would actually decide. It makes him love you even more and suddenly he’s shy and blushing as if he thinks he’s unworthy of the privilege of your touch. “Or just one hour or one minute for I ought to know I shouldn’t ask too much—”
You shut him up with your forefinger pressed against his luscious lip. Provocatively bite your own to make it known that you want him to spend all day fucking you up against this ship.
Last time he did it shook the whole entire deck; maybe this time the sex will be so fucking hot that it’ll set fire to this wreck. Wouldn’t put anything past Kai. It’d be a perfect way to die.
Slamming your back against the window of this wrecked dreadnought, he effortlessly reads your every thought—goddamn that thought just now was a particularly bold one—and from his wicked smirk it’s plain to see that he agrees it would be perfect and insanely fucking hot. “You might want to hold on.”
And you do, clinging closely to him like the sky clings to stars at the coming of dawn. In the bright glare of day they’ll no longer shine through. But that won’t mean they’re gone.
Here tonight, and even if they’re out of sight, come morning light… all the stars in his eyes shine for you. With those stars guiding you, you’ll hold on.
***************
… To be continued in Part 2!
The plan is for Part 2 to explore more of the earlier timeline and also carry forward the opening scene of course, which is when dark degrading dom!Kai will be out in full force 🔥
If you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist for this fic (below), just let me know! Much love to all of you 💖
Masterlist
Taglist for this fic (based on responses to the teaser) – @midnightbabylon @rayslittlekitten @pikapuff-316 @youflickedtooharddamnit @laurfilijames @okin-awa @lovebittenbyevans @jmamas92 @theliterarybeldam @dirtytomatoedwrites @ughdontbeboring @netflix-imagines
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Let There Be Hotel Complaints
Based on a post request by @rayslittlekitten I really hope you like it, I have no idea if it fits but I tried hard.
Title based on: Hozier - Dinner & Diatribes
Contains: Fluff, Ray being Gomez Addams, mentions of periods/period symptoms, smut (fingering, oral sex M and F receiving, P in V, breeding kink, possessive Ray, scents and smells, aftercare) Not beta read.
3.5K words.
Ray's feelings for you are as wide as the ocean, and his love is second only to his desire.
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The hand that wrapped around your body felt like hot coals on your already heated skin, and you fought the urge to shrink away from Ray. "Raymond, I've been put in the garden working, can you let me shower before you hug me?" His arms only tightened around as you felt his chest expand against your back as he pressed his nose into your sweat-damped neck. "Ray! I'm covered in sweat."
He checked, and the sound reverberated through your body like the first rumbles of a thunderstorm. "I don't mind, Dear, you smell wonderful." His face moved to the top of your head as he took another breath, admiring how your conditioner mixed with a hard day's work. It drifted into his mind like the reaching of a siren song, slowly bleeding away his other thoughts.
His lips found your neck, and he smirked against your skin as your head tilted to make room for him. A quick glance at the clock let him know you'd have enough time to enjoy each other before the fancy business dinner tonight, and he found himself slowly unlacing from the hug as he brought one hand to your breast.
He gained more access to your skin, and you rested your head back onto his shoulder and pushed yourself into his touch, but he was pulling his hand away a second later when he felt you stiffen as he tightened his grip around your soft flesh. "Sorry, Love."
"It's ok, I'm just a little sore." There was no explanation needed as to why, you knew he knew why, he always seemed to know.
His hand moved lower, rubbing the skin of your ribcage in long, soothing strokes as his lips moved from the dome of your shoulder up your neck. "Allow me to make it up to you?"
The offer was the definition of temptation, but there were things to be done and places to be. "Tonight, if all goes well at the dinner. I have to finish with the garden and then get ready for tonight."
The teeth against your skin were not in retaliation for your conditional refusal but a promise of things to come. "Then let me help you?"
"Of course." Your reason was wholly selfish, motivated by rolled up sleeves and rippling muscles at his instance of lifting heavy bags of soil. You finished your glass of water and went back outside, not missing how Ray's eyes followed your arms as you placed your sun hat back on your head. He smiled at you, it was earnest and filled with warmth. "What do you need me to do, Gorgeous?"
You couldn't help yourself, there was something in his desire to aid you in every need that sparked something in you. "Many things, My Darling, but right now, I need help with the tea roses."
He smiled and took two steps to close the distance between you before brushing his lips on your ear. "Your wish is my command."
****
The rest of the afternoon swam by in a haze for Ray. It was the kind of torture that the training he had received many lifetimes ago could not prepare him for, and with each passing moment, his thoughts grew more debauched until he was waxing poetic in his head like a madman.
As you finished your makeup, he could not get the image of you licking the strawberry juice from your lunchtime dessert off your lips out of his head. Breathing through his nose had become an affliction; top notes of your shower gel and the underneath of you were one thing, but there was the faintest hint of him there that made him want to sink his teeth in your bare skin so many times that the hotel's tofts would look away in shame the moment they saw you.
By the time you slid into the car, pressing your legs to his as Bunny drove you to the hotel, he was afire with need. He laced his hand with yours as the vehicle travelled down from the lush countryside to the bright lights of the city and leaned in close, his nose brushing your temple as he told you more about the guests at the party you were heading to.
There were already people milling around when you arrived, handing their bags off to the Bellhops so they could enjoy their complementary night in luxury. Ray was less willing to relinquish the bags and simply blinked as the hotelier became insistent. Nevertheless, the man still walked to your room on the sixth floor, smiling saccharinely as he told you to enjoy the complimentary champagne before the party started.
The opulence of the room and the expensive champagne sat ignored by you and Ray as he steeled himself for a night of making nice and glad-handing when he would rather be doing something far more enjoyable. He took your hands and drew you to the middle of the room, wrapping his arms around you as his nose returned to your hair for the millionth time that day. "You look beautiful as always."
You smiled and placed your hands on his chest. "And you keep sniffing me like some weirdo."
He took it in stride, chuckling softly as he yanked you to his chest. "I can't help it, you smell exquisite, it's driving me insane."
You sighed, enjoying the warmth of his arms around you. "I know what you're thinking, but we promised Mickey."
He mirrored your sigh as he broke the embrace and extended his hand. "I know. We should head down there now, the sooner we go down and mingle, the sooner we can leave."
His hand found your lower back as you took the lift to the grand hall and stayed there as you met up with Mickey and Rosalind and made introductions with the upper class lucky enough to receive invites. Of course, the reason for your invitations was the massive underground white widow super cheese farm under the hotel's private golf course.
It was painfully dull, standing around making small talk about the weather and wallpaper while eating tiny pies that only served to make you more hungry. Ray stayed stuck to your side, practically dragging you around with him while he did business for his boss.
"Your wife looks lovely tonight." Ray's arm tightened around you as you spun towards the voice.
"She looks lovely every night, Dave." If Dave had plans to say more, they were defeated by Ray's harsh glare as he pulled you away.
He moved to a quiet corner of the room and placed your hand on his ample bicep. "What's gotten into Ray? You've just about ripped the heads off anyone who's talked to me tonight. I get Dave, but the Simon's are nice."
He moved into your space, pressing you against the window as he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger while he leaned in close enough that your noses were brushing. To outsiders, it would have looked like a private moment between lovers, but Ray's eyes were fixed on with a look so lustful it would have made the whore of Babylon blush. "What's gotten into me? I have spent the last two hours watching these pigs look you up and down while acting like I don't want to rip their arms off for even daring to speak to you."
You blinked, he was in a mood tonight. "Well, Dear. How about you stick it out for another hour so we can eat dinner from this stupid menu then, I'm all yours for the night?"
He swallowed and exhaled before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "Of course Darling." His tone had shifted; it had taken on that gravelly tilt that created a flutter of excitement in your chest, and you eagerly headed back into the fray as Ray finally composed himself.
You pressed a kiss to his cheek as he leaned into your touch. "Thank you, Dear."
****
The dinner was the typical mess of rich people's food that had too many flavours and not enough on the plate, but Ray gave you all his cheese twirls and made sure to pick you the biggest slice of chocolate cake off the platter when dessert came around. All was going well until the tables were cast aside again for the wine course, and you were split from him as one of the tofts Mickey looked after pulled him away to talk about security.
His eye kept drifting over to you, and he grew ever more aggravated as he watched the sommelier try and fail to flirt with you. He dismissed the man he was talking to with the promise to call later, that he was tired and wanted to enjoy his hotel room and all but stormed over to you. "Are you enjoying the wine, Dear?"
You shook your head. "I've told the sommelier that I'm not interested in that variety, but he's being very insistent."
The man smiled and turned to Ray. "We have some of the best wine in the country here, your girlfriend…"
If looks could kill, Ray would have ended the man there and then. "My wife isn't interested, and I don't appreciate your tone or your attitude. I will be speaking to your employer in the morning to deal with this in full."
His hand was back on your lower back as he marched towards the lift, and between his puffed chest and his expression, no one dared to join you as the doors opened. The second the doors closed, he was on you, pressing you against the wall as his lips found yours. The grip he had on you was almost painful, his fingers digging firm into your skin as he held you in place for a searing kiss that stole the air from your lungs.
He finally allowed you to breathe when the doors opened on your floor, and he all but dragged you to your room as he shut the door and pressed up against it. His lips were on yours again, and his hands slid around your body until his fingers were curling around the fabric of your evening dress and ripping it open with the pop pop of fancy buttons.
He shoved the dress down, breaking from your lips for a moment to take in the lingerie you were wearing. "Fucking hell y/n." That went next, and his lips didn't give you the chance to admonish him about what he had paid for the now ruined fabric lying at your feet.
He once again broke from you and knelt on the floor, removing your shoes one by one before kissing his way up your legs, swapping legs with each kiss, getting closer and closer to your centre with each one until he slowed at the crease of the thigh. He was once again inhaling like he was suffocating, and you wove your hands into his hair as your frustration grew. "Can you do something instead of sniffing me?"
His teeth sunk into your skin in retaliation, and he was standing up to his full height with eyes full of threat. "Don't rush me." His hand cupped you, his fingers running your rapidly gathering wetness as he all but growled at you. "This cunt is mine, I get to take all the time I want, understand?"
You almost wanted to act out to see what it would make him do, but the poor man already looked pained enough. "Anything you want."
He locked you in another kiss, his teeth smarting at your lip as he made his wants known with a gentle pressure on your shoulders. "Get on your knees."
He kicked your ruined dress under you to soften the ground as you sunk down, and you pulled at his belt to free him. He helped you, shoving his trousers and boxers down in one go just far enough so his cock could spring out and you could grab his perfect ass unencumbered by fabric.
He looked down at you as you kitten licked around the head and felt another rush of this heated primal positiveness that he had been feeling the whole night. A hand found the back of your head as you took him into your mouth, and his free hand shot out to rest on a side table to steady himself as pleasure filled his senses.
He stopped himself from bucking his hips in order to focus on the vision of you sucking him like a lollipop. It was outright pornographic, and all he could think about was that you were all his and his alone. "Fucken 'ell, Love." You moaned around him, and he used every ounce of self-control to pull you off of him and to your feet. "Get on the bed."
His hands were all over you as you made your way to the bed, and he ran his hands up and down your sides while you spun around to face him so you could lay on your back on the plush mattress. You settled on the pillows as his lips met yours, and he finally began to remove his clothes.
Bare skin hit bare skin as his lips started a journey down your body until he was lifting your legs over his strong shoulders and onto his solid back. He kissed the bend of your knee, his lips soft as his beard brushed your skin. He locked eyes with you and smiled softly as he continued his journey upwards, finally arriving with barely there kisses that had you pushing your hips towards him. "Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours." A hot, wet heat enveloped you as he licked you from the entrance to clit in one firm, wide lick before sealing his lips around your clit. Ray had always been a man who prided himself on his attention to detail, and your bedroom was no different; it was like he had committed precisely what you needed to memory so well that he didn't even need to try, and tonight was no different.
He seemed more desperate tonight; accuracy swapped for the burning desire to consume your whole, and it didn't help that he was moaning against your flesh like he could somehow feel what he was doing to you in his own body. The chorus of his name from your mouth only served to spur him on, and a forearm pressed your hips down so you couldn't move away from him as he used his free hand to slide two fingers inside you.
With his rough fingertips bullying your G-spot, you didn't stand a chance, and he was far too strong for you to twitch away for a reprieve as the waves of an earth-shattering orgasm took you like the undertow of a raging river. Your chest heaved as he pulled away, and he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before bringing his soaked fingers to your lips. You licked him clean only to have him kiss away the taste like you had slighted him by taking him up on his offer, and then he was slotting himself between your spread wide legs and grinding his cock against your sensitive skin. "Tell me me you're mine."
"I'm yours." You marvelled at his self-control, his face buried in your neck as he continued teasing you. "I'm yours, please Ray."
He took his cock in hand and notched it at your entrance. "Who do you belong to?"
"You." Your reply was desperate, your hands on his heated chest with fingers curled in a threat should he persist in his game, but he didn't, and seemly satisfied with your declaration, he slid inside you with one confident push. The fullness of it stole the air from your lungs, and you lifted your hips up to take him in faster as he bottomed out.
His hand found your hip, and his fingers dug in with force as he began to move, taking a steady pace that had the head of his cock brushing your G-spot with each pass. One of your hands wove into his hair while the other clutched at his back, and he pressed his lips to yours in a scalding kiss as he picked up speed. Mercifully, before he suffocated in the air stealing a kiss, his lips moved to your neck, and then his teeth were out, marking your skin like he was trying to prove a point about his ownership over you.
He pulled away for a moment and took in your blissed out face, faltering as the vision brought him teetering to the edge of oblivion far sooner than his ego would allow, so in a mix of the desire to uphold his pride and the need for more skin to mar he pulled out of your for a fleeting moment only to flip you over then slam back home as his teeth found more skin. He was overwhelming at this angle, and your fingers curled around the pillow as he slid a hand between you to rub your clit.
Ray would often tell you that you were good for his ego, that he could walk into a room where all the men would turn their heads to look, and he could smile knowing you were his alone. But this was something different, you writhing under him, stuck between frantic begging and breathless need made him feel like a God with you as his ever willing offering.
He captured you in another kiss as the edge neared, and you shuddered as, with one more precise circle to your clit, you fell over it. His hips didn't slow, and he growled into your mouth like a hungry animal as he chased his own high. "You're mine, I own you, understand?" All you could do was nod as your vision began to grey at the edges, but he must have accepted your answer because he all but roared as he came inside you.
His strength failed as it hit him full force, and the possessive beast inside him was finally satiated, knowing he had marked inside and out. He was mindful not to crush you, but he couldn't find it in himself to move away just yet, he couldn't let his hard work slip from you just yet. His lips were once again gentle as they kissed the marks his teeth had made, and you sighed as he brushed the stray hairs from your face.
His nose found its family home on the back of your neck, and his chest expanded against your back as he inhaled. "You must be intent on trying to kill me, My Dear."
You didn't have a clue what he was talking about, and rather than ask, you kissed him in hopes he would tell you anyway, but he didn't, and the weariness in your bones forced you to speak. "What do you mean?"
He finally rolled off you, and you laid on your sides facing each other as his hand ran up and down your side. "I can't understand how someone can smell so intoxicating, it truly is torture."
You reached up to lay a hand on his cheek, and he tilted his head to press his lips to your palm. "You get like this every month, I thought you'd be used to it by now."
He shook his head, sleepy. "Never, how can someone get used to being on fire."
"I suppose that's fair." There was more you wanted to say, but it was getting hard to keep your eyes open, and he could tell. Despite his own feelings, he was getting up to clean himself up before returning with his arms loaded. He brought you a glass of water and used one of your damp face cloths to cleanse away your makeup before using another damp cloth to remove the mess from between your legs, although he did pause to watch the evidence of your shared sin drip from your body and onto the expensive sheets as another wave of possessive filled him.
With his duty done, he disposed of the unclean fabric in a pile and climbed into bed next to you, wrapping you in his arms as he pulled you to his chest. "I love you y/n."
You relaxed into his arms and dropped a kiss on his chest where his heart lay. "I love you too, Ray."
In the morning, he would awaken you with ginger tea, a heating pad, and ibuprofen before climbing back into bed with you and soothing away your aches and pains until check out finally came. Room service would find no evidence of the mess Ray had left in the aftermath of your coupling, just a pile of towels already in the dirt laundry bin when they collected the cart at the start of their shift. He did, however, get a dirty look and a snide comment from the hotelier about what kind of establishment he was running. As you checked out, Ray took it in stride.
Fin
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author-morgan · 3 months
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Title: Daylight Rating: M Pairing: Arthur x fem!Reader Summary: Arthur always knew you and he would make a fine match. ...hiding all of our sins from the daylight... I've now collected all(?) your husbands for my infinity gauntlets. a late merry christmas and an early valentines for you boo. @mrsragnarlodbrok.
“SORRY,” ARTHUR MUTTERS, “hands are rough.” He noticed how you pulled away from his calloused touch as he pressed the stained damp cloth against the bloody wound on the back of your shoulder—remnants of an arrow after Bedivere and the Mage helped him dig out the bodkin point. It’d likely been meant for him in the heat of the battle and he cursed himself seeing you fall nigh feet from him, pulled away to shelter by his kingsguard. Even with the power of Excalibur, he’d been unable to protect you—an age-old promise broken.
You lift your gaze from the charred stone floor, looking at your reflections in a fogged-over mirror on the opposite side of the room. Focus has his brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. “You always say that,” you tell him, words slurred from the pain, exhaustion, and strongwine, and voice rougher than normal. This isn’t the first time Arthur Pendragon has tended your hurts and woes, and at this rate you doubt it’ll be the last.
Dried blood and sweat washed away, Arthur picks up the piece of tree bark with a salve prepared by the Mage to stave off the pain for a while and keep the wound from festering. Then, Arthur binds the wound with fresh linen and wipes his hands, kneeling in front of you—hands resting on your hips. You lay your hand on his cheek, thumb sweeping across his cheek, marred with dirt and soot. Leaning toward him, he meets you halfway, and you set your lips on his—a soft, fleeting kiss like the touch of butterfly wings.
“Thank you, Arthur,” you tell him, fingertips mindlessly combing through the scruff on his jaw. He straightens to full height but does so with a grimace. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” You ask again.
“Just bruises,” he assures you, and this time, it seems like he’s being truthful, besides the few scratches on his hands and the slim, already scabbed-over, cut on his forehead. 
Arthur sits next to you on the edge of the bed, looking toward the open balcony. You both can hear the joyous shouts and chants. Bedivere and the others will only be able to satiate the men for so long. They will want to hear from the one who led them to victory. From the Born King. “They’ll be waiting for you to give a speech,” you tell him. 
“They’re waiting to go headfirst into the barrels of grog,” he amends, but if the out-of-tune songs are anything to go off of...  
“Sounds like they already have,” you laugh. Tonight, there will be revelries for the victory against Vortigern and his forces. In the following days, there’ll be feasts to honor the fallen and growing lists of preparations for a coronation. But right now, Arthur Pendragon doesn’t want to be a king just yet. Right now, he’s content just to be Arthur the street rat, especially when you lean your head against his shoulder and link your fingers through his—and then he’s certain there’s no one else in all of England for him except you.
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“HIDING FROM ME? Or everyone else?” Your head quickly swivels to the side, only to relax at the sight of Arthur approaching. You cannot help but wonder how he isn’t cold. He's not dressed anywhere near as layered or warm as he should be for the winter evening, but somehow, he manages to look cozy even in just a scarlet linen-and-wool doublet. Stepping back, your eyes flit up to the scarlet-tinged leaves, still clinging to the branches of the white-bark birch, before looking beyond to the fresh falling snow. 
He stops at your side and looks up, too. “Was just thinking about what a bad influence you’ve been on my person,” you tell him, a small half-smirk creeping onto your features. Arthur tilts his head back in amused question, then stares up at the leaves and the silver sliver of the moon peeking through the winter clouds. “As I recall, I was an innocent girl before you came along and ruined all that.”
His blue eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest. “You’ll have to refresh my memory on how I did that, darlin’.” He moves a little closer, and you sense his ploy, twisting and ducking when he moves to grab you. 
You face him with brows raised, smiling. “Such a brute,” you taunt, “grabbing at innocent girls in the castle courtyards at night. Is that any way for the King of England to behave?” 
Arthur only rolls his eyes, trying to smother another smirk, and this time, he catches your arm as you move around him. It takes little strength to move you how he wants—pressing you into the trunk of the great tree at the heart of the courtyard. His hands press against the smooth bark beside your head as he leans in enough to look down at you. The glint in his eyes is mirthful, but there’s something else shining in his gaze too—you’ve seen that look a dozen times now, and you’re almost afeared to think about what it can mean. “Maybe you have a point,” he drawls, wearing that crooked, boyish grin that makes your heart flutter.
Your laugh almost catches him off guard. His hand slips down to run gently along your waist, the other toys with the hair at the side of your head. You lean back into the tree more, relaxing as your hands find his waist to rest on. “My father sends his kind, innocent daughter to study in Londinium, and what does this strong, noble boy do?” Arthur raises his brow. “He shoves her against a wall in an alleyway because he has no reasonable way of expressing his feelings with words.” He was just a street rat orphan and you were the daughter of some fancy lord from far away—opposites in nigh every way but more alike than you ever could have imagined. “I was never the same after that.”
His head dips down into the crook of your neck, nose training across your throat and inhaling the scent of roses and lavender. “No,” he smiles, voice low—more of a muttering husk—lips twitching as he pulls back, glancing to your lips and up, “but you’re more fun now.” Your expression falls flat, and Arthur laughs. It’s nigh impossible not to grin or melt at the sound and how little it seems you’ve heard it of late—and by Merlin’s beard, he’s impossibly handsome with laugh lines crinkling the edges of his eyes and a lopsided smile. Leaning further into him, his breath dances across your cheek, the back of his fingers brushing along your neck. 
You exhale shakily, and Arthur teases you again with light presses of his lips along your jaw and neck—hands smoothing up and down your waist as he does. For a moment, your hands find their way to his chest before you remember how open the courtyard is and that anyone can happen upon the two of you like this. Glancing around, you breathe his name in a flustered whisper, hand pressing against his chest—the last thing a new king needs is rumors to turn into scandal. 
Arthur takes a step back, giving you both room, but then there’s a new glint in his eyes. The playful mirth disappears from his cornflower eyes, replaced by something more serious—kingly, even. It’s something he’s been thinking about for years. Maybe even since the two of you first met by happenstance in the streets of Londinium and struck up an odd friendship. But over the years, Arthur thinks he cannot just call you a friend, not anymore. What he feels runs deeper than that, and given his newfound title and responsibilities...“I’ve been thinking,” he starts.
“And does it pay well?” You quip in a poor attempt to lighten the now solemn mood.
He rolls his eyes, exasperated, unable to hide how his lips quirk upwards. “Would you let me finish?” And so you do, unsure what he must say or ask that warrants such a dramatic change in his usual demeanor. Arthur reaches for your hand, the rough pads of his fingers curling around and into your palm. He stoops forward, lips brushing against your knuckles—reverent. “I’d like you to stay,” he breathes, straightening back to full height. Your brows furrow. “Here,” he adds, “with me.”
You know what he is asking of you—marriage—and it should be an easy answer. Yes, of course. You’ve loved Arthur since before you knew what the word truly meant. But given the events of the last few months and the precipitousness of his proposal, you’re left speechless, heart beating in your throat until all you can do is run to the haven of your chambers with tears pricking your eyes.
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A LOUD KNOCK on the great wooden door echoes in your bedchambers. You rouse from sleep, righting the oversized tunic hanging off one shoulder in an attempt to appear decent at the late hour. Part of you already knows who will be waiting on the other side, but when you crack open the door, it still surprises you to find him standing before you—wearing only a loose, nigh threadbare tunic and pair of dark britches. “Arthur,” you greet, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before motioning for him to come in.
There’s still an uneasy air between you after the earlier events and conversation in the courtyard—his proposal. “I shouldn’t’ve….” he starts as you do. “I should not...” You both fall silent, eyes searching the other’s face for an indication of who will be the first to speak, the first to act, but there’s only silence. 
“Yes,” you quickly tell him—the shock of his initial proposal has faded, and now you’ve never been more certain about something in your life. You still can’t say what it is that caused you to react in such a way—Arthur’s the only man you’ve ever loved, the only person you could have ever thought of having a life with, even before all this Born King shite. The answer is ‘yes.’ It had always been. 
“Yes?” He repeats with furrowed brows, not sure he’s heard you correctly.  “I’ll stay” —you reach to comb your fingers through his close-shorn beard, and he leans into the touch— “with you.” Forever.
He smiles, and it’s as though a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Arthur cradles your face in his hands, thumbs running over your cheekbones. You smile for him, and he leans toward you, closing the distance. His lips are on yours in an instant.
You answer his kiss, slowly at first, then with more fervor when you settle your hands on either side of his neck, drawing yourself closer. Parting, you press your forehead against his and meet his heated stare. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?” Arthur asks, breathless.
Then he’s kissing you again and again—hands straying to your waist and backside, pulling you closer, tighter. And it fans the embers burning low in your belly to flames. Arthur breaks the kiss with an anguished groan—fighting a losing war with himself. He brushes back the hair falling in front of your face, the rough pad of his thumb running over your lips. “Tell me to stop,” he mutters—it’s almost a plea. And then he’s adrift in your soft and dark gaze, knowing if you do nothing to stop this, he’ll be acting on countless years of love and pent-up desire.
“No,” you breathe, catching his wrist and sliding his hand up from your neck—peppering his fingertips with gentle kisses. He watches you, lips parted and heart aching. Closing your eyes, you draw in a slow breath, and with a final kiss to his palm, you guide his hand to rest on one of your clothed breasts.
“Arthur.” You speak his name as though it is a quiet prayer. “I want you.” He pulls on the string at the neck of your nightshirt, loosening it until the gauzy material falls off your shoulders—puddling around your ankles, 
Though bare, you still hold his clear blue gaze. He goes silent as he draws in a sharp breath—eyes dart over the length of your body. His eyes darken, though, a mix of lust and adoration. “Think this is the longest you’ve been qui–” He cuts you off with a kiss, and one of his hands rises to cradle your cheek—the side of your neck again—and his lips coax yours open.
You sigh into his mouth, hands instinctively dipping under the hem of his roughspun tunic, fingertips trailing over the taut muscles of his abdomen and the scar on his ribs. Arthur breaks the kiss, quickly shrugging off his shirt, and lets the undyed piece of wool fall to the floor.  
Then, suddenly, he lifts you off your feet effortlessly. You hastily grip his shoulders for balance until he lays you on the bed—standing back to take off his trousers, and you watch him with a weird mixture of hunger and wistfulness as he strips. Arthur kicks aside his discarded clothes, then crawls onto the bed, making room for himself between your thighs—his clear and cold gaze burning with the warmth of the Sun and never once straying from yours.
You gaze tensely at his face as he studies you. His expression is greedy and appreciative, and the firelight glowing in his eyes just makes him look all the more ardent, and the longer he stares at you without doing anything, the more restless you are for him to act. You want his touch, his cock, his lips on yours, and all he’s giving you is this appreciative greedy stare, and it’s not enough.
Arthur kisses you again, and then he leans away from your lips and kisses the angle of your jaw. His mouth travels to the side of your neck, and your pulse flutters in your throat. His lips are surprisingly soft, and as his mouth trails from your neck to your collarbone, the delicacy of his kisses makes you feel lightheaded —a mix of pleasure and disbelief. 
He nuzzles your collarbone, then places a kiss just above the swell of your breast, and you arch helplessly toward his mouth. The heat of his breath wafting over your breast, making your nipples go taut with anticipation, and when the scruff of Arthur’s beard brushes over your nipple, you jolt and make a helpless little mewling sound. You twine your fingers into his golden hair, trying to hold him in place against you. But Arthur shoots you a quick smile, then shuffles lower on the bed still and kisses your breast —and you twist your hips, hands slipping from his hair to his shoulders.  
A sob leaves your throat—not a crying kind of sob, but an instinctive noise tore from your throat without your permission. He lifts his mouth from your breast and smiles at you, and you stare stupidly at his handsome face—the spark in his clear eyes and the boyish smirk twisting his lips.
Arthur palms your breast and squeezes gently. He shuffles lower still on the bed and places a sweet, open-mouthed kiss on your navel, and your sense of surreal disbelief ratchets to a nearly unbearable degree. His mouth drifts lower now, the scruff of his beard tickling your belly as he presses his lips to the skin below your navel and eases your thighs further apart.
Arthur places a kiss between your legs, and your mind goes blank with pleasure. 
“You alright, darlin’?” He smirks. You stare at him, too stunned by pleasure to find a clever response. Instead, riled by the teasing sparkle in his face, you spread your knees wide. His gaze drops between your legs, and his expression darkens with interest as he places his hands on your knees—stroking up to your thighs. He places another firm, wet kiss between your legs, and a helpless moan leaves your lips, and he hums with approval, a smug, half-growly little hum.  
You gasp in a breath, realizing you haven’t been breathing at all. Arthur lifts his head to look you in the eye. “Relax, love,” he croons, smoothing his palm over your belly as he laps at your cunt with slow hot sweeping strokes of his tongue. It’s not long before a finger presses into you, working you slowly open.
Your hips jerk softly along with his movements, and there’s unspoken interest in his gaze as he stares down at you, relentless in his efforts to see you come undone. His tongue and lips are at your clit, fingers stroking and curling deep within you. You jolt, and then he moves slower, dragging over the sensitive spots he’s discovered inside you and leaving your nerves tingling with every touch.
Pleasure washes over you in waves, making your calves twitch, your fingertips feel numb, and that high-pitched mewling noise leaves your throat. Overwhelmed—enraptured—you buck your hips toward his face and clench your fingers convulsively in his hair, and he keeps licking and kissing you until you can’t take it anymore. You pull on his hair to stop him, and he finally pulls away, lips glistening in the moonlight and fading glow of the firelight. “Enough,” you groan. “Need you.” It’s nigh a broken plea.
You shudder as he moves, situating himself between your thighs, calloused fingers dipping into your cunt to gather your slick and spread on his hard cock as he strokes himself. “Arthur, please,” you whimper, impatient, and he won’t keep you waiting.
He slides his cock through your folds before his angle changes just slightly, and on the next pass, your breath stutters as his cockhead presses just inside you—barely splitting you open. Arthur’s hand grabs your hip and angles you up just a bit so he can slide deeper inside you, and you cling onto his biceps—feeling his scars press into your palms and admiring the way his muscles flex under your touch. 
Arthur hisses through his teeth when he fully seats himself inside your warmth, then releases his breath slowly and smiles at you. “You’re lovely,” he murmurs, twining his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hands into the mattress. From the moment Arthur first saw you in the Londinium streets, he knew your fates were intertwined—just as your bodies and hands were now. He trembles at this personal heaven, then draws his hips back, starting to move.
You laugh breathlessly, mindlessly. “Charmer,” you pant, hooking your legs around his waist. You roll into his thrusts, pulling him deeper. His ragged breaths and grunts mingle with your sighs of pleasure—panting scarcely keeping up with your racing heart. 
He huffs in amusement. “Can’t say that’s something I get called often,” Arthur says as he pumps his hips slowly, teasing you and pleasing you almost more than you can bear. Then he lowers his lips to yours in a kiss—there’s something sweet on his tongue, like honey wine. 
His whole body begins moving, surging, and writhing against yours. One of his hands releases yours and caresses your cheek before he slides it down your body. Without thought, your body arches into his hand as it moves, ripening under his touch—thoughts clouded by lust and love. His fingers find your clit at the same time his mouth latches to your neck.
Another guttural cry bursts from your lips. He’s pounding into you now, and he’s still holding your hand while his other grips your hip. Your breathing is loud, and so is his, and his hand is tightening on your fingers. He drags in a breath, then expels it in a strained groan.
He shudders, then pounds into you hard, twice, thrice, and then he pauses with his cock deep inside of you. His jaw clenches, and his grip on your hip is so tight that it’s almost painful, but you like it—just as much as you like the guttural sound he makes as he shudders in completion. A few long seconds later, he gasps in a breath, then sighs and releases your hand. “Fuck,” he groans, holding his weight above you on shaking arms. 
You beckon him to lie atop you, his golden head pillowed on your breasts as his breathing steadies, sighing when you kiss his hair and whisper a quiet, I love you, for him to relish. He stays sheathed inside your warmth, unwilling to part just yet. “I love you,” he murmurs in turn, never tiring of how you smile when he says the words. Sighing, he rolls to the side, and you whine at the loss of him and the empty feeling between your thighs.
He lays on his side, and you pillow your head on his outstretched arm, nuzzling close against his chest and threading one of your legs through his. Arthur presses his cheek to the crown of your head and strokes your hair as the first dregs of daylight break over the horizon, shining upon England, Camelot, and his future wife and queen.
[Forever taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @hereforreadandwrite / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @rigshak ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my forever taglist, or any other character/fandom taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!
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illusivelle · 8 months
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shake the frost / 1
pairing: william 'ironhead' miller x female reader rating: t (for now) length: 2,140 words content: established relationship with the triple frontier boys, drinking, light pining summary: you've always held a small spark for will and tonight is the first time you realize he might be looking at you in the same light, with a promise of something more. a/n: been a long time since i put something out there so please be gentle, but figured why not, especially if the idea's been rotting in my brain. not edited or proofread, will likely be one part of a series (that will gradually become nsfw surely). mostly just taking it as i go, but hoping you enjoy! thanks for reading. link to ao3 here!
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You’ve known Frankie for most of your life, a constant presence akin to a brother. You’ve witnessed him transform from a once fun-loving guy into a steely, quiet one. Still outgoing, still willing to go to bat for his friends – just different. Different in ways you couldn’t begin to understand when you were younger and couldn’t bear to think about it now that you knew. Not that you would ever know it all, but it was easy enough to grasp the change war brings around, especially to someone you long considered family.
But it was nights like tonight that made everything feel normal, you and Frankie playing rounds of pool and betting on rounds of drinks. You finally had a string of days off from work and as soon as you got the text from Frankie to join him and his buddies at the bar, it was hard to find an excuse to say no. Not when he’d been hiding out for a while, not after everything that happened with one of his closest friends. You wished you could’ve been there for him but Frankie didn’t let you, but he was inviting you out now and you’d be foolish to miss the chance again.
“Pay up, pilot.” You settle a hand on your hip, a waiting palm out in his direction. Frankie had that shit-eating grin while he shook his head at you, his hand sliding into his pocket when the bell chimed above the door and a loud laugh echoed through the dim space.
“Oh-ho-ho!” Your head jerks to find Frankie’s friend stride in, first the tall one you remember as Benny. He’d been the fighter you stitched up some time ago when Frankie called you over for help. Trailing closely behind him is a blonde, that one with striking blue eyes you couldn’t seem to look away from when you first met, while you were tending to his brother’s wounds. Will, he’d introduced himself then. A name you found hard to wipe from your mind, a face you found hard to look away from as his gaze connects with yours. You suck in a deep breath like that might help ground you but what actually does is the way Benny’s frame cuts into your line of sight, suddenly feet in front of you. “If it isn’t Doctor Shortcake.”
You cast your eyes up at him with a shake of your head, one because you weren’t a doctor, and two because “just my name is fine. You do know it, don’t you, Benny?” You’ve never been fond of pet names or nicknames and you weren’t about to be now, not even with the low drawl of Benny’s voice. He doesn’t say anything, just walks to the bar with his hands shoved into his pocket whistling a tune. It’s then you register Santiago is here, too, as he’s pulling you into a side hug and calling you mija. A term of endearment you’d let slide if only because you saw Santiago as more of a parental figure than you ever did Frankie.
But the one you’re really waiting to talk to is leaning against the edge of the pool table, his arms crossed against his chest as he talks with Frankie. His voice draws you in, your eyes landing on his mouth before they drift up to those powder blues. Ones that were looking right at you, heat crawling up your cheeks. “Hi.” You murmur and take a step toward him. Maybe it would be better to lean into it than to pretend he hadn’t just caught you staring at his lips.
“Hi.” The faintest smile hangs from his mouth while his gaze lingers on yours. “It’s been a while.”
A while was an understatement. You’d first met Will, and the rest of the guys, what felt like years ago. You were as much of a fixture in Frankie’s life as they were in his, but it was always either you and Frankie, or you tagging along with Frankie and the guys. You never had a moment alone with any of them, and certainly never with Will no matter how often you might’ve thought about it. Instead, the two of you stole fleeting glances, exchanged small smiles, the occasional conversation here and there but never about anything too personal – and never for too long. Frankie didn’t say much about it, just a sordid reminder one of the first times he noticed you eyeing Will for too long that the captain kept almost everyone at arm’s length and to not get your hopes up.
But that didn’t mean you couldn’t… look, right? Besides, you’re far too shy to try to make any kind of move, especially on a guy like Will Miller. Quiet, stoic, hard to read. Everytime you were around him, even just the feel of his sea of blues on you made your skin prickle, the depths in those eyes something you could get lost in. Every wash of blue something you might see in the ocean. Something you could drown in.
“Beating Frankie at pool?” His words cut into your thoughts.
“Oh, I was–” you chuckle softly, chin tucking into your chest bashfully, “I was, yeah, but he doesn’t wanna pay up.”
“Let’s play. I’ll double it.”
What? You blink up in near surprise but your head tilts with slight intrigue. “You sure? I’m pretty good…”
This pulls a gentle laugh from him and you can’t help your smile. You’ll replay that sound tonight, you’re sure, until the next time you could hopefully draw it out of him again. “Yeah. Frankie’s gonna go broke, so I’ll bail him out this time.”
At this, Frankie snorts, claps Will’s shoulder and mentions that he’s off to the bar to grab some drinks. Benny is still there, Santiago chatting him up, and it leaves you and Will alone – for the first time. Sure, there’s the energy of the other patrons and the giant pool table in between you, but they all seem to blur the second he’s offering you one of the pool cues. It’s barely a graze of his fingertips but it’s enough of a touch to reel you in. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” There’s not a drip of a threat in your tone, light and teasing to accompany the warm flush sprawling over your face.
It was something you couldn’t hide, either, not even with your hair falling against your temple. You knew Will would see it, knew he was entirely too observant to miss a beat. Maybe he was already counting all the ways he made you blush, and why were you so curious to know how he felt about that? 
“Let’s see what you got.” He’s already set up the balls, gesturing for you to break.
For as shy as you were, there were always a couple of scenarios where you were braver than usual. One, at work. Helping others came naturally to you, something you studied long and hard for. It wasn’t that you were turning your brain off, but in a weird way, it felt like that – a sort of routine that came easy. The second was times like now. A little competition always lit a spark in you, confidence growing with each drop of a ball in a pocket or each round of poker you won. It helped that guys like Frankie were always so appalled and confused when you’d win, thinking they had the upper hand. And wasn’t it just so much more fun to surprise people that way?
You break clean, sinking a solid colour in a pocket, turning to Will with the corner of your lip tugging up into half a smirk. “That makes you stripes.” You say as you move around him, leaning forward on the table to line up your next shot, but Will is quick to shift his body to face you. It’s almost unnerving and your grip on the stick loosens a little, or maybe your palm’s just become damp from the nerves. Why were you nervous? It was just Will. A friend of Frankie’s. It was just pool. A game you’ve played too many times to count. Just another guy, just another game.
“You okay?” He chimes and for a second, you swore he wasn’t teasing. Swore that you could hear that underlying concern in his tone.
You flash your eyes up at him, a light crinkle at the corners. “Good. Thanks.” Then you turn your attention back to the game and sink another ball.
You’re good – but Will is, too. You should be frustrated every time a striped ball makes it in but you’re finding this thrilling, someone who could challenge you, innocent as your interactions were. Even when you were looking at each other from across the table, it felt like a small exchange. One final ball for the both of you, but it’s your turn, your chance to end the game. “You sure you said double?” You breathe out, glancing up at Will from where you’re folded over, pool cue aimed at the white ball. 
“I’m sure.” He’s propped up against the back of a bar stool now, beer in hand, the boys scattered about having their own conversations. Benny pipes in at the perfect time to taunt his brother and if Will even hears him, he doesn’t show it – his blue eyes strictly on you. Taunting you in silence, instead.
Another deep breath, one you let out slowly as the end of the stick hits the edge of the white ball, rolling and rolling until it knocks into a coloured one. But you don’t pay it any mind, not quite caring whether or not it went in because you’re daring a glance up at Will… and he’s still looking at you. A few beats pass before you hear a loud smack on a table, “she got you good, man!” Benny clutching onto his brother’s shoulders, shaking it almost violently.
You roll your lips in between your teeth to hide a coy smile, but it’s obvious the way a blush steals across your cheeks. Will manages to escape Benny’s hold, slow and steady strides until he’s finally standing in front of you, one hand wrapped around the cue he’s holding and the other digging into his pocket. “Why don’t we–” you nod to his hand, the one that’s about to procure your prize, “have a rematch sometime? Triple or nothing.”
“Oooooh boy, that confidence is unmatched.” Benny laughs.
You lift a shoulder in a faint shrug, “just a thought,” though really it’s more of an excuse for you to maybe see Will again without the company of the others. You told yourself before you wouldn’t make any moves, but this wasn’t one, right? It was hardly forward. Just about the game. When your gaze darts to Frankie, however, his expression tells you he knows exactly what you might be up to, even if you don’t know it yourself.
“Sometime?” Will asks. “Why not tonight?”
“Because I should probably get going.”
“Do you need a ride?”
The question stuns you for a moment before you’re shaking your head. “No, it’s okay. You stay, you guys just got here.”
“You sure?”
“I’m…” not sure that you don’t want to take his offer, but not sure that you’d be able to handle any more time alone with Will, “sure.”
Will’s mouth twists in something you can’t discern. He’s got so many different emotions that play out across his face, some you’ve noticed over the times you’ve seen each other, though many you see for the first time when they play out – and sometimes, never again. This was new. After a pause, he finally nods. “Okay. A rematch next time, then.”
You’re quick to say your goodbyes to the boys, and once you get to Will, you find yourself fidgeting with your knuckles. “See you next time, then.” You echo his earlier sentiment, brushing a tendril behind your ear before you spin on a heel to make it to the door. One foot in front of the other – it’s the only thing you can focus on, else you might find your mind fluttering to thoughts of the blonde haired blue eyed captain.
And you don’t know why you do it but you steal a look over your shoulder and find those exact blue eyes locking with yours, Will resting against the bar’s patio, taking a swig of his drink. It was as if you felt his gaze on you, or maybe he felt the way you were thinking of him. Either way, you throw him a timid smile before you’re disappearing around the corner. Thoughts of Will Miller the entire walk home, the entire time you undress and slide into bed, the entire time your eyes are closed.
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theesirenteller · 7 months
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Reaper's Crow.
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🅦🅐🅡🅝🅘🅝🅖 Kidnapping, Gore, Abuse, Violence, Profanity, OCC, glorification of serial killings, mentions of sexual violence, smut, mentions of PTSD, Sociopathisim, graphic violence, torture, blood, gore, deaths, dark undertones, angst, slow-burn romance
▌This fictional piece is AU with very little amounts of canon. I understand if this fic isn't your cup of tea. Please do not leave hate comments. The story is set some years after season seven. ▌
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"This is just in another series of bodies that have been reported to have been found butchered and dismembered. Two of the six bodies were confirmed to be Sergeant Robert Combs and Officer Micheal Llyod. Both were suspected to be in business with the Aryan Warriors. Police have put out a curfew for all Mottenhill residents to be inside their homes by seven p.m. We ask all residents to lock their doors and remain safe."
An ear-piercing scream echoed throughout the four-bedroom-two-story home. Drowning out the downstairs news report from the Tv. The sound of glass shattering followed by choked-up sobs and high-pitched squeals of agony bounced off the walls of the home. The commotion let death himself slip in through the backdoor like a dark shadow in the night. The rubber soles of his steel-toned leather boots pressed soundlessly across the wooden floor. The glimmer of his silver c-shaped daggers reflected across the floorboards as the six-foot-seven male crept up the staircase. 
"You stupid fucking bitch! I love you! Why do you have to make me so angry?!"
The reaper tightened his grip on the daggers within his hands as he edged closer to the master bedroom door. His target, the unfortunate son of a bitch stood with his back turned away from the door. Hovering over a blood-covered, badly beaten woman. Who looked more like a girl based on her size. She spat blood across the floor, and a few of her teeth followed. Tapping against the wood as they spilled. The man raised his foot up, no doubt getting ready to aim a kick towards the back of her head. Just as his foot started to lower…
The dagger shot right through his skull with a loud crunch. The leather whip attached to the handle of the blade tugged back. The man's neck yanked backwards as his large body fell onto the floor. The layers of rolls on his stomach jiggled due to the harsh thud. The blade roughly snapped open the bridge of his nose and dug upwards splitting the middle bridge of his eyes open wide. Blood splattering across the man's wrinkled face as his body jolted back and forth out of shock.The Reaper lowly whistled to himself as he walked further into the bedroom. His once bright eyes turned midnight blue as he looked down at his victim coldly. His breathing shallow as rolled the wire around his leather glover covered hand but ultimately yanking the blade from the man's head. Warm blood splattered across his shoes and pants. Something that felt as simple as rain falling on a gloomy day. Crouching down like a panther getting ready to indulge in its prey, he soon hovered over the dwindling body. First came snapping a photo on his mobile then he plunged the dagger violently into the man's jugular and rapidly yanked it across his throat. Viciously causing the mangled bones to disconnect from the spine and shoulders. With little regard to the blood painting his face crimson, The Reaper proceeded to take a plastic black bag from his pocket and toss the head inside. As he stood back up the sound of wheezing caught his attention. 
The woman weakly slithered herself as far away from him as she could. "P-ppp-ple" she attempted to beg as blood steeped from the sides of her mouth. Her sepia-brown skin is stained with crimson so much that he wasn't sure how many places she was bleeding from. She was tired of begging. Tired of pleading. And if this was her end, she wanted to plead for her life rather than plead for the pain to stop. It never did stop when she pleaded anyway. The reaper's left eye began to twitch as flashes of blood, stab wounds, and his cries of agony replayed in his mind. Tara. He dared not utter her name. His eyes closed for a moment. Wincing. WIncing away the painful memory. When he opened them again he looked around before making his way over to the bed. After snatching off the duvet cover he then B-lined towards her again. Now crouching down beside her he proceeded to turn her on her back. Which caused a sudden yelp of pain to escape her lips. Shoe parks embedded across her breasts and her collarbone stuck out of place. One of her eyes was closed shut and swollen with the size of a lemon. A large gash in the middle of her forehead.She had eyes the same color as the grease that used to coat his calloused hands. Eyes that held pain. A pain he was familiar with. A pain he wished to undone.
"Sorry" his voice was gruff. Husky with grief.
Snapping her collarbone back into place only caused a mouse-like squeak to leave her lips. She had no more fight left in her. Her eyes rolled back before they shut. Her breathing was shallow as he leaned in closer to her face. Not wasting a moment longer he draped the duvet across her body and cocooned her into it. Carefully picking her up, The Reaper cradled her in his arms. Swiftly turning on his heel, he retrieved the bagged head from the floor on his way out the room.
Disappearing like an Incubus in the night, The Reaper drove his GMC truck out of Las Vegas. He drove for miles until reaching his destination. Parking his truck out in front of the gated mansion, he grew comfortable in his seat and wrote on the plastic bag in red marker 'Stolbatch' before tossing it out the window. 
It wasn't long before he was back on the road. The road that once was his friend, his freedom, his sense of invincibility and thrill…until it wasn't. It'd become an escape route and pathway to the neck job. His attention turned to his mirror. He watched the battered woman lay unconsciously across his backseat. It's been a longtime since he acted on impulse. And now he debated on what he'd do with her. Where he'd leave her. 
'Christ Jackie…what'd ya gotten into now' an old friend's words played back in his head causing a grimace to flash across his lips.
Pushing those thoughts aside, the only thing now on his mind was to get the nameless woman taken care of and patched up.
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Chapter Two.
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charmingsoa · 27 days
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✶ Where the Wild Things Are: Prequel ✶ ■ 1960s Sons of Anarchy story ■
⌃ Jax Teller/ OC x Thomas Teller/OC ⌃
Warning: Please read with caution. This story will include: drug use, physical, verbal, and sexual abuse. miscarriages, sexual content, alcohol use, homicide, cursing, etc. ★ If You would like to be tagged in future updates, simply leave your username in the comments.
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When I look back on my life – I often wonder if I made the right choices when I was younger. I obviously got to my place in life because of what happened all those years ago in California. Hell, there were times when I didn’t even think I would make it out alive. Growing up, my parents were very strict – almost authoritarian. My father had fought for his country in WWII and my mother was your typical housewife. The picture-perfect look was what they strived for – putting my brothers and I in whatever activities they could. There were structured rules that were drilled into our heads from day one.
No elbows on the table Respect your parents and your elders Girls and woman are to bow down to menfolk and do what they’re told. Women are forbidden to wear pants or short skirts. Girls can attend secondary school but will not be allowed to attend college. Marriage, motherhood, and the act of obeying your husband is the most important role in a woman’s life.
I distinctly remember my father telling me that if I wanted to dress like a whore, I can plant myself on the side of the highway and start making a living for myself. I spent most of my childhood bowing down to everything my father said. He instilled that fear in me as a young girl – always being on the back end of his belt or switch if I was “bad” enough. I was the only daughter – I needed to be picture perfect and like a doll. My mother would stand idly by as he inflicted his abuse on me – only doing so because he loved and cared about me.
Total bullshit if you ask me.
I guess you can say with all the structure and ruling that fell at the hand of my father – you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that I rebelled. Starting at the early age of 13, I snuck out of the house to meet the boys from the wrong sides of the tracks. We would listen to the devil’s music as my father called it – getting high as kites.  My flower-patterned dress would be hiked up above my waist – my legs wrapped tightly around the guy’s hips – as they pounded into me. My mother always preached that a girl should stay pure until the night of their wedding -giving the gift of virginity to their awaiting husband.
 I lost that gift behind the First Methodist Church to a kid three grades ahead of me. It was meaningless and hurt like hell, but after that I couldn’t get enough.
By the time I hit 16, I had fucked half the senior class. I gained a reputation as the 10th grade slut – willing to do anything and anyone. Now, was this true – partially. I didn’t care if you were the ugliest guy in class – if you had a dick then I was ready and willing. I was never one to seek the guys out first. They would come to me and a couple minutes later they would be making me cum. There were rumors that I was a child prostitute – my parents were less than thrilled to hear that be brought up during a meeting with the principal.
At that point, I was pulled out of the school and sent to an all-girls catholic school about 45 minutes from home. My father made sure to drive me every day and would stay on the premises until school was over. Even if I wanted to ditch class and run away, Roy Landry was watching like a fucking hawk. I managed to mellow out a little once I graduated high school – I guess being locked up like Rapunzel will do that to people. I wasn’t allowed to go to prom – parties thrown by the other girls - I was isolated in my room. While my brothers were living their lives, I was stuck watching Walter Cronkite on the CBS Evening News with Brenda and Roy ever night.
I’m sure you’re trying to figure out where I’m going with all this information – I swear it’s important given the truth you’re about to hear.
A girl who hitchhiked all the way to California- fell in love with two brothers who despised each other – watching as they both fell into the pits of hell by creating the most dangerous motorcycle gang in Northern Cali – my story has to start somewhere, right?
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velocibeewords · 8 months
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heart set in stone series | chapter 6 | the proposal
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Pairing: King Arthur X F!Reader Summary: Arthur tries to remember the previous night. Rating: T. Eventually Explicit. All my blogs and works are 18+ regardless of rating. Minors do not interact. Warnings: Angst, descriptions of being drugged, amnesia, alcohol, in my Goosefat feels, the plot thickens Words: 2.2k A/N: i feel like this series has so much set up but it’s all good bc i am having fun
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Arthur leaves the herbalist in the clearing on the agreement they will meet there again in two days time. She promises to provide what she can from the list tucked into Arthur’s vest. He’d offered it to her- but she refused with a small frown. 
“I cannot bring more than a handful of those items without visiting the city,” she said, leaning heavily to one side and Arthur could have smacked himself for forgetting her injured foot. His head feels full of wool since he woke. The cold dip in the stream barely cleared it for a few breaths. The only reprieve seems to be when it's cleaved by a wicked pain from the sun shining daggers into his eyes.
“Whatever you can, will be deeply appreciated,” Arthur says, quickly adding, “I-the King- will provide payment for it. To compensate you for your time and of course- efforts,” he says, gaze falling to where she stands and he has to restrain himself from offering to assist her to where she resides. Her wariness of him only assuaged earlier by the list in his hands. She’d leaned over his shoulder to read it then and now despite the pain it caused her- the distance between them returns to a considerate degree. Arthur understands. They are still strangers. 
Returning to the castle, the small smile and curt wave she’d given him when he left remains in his mind's eye most of the journey. Small steps in this strange companionship that was forming between them. Smaller even than the ones she took as she hobbled over to her crop and Arthur had wanted to take giant strides to her when she wavered fiercely as she bent to collect the watering can.
But Arthur finds himself taking even larger strides as he nears the castle. The forest thinning as he approached, his mind seeming to clear as well. The thick fog that had settled in his head breaking, the pain behind his eyes dissipating. Arthur had no idea what had happened the previous night. All he knew was the splitting headache, the surprise list and the feel of river stone in his gut. A sinking sense. Like he hadn’t surfaced for air until his eyes opened this morning.
Something wasn’t right. 
This knowing creeps beneath his skin like the chill of an illness. An energy pushing against his form and its the same magic as when he wields the sword only less and yet somehow more. 
Infinitely more. Insidiously more. Arthur feels like he did before the Badlands. Before the Mage taught him how to control the magic of the sword. To control his fates. 
The magic in him is unmoored now. Again. Adrift in his being like when he’d floated up to the docks of Londinium the morning after his parent’s deaths. It’s unanchored. Something- or someone- Arthur can’t be sure which- has shaken it loose from his carefully built restraint.
Ever since Vortigern fell Arthur had felt like he stood on solid ground. That his foundations had finally been set to rights. Remembering his past, his family- his father. Stepping into his new role while awkward and incredibly intimidating- at least his power had settled. Soothed like a beast stroked into submission. A calmness in him like when Maggie pet his head after a nightmare. Her fingers carding through his hair- over scrapes and bumps earned from gambling in the streets with dice or guards or George…. All of it erased beneath her maternal energy as he was lulled to dreamless sleep.
That’s how Arthur slept last night. If he even slept during the dark or passed out closer to sunrise he wasn’t even sure. How he ended up in the clearing he couldn’t discern beyond the evidence of how he awoke. Arthur could recall nothing of the previous night or evening- except when he left Enthiel in the tower but not anything beyond. The green glass of its windows glimmers in the sunlight, like a giant eye staring down at him as he enters the rear gates. 
There’s a buzzing in his ears and it has nothing to do with how the castle is bustling with energy. A tension in the air and eyes of his servants as they hurry around him. Most avoid him as usual- some stumble to a surprised halt at the sight of him. A quick curtsey or royal acknowledgement before they’re off again. Whispers ricochet off his back and Arthur resists the urge to whirl into the wake of darting eyes and hushed tones that follow him and demand an explanation. These people don’t know him like his crew and girls did. They don’t know his visage from the ruler before him. His limited patience in the face of not knowing would be mistaken for his uncle’s wrath. 
Maggie knew how much it bothered Arthur when he didn’t know the latest gossip. When he was late to the greenest word germ being ground in the rumor mill. Jack’s Eye’s snide remark “For the first time I know something that you don’t” and how it slid under Arthur’s skin like a sliver lodged just shy of where his nail could dig it out. Deep enough to fester. Taking residence in Arthur’s smirk. Only a little offset in his annoyance that no one knew the difference except Back Lack and Wet Stick while he listened to the Sargent speak before all of this started. Before he invoked the legend in his blood.
Arthur catches a few words in the whisperings but not enough to make sense of it. Princess, war… none of it was new these last few weeks since the Havenport lot had made themselves guests of his kingdom. But something about the urgency of the servants as they worked- most carrying crates and travel boxes about- something about how their eyes carried concern and caution makes Arthur pick up his pace.
Arthur enters the round table room to the exclamation of his name by the Havenport’s official.
“King Arthur. At last he deigns us worthy of his presence!” Cecil exclaims, a mix of outrage and Arthur doesn’t fail to notice how he all but spits the title with as much disgust as the drunken councilman can manage over his wine slick lips. Goosefat is striding towards Arthur as soon as he spies his arrival. The older man’s face stricken with both relief and that ever present crease between his brow that presses the line of his lips into a near constant frown. 
“My liege, thank the Lord you are safe” Goosefat says, embracing Arthur in a solid hug, catching Arthur off guard with how hard Goosefat squeezes- pressing all the breath from his lungs. Any questions he has forced into gritted silence while Cecil’s chair scrapes across the floor. Before Arthur can resist Goosefat’s fierce embrace, Goosefat’s voice is low and urgent where it whispers in his ear.
“There’s something amiss, Arthur. First, your absence and then the announcement,” Goosefat pulls away at the final word, gaze sweeping over Arthur’s face with a ferociousness. Like he’s trying to discern if Arthur has derived any meaning from the word as though it held a spell and he wishes to see if Arthur’s form had ensnared it.
Arthur grits his jaw, lifts a brow to convey how utterly lost he is in this not-conversation, returning his friend's look with equal force until Goosefat’s jaw drops a fraction. A flicker of something Arthur would akin to horror if he didn’t know the man better. But Goosefat’s a highly educated man. Had served as hand to the King- Arthur’s father- for many years. He was too practiced in dealing with kingdom politics and the likes of men like Mercia to let his emotions overwhelm him. And yet when he finds the swirl of confusion in Arthur’s eyes- the stern facade of the older man slips for a fraction of a breath. It only serves to stir Arthur’s concern further. But then Goosefat collects himself within the next blink of an eye and nods once to Arthur before he turns on his foot, stepping to meet the tipsy sway of Cecil before he can approach Arthur any further.
“I’m afraid you’re not the only one reeking of ale and wine, Cecil,” Goosefat says, gathering up Cecil’s waving arms with a sure sweep of his own before he tottles him towards one of the sitting rooms that hug the great hall. Goosefat allows all of his usually well concealed snark into his tone, forcing Cecil to focus on the affront instead of Arthur’s condition. 
“Our King must rest. Have you tried our latest vintage of Gallian wine? It seems our King has indulged in it well last night,” Goosefat all but casts the remark over his shoulder to Arthur even though Cecil barely gazes in his direction. Occupied with Goosefat’s mother henning and suggestive corralling to give Arthur any more consideration.
Arthur adopts a sway to his gait nonetheless while he approaches the round table. Not that it’s difficult to recreate the falsehood of one too many drinks. He’d used this farce many times in his previous life. The head splitting ache behind his eyes lends itself well to the act he puts on while his gaze cuts away from Goosefat’s herding of the councilman into a daybed so plush that even Arthur’s strength prevents him from exiting it with grace and ease even. The councilman seems to all but drown in the fabric. Goosefat hums satisfactorily when the councilman barks for his goblet. Arthur examines the round table, the parchment freckled with wine where Cecil had sat previously.
In the background, Goosefat orders a page to keep Cecil’s goblet full before Arthur hears the lock of the door latch and Arthur wonders which unlucky scribe gets to inherit herding duties. Goosefat’s footsteps approach as Arthur lifts the parchment up. Goosefat slaps it to the intricately carved wood, meeting Arthur’s gaze with an anger he’s apparently reserved for only Arthur’s appreciation.
“Where have you been?” Goosefat interrogates, snatching the parchment up with the rest of the pile beneath it before he casts it onto a side table with as much grace as though he was tossing a waste bucket's contents out of a window. 
Arthur lifts a brow when Goosefat stalks across the space between the side table and the round one- eyes severe on Arthur’s form like he has a lecture to unleash no matter how Arthur answers.
“The woods,” Arthur says simply. So plainly that Goosefat pauses in his stride before his hands contort into fists and he pounds them on the parchments. The loud thunk echoes throughout the round table room while Goosefat remains hunched over it like he wishes the sound had stopped his heart. Like every resounding thunkthunkthunk the giant room reflects would collapse beneath it.
Goosefat laughs dryly when he rises to his full height after a few breaths and if Arthur was concerned before- he’s now well worried. Goosefat has only been this out of sorts once before in Arthur’s experience. 
The day he pierced Mercia with an arrow.
“The woods,” Goosefat repeats on a husk of a chuckle, like Arthur had told him he’d stepped out of a fairytale instead. The shake of Goosefat’s head's near constant as he stares at the parchment as though it details both their deaths. Gory dealings. No glory to be had if Arthur were to take Goosefat’s fallen features at their face value.
“You truly haven’t, have you?” Goosefat asks finally, an almost fearful gaze meeting Arthur’s crestfallen one. 
“Haven’’t what?” Arthur retorts and Goosefat laughs but there’s no humor in his eyes when they take in all of Arthur’s earnesty before they fall to the ground before he sighs.
“Well, it matters not whether you have or haven’t. As the entire kingdom knows it now- you have,” Goosefat all but growls the words out- frustration giving way from his reluctance to believe what he says and it jumps over Arthur’s nerves.
“Have what?” Arthur exclaims, wondering where all of Goosefat’s usual directness had disappeared to while Goosefat stares at him. Hesitation in his features- like he’s holding a breath and had been for an eternity. Like he’d rather the knowledge he keeps- that burns in his gut and mind- would consume him instead. Would heat the air he breathes with flame until it choked him of words. So that his friend’s heir would never know the weight of them and the hellfire that approached them and their kingdom.
With a reluctance on his tongue- heavy so that it reminds him of his first months of council to the King Uhtred- when he’d been a green lad not yet assured enough in how much his King would give merit to his words- Goosefat speaks to the man who’d been but a babe in his arms once. 
A child with a regal life ahead of him. A different path if Vortigern had been half as honorable as the man that stood before him. Arthur could have led a much different life if it weren’t for the trifling of those that shared his blood. One with love of his family surrounding him. His father and his mother and cousins. Goosefat grits his teeth over the words because there would have always been risk. 
Undoubtedly- eventually- there would have been pain. Either way Arthur may have faced this day- and yet all he had was Goosefat to keep him safe. While Arthur wasn’t alone- Goosefat couldn’t help but wonder if it would be enough as the words left him.
“You’re engaged to be wed.”
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Thank you for reading!! Please engage if you enjoyed- likes, comments and reblogs mean ✨ e v e r y t h i n g ! ✨Thank you friend! ^_^ 💖💖💖
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Command - A Jax Teller/Reader Smut Drabble.
A swifter than swift bit of Jax filth for my lovelies!
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Words - 267
Warnings - Smut below the cut! Under 18? This ain’t for you!
Some command, some submit.  
Rarely do those who give the commands submit to the power of another.
“Take off your clothes, now.”
A dutiful strip is undertaken.
“God, don’t you look pretty naked? Yeah, you do. Fuck, you’re so sexy.”
“I know.”
“Oh, and cocky, as well.”
“You know it.”
“Come here.”
Ahh, loitering. There’ll be none of that. “I said come here.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll fucking spank the living hell out of you.”
“What if I want you to?”  
An approach is eventually begun, an amused look given.  
“Oh, you’ll take this seriously.”
“Alright, taking it seriously.”
“Down, on your knees, right now.”
A crouch is undertaken, two knees bending, the floorboard creaking beneath. “And now I’m down here? Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”
“Wrap your mouth around me.”
Two perfect lips part, a tongue slowly rolling out, taking a firm lick, those lips then sucking, a hungry groan reverberating, two hands sliding over warm, yielding flesh.  
“Yeah, just like that. Fuck, you’re so good.” Pleasure is stirred, a dark, sexual mist of pure lust rising, tingles melting down two spines, one mouth agape and singing a song of ecstasy as another sucks and licks with carnivorus hunger. “Oh, god, that’s perfect.”
Some command, some submit.  
Rarely do those who give the commands submit to the power of another.
Except when you’ve ordered Jax Teller to drop to his knees and delight you with his mouth, then the man who is in control and command of so much has absolutely no issue with another taking control of him for once.  
A/N - Did you enjoy it? Rewarding your hard working author with a comment and reblog goes a long way :)
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I am spending way too much time looking for the best screens of his rings in stead of actually writing the god damn fic 💀
But he be pretty though 🥹
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dailydragon08 · 1 year
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A World Without Monsters Ch 2
Read chapter 1 here!
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Pairing: Raleigh x Reader
Summary:  During a post-kaiju war press tour, you and your copilot Raleigh finally  grapple with the growing feelings you have for each other while also  wrestling the world of reporters, politicians, and more who would  manipulate the world's saviors for their own purposes.
Warnings: friends to lovers slow burn, mentions of depression and anxiety, PTSD, and trauma throughout multiple chapters.
A/N:  Raleigh x Reader series about coming to terms with feelings during a  post-movie events press tour, along with a series of flashbacks showing  how you two met and become close while piloting Gipsy Danger. Sorry it took me so long to post this! Been dealing with some pretty serious health issues but am getting better! Hope you enjoy!
Read here on AO3.
*
December 2025
“A press tour?” you and Raleigh repeated at the same time—rather unenthusiastically.
“Well, don’t sound so excited,” Herc replied. Although the grim look on his face and crossed arms told you he was just about as thrilled as you were. The three of you sat in Pentecost’s old office, the thin strip of window that ran from floor to ceiling revealing the cold winter skies behind your new commanding officer. You still had trouble believing it was a kaiju-free world out there—a world without monsters at last. It was what everyone had wanted, worked towards for years…but, now that it was here, it was like everyone didn’t know what to do.
It had been two months since you’d closed the Breach and in that time, many of those at the Shatterdome had either returned to their families or moved on. About a quarter of the base still remained, you and Raleigh included.
“Do we really have to?” you asked. “I mean, how long is this press tour?”
“Six months,” Herc answered. “And the order came from the White House, so it would be foolish to refuse. They’ve decided to make the first stop Hong Kong to help ease you into it.”
“Okay…but what exactly does a press tour entail?” You looked to your copilot beside you, knowing from his memories that he and Yancy had done some press before he’d died, but nothing like what Herc was describing.
Herc shrugged. “Just…be interviewed, really. Go on talk shows, go to events, talk to different government officials, shake hands, get congratulations, talk to the little people. But since you two are the last two jaeger pilots left…people will probably be a bit crazier than they would’ve been years ago.”
Raleigh sighed and slumped back in his chair, running a hand down his face. You reached over and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. He covered his hand with yours and squeezed back, meeting your eyes. You almost winced at the dark circles that had seemed to take up permanent residence on his face, but yours probably weren’t much better. He gave you a small smile. “Well, at least we’ll be doing it together.”
You smiled back at him, turning back to Herc as he added, “And the official governments of whatever country we’re in will be paying for your accommodations. So you’ll have some of the nicest hotel rooms they can offer, plus no water restrictions.”
“Soooo,” you paused, your hand still in Raleigh’s, “we can take long, hot showers?”
Herc chuckled. “As long as hot as you want. You’ll be pretty pampered from what I’ve heard. You two have earned it.”
“Will you or anyone else be coming with us?”
“I’m coming for support, but they’re more interested in you since you’re young and were part of the mission to close the Breach.” His eyes fell to your shoes, and you could tell he was thinking of Chuck. As much of an ass as he was, he was still part of the team and you couldn’t deny you missed him.
“We’ll be getting a schedule and new orders soon,” Herc continued. “I’ll let you know as soon as we get more information. We’ll be heading out in two weeks.”
“Will we stay in the Shatterdome for the Hong Kong part of the tour?” Raleigh asked, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. It was almost second nature for you both at this point to comfort each other however you could, mainly through touch. Not that you were complaining.
“No, they’ve got a hotel set up for you in the middle of the city. And…they want everyone to clear out of the Shatterdome soon.”
“What?” you asked, brows furrowing. “But they could revamp the jaeger program, maintain it in case it’s needed again. They can’t possibly think shutting it down again is a good idea after everything we all just sacrificed to keep it alive.” And the Shatterdome was your home now. Where would you go after the press tour?
“I don’t know what their plans are for it. No one has said anything about shutting down the jaeger program, but I’ll try to find out more. They might just want to repurpose the bunker and move the program to a new location, who knows.”
“Doubt it,” Raleigh mumbled. “They’re not known for their intelligence, evidently.”
Herc sighed. “Well, we’ve got our orders. Let’s just concentrate on getting through this without making too many waves.” He chewed on his lip for a moment, his eyes flickering to your and Raleigh’s linked hands. “Dismissed.”
You exchanged a glance with your copilot, sighing as you stood and made your way back to your room. You didn’t even realize you were still holding Raleigh’s hand until Newt’s “hey lovebirds” as he passed you in the hall.
*
August 2025
As the last of the flying sparks faded away, Raleigh’s smile took their place. It was fitting, since it felt like there were also sparks flying in your stomach whenever those blue eyes landed on you.
You lifted your visor to return his smile. “Hey! Looking for Gipsy?”
“Yep.” He’d changed from his torn sweater and worn-down jacket into military-issue cargo pants, boots, and a dark blue sweater that brought out his eyes. “And you mentioned you would be with Tendo? Is he here?”
“Ayyy, Becket boy!”
Raleigh’s face lit up enough to make rainy Hong Kong seem like paradise. They embraced before Tendo led Raleigh a few feet away to the railing overlooking Gipsy as she went through maintenance. You heard Raleigh mutter “so beautiful” reverently as he stared at her and couldn’t help but pretend he was talking about you. Stop it, you told yourself. You’re in the middle of a war for Christ’s sake.
You only half listened as Tendo rattled off all the improvements made to the jaeger before piping up at your name. “What?”
Tendo made his way over to his workstation with Raleigh trailing behind. He stopped next to you and smiled and you couldn’t help but smile back. He seemed to know how to pull happiness from you with just a look.
“I was telling Raleigh how you’re one of our best,” Tendo said. “And a damn good pilot, too.”
Raleigh perked up. “Hey, I forgot to ask. Are you one of the candidates for my copilot?”
You nodded, feeling excited and also slightly sick at the prospect of Raleigh inside your head. You’d definitely have to get a handle on your thoughts beforehand—if he chose you. “It definitely took some nagging, but I did manage to convince Pentecost to add me to the roster.”
He beamed. “I look forward to it.”
You smiled in return. “Me, too.”
“So, um…” he hesitated, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Tendo’s a bit busy, but what about you? Do you want to get some lunch?”
“Tendo!” you called over your shoulder. “Will you survive if I go get lunch?”
“Knock yourself out,” he replied from where he was bent over a piece of machinery. “But not literally. Your hands are smaller than mine, so I’ll need you to help me with this piece later.”
“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit, fat fingers.”
“Hey! They’re buff, not fat!”
You snorted, heading towards the workshop door with a laughing Raleigh in tow.
“So, you two seem like you get along well. Are you close?”
“I’d like to think so,” you answered as you slapped your visor and gloves down on the table near the door, muttering a shy thanks as Raleigh jumped ahead of you to hold the door. “Don’t tell him I said this, but he is pretty awesome. But he’d just let that go to his head.”
Raleigh smiled, looking around the bustling hallway on the way to the mess hall. You remembered how empty the Shatterdome was when you first arrived. You were one of the first people there with Pentecost and Herc, and the task of turning it into the bustling resistance base it was now seemed impossible. Now with Pentecost’s plan to seal the Breach, it felt like everything was finally coming together for the final attack in a way that made your stomach twist in anticipation. You could very well see the Breach up close soon—and may even die in an attempt to seal it. You resisted the urge to sigh, not wanting to worry Raleigh. Although his mind might have been wandering in the same direction.
You’d been lost in your thoughts and silent for some time during your walk, but he didn’t seem to mind. He threw another lopsided smile your way before jogging ahead of you several steps to hold the mess hall door open for you. You thanked him again, your stomach doing little somersaults at his manners. A good portion of the men on base either ignored you or were constantly trying to one up you, likely intimidated by your skillset. You’d gotten used to getting shoved around, whether it was an accident or some jealous peer trying to prove their superiority. Raleigh had none of that and in fact, seemed to even want to make sure you were taken care of, insisting you go ahead of him in line with your tray, offering to help you reach things, and even asking if you wanted help carrying your tray to one of the open tables. You’d heard stories about the nightmare he’d been through in losing his brother and it amazed you that he was still so sweet and protective, making you yearn for the spot next to him in Gipsy even more.
“So how are you adjusting to the Shatterdome?” you asked as you sat across from him. “Or is it pretty similar to the military bases you’ve been on?”
“Well,” he loaded his fork with an impressive amount of food from multiple sections of his tray. “It’s a lot busier, but that’s probably ’cause they’ve stuffed everyone into one base versus being scattered across several. But I was at the Wall before this and that was just as hectic, so I don’t mind.”
“Looks like there’s plenty of room at this table,” a familiar Australian accent said behind you.
You turned and returned Herc’s smile as he and Chuck headed towards you, trays in hand. “Max!” you cried.
The little bulldog’s tongue lolled out of his mouth happily as he broke into a run and jumped up on the bench next to you. You gave him a good scratch behind the ears as he leaned into you, laughing and pushing him away as he tried to lick at your tray.
Chuck slid into the bench next to you, giving you a nod in greeting as Herc settled next to Raleigh, introducing his copilot.
“He’s more my copilot,” Chuck replied, making you roll your eyes. “Right, Dad?”
Herc eyed him warily and you shook your head. Herc was always so sweet to his son who only ever gave him grief in return. While he’d never turned his ire on you, it didn’t mean you wanted to smack him any less.
The urge to smack became stronger and stronger as Chuck tried to intimidate Raleigh into a pissing competition. You’d seen plenty of pilots do it before—and many had even tried to start it with you—and some even ended with fists. Raleigh maintained his composure well, but you could see the fury building in his eyes, his body stiff and unforgiving. You made a mental note to never get on that side of him. You’d heard enough stories to know he could punt anyone into next week if he wanted to.
“Just make sure you keep up,” Chuck said as he stood and adjusted his baseball cap, “or I’ll drop you like a sack of kaiju shit. Come on, Max!”
Max looked at you and whined as you put another bite of food in your mouth. You sighed and threw a piece of chicken up in the air. Max barked happily before snapping it up in his jaws midair, his little butt wiggling in happiness.
“Max!” Chuck called again and Max went scampering after him.
“He’s a smart kid,” Herc said sadly. “I raised him on me own, but never quite knew whether to give him a hug or a kick in the ass.”
Raleigh paused, glancing at you before replying, “With respect, sir, I’m pretty sure which one he needs.”
Herc’s lips formed a thin line before he turned back to his food in silence. The air felt tense, but you couldn’t help noticing the giant salad Raleigh had created out of his veggies, mashed potatoes, bread, and chicken. You chuckled to yourself as you took a drink of your water.
Raleigh smiled, all his earlier menace disappearing the second he met your eyes. “What?”
“You’ve created a monstrosity on your plate.”
He laughed. “Hey, it’s all going to the same place. You should try it.”
“Tell that to my taste buds.”
“Aw, come on, it won’t hurt ya!” He reached over and dumped a forkful of your chicken into the mashed potatoes.
“Hey!” You shoved futilely at his hand while he took the other and spread some mashed potatoes on your bread like butter.
“There you go!”
“That looks disgusting,” you laughed.
Raleigh’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
You frowned in disgust, sticking out your tongue as he held your mashed potato-covered bread out to you.
“Don’t make me play airplane with your bread.”
Still frowning, but also trying not to laugh at how effortless your rapport felt, you slowly took the bread from him and took a bite. It wasn’t half bad, but you weren’t ready to let him know he won. “Plehhhh.”
“You liar, you like it!” he beamed triumphantly.
You scooped the chicken back out of your mashed potatoes and redeposited them in their section of the tray.
“Hey, that’s the best part!”
“Noooooo, you create as many monstrosities on your plate as you want, but leave mine alone.”
Herc chuckled. “How many kaiju guts have you helped the research team transport and this is what grosses you out?”
“Look at his plate, it’s practically its own kaiju!”
Raleigh laughed loud and bright, drawing the attention of several neighboring tables and you smiled, proud you’d been the one to draw that out of him. For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other with dopey grins on your faces and you couldn’t help but admire how his eyes lit up. When you’d first entered the elevator, before he’d noticed you, he carried the weight of someone who had seen too many horrors. Now, you felt like you were catching a glimpse of the man he’d been before—the carefree Raleigh that had his brother to guard his back and bring joy into his life. You only hoped that if  you were chosen as his copilot, you could do the same.
*
December 2025
“Pretty sure Hermann’s about to run up the wall ’cause of Newt’s—hey, what’s wrong?” you asked as your bedroom door shut behind you with a clang.
Raleigh sat on the bed wearing an unfamiliar black jacket, holding an identical one in his hands. His brow was furrowed and he clutched the clothing like it might evaporate if he wasn’t careful.
“…Rals?”
Raleigh looked up at you in shock and it took you a moment to realize you’d called him by the nickname Yancy had always used for him. You hadn’t meant to; it had leapt from your mouth unbidden and the wounded animal look in your copilot’s eyes made you wish you could take it back.
“I’m sorry,” you muttered so quietly, you weren’t even sure he’d heard you.
His attention returned to the jacket in his hands. He turned it and you could see Gipsy’s symbol in a large white design on the back. You remembered seeing flashes of Raleigh and Yancy wearing jackets just like it before Alaska. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I actually, um…” He stood, gently wrapping the jacket around your shoulders. “Here, put your arms through—oh, well, it sort of swallows you.”
“Don’t worry, I’m a good swimmer.” You smiled, hoping to ease some of his pain.
He chuckled, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “We can get it fitted. I thought they might be nice for the press tour—or just to have. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”
“I’ll wear it if you wear yours. We can match.”
He was quiet as his hands gently ran up and down your arms, sliding further down until his fingers were intertwined with yours. When he met your eyes again, you saw tears threatening to spill over.
You frowned. “Raleigh? Are you—”
“I, um,” he cleared his throat, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it on the bed, “need some air. I’ll be back.”
You watched for a moment as he rushed out of the room before something small and white on the inside of his jacket caught your eye. You picked it up to find his name stitched in white lettering on the inside corner. With a start, you checked your own jacket and your heart plummeted as you realized what had gotten him so emotional: there, on the inside of your own jacket, was the name “Yancy Becket.”
You immediately shucked your jacket off your shoulders, slinging it carefully over your arm before running out into the hallway. “Raleigh, wait!”
He turned halfway to the door at the end of the hall leading outside.
You held the jacket out to him. “I can’t take this.”
He gave you a watery smile, sniffling. “No, I want you to have it.”
“Rals, if anyone should have Yancy’s jacket, it’s you.”
He turned to face you fully and took the jacket from you. He stared at it for a moment before slinging it back around your shoulders, holding the lapels so you couldn’t remove it again. “It…” He licked his lips and closed his eyes for a moment before looking at you again. “It feels like this way…Yancy’s protecting you. You have no idea how much you’ve saved me, Y/N. It feels like you’re his way of cosmic apology and it just—it just feels right.”
Now it was your turn to get teary eyed. “Raleigh…”
He cupped your face in his hands, rubbing the rough pads of his thumbs over your cheeks before leaving a lingering kiss on your forehead. You pushed your arms through the jacket sleeves and wrapped them around his middle. He pulled you against him, resting his cheek against your hair as he took a shuddery breath.
A wolf whistle behind you made you jump and you turned to see Tendo walking past. You laughed, Raleigh’s arms still securely around your shoulders as you felt him shake with his own laughter. Despite Raleigh’s sweetness and the comments and whistles you got from your peers, you couldn’t help but still feel insecure. You weren’t sure what you and Raleigh were anymore, really—definitely more than friends, but did he really want to be with you like a boyfriend or even a lover? You two had just saved the world and were just about to do a grueling press tour; he had enough on his mind. The connection between pilots was always special, wasn’t it? Maybe that was all it was.
Raleigh pulled you from your thoughts as his hands fell back down to his sides. “I’m going on a walk…do you wanna join me?”
You smile and nod before following him to the door. Your heart skipped a beat as he jogged the last few steps just so he could hold the door for you, ever the gentleman. As you exited into the cold winter air, you could feel his warm hand slip into yours.
*
Taglist: @that-girl-named-alex @wayward-avenging
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rayslittlekitten · 6 months
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My First Night
“You Got This” Masterlist
A/N: Okay I've been wanting to write this for a looooong time and i think I finally figured it out. I wanted this to be tender and sweet (maybe a bit idealized as my first time was NOT any of those). I honestly miss these two. "My First Night" by Mya was the song that inspired this (YT link below).
Update: I fucked up. I prematurely posted this and have now updated the fic.
Rating: E (18+ ONLY)
Word Count: ~1,300
Pairing: Teenager!Jax Teller x Teenager F! Reader/OC (Opie's sister)
Plot: You're finally ready to take the next step with Jax and lose your virginity to him.
Contains: underage teenage sex, first time sex, losing virginity, PiV, fluff and tenderness
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"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Jax asks, his eyes locked on yours.
You stare back and nod your head as you let out a shaky breath.
"It's gonna hurt a lot," he warns you.
"I-I'm ready," you reassure him.
Jax leans down to give you a kiss on your forehead before looking down to align himself with you. You wince as he starts pushing in. He pauses when you emit an unpleasant sound and he then sees your face contort.
"We can stop-"
"No, I want to do this," you tell him.
"Okay," he nods.
He continues to gently push in as he watches for your reactions. You try to control your breathing as you feel yourself being stretched out.
"Ow! Ow!" A tear spills from the corner of your eye.
Jax stills his hips again.
"Okay I'm pulling out-"
"No!" you sniffle. "J-just go slowly. How much more is there?"
Jax glances down between the both of you.
"I only got the tip in."
Jax starts placing butterfly kisses on your face, hoping to help soothe the pain.
"I don't wanna hurt you," Jax reminds you.
He thought he got you wet enough, but now he's thinking maybe he should have prepared you more. He got a bit too excited when you told him you were finally ready to lose your virginity to him. The two of you got comfortable enough to do everything up until sex. He would penetrate you only with his fingers and every time, he would make you orgasm, drenching his hand each time. But this time, he may have not given you enough foreplay, rushing it a bit to finally be able to do this with you. He thought the lubricant on the condom would also help. A lot has to do with teenage hormones, but a part of him also wants to do this with you because he wants to, in his own words, make love to you. You thought that was sweet and it made you feel even more special.
"M-maybe if I smoke some weed or have some beer-" you start rattling off ideas, partly to distract yourself from the slight discomfort between your legs.
"No," Jax shakes his head. "I want you to be sober. I'd feel like I'm taking advantage of you. We can try another time-"
"Please, Jackson," you plead. "I want this."
Jax is torn between his raging hormones and his feelings for you. He's even surprised at himself for having so much self-control right now.
"I gotta go all the way in if you want to get past the pain," he says with his brows turned down.
"I can take it," you nod. "Do it."
Jax finally nods and leans in to give you a tender kiss. He watches your reaction again as he pushes in. You wince but don't make a sound. Another tear slips out from your eye and he frowns.
"Keep going," you tell him.
With that, as gently as possible, he slides himself all the way to the brink, making you gasp. He stays still, letting your body get accustomed to the new sensation.
"Fuck, you're so tight."
You start crying, feeling the burn of getting stretched out.
"I know, I know. I’m sorry." He coaches you and guides you through your first time. "It'll feel better. I promise. Just relax."
He wipes the tears from your face with his thumbs and plants a kiss on your forehead. He then starts kissing you again, making out with you for a bit to distract you from the pain, which subsides after a few moments.
"How are you feeling?" he checks up on you.
"It doesn't hurt as much as anymore," you tell him.
"I'm gonna start going in and out, okay?"
You nod and brace yourself. He gives you another comforting kiss before he starts moving. His hips pull back and push in, slowly and gently. You let out a sigh, taking in this new feeling. When he senses your body in a more relaxed state, he picks up the pacing. The old and worn out wooden bed frame creaks as he rocks. The lumpy mattress that’s probably been stained with so many bodily fluids, dips below you. The clubhouse dorm room isn’t where you imagined your first time, but you and Jax had limited options. With the club on a run and Gemma running errands, this was the best time and place, but it doesn’t matter because all that matters is who you’re with.
You were self conscious of being completely naked for the first time in front of Jax, but all those insecurities have gone away. Instead, it is replaced by the feeling of his naked body rubbing against yours. You feel so connected to him in a way you've never expected. His skin is so soft and smooth. The nerves of your skin get more sensitive with each stroke. You want to embrace him with every inch of your body and stay like this forever. You slip your arms behind him, feeling his bare back under your palms as his muscles flex. The burn between your legs has transformed into a more pleasurable feeling and you can feel yourself getting more aroused. Suddenly, Jax pauses, remaining still while inside of you.
"W-what happened?" you ask, wondering if you may have done something wrong.
"I'm just... pacing myself," he replies. "If I keep going, I'm going to bust in like two pumps."
"I-is that normal?"
"For guys my age? Yeah. But I'm also just over excited. I rubbed one out before I came to see you, but obviously, that didn't help."
You catch him studying your face. There's a smile that reaches his twinkling eyes.
"What?"
"Nothing," Jax shakes his head. He opens his mouth again, but he stops himself.
"What is it?" you press.
He simply slots his mouth over yours before moving his hips again. This time, his pacing is a bit quicker and more forceful. You moan into his mouth feeling a warmth forming below your belly. You instinctively wrap your legs around his lower waist and hook your ankles together. His kisses turn feverish as his thrusts pick up. Your fingernails dig into his back.
"Jackson..." you pant. "It feels so good."
Jax groans as he tries to hold back, delaying his release for you. He shifts his hips, changing up the position a little and you moan when he hits a new spot. A somewhat familiar yet new sensation rapidly multiples.
"Oh god," you yelp. Your body tenses and the tightening in your gut spreads.
"Let it go, darlin'," Jax grunts, resting his forehead against yours. "Let it all go."
He punches up against you as he quickly starts spiraling. You moan and cry out when something inside you snaps and the warmth floods your entire body. Jax lets out a growl and lets himself go as soon as he feels your wall contracting, no longer able to wait. You arch up and look up at him, your face contorting as your orgasm takes over you. You gasp when you feel him pulsating inside you.
"Fuck!" Jax growls.
He continues to pump inside of you until all of his seed spills out and collapses on top of you. His face is buried in your neck as you both catch your breaths. Your heart is pounding hard against your chest and you wonder if Jax can feel it as well.He finally pulls back and looks at you again with that same look he did earlier..
"I love you."
Your heart is so full right now, you can cry.
"I love you, too, Jackson."
In this moment, you are so happy, you are certain there is absolutely nothing that can take it away. Jax nudges his nose against yours and your hands cup his face before your lips meet again.
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hotdamnhunnam · 3 months
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On Your Knees (fic teaser)
UPDATE: This fic is now posted!
A/N: Hello my dears! It’s been a minute since I’ve posted on here. I still intend to be inactive for the most part, BUT of course Kai has stolen and broken my heart, and this “on your knees” gif struck at my inner slut 💘 So here we are! This is a teaser for a fic that will have lots of smut, while also giving Kai some backstory that I feel he deserves and I wanted to share what I’ve got so far!
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“On your knees.”
It’s been forever and a day, since you last laid your eyes on Kai. Since then you’ve searched for him across the whole entire fucking sky. Whatever words you had expected him to say… you never would have dreamt of these.
On your knees.
The blood in your veins is on fire; it burns as the blue of his gaze starts to freeze. The blaze rises higher, so desperate to melt down this fortress of ice that you hadn’t believed you would find. Paid the rumors no mind—he’s a bounty hunter or a gun for hire, who would sell his soul to any well-paying buyer, or so everybody agrees—yet you’ve come here to seek out the true heart of gold that you know lies behind. But all gold can be sold and it seems that he’s taken his fees.
And now he’s set on taking whatever he damn well may please.
Your voice escapes your throat pathetically. “Kai, it’s me…”
Cocks his head. Lifts his brow. Silent laughter at what you just said. Obviously. But who you are doesn’t mean shit to him now. “Aye, I see.”
You might just choke. The heart that never once stopped beating for this godforsaken rogue just fucking broke.
He snickers down as if the beating of your heart is just a joke. The curl of those cruel lips holds even more force than his words. And that’s what brings you to your knees and makes you weak, so weak it hurts, as he comes close and rests his palm against your cheek, piercing your soul straight to the core with just one stroke.
Straight to the core. Summon what strength you have to speak, unsure whether the vows that you once made have any value anymore. “I’ve come back to you just as I swore…”
“Of course,” he utters as those ice-blue eyes seek out and strike the deepest truth in yours. “You’ve come to me just as you were before: still nothing but a worthless fucking whore.”
--- End teaser ---
If you’d like to be tagged in this fic if and when I post it, just let me know! I don’t plan to tag my full taglist since that list was from aeons ago 🙃
As always much love to all of my fellow Hunnam hoes! 💕
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IM ON HERE TO CELEBRATE YOUR 1000 FOLLOWERS 🎉🎉🎉 WOOOOT!
Can I pretty please request Jax Teller for prompt #14!?
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Thank you!!!!!
Masterlist
Insomnia
Contains: Very mild angst, fluff.
1.2K words
“My eyelids are heavy, but my thoughts are heavier.” - Unknown
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You couldn't begin to express how grateful the late nights were less late now that the club was out of guns and drugs. The only downside was that Jax and the rest of the Sons were now just mechanics, they had cars to fix and taxes to file, not meeting deadlines meant parts didn't get bought and paychecks weren't written.
Anxiety still lingered when Jax was away at night, a hold off from the worry that the next phone call would deliver the worst news one could get. Tonight was one of those nights, even though you knew Jax was safe, your brain wouldn't quiet.
The sound of a door opening drew you from your thoughts, "What are you still doing up? It's almost one."
You shrugged, "The usual. I can't sleep when your side of the bed is cold. Your dinner is in the microwave."
Jax gave you a soft smile, "Lucky me because I'm starving. Sit with me while I eat?"
You nodded, "That's my plan." Jax hurried to the kitchen and warmed his dinner before sitting next to you at the dining table, "Did you get all your work done?" 
"You bet, and I've got the whole weekend off so we can sleep in." You could smell the faint hint of oil on his clothes. 
"That's great news, you know how much I love our lazy mornings." If you were lucky, Abel would be there too, between you and Jax. 
"You and me both darlin. How was work?" He must have been hungry, half the food was already gone. 
"The usual." You yawned and Jax reached across the table to hold your hand, "I'm sorry, I guess I was just waiting for you to get home." 
Jax shook his head, "I'm almost done here. I'll hop into the shower then I'll be all yours." 
You sighed, "That sounds perfect." 
"How did Abel go at daycare today?" Jax loved all the pictures Abel drew for him, his locker, his office and his workstation were full of them. 
You smiled, "He had lots of fun today, they got a new water table and he went wild. I had to throw his tiny little shoes in the wash, that's how much fun he had." 
Jax chuckled, "I'll pick him up on Monday, I can't have you having all the fun darlin." 
"Sure, he loves it when you go and get him." You went to take Jax's empty plate from him, but he yanked it away. 
"I'll do that darlin." He rushed it to the sink before drying it and putting it away. Once that was done and he had wiped over the kitchen one last time, he walked back over to you and stretched out his hand, "Shall we?" 
You nodded and took his hand, "We shall." 
The trip to the bedroom was quick, and then Jax was stripping off and hopping into the shower, "You wanna get ready for bed darlin?"
You sighed, "I guess I better try and keep a routine, brushing my teeth and washing my face again won't hurt." 
Steam filled the room as Jax washed the day away and smirked when he caught you staring at him through the shower glass, "See something you like darlin?" 
You nodded, "You know I do Teller." 
The shower flicked off and he stepped out, wrapping the towel around his waist before stopping by the kiss you on the cheek on his way to the bedroom to get dressed. 
With his comfortable grey sweatpants on, he headed to the bed and flicked the heated blanket on your side before fluffing your pillow and peeling back the covers, "Hop in darlin." 
You took your robe off and placed it on the chair, leaving you in just one of Jax's T-Shirts and a pair of panties, then climbed into bed with a sigh, "It's so much better with you here. Maybe we should get a cat so when you're not here, I'm not alone in bed." 
Jax smiled, "I like that idea, we've got the room and it will be good for Abel to have a pet." 
You reached over to the bedside table and picked up the bottle of the lavender lotion but before you could do anything, Jax took it from you, "Let me?" 
You nodded, "I'd like that." 
He started with your arms, rubbing the smooth cream in with broad, firm strokes, "What do we need for a cat? Food, water fountains, a few litter trays and toys. Hell, with Happy's help, we can have one by Monday." 
He pinched your shirt and you pulled it over your head so he could do your shoulders next, "We need a bit more time than that. The kitty should have a catio, that will keep you busy over a few weekends and once that's build and the cat can enjoy the outdoors without killing anything we can get the kitty." 
The corner of Jax's mouth ticked up as he moved to your chest and a thought came over him, "We can tell Abel can't we? He'll want to help." 
Your eye grew heavy as you spun and his hands moved over your back, "Sure we can tell Abel. He'll want to name the kitten and he should come when we pick. Not that it means anything, the cat will pick us." 
You returned to facing him and Jax moved to your legs, rubbing the ache out of your claves, "You've already said you'll let the cat on the bed so I only have one rule, he or she has to stay away from my kutte." 
You chuckled, "You and I both know that's not going to happen, cats do what cats want." 
Jax sighed and placed the bottle back in its spot before picking your book up, "I guess so. How are you feeling now darlin?" 
You smiled, "Great, I'm ready to call it a night." You slid all the way into bed and placed your head on the pillow, "Will you read to me, I love the sound of your voice." 
Jax looked over you fondly, "Of course, darlin, that was my plan when I picked up your book." You had been reading it to him for days, a sweet tale of a little robot in search of life on Mars who made friends with an alien. 
"Rusty lifted his little arm and ticked as he handed the apple slice to his friend, 'Apples are one of human's favourite fruits, you should try some.' The alien took the slice from him with a squeak and ate it in one bite, then gave another squeak of approval at the sweet taste." 
You snuggled closer to Jax and he wrapped his arm around your body, "The Alien squeaked again, then waved its arms before pointing to itself and then to Rusty. The series of squeaks that followed sounded like the robot's name and then another which must have been its own." 
Your eyes felt so heavy as Jax continued, "It made sense when Rusty heard it for a second time, 'Your name is Eldredth? Tell me Eldredth, have you ever had chocolate? It is the best of the human's treats." 
Jax smiled as he felt your chest rise and fall softly under his arm. He put the book and laid down next to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling the blanket up to your neck, "Good night Darlin, I love you." 
Fin
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Title: Forgive Me, I Am A Sinner  {1}* {Two-Shot}
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Title: Forgive Me I Am a Sinner {1}* {Two Shot} 
Someone x Reader
Words: 2.9k
Warning: Play on the church confessional, Cursing, Adult themes, Mild crude language/discussion, Mild NSFW(Toward end), Mistaken Identity
Summary: You have some things to get off your chest and end up walking into a church.
Note: So, this might be mildly taboo for some, if it is for you, don’t read, I’ll understand. While I don’t think I took it too far in someone’s eyes it could be blasphemous. Again, don’t read if you feel it may offend you. Nothing lewd but be warned. Don’t come to me with your complaints. They will fall on deaf ears and be met with a quick delete. I don’t think it’s bad but 🤷🏽‍♀️
  ***NOT EDITED/Proofread***
-You-
“Forgive me lord for I have sinned. It's been...never since my last confession. I've never done this. Yep, I'm a virgin. Well with confessions otherwise I am soooo not a virgin. The things this body has done, these eyes have seen, these hands have touched, and this mouth has had in it...yikes. Not a virgin. Oh god, I probably shouldn't have said that in a church with a priest across from me. Shit. I probably shouldn't have cursed in the house of God either. Oh, fuck."
You facepalmed then sighed already fed up with yourself. You didn’t know what was wrong with you or why your mouth was still moving and allowing words to pass through. Yes, you were nervous and most of it were nervous ramblings you’d always done but now was not the time to be censor free.
 "I'm going to hell, aren't I?”
 Silence. There weren’t even breathing sounds. Either there was no one there or the guy across from her was weighing his options speaking to an actual heathen. You leaned a litter closer to the wooden screen peppered with small holes that was separating the two booths.
 "Uh...priest guy? Padre? Father? Oh, great even God's messenger sees the heathen in me and has run for the hills to tell the lord this sheep has steered far from the flock. Definitely going to hell."
 You hung your head in disappointment.
 "For all the scripture that has been written about the heavenly trio, the father, the son, and the holy spirit, I doubt they would be so quick as to damn one of their flock."
 You could hear the humor in his voice, and it made you pause. Were priests supposed to have a sense of humor? It did sound like a biblical joke so maybe that wasn’t weird.
 "I think you are being too harsh on yourself," the voice on the other side followed up.
 "You do?"
 "Yes. Also, heathen in quite harsh."
 You giggled nervously. However, those nerves were dwindling with every joke he cracked. There was something soothing about his husky voice that sounded like he was half asleep and just awakened from a quick nap.  "That is what I feel like whenever I muster up the courage to speak to him about this."
 "Start from the beginning."
 "Are you sure it's okay for me to be telling you all this in a church nonetheless?"
 Silence. Was he actually thinking if it was okay? You circled your thumbs and waited for him to speak but when he didn’t you leaned closer again.
 "Hello?"
 “You came here because you needed help. You came here looking for answers and acceptance. You will find all 3 here. So, let's begin again. Trust me I've heard it all."
 You sighed relieved by his welcoming words. You then nodded and mustered even more courage. "Okay. Forgive me lord for I have sinned I've never confessed before.
 "What is your sin?"
 "Lust."
 The silence stretched for so long then the person on the other side of the screen cleared their throat.
 "Lust. Go on. How are you lustful?"
 His voice was even deeper than before.
 "I like sex--like I really, really like sex. I know the bible leans more on sex for procreation and marital health, but I am not married, and I have no plans for children. So, for me, sex is something that feels good, better than good, amazing especially if it is done right and the person I am with understands a woman's body and needs."
 The silence returned but only for a few moments. "Ehm, I'm listening."
 "Lately I've been feeling unfulfilled."
 "Sexually?"
 "Yes, mainly. I have a great career, amazing friends, wonderful family, and a life I love but when it comes to sex it's just not cutting it. The guy I've been seeing..."
 "Boyfriend?"
 He sounded disappointed and that made you pause. Why would he sound disappointed? You explained it away deciding that he was disappointed in it not being a husband or fiancé.
 "You mentioned you were not married just trying to get a better understanding," he clarified.
 "Oh. Not really. We see each other whenever we have an--itch."
 "For sex. Understood."
 "You sound very chill about this father."
 "I am simply here to listen and never to judge--my child. This is the house of the lord, and all are welcome to be who they are and lay down their burdens. That is the lord I represent."
 He sounded like the cool youth pastor that was written about in some YA novels. The one who would create raps for G.O.D. You stifled a laugh at the thought.
 "Wow, that's really cool. Anyway, he's very...vanilla. Whenever we meet--. Wait should I explain what vanilla is? Um...well."
 "No need," he quickly interrupted.
 "Really?"
 "Uh...I am what I am now, but I was not born a priest."
 His unexpected answer had you snort loudly before a laugh escaped you. "Well go on then fuck it up, father. Damn no, I didn't mean that."
 He heartily chuckled. "It's alright. Go on"
 "He's vanilla and never really knows what I need and rarely ever do I cum. I mean reach completion."
 "Then why are you wasting your time with someone like that?"
 "Uh...well...ummm...I am very picky with who I spend my time with. When I said that I like sex, it didn't mean I was some chick who sleeps around with anybody with the right body part."
 "Of course not. I didn't mean to imply that. I'm sorry."
 "No, it's cool."
 "For the record, I didn't think that of you anyway."
 "Okay. Thanks. It's just most guys are insensitive assholes who think if a woman likes sex and pleasure then they must be easy and DTF anyone."
 "Guys like that are the ones who should be offed and sent straight to hell."
 "Preach it, father.”
 It took some time for his words to make full impact, but after a few moments, they did. “Wait shouldn't you say they are also God's children and just need to be steered to the righteous path?"
 "You sound well versed in the priesthood."
 "Movies."
 He laughed again and it sounded so welcoming that you laughed with him.
 "Please continue. He doesn't satisfy you."
 "No. I thought I could handle it and finish myself off or something but tonight I couldn't."
 "Did you just have sex tonight?"
 "Yes. I guess that's another sin you have to forgive me for."
 "And you are unfulfilled."
 "Yes. So unfulfilled. My bullet couldn't even take care of this, not even my rabbit, hell not even the usual porn I watch."
 The silence across the way was deafening and you noticed. It was like you’d become hypersensitive to quietness since sitting in this booth. Suddenly he groaned as if in pain.
 "Are you okay father?"
 He groaned again then took a few breaths. Through the tiny holes in the screen, you could only make out a head turned down, everything else was shadows. "Completely.”
 It came out hoarse, strangled. “Ehm...continue.”
 "Uh, so I facetimed him and decided to tell him what I need and even some things I would be into, and he laughed and had the most freaked out look on his face. He said it wasn't normal and I shouldn't tell anyone about it again. Like he made me feel crazy and so--dirty."
 "Uh-huh. For better context. What are these preferences--my child?"
 You twiddled your thumbs then uncrossed your ankles only to cross them again. "I don't know if I should say them now. You might say the same thing."
 "No. I would never. Remember I said my place is not to judge and I am here to help?"
 You took a deep breath and tried to calm those nerves that were beginning to creep up again. After another breath you began.
 "I um...I told him I want to be tied up while he takes all control and completely ruins me. I told him I wanted to try doing it while others watched that him being so gentle is a turn-off and I wouldn't mind some teeth or nail marks on me. I can see myself being into BDSM and get turned on by dominance and submission. I want to be choked a little while he slams so hard into me that I see stars. I want to be weak in the knees unable to walk, sore throat can't talk, eyes full of tears, chin covered in slobber, delirious with pleasure until I squirt and then pass out to do it again. I want him to know my body and what it needs better than I do. I want dirty, nasty, rough, hot passionate sex I'll never forget."
 The silence this time was so heavy so filled with the charge of excitement and arousal. You didn't know why you were slightly turned on finally getting it all out, especially to a priest in a church of all places. Hell, you didn't even know why you had come in here in the first place. The idea of confessional had always creeped you out for some reason. Telling a stranger your secret sin. It felt so vulnerable.
 "Shit. Surely I should burst into flames for all that right? First in line on the locomotive to hell? I shouldn't have said all that."
 "Are you ashamed of these desires? Do you wish to be rid of them?"
 "He made me feel ashamed."
 "Fuck him. Are you ashamed?"
 "Father?"
 "Answer me.”
 His voice was serious, and authoritative now. “Look inside yourself and answer truthfully."
 You did as he said and took some time and truly listened to yourself and everything that was going off inside you right now. Among everything, the uncertainty, the excitement, and the confusion nowhere inside of her did you feel ashamed. Not at all.
 "No. I'm not ashamed."
 "Do you wish to be rid of them?"
 "No," you replied with a little more confidence.
 "Good. You should be unapologetically you. You should not allow others to make you feel small or shameful for who you are, what you want, or what you deserve. You deserve all of that. You deserve to be sexually fulfilled and happy in all avenues of your life. We all only have one to live and restricting ourselves from true happiness is not doing service to someone, it does a disservice to ourselves."
 You sat there thinking over his words and gained confidence from each of them. He sounded as if he spoke from experience.
 "Is this your first day as a priest? I don't think you should tell parishioners to sin more to live a fulfilled life if you truly want to gain access to heaven."
 He snorted. "It is my first day doing this, but I stand by my words."
 You sat there noting your nerves had melted away and your confused state had turned to one of mellowness. You didn’t feel in a war with yourself anymore. Perhaps this was why others did this.
 "Do you feel better?"
 "Yes."
 "Good, then my work is done."
 "Wait shouldn't you give me instructions to repent like a Hail Mary or ten or something?"
 "Will it ensure you do not sin again?"
 Snorting, you replied, "Probably not."
 "Then you are free to step out of here and live your life with one piece of advice."
 "What's that?"
 "Drop that pathetic loser you're seeing. You can do so much better little lamb."
 The doors on the other side opened but you didn't register it until nearly a minute had passed. When you stepped out and looked in the opposite booth from sheer curiosity, it was empty with no priest inside.
 "Little lamb? What kind of priest was that?"
  ~~~~~~~
 -Him-
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4 hours later and he was still solid as a brick hard.
 "Fuck!”
 He palmed himself yet again then squeezed hoping to relieve some of the ache there but no luck and no relief. He shoved his hand under his head and stared up through the glass roof of his skylight at the night sky. It was clear without a cloud in sight allowing the stars to really shine.
 "I want to be choked a little while he slams so hard into me that I see stars."
 His cock throbbed so forcefully it could be seen through his now too tight pajama bottoms. Glancing down, he groaned exasperatedly.
 "Come on. It’s not funny anymore."
 He knew he shouldn’t have gone into that confessional. He knew he should have found somewhere else to wait for his manager as he spoke with the priest of the church he was donating a large amount of money to because of his connection to some of the kids he'd encountered the weekend before.
 He'd gone at that time because he was sure it would be empty and there would be no stray photos of him leaked. Donating money was no fun when everyone knew you'd done it. He liked the incognito life. He just wanted somewhere that had zero chance of him bumping into someone. No way did he expect someone to drop into the other side of the confessional and no way did he expect that someone to have that kind of confession.
 He closed his eyes as he recalled the little slivers of her face. Plum painted lips that looked full, a cute nose, skin that looked incredibly soft, and eyes that called to him. From the small perforations in the wood, he would classify you as a fucking goddess.
 Once you began your confession he should have interrupted and set the record straight but there was something about your voice that held him in place, silencing him. He’d picked up the distress in it, the frustration and uncertainty. Then the more he listened he fell under some spell. When she mentioned her definite non virgin status, he was way past curious. Maybe that’s what possessed him to answer her when she asked if he was there.
 "Curiosity," he muttered mulling over it.
 He thought over your entire confession and within seconds his cock throbbed again. Without even realizing it his hand had drifted into his pajama bottoms and was now wrapped around his engorged length.
 "Fuck!"
 "I want to be tied up while he takes all control and completely ruins me. I wanted to try doing it while others watched, that him being so gentle is a turn-off and I wouldn't mind some teeth or nail marks on me. I can see myself being into BDSM and get turned on by dominance and submission. I want to be choked a little while he slams so hard into me that I see stars. I want to be weak in the knees unable to walk, sore throat can't talk, eyes full of tears, chin covered in slobber, delirious with pleasure until I squirt and then pass out to do it again. I want him to know my body and what it needs better than I do. I want dirty, nasty, rough, hot passionate sex I'll never forget."
 "Uggh. Uggh. Uggh. Fuuuuuck."
 His hand moved so fast he was sure it was going faster than the speed of light. It had to have been. His groans, moans and grunts filled the space as he raced toward a finish he imagined would go across her beautiful face or her breasts he couldn’t see but was convinced were equally as gorgeous as her aura. Within seconds, his back angled off the bed as if whatever had possessed him earlier was finally exiting his body and being pulled into the air.
 "Holy fuck!”
 The white spots that decorated his vision made it impossible to see anything and in that moment he didn’t care. He was only focused on the amazing feelings coursing through him. When he finally regained some motion and sense he glanced down and found stream after stream of his release decorating his chest, pelvis, and pajama bottoms.
 "Ah shit. Come on! Haven't had to jerk myself off since I was twenty fucking years old, and one confessional tipped me over the edge? Unfuckinbelievable!”
 Not in a rush to get up and filled with frustration, he looked back to his skylight at the glittering stars and thought of the side profile of her face. Within seconds, he felt himself harden again and it was then he knew his cock was not done. He was in for a long night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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illusivelle · 6 days
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shake the frost / 2
pairing: william 'ironhead' miller x female reader rating: t (for now) length: 3,044 words content: established relationship with the triple frontier boys, cursing, bruises/cuts, tending to wounds (my jam) summary: you don't expect to find will waiting for you so late at night, and especially not for these reasons. a/n: just a sucker for one person taking care of another while they're hurt. really just feeding into my own agenda here. and also a sucker for some idiots who think their pining is unrequited. read part one link to ao3 here!
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Next time.
Two words that had been ringing in Will’s ears, bouncing around his head. Words he’d been repeating to himself because he wasn’t sure you meant it, wasn’t sure what spurred it. Wasn’t sure why it awakened something in him that had been dormant for so long. Two words that felt like a promise of more – more time, more you.
It wasn’t as if it was something novel considering the way he’d looked at you, and caught you looking at him, too. All those fleeting glances you’d both share when he thought the other guys weren’t looking, tiny smiles and faint touches in passing. But this was something different, wasn’t it? A step in a direction he wasn’t certain either of you would make a move toward, or maybe he’d been overthinking the entire thing and it was just something polite you’d offered.
Either way, Will Miller couldn’t seem to get his mind off – nor wrap it around – the idea of ‘next time.’
If only said next time wasn’t under these circumstances, knocking on your front door in the state he was in, hoping that you were actually home. 
You’d just pulled into your parking spot, locking your car door three times as you walked up to your apartment. The silhouette that’s slumped over your door is enough to have all the hairs rising at the back of your neck, one hand digging into your purse to clutch for something you could potentially use as a weapon. Shit, if only you’d listened to Frankie all those years ago, you might’ve been better prepared for moments like this. The only thing you could feel as you rummage in your bag is the dull handle of a switchblade, the one thing you did accept from Frankie if only to appease him and make him feel better about your safety.
And now you were kicking yourself in the fucking ass for not listening.
Tentative steps bring you closer to your door, your fingers grasping the knife tightly as wary eyes assess every inch you can see. In the darkness, you can only make out the fact that the person is a) much, much larger than you and b) hunched over like they might be sleeping. At your door, though? It doesn’t tell you much, save for the fact that you had to be very fucking careful about what might happen next. One more step brings you only a few feet away but the rustling of your clothes is enough to have the other’s head snapping up, and you whip out the knife from where it’d been hiding. “You should–”
“It’s me.”
You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Even in your haziest dreams, you could pick out that deep timbre and husky rasp that belonged to the one man that had no business occupying so much of your thoughts, especially as of late. “Will?” His name is a hushed whisper as you toss the switchblade back into your bag and quickly close the distance between you two. You’re crouching down as he’s pushing himself up, clumsily meeting halfway, your hands rising to settle on his shoulders. Not that he needed you to steady him, but you needed something to steady yourself, the sight of Will Miller sitting at your door something you’d never in a million years think would happen. “What’re you– is everything okay?” Immediately, your thoughts fly to all sorts of scenarios, a wary and assessing gaze raking over him as your palms work in a similar fashion, running up and down his arms like you might find a broken bone or a gaping wound. 
It’s only when your eyes finally land on his face that you notice, in the small sliver of moonlight peeking through a break in the sky, how dark red has matted along his hairline and paired nicely with the cut slicing his brow. Icy blue eyes dance as they search yours and Will remains quiet while you continue your inspection, finding more surface wounds on his lip and jaw, one that clenches when you linger too long. “Come in,” are the only two words you can think to say, reaching past him to shove your key in and unlock your door.
Maybe it’s your imagination, or maybe there really is only just a few inches between you and Will, his heat seeping through your clothes and prickling your skin. You swear you can feel his ragged and warm breath fanning out across your nape, a subtle roll of your neck like that might alleviate some of the tension thickening in the air when you push open the door to let both of you in. “Thank you,” his hoarse voice cuts in before he immediately tacks on an apology, “I’m sorry. I can go if you–”
“No.” You interrupt him before he can spiral. “Stay.”
His reaction is physical. His shoulders sag like that one simple word washed away all of his worries, the divot between his brows smoothing as he takes one step further into your place and then another. You’ve already dropped your bags and shrugged off your sweater, shuffling to the bathroom to grab your first aid kit and wet a towel with warm water. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Calling out to him, half expecting Will to remain planted where he stood because if there’s one thing about the stoic blonde man standing in your home, he always knew boundaries.
But when you close the medicine cabinet and turn on a heel, you nearly smack into a solid wall of carved muscle, one palm flying up to meet his firm chest to keep yourself upright. “Oh– Will–” blurting out his name while colour steals across your cheeks, “um, you can just have a seat there, then.” He takes orders so well, almost as well as he gives them. The only reason you know what that might sound like is because you’ve heard him bark them out to his brother Benny, even to Frankie and Santi. There’s no way it was anywhere near how he sounded when he’s on the field and you’re not delusional enough to think so, but it’s always been enough to strike a match in your gut. To spark that flame that burned for William Miller.
That same fire is ignited the second you lock your gaze with his pool of blues, tipping your head to the side with a cocked brow. Imploring him with your expression alone, hoping that he’d take the bait or feel comfortable enough to say something – anything – as you slowly and gently bring the edge of the warm towel up to wipe away the dried blood on his temple. “Benny got into somethin’ stupid after his fight tonight,” Will grumbled, those bright arctic irides breaking away from yours for a beat, “they didn’t like how he mouthed off too much in the ring. I told him one day it’d come to bite him in the ass, but you know Benny.” He huffs out a breath, one that tickles the sliver of skin peeking from your shirt, a lick of your lips to hide the way you noticed and zeroed in on the sensation so quickly. 
“Mmhm. In one ear–” “Out the other,” he finishes with a dry chuckle. 
Will barely flinches as you start to clean out his wounds, pressing damp alcohol-soaked pads to open cuts. It’s a testament to all that he’s endured out in the field, things far worse than you can ever imagine. Things far worse than what you’ve seen with your own two eyes at the hospital. You remember Frankie talking about a gunshot wound on their last ‘mission’ that Will simply patched up with a few pads of gauze, and even remembering the way Frankie told the story has your brows pinching together with distaste. “Is it bad?” Will murmurs, bringing your eyes down to his again.
“No, it’s not bad.” Were you really that easy to read, or maybe this close Will can just see right through you? “Are you feeling okay? Need a painkiller or something?”
“Probably just some water but I can wait.”
A hint of a smile teases the edges of your lips, wanting to lighten the sullen mood that’s fallen between you two. “I’ll make it quick, then.”
And you do, as much as you could. All of the open wounds were small enough that Will didn’t need any stitches; a few slips of the skin glue enough to close them, followed by pressing the thin adhesive strip bandages on top to make sure everything held. You lean in close when you get to the cut along his cheek, not wanting to mess up something that could’ve otherwise turned into a scar. Not that you thought Will would mind or didn’t have plenty of those, but you’d always been cautious about the face for any of your patients and he was no different. So focused on your work, steady fingers brushing back the small bandage, you don’t notice just how close your mouths are until you start to speak, the bristles of his beard tickling the edges of your pout. “Good as new,” you chime and without thinking, continue to say, “handsome as ever.”
If the ground could open you up and swallow you whole, you’d thank all your lucky stars and maybe even become religious. Had you really just said that? Heart hammering a bruise behind your ribs, you dare to steal a glance at Will’s face, hoping and praying and wishing you’d find something akin to indifference written over it. An indicator that he didn’t hear what you just said or maybe that he’d spare you and ignore it. Instead, you find a slick shine on his lower lip, a flirt of his tongue before he pulls it in while those thick, blonde lashes bat against his cheek. It’s silent for a few seconds, the weight of your words hanging over you like a blanket, and as soon as you open your mouth to say something, Will’s hand finds a home on your hip.
“It’s okay.” His tone stuns you, softer than you’ve ever heard it, swallowing thickly as you give him a shallow nod. “I didn’t mean to come here so late. Thank you for helping me. I was going to drive myself to the emergency, but Benny thought it’d be better to come see you directly. He all but followed me to make sure I actually didn’t go anywhere else.” All the while his thumb starts an absent sweeping motion, snagging on the hem of your shirt and sending goosebumps spreading fast on your skin.
“I’m glad you did, Will. You’d have been sitting in the waiting room for hours, you know.” Your fingers trail down until they brush over his knuckles, the same ones still holding you steady. “A heads up would’ve been nice, though, I guess.”
You’re not sure where this drop of courage is coming from. Maybe it’s the fact that Will took the lead here, the fact that his palm seems to press in more firmly where it lay. But as you search his eyes for a response, you can see the very second the moment splits into two. The moment where reality rears its ugly head and presents the staggering truth: too much. This is too much, too soon. There’s a faint quiver to Will’s lower lip, a muscle feathering in his jaw, and a few blinks is all it takes for those arctic blues to gloss over with something colder. Something you’ve seen in his eyes before, usually at the start of the night when he’s still had all his guards up and the others were around keeping a watchful and protective stance around you. Or when you’d overhear him and the guys talking about their pasts, especially their old friend. Or even the times you listened to Will’s speeches, recounting the eventful situation he found himself in at the grocery store when he all but lost his grip and sense.
“It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.” His hands drop as low as his voice, the words leaking of shame.
You won’t pretend to ever know what happened between Will and his ex, or even Will on the last mission, but it doesn’t take a genius to recognize the wheels turning behind those wary eyes. His entire face twists like he’s trying to hide the visceral need to run, and the warning signs flood the forefront of your mind as Frankie’s booming voice echoes between your ears: it’s a bad idea, he’s not ready, he’ll hurt you, you’ll hurt each other.
“It’s okay, Will.” Barely above a whisper, you say the three words you hope will settle in his bones the same time you step back to put a small gap between your aching bodies. His aching undoubtedly from the fight he’d put up for Benny and yours for different reasons entirely, emphasized by the fact that every fibre of your being is reaching out to return to his orbit. 
His hands clasp together in front of him, another sharp breath slipping past those lips before he rises to his full height. It takes you too long to point out that his knuckles still have dried blood on them, but it’s clear he has no intent on staying any longer than necessary. Hiding the hurt from your face was easy enough but the way it stings the corner of your eyes is something that’s more challenging to tamp down. Twisting your body away from him and ducking your chin into your chest, you try to stride out of the bathroom, but his words have you faltering right at the threshold. “Do I owe you something for this?”
“What?” Brows bunching together into a frown, you peer at him over your shoulder. “No, Will. You don’t owe me anything.”
Is it relief you see as tension uncoils from his body? Like maybe the fact that he didn’t owe you anything meant he didn’t have to talk about this night, relive it, or see you again? Your mind is racing a mile a minute, your steps faster as you make it to your living room and leave him following behind. “Hey,” Will’s voice is strained and again, it has your resolve wavering, leaning against the back of the couch as you slowly turn to face him, “thank you. I’m not sure what else to say. I know seeing a man sitting at your door late at night probably wasn’t the most welcoming thing, and out of the blue, too. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.” You don’t mean to snap, the words falling out with a bite, but it’s too late to take them back. The only thing you can do is cast your eyes up at Will with a hint of regret flashing across your face. Because you did want him to stop saying sorry, to stop feeling bad for leaning on you when he needed help. Because you’re hit with the realization that refusing and turning him away at the door was never even an option. “It’s okay. Really, Will. I mean it. I’m happy to help you.” You admit softly, sucking in a breath to keep the momentum going, pivoting at the last second to turn the conversation into something less daunting as you murmur, “though I guess I thought the next time would’ve been under different circumstances.”
This seems to do the trick, lifting the veil of tension even for a brief moment, allowing you to catch a ghost of a smile when the lines on Will’s cheek deepen. “Mmhm, yeah. Would’ve been nicer if it were, I imagine.”
Fidgeting with your fingers yet unable to keep your attention away from him for too long, your eyes dance between your own hands and his. “Do you want me to take care of that, or…?” A little matted blood only needed a good wash, but you’d take the opportunity to tend to him if he allowed it.
Blue eyes dart down to meet where you’re looking, a quiet hum sounding in your apartment that feels like a ticking time bomb minutes before the inevitable crash. It comes far too quickly, and far too quietly, hitting you harder than you’re prepared for. “No, it’s okay. I should go.”
Whatever bubble you’d convinced yourself you were in pops, the moment once again splitting into pieces. This time, more than two, dropping around you helplessly and all you can do is agree with him as it slips like water between your fingers. “Okay.” After all, you'd have no right to ask him to stay. He’d already done that, and now Will’s decided it’s his time to leave. Palms slicking with sweat, you find yourself nervous. Find yourself wondering, not for the first time since you’ve known Will, why you were so nervous around him. It’s just Will, you remind yourself, something that’s becoming more of a mantra these days. “You drove here? You’ll be alright?”
“I’ll be alright.”
But would you be alright? It’s hard to tell because the longer Will lingers in front of you, the longer your mind strays. Is he second guessing himself? Is this all in your head? Is he going to shrug his jacket off and change his mind? Through the corner of your eye and in the dim light of your living room, you see the way his fingers twitch as it slowly rises. Inches before they can touch any part of you, it fades, your heart sinking into your stomach.
Only for it to crawl back up to lodge in your throat when the scent of Will threatens to overwhelm you as he steps in to press a kiss to the crown of your head, another muffled “next time, then,” before he’s skirting past you, opening your door, and leaving.
Leaving you with even more conflicted thoughts about Will Miller, ones that replay over and over again the entire night. Ones that blend into a flurry of emotions as you clean up and ready yourself for bed, ones that have you picking up your phone in the dark to type out a hurried text
'You should’ve stayed. Next time?'
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