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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

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Hi can I request a smutty 3/e/32 cause of the heatwave reader shaves Jax Tellers hair. She wears a tiny dress with nothing under it cause it's too hot. and while Jax is sitting there and she's standing in front of him doing her thing he's going insane cause of that dress and starts stroking her thighs n more which leads to sex in the bathroom 🥵🥰

Heatwave.

3. "Will you let me cut your hair?" + 32. "Can I touch you?" + e. Heatwave

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here. my first ever Jax fic - god this man is so gorgeous !! anon, i hope you don't mind that i chose to cut his hair rather than shave it - because the idea of shaving his blonde locks breaks my heart honestly :( thank you for this request!! x

my other jax fic.

Pairing - Jax Teller x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! cursing

Word Count - 890

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

You can't watch him struggle any longer.

Jax is in your driveway, working on his bike in the blazing sun. He's shirtless, golden skin on display, sweat dripping down his back. He looks like he should be on the front cover of a magazine.

You can see him becoming irritated. His hair keeps falling into his face, getting into his eyes. He repeatedly pushes it behind his ears, to no avail. It just falls again. You're worried he's going to pull it out in a fit of rage, honestly.

"Jax?" you call, rising from the porch to make your way towards him.

He turns when he hears you call his name, beaming smile on his face. The smile falters slightly when he takes in the sight of you. You're wearing a short, colourful sundress, material swishing around your mid thighs. It hugs your body in all the right places, thin straps revealing your lack of bra. He takes a deep breath upon your approach, begging his mind to stop racing with the filthy thoughts.

"Hi, darlin'," he drawls, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. You're wearing your cherry lip balm, and it takes everything in him not to bend you over the bike right there.

"Will you let me cut your hair?" you ask sweetly, throwing your arms around his neck.

"You want to? Thought you liked it long."

"I do, but it's getting in your way. Just let me take a little length off? It'll stop it from falling in your eyes."

He smiles at the realisation that you've been watching him struggle and could no longer bear it. An angel, sent just for him.

"Okay, baby. Let's do it," he says, kissing you again. Abandoning his bike, he picks you up around the middle and practically carries you inside.

You pull a chair into the bathroom and gesture for Jax to sit while you rummage in the drawer for the hairdressing scissors. When you find them, you move to stand between his legs, big blue eyes watching your every step.

Jax places his hands on your hips while you run your fingers through his hair, combing it gently. You're deciding how much to take off, surveying carefully. You know he won't mind either way, but you still want to make it look good.

You start snipping away, ignoring the beads of sweat that are dripping down your back. It's the hottest day of the year so far, and your air conditioning can only do so much. You wish you could walk around with your shirt off like Jax. He probably wouldn't mind, actually.

His hands migrate from your hips to your thighs, stroking up and down gently. He's making it hard to concentrate, so you double down on your focus, determined to finish the job. Neither of you say anything about the way your breathing has quickened, or the way his is now deep and laboured. His fingers brush higher, and you put the scissors down on the counter.

"What are you doing?" you question teasingly, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"Just sitting for my haircut, ma'am," he answers cheekily.

"Do you try and put your hand up all of your hair stylists dresses, Jackson?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he winks.

His eyes darken slightly as they rake over your body, up and down. He wraps a strong arm around your back, pulling you into him further. The other hand is still tracing patterns on your inner thigh. He dares to move it higher, and lets out a guttural groan at what he finds.

"Fuck, honey. Are you wearing panties?"

"Nope," you reply, popping the 'P'. "Too hot."

He rests his head on your stomach and trails his fingers along the crease of your thigh.

"Can I touch you?"

"You are touching me, Jax."

"No, baby. Can I touch you here? Please?"

To emphasise his question, he brushes his fingers over your clit lightly. You jolt at the sudden contact, throwing your head back.

"Yes, Jax. Please."

You're suddenly grateful for the grip you have on his shoulders. Your knees are buckling already, balance unsteady. God, this man knows how to play you like a violin.

"No more teasing," you pant. "Need you."

How can he say no to that?

He's fumbling to unbutton his jeans, pushing them down his thighs. He pulls you forward so you're straddling him, and lines himself up. In one swift stroke, you roll your hips downwards and he slides home, both of you groaning.

"Fuck, darlin'."

"Shit, Jax. Please."

You use his thighs and his shoulders as leverage, moving yourself up and down. He thrusts upwards, meeting your strokes, sending pleasure prickling down your spine.

"This fuckin' dress," he groans. You giggle, and the vibrations drive him wild.

He can tell you're close when your hips start to stutter, rhythm faltering. He doubles down, thrusting up with more force. Jax bites down on your shoulder, and it sends you over the edge, white hot and blinding.

Your climax triggers his, hips not stopping until you're both spent and boneless. Your foreheads are pressed together, panting.

"I'm gonna buy you a hundred of these dresses," he chuckles.

"Fine by me," you reply, kissing him deeply.

"Good."

"Might need one with sleeves, though. Something's gotta cover this bite mark."

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laurfilijames · 2 months

Text

Bulletproof

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Mentions of being shot through a bulletproof vest. Bruises and welts. Swearing. Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: After a close call in a gunfight, Jax turns to you to remind him of all the things in life worth living for.

A/N: I'm sorry I couldn't help it. This is a teeny bit angsty and full of feelings. I needed to write something "short and sweet" (it's neither of those 🤣) to get my writing back on track, and well, here's this... enjoy!!

---

The buzz of your phone that sat on the nightstand beside your head woke you from a decent sleep, taking you a few minutes to register it was happening for real and not in a dream, a soft moan passing your lips as you reached over for it and hit the button to accept the call.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice groggy and unable to disguise your sleep, your eyes too heavy and blurred to have read on the screen who was on the other end.

“Hey, it’s me,” Jax’s voice registered in your ear, making you become a little more alert and sit up while running your hand over your hair.

“I’m on my way over,” he explained, his tone short and wired, like he was on edge or adrenaline was pumping through him.

Glancing over at the alarm clock, you simply agreed, not asking any questions, knowing if he was calling you and needing to see you at this hour that something more than just sex was on his mind.

The roar of his Harley came through before he hung up, and flinging the covers off while swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you did the same.

You walked through to the front door, wearing only his Reaper t-shirt that had become your nightly staple, flicking the bolt to unlock it as you leaned against the frame, peeling back the curtain that covered the small window to look out onto the dark street as if he would be rolling in any second despite him having just left to get there.

Letting your eyelids close, you continued to lean, wrapping your arms around yourself to try to keep some of the lingering warmth from your bed on your skin, partly hoping that Jax would be tired and ready for sleep when he arrived.

The familiar rumble of his engine sounded in the distance and grew louder with each second, and an automatic smile tugged at your lips, your heart picking up pace just as his motorcycle did to quicker close the gap between him and you.

You watched through the window, your fingers toying with the thin fabric as you held the curtain aside, seeing him roughly push down the kickstand with his white sneakers before quickly standing up and dismounting his bike, unfastening his helmet at the same time.

The way he was rushing made your pulse hammer, his deliberate strides a clear display of his desperation, and you opened the door for him before he blew through it and knocked it off its hinges, his expression a mix of frenzy and relief as his blue eyes landed on you.

Gloved hands gripped your cheeks roughly, pulling you into him equally as much as he pressed himself into you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss so hard it stole your breath.

A slightly surprised gasp blew out of your mouth when he parted from you and gave you an opportunity to get air back into your lungs, your eyes searching his features with concern as you took in the sweat clinging to his reddened cheeks, his hair damp and darkened.

His chest rose and fell sharply, and tearing off his gloves, he raked his long fingers that held a home for his chunky rings through his messy tresses, exhaling a shaky breath as he looked down at the floor and then back up at you.

“Jax, what happened?”

He shook his head and chuckled falsely, pulling his bottom lip in his teeth before looking at you with what he must have thought was a convincing expression.

“I’m fine.”

His eyebrows sat high on his forehead and brought out the creases on it as he stared at you, and when you held his gaze almost challengingly, he blinked away the moisture that you caught building up in them and moved into you again, his sigh emptying out into your mouth as he kissed you slower this time, but with equal passion.

Your hands slipped up beneath his kutte, the heat of his skin pouring off of him as you rubbed his back in soothing motions, the act comforting yourself as much as it was him.

The familiar taste and smell of smoke assaulted your nose and transferred onto your tongue, knowing whatever stress he was under right now had caused him to light up one cigarette after the other to try to settle his nerves.

As your kiss faded out, Jax rubbed his nose against the side of yours, his breath hot on your cheek, the stickiness of his skin transferring onto yours.

He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing for a moment while he let his hands roam up over your bum and onto the small of your back, bringing your body even closer to his.

Swaying slightly on the spot, he nuzzled his face into yours even more, a moment of softness before he met your lips again, claiming you in another kiss that started slow and quickly increased in fervor.

His breathing became laboured, struggling to draw in enough air as he kissed you harder and with more desperation, his hands gripping at your flesh beneath his worn shirt.

You could feel his hard cock pressing into you as it strained against his jeans, making you rub yourself on it a couple of times with a teasing grind of your hips, your fingers moving down his stomach to work at the button and zipper while he shrugged out of his kutte.

It landed carelessly on the floor beside you, and you couldn’t mistake the slight wince on his face before it disappeared in his hoodie as he lifted his arms and pulled it over his head, immediately moving back to capture your lips again.

He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans, walking forward to force you back and further into your house, your hand rubbing him through his boxers before diving inside the waistband to take hold of his cock, stroking the hot, velvety skin of his length that made you moan into his mouth and him push harder on yours.

Both of you blindly made your way toward your bedroom, only pausing your kisses briefly to peel the white t-shirt that clung to his body off of him, your breath knocking out of you as he slammed you against the wall and began lifting the hem of the shirt still covering your body.

Once your naked form was available to him, he trailed his lips down your neck and along your collarbone while his hands smoothed all along your waist, one moving to your breasts where his fingers plucked one of your peaked nipples, the other traveling downward to slip between your legs.

“Jax…” you breathed, your tone needy and filled with lust, the sensation of his fingers entering and withdrawing from your slick hole making your eyes close and your head knock back on the drywall.

After losing yourself in ecstasy for a couple of minutes, you refocused, needing him more than ever, your thumbs hooking in the band of his boxers to tear them down his legs.

Jax took your hand and turned to lead you the short distance to your room, giving you a view of his back where your eyes were drawn to different spots of dark colouring that weren’t part of the ones that made up the large tattoo that covered almost all of it.

Peppered between the image of the Reaper and letters that spelled out ‘California’ were round bruises, his skin raised with welts, and your heart sank in realization of what had caused them; the impact of the bullets that had hit him unable to be disguised even with the protection of kevlar.

You instinctively reached out to lightly trace each one, counting three in total, a mix of emotions rushing through you that were half grateful and half terrified.

“I’m fine.” He repeated the same lie as before, glancing back at you as he paused in his steps and turned to face you.

You dove into him, wrapping your shaky arms around him to hug him so tight you didn’t care if it hurt, feeling his arms encase you in return and his lips press multiple times on the top of your head.

A sourness crept up your restricted throat, your guts twisting almost painfully at the thought of one of those bullets striking a place the bulletproof vest hadn’t been covering, and you frantically began kissing him everywhere you could reach, starting on his chest and making your way up his neck, your hands moving to cup his cheeks where your thumbs smoothed back and forth on his blond scruff. Your lips met again, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths as you transferred all your worry and grief into a display of love, his cock nudging at your core to remind you of what it was he needed right now.

The oncoming tears stung when you squeezed your eyelids together tightly, one slipping out and down your cheek as you retrained your focus on the feel of his tongue tangling with yours instead, the simplicity of needing to just be with him beginning to outweigh anything else.

You finally made it into your room, sitting on the bed and scooching yourself back to lay down with spread legs as he settled between them and sank overtop of you, continuing to kiss you with as much ardor that the skin around your mouth was already beginning to feel raw.

His knee pressed up on your thigh to guide it higher, spreading you out further as he covered your body completely with his, his fingers running along your scalp to send shivers across your skin.

You adjusted your hips, angling yourself to allow for his leaking head to push through your folds, lingering with just the tip of him inside you that somehow already made you feel full.

The skin on his back was tacky as you ran your hands gently up and down it, feeling his muscles flex as he began to move against you, his cock stretching you out inch by inch as he slowly pushed all the way in.

It was ironic; catching glimpses of the silver shell casing that hung from the chain around his neck in the light shining in through the window as it wagged and glided along your chest, filling the space between your hearts that hammered furiously and proved his vitality as if it hadn’t been threatened.

As soon as Jax had pulled into your driveway he felt better, the need to see you and be with you at the forefront of his mind, having bolted out of the clubhouse the minute he had changed out of his tac vest and clothes that were sprayed with holes from the gunshots he could still hear going off in his head.

Now that he had felt your lips against his and the softness of your skin beneath his palms, he was filled with an appreciation for you that he knew he took for granted too many times before, the relief he felt at being with someone who made him feel alive after a close call with death sobering him in a harsh bite of reality.

The way you made him feel was undeniable, giving him a vigor that was too often misplaced and diluted even though you showed him a brighter side to all the darkness that surrounded him, his lack of commitment to anyone but his club wrongly applicable even to you.

He thrusted harder into you, deepening his strokes as he peeled his mouth from yours to watch his cock pump in and out of you, the sound of your pleasure coming out in beautiful whimpers and soft moans while requesting more from him reiterating every reason why he came here tonight in the first place.

Jax dove against your lips again, needing to kiss you in order to stop himself from saying things that he feared may only be a result of how fucking scared he had been earlier, but deep down knowing the words that portrayed how he felt weren’t coming from a place of fear.

It felt different. Crazed and desperate and meaningful, the way he fucked you hinting at something more intent and unwavering than usual.

Sex with Jax was always mind-numbing and intense, but you never let yourself get too far into things knowing he could be gone before you even woke the next day and carrying on without thinking twice about it meaning anything more, his nonchalance always reminding you to take nothing from it other than pleasure.

Gone.

The potency of that little word had your eyes burning again, burrowing an emptiness in your chest that ached to be filled by anything he was generous enough to give.

There were never any labels put on what you were to each other or what this was, but the possibility of losing him at any moment made you desperate to show him what he meant to you, your fingers digging into the flesh on his upper arms so hard as if adding marks of your own on his body would make him stay with you forever.

You reached your face upward to press harder against his mouth, happy when he reciprocated and drove his tongue deeper inside yours, the long, rolling motions of his hips continuing, only now with more calculated force.

Heat bubbled within you, building up into that familiar tingle that taunted to be chased, every nerve in you warning of what drew nearer with each pump and drag of his long cock in and out of you.

The way his hands roamed your body in a calm, but needy way had your mind spinning, like the more he touched you the more it grounded and convinced him that he was still here to enjoy something this good; the gravity of today in no hurry to lose its effectiveness.

Jax paused for a moment, rubbing his hand over your forehead as he searched your eyes for permission or assurance or something more that scared even you, the sound of your panting breaths the only thing audible in the dark quiet of your room. He dipped down to brush your lips again, his scruff holding onto the sweat that had effectively coated every part of his body, lightly teasing with a softer kiss before resuming the purposeful tempo of his hips, the silence between you able to voice that you were both ready to find your high together.

Letting your bodies say what your words couldn't, you met his pace, grinding and rolling deliberately in time with him, the need to help him find his release with the use of your body seeming more important tonight than it ever had.

Jax gripped your face tightly, his fingers squeezing your jawline in an almost frantic way, groaning into your mouth desperately as a signal of his climax.

His thrusts never faltered, continuing to pound you while his hot cum filled you up in aggressive spurts, throwing you into your own orgasm as your clit rubbed against the coarse hairs on his groin. The feel of his cock sliding his thick seed in and out of you drew out your high, prolonging every blissful spark and shudder that tore through your body, the way his sweaty form laid heavily on top of yours a necessary weight that helped you stay rooted in the moment.

He remained buried inside you while you kissed, catching your breaths by sharing each other’s until he slipped from between your legs and crashed onto the covers beside you, his arm falling over his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

Despite having just been as close to him as you possibly could be, you felt a vacancy and longing for him, glancing over at him where you watched him close his eyes, his chest rising and falling quickly as he drew in sharp breaths.

His necklace fell to the side from where it rested on his pec, hanging in his armpit as he continued to breathe, and you carefully picked it up between your fingers, the silver cold against them and a stark contrast to the heat that radiated off his body.

Even though his eyes remained closed, you couldn’t mistake the pained look on his face, a sort of fear and vulnerability that was rare to see on his features, his mortality shattering the usual invincibility that was layered on falsely by his cockiness.

Your chest felt tight, watching him let everything the adrenaline had prevented him from feeling earlier course through him, and you leaned over and traced your fingertips along the creases beside his mouth before pressing your lips to his, relieved when he didn’t hesitate to kiss you back.

His arms came down to wrap around you, pulling your body to rest more on top of his, his hands carding over your back in a comfortable, soothing way.

You couldn’t recount the times sex with Jax had turned into a quick goodbye between smiling kisses and promises to see each other soon only to have days turn into weeks, convincing yourself and him that this was nothing more than a casual, fun fuck, having to disguise the way your heart ached for him and how many butterflies erupted at the mention of his name alone.

None of that mattered tonight, no longer caring if you let your cards show, the severity of tonight outweighing any need to try to stifle your feelings or bother denying that you felt more for him than you ever intended to let happen.

Jax remained pensive and quiet, his boisterous self clouded by his brush with a graver fate, but with the occasional kiss to the top of your head and the way his heartbeat had steadied in your ear, you knew he was comforted in your embrace.

As you laid entwined in your sheets, your leg hooked over his waist while he held your hand and played with your fingers, interlacing them and listlessly running them through his, you thought how you would never be able to control or guarantee if he would be yours to love forever, the way he lived his reckless life a threat to any sort of assurance.

A soft smile tugged at your lips when Jax shifted slightly lower on the bed to line up your face with his, kissing you slowly and clutching your hand in his where he brought it into his chest.

His nose rubbed against yours a couple of times before he settled his head on your pillow, a quiet hum sounding from his mouth, his blue eyes shining with a vitality and promise that for at least another day, he was yours.

---

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#jax teller #sons of anarchy #jax teller smut #jax teller x female reader #charlie hunnam #jax teller x reader #sons of anarchy fic #charlie hunnam characters #jax teller fic #samcro

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rayslittlekitten · 8 months

Text

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

"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.

#Charlie hunnam #Charlie hunnam fanfiction #Jax teller #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller x reader #jax teller x you #jax teller x female reader #Jax teller x F!reader #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #AU #pornstar!jax #pornstar!jax teller

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musings-of-a-rose · 3 months

Text

Weighted Blanket

Pairing: Will Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 860+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Chatting about what a great weighted blanket this man would make and so I dedicate this to @laurfilijames. This was not beta read.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Will Miller Masterlist

Today had been the day from hell. You knew it would be, especially since you’d been out for several days being sick. Morning meetings ran long, everyone scrambling to prepare to open, and then the patients? Don’t even get me started.

When I finally get into my car at the end of the day, I turn on the ac and rest my head against the headrest taking several deep breaths, just listening to the vents pumping cool air into my hot car. I just have to make it home. A shower is waiting for me and Will should be home today.

Will.

My amazing boyfriend of a year and a half. Will had to go away for work for a few days and was finally coming home. I know a few days isn’t that long but it killed him to leave me when I was sick. And to be honest, I hated not having him there, sick or not.

His truck is in the parking lot when I pull in and I smile knowing he’s upstairs. I hurry to our apartment and push my key in the lock, quickly shedding my shoes and tossing my bag down on the little side table before heading towards the kitchen, where sounds and a delicious, heavenly smell were emanating from. I lean against the door frame, just taking in the sight of him. Will, standing at the stove with his back to me, casually making my favorite food, his hair still wet from a shower, navy blue shirt stretched thin over his broad back and thick arms, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips. He clicks off the burner and divvy’s the food onto 2 plates before turning, his face lighting up when he sees me.

“Hey, sweetheart. How was work?” When I don’t answer right away, he let’s out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

I nod, pushing off the door frame. “Nothing I didn’t anticipate. Still sucked though.”

“You hungry?”

“Starving. But first I need to shower. I feel so gross.”

Will sets the plates down and takes a few large steps towards me. He moves for a hug and damn do I want one, but I’m gross. People actually spit up on me today. So I sigh, stepping back and Will puts his hands up, freezing in place.

“Must have been really bad.”

“You don’t even want to know.”

He winks and blows a kiss at me, turning back to finish up dinner. The shower was glorious, the hot water and bubbles relaxing me somewhat, and washing away all of the gross from my skin and hair. I don’t linger, my stomach grumbling as I pull on some pajamas and head straight for the kitchen table, where Will had just set down drinks for us. Before I sit, he pulls me to him, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, his hands cradling my face.

“I missed you, sweetheart.”

“I really missed you too, Will.” He starts to deepen the kiss, but is interrupted by the loudest grumble yet from my traitor of a stomach. He laughs, placing a hand on my tummy.

“Let’s get some food in you.”

—----

Dinner was delicious, as usual when Will cooks. It’s not just that he follows the recipe to a t, but he has his own personal flair to it. Will’s cooking can make any sour mood turn sweet. Or maybe that’s just me.

After our bellies are full, we sit on the couch and I curl my body against his, feeling his large arm wrap around me, the warmth from him seeping into my bones. He kisses the top of my head and rests his own there, both of us content to just be with the other. But my day was hard and before long, I feel my eyelids drooping. Will must have noticed because I swear I blinked and somehow ended up in bed, Will pulling the blankets up around me before crawling in next to me. He tries to pull me to him, but it’s not what I need. He crooks his finger under my chin, lifting my head to look at him through sleepy eyes.

“Do you need Will blanket?” I nod, my eyes barely open.

Will helps me lay down on my back, making sure my pillow is adjusted before he drapes half his body over mine, linking one of his muscular legs with mine as he tucks himself over me. His arm drapes over my body, rubbing small circles into my opposite arm. I turn my head and realize my nose is in the perfect spot to nuzzle into his hair, so I do it, inhaling the scent of him. The weight of him on me settles my nerves, the last bit of overstimulation and wired emotions leeching from my body the longer I feel his breathing, his body pressing into mine.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

It’s so tender and loving, full of care and I think about how much I love this man as he gently lulls me to sleep.

In the morning, he has different plans for me and I’m so glad I got the rest I needed.

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @marrianena @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

#will miller x reader #will miller x you #will miller x f!reader #will miller x female reader #will miller #william miller #willilam ironhead miller #will ironhead miller #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fan fic #triple frontier ff #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam character fanfic #charlie hunnam character fanfiction #charlie hunnam character ff #charlie hunnam characters

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angelickks · 2 months

Text

ex-wife - francisco ʻcatfishʻ morales

drabble - ex-husband! francisco ʻcatfishʻ morales x ex-wife! reader warning(s): divorce (obvi), longing, insinuation to drug use, like one swear word, nickname "mama", a very sad and lovesick frankie this was definitely just something i was playing around with, just a short little drabble. i havenʻt been as active much BUT I have been working on some things. feedback is always appreciated loves,my inbox is always open! it could be a potential series?? who knows. slightly proofread, muah!

“francisco?”

he hadn’t heard that voice in almost two years, that soft angelic voice he had missed since the ink on his divorce papers dried.

he betrays his mind when his heart tells him to face you. he can’t help the way his lips part in surprise, his ex-wife as he lives and breathes, just beautiful as the day she left him. he can’t help but crack a sad smile at the beautiful woman that still takes up every inch of his heart.

“hi mama” he utters softly, unsure if he’s even allowed the pleasure to call you that anymore, he simply can’t help it. you purse your lips together at the endearing nickname from your ex-husband, still, you give him a smile as you’re genuinely happy to see him.

frankie doesn’t fully register that you’re moving towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist and planting a greeting kiss on his cheek. he blinks a few times before wrapping his arms around you, he’d dreamt of the day he’d feel your arms again and here he is not fully registering it.

“how are you francisco? what brings you here?”

you ask kindly, genuine concern and curiosity laced in a voice he’s yearned for. he rubs the back of his neck nervously, still not believing that you’re here and looking absolutely radiant, you pick up on his nervous tell like it’s second nature.

“oh…meeting the guys in a bit actually, pope brought us out. you know this isn’t usually my scene, mama.”

he can’t help your infamous nickname from slipping out, he’s called you it long before your marriage and seeing you again is bringing back memories of it.

you nod knowingly, chuckling slightly at the mention of santiago and his endeavors.

“i know that. i’m sure this is certainly awkward for you frankie, i just hadn’t seen you in a while and it would’ve been rude of me not to say hello.”

always so kind and considerate his girl, he guesses that even after the two years of being separated that never changed, just the fact that you weren’t his anymore.

while yes, you certainly wanted to talk to frankie, it brought back memories. not to mention, his nickname for you made your heart flutter for your ex-husband but that certain fondness and memories were just that, an old flame and memories. at least you tell yourself that, one of the many things you and frankie have in common.

“speaking of which uh…what brings you here? business calling, i assume?”

you look down as you smile, frankie’s memory impeccable as always. when you two were together he remembers the dreadful business meetings held at more prestigious bars such as this one. they were never your thing, usually feeling like it was a waste of both time and resources.

no ethical amount of business is done over expensive seafood and booze.

“thank god, no. in fact i quit working for that company, i’m currently the project manager for their competitors. no more cocktail business meetings for me. i’m just out with some friends, i secured a partnership so i’m celebrating.”

he nods understandingly, admiring the way your face lights up at the mention of your new job. he loves how happy you look, picking up on how well-rested you look and how healthy you’ve been as you practically glow. it’s downright criminal how breathtaking you look right now, and while he will take any chance to admire his ex-wife’s beauty, he can’t help but feel guilty.

“well i’m happy for you mama, you deserve it all. you always did.”

his voice is low and endearing, there’s a tinge of sadness laced behind it and he prays you don’t pick up on it. you open your mouth to respond, but are quickly cut off by a ruckus only identifiable as the only men frankie trusts with his life.

“catfish, you sorry fuck! where the hell have you been?”

it’s almost ironic how hothead benny miller steals the show. you giggle at the stares and the frustrated frown frankie adorns, squeezing the bridge of his nose. it’s comical how ben’s brows quirk up, head whipping around as he hears a laugh he hasn’t heard in a long time. in a flash of blonde hair and pure muscle, you’re engulfed in a hug by none other than the younger miller.

“look at you mama! gorgeous, as i live and breathe, where have you been all my life?”

for a brief moment your heart soars, and if seeing your ex-husband didn’t help, this brings back memories of all the times spent in your old home.

“oh benny, look at you!”

you both pull away but your hands remain on his broad shoulders as you take him in, that infamous cocky smirk ever present on his lips.

“do a spin for me will you handsome? lemme look at you”

he gives you a flirtatious “yes ma’am” before doing a slow spin, blabbering on about taking it all in. as if you needed more reminders from your past, you see a group starting to form around you.

your eyes land on will first and you swear you could cry at the sight. he pulls you into a reassuring hug, sensing your nerves, mumbling a greeting into your shoulder. while benny was well loved by you, will always was your favorite miller. at one point in your life, he was your rock when frankie fell back into using. so far you’ve had nothing but pleasant memories but with one look it had turned bittersweet, reminding you of the weight of your divorce.

“alright we get it, there’s enough of her to go around. c’mere woman, i missed you”

you pull from will, rolling your eyes as they land on santiago. you shove him back playfully before pulling him into a tight hug.

“hey mama” he chuckled out, pulling back for a second to plant a kiss on your forehead.

you were over the moon to see the boys again, the divorce in itself was painful, but having them go away for the time being only added salt to the wound. meanwhile frankie did what he always does, fall back and observe quietly.

he sighs quietly, his mind still in shock at seeing you again, but god did it make his heart wrench seeing you with his friends. it was eerie how natural you fell back into their dynamic, not because it irked frankie, but because of how much it reminded him of you both.

of how much time was spent with the very people surrounding him, how many beautiful memories were shared, how beautiful the memory of his marriage was.

this entire ordeal opened the floodgates to the months spent longing, drowning out what was left of you, and having to live with his mistakes.

if he didn’t have as much willpower, he’d find the nearest exit and simply breakdown. he lingers on the thought until broken out of his trance by the woman that still plagues the very idea.

“it’s lovely to see you francisco, you look handsome as ever. i’d love to take you all in but it would be rude to abandon my own entourage..” your voice trails into a teasing tone as you playfully flirt with the guys, all in good fun.

frankie blushes at the sentiment, silently cursing how warm and red he feels without even touching a drop of alcohol.

“i mean it when i say you look stunning ma, thank you.” he says lowly, meant for your ears and yours only.

he doesn’t quite thank her for the compliment, he thanks her for her kindness, her short-lived company, for simply even being in his presence.

her eyes shine at his response, causing her ex-husband to melt at the sight.

she knows, she always knows. my smart, beautiful woman.

while he doesn’t voice his inner thoughts, she reads him like an open book and for a split second looks at him like how she used to.

she sees the man she fell in love with and has said many times even after their separation, that she will always love him.

during that split second she sees a husband, a best friend, a partner, and most importantly the source of her love and adoration.

but as quickly as it comes, it goes. eyes looking away to avoid his lovesick gaze, reminding herself of why she left and why she will stay away.

with that, she kisses them all on the cheek sweetly, says goodnight and to always be safe. as she approaches frankie she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a tight embrace.

it stands a reminder, that she’ll always have love in her heart for the man that was hers long before their marriage, that he’ll always love the woman that was his long before his mistakes ate away at him.

she pulls away, still in his arms and places a soft kiss to his lips. it’s meant to be soft and forgiving, still it wasn’t long enough for either of them.

as quickly as she came, she was gone. lost to a sea of people that crowd the pretentious place that’s far too nice for his taste.

his reality comes back and the room isn’t as bright as it was when she walked in, faced with the harshness of his predicament just as it was two years ago.

santiago claps a hand on his shoulder, sensing his sudden distress.

“life is unpredictable. maybe another time, in another place”

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winniethewife · 2 months

Text

I walked with you once upon a dream

(William "Ironhead" Miller x F!reader)

Words: 539

A/N: For the Triple Frontier Write-a-Thon.

Will’s phone was ringing, the caller Id flashing that it was the woman he had been dating for just a few weeks. He was hesitant to call her his girlfriend, they hadn’t really talked about it yet. He reaches for his phone and slides to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi! Will! Thank god you answered. I hate to bother you, but my car broke down on my way home from work and I need help. I don-” he could hear the tell tale whimper of tears in her voice and acted instinctively, interrupting her with a gently soothing voice. “Just send me your location, I’ll be right there.” He says with a reassuring tone, he could hear her sigh with relief on the other end of the line,

“Thank you so much. I owe you one.” She sounds significantly calmer when he hangs up the phone. When he gets her location he’s surprised because she shows up not so far from a suburban neighborhood. He thought she would be somewhere near town, but he realizes, he has no idea what she does for a living. As he gets into his car he ponders the possibilities. Is she a house cleaner? A Nanny? Door to door sales-woman? Will feels a little embarrassed, he hadn’t even asked her what she did for a living. He tried to rack his brain for anything that she might have said, not coming up with a single thing she had said. He pulls up behind her on the side of the road and gets out of his car. As he walks up to her door he was wracking his brain for a way to ask her what she does when he sees what she’s wearing. A full on ball gown, and a tiara. Will does a double take, this was not what he was expecting at all. She rolls down her window.

“Hey, thanks so much, I didn’t know who else to call.” She says with a smile.

“No problem…princess.” He says with a slight laugh before looking her over. “I will admit, I’m a little surprised to see you…dressed like that.”

“Oh, god. I forgot I hadn’t told you. I work for a party princess company.” She says as if that will explain everything to him. He looks at her puzzled.

“And that is?” he asks as he leans on her car looking at her.

“I get hired to dress as a princess and show up to kids birthday parties.” She explains. “Sometimes other events too, but mostly parties, hence Party princess,”

“Ah, I didn’t even know that was a thing you could do…” Will smiles and rubs the back of his head sheepishly. After getting under the hood and figuring out that this was not something he could fix on the side of the road they called roadside assistance and as they waited for the tow truck to some he asked her several questions about her job and she happily answered them. After the tow truck came Will drove her home. As he pulled up in front of her place she leans over and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you…prince charming.” She says with a cheeky smile. He chuckles slightly.

“Anything for my damsel in distress.”

Masterlist

Tag: @triplefrontier-anniversary @romanarose

#triplefrontier2019 #triplefrontier #triple frontier #x reader #Spotify #triple frontier fic #william miller #will miller #William “Ironhead” Miller #William Ironhead Miller #William Ironhead Miller x reader #female reader #william miller x reader #will miller x reader #will miller x you #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnman x reader #Charlie hunnman fan fic #x fem!reader

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intoanotherworld23 · 10 months

Text

Deep Water IV

Characters: Will Miller, Ben Miller, Frankie Morales, Santiago Garcia and female reader

Warnings: drinking, some swearing, mention of violence, mention of killing, minor kissing, and some inappropriate thoughts

Summary: Going back to the house after a bad night at the club you play a game of never have I ever and things start to heat up

I know I said I wasn’t going to post anything for a few days but I already had this written up, so I figured I owe you guys another chapter! If you wish to be added to the tag list for this please let me know! Hearts, comments and reblogs are greatly encouraged and much appreciated! Thank you all so much! XOXO

Part 3

Check out my other works on my Hall Of Hunks

"I told you we shouldn't have brought her." Frankie argued as he raced back to the house. "It was a bad idea."

"Shut the fuck up." Will growled as he wiped his forehead.

"I could have stayed with her and been fine." Frankie continued irritating Will even more.

"I said shut the fuck up Fish." He screamed at him as Frankie sunk further into his seat. "We did what we had to do."

"We should have known his men were going to be there though." Frankie mumbled shaking his head hating how south things went.

"If he would have just paid up he could have enjoyed his game." It sounded like Will was almost mad he was inconvenienced by this man not giving him what he wanted.

Benny and Santiago sat on either side of you looking down to their sleeves seeing drips of blood. Your head was starting to pound a slight ringing in your ears. Gulping as it sunk it they had just killed another man. Something must have gone wrong for them to shoot him.

All you heard was shots ringing out and hands grabbing you. Looking up to see that it was Will who had you in his hold while Frankie held his gun up covering the both of you.

It felt almost like Will was shielding you himself from anything or anyone getting to you. The way that he grabbed your hand had your heart racing and your blood pumping. He wasn't rough with you or aggressive. It was gentle and comforting which surprised you, and you didn't want him to let go.

"Look at her man." Benny sneered as he nodded to your shaken up figure. "She's absolutely terrified."

"You think I don't know that?." He turned around to glare at his brother.

"She could have been killed." Santiago said with a softer tone but Will still didn't want to hear it.

"But she didn't Pope." He argued as he looked at you just staring straight ahead your mouth slightly parted.

"Who was he?" Quietly asking as three heads turned to look at you making sure they heard you correctly.

"Some Russian asshole who owed us." Will turned back around as Frankie looked through the rearview mirror shaking his head at you.

"What was his name?" You pushed knowing it was a bad idea.

"That's not important." His hands clenching into fists by his side not wanting to involve you in any of this.

"He was still a human being." Will admired your respect for human life, but unfortunately he didn't respect them like you did.

"Not anymore." It terrified you to hear how careless he was towards someone else's lives.

Santiago placed a comforting hand on your knee giving you a weak smile. They knew what you must have been thinking and feeling, and they wanted you to know that everything was going to be okay.

They felt bad that you were in the dark, and they couldn't lend you a hand like you wanted. It was something that Will needed to inform you, and not them since they didn't even know the whole story. You really just wanted to know why and how Will knew your father, and what happened.

"What about the bodies?" Hearing that their were multiple people dead made you feel sick to your stomach.

"One of the security guys will dispose of them for us." Will had an answer for everything and could make anyone disappear.

"Won't the people at club say anything?" You asked Will turning his head to the side at your question.

"They know not to say anything." He sounded so confident you wondered if that were you would anybody say anything.

As you pulled up to the house Will was the first one out while Frankie and Santiago were walking by your side. Benny was right behind Will as they walked into an office hearing the door slam making your body jump up. Frankie wrapped an arm around your waist as you absentmindedly leaned into his body.

Right now you just needed someone to comfort you. Even if it wasn't exactly the person you wanted none the less it was still a warm body.

"I need a drink." Flicking your boots off as you shuffled to the kitchen.

"Haven't you already had enough." Frankie stating with concern at your mental status right now.

"Please that's nothing compared to what I can actually drink." Scoffing to him remembering all the times you would drink so much you were surprised you could even handle it.

Rummaging through the cabinets and drawers finding a bottle of tequila. Taking the cap off you took a shot without even bothering to get a glass. After the night you've had you sobered up since then, and you just wanted to numb this feeling you were having.

"We have shot glasses for a reason." Santiago teased you as sat down in the chair next to them.

"I plan on finishing off this bottle tonight." Both Frankie and Santiago laughing at you as they just sat back.

"Let's play a game." You stated after you took another large shot lifting your legs so your feet was pressed against the side of the arm rest.

"Like what?" Frankie looked confused hearing your suggestion.

"How about never have I ever?" They looked to each other with a shrug as they nodded.

"If we're playing that I'm gonna need something to drink." Santiago stood up as he opened the fridge cracking open a beer.

"Me too." Frankie shouted to him who tossed him a beer catching it waiting a few moments before he opened it.

"I'll go first." Raising your hand as you took another shot. "Never have I ever stolen something."

Both men groaned as they lifted up their beer and took a swig. That was probably a stupid question to ask to two men who were members of a notorious mob. Surely as the night went on and the more drinks you had the better the game would become.

"Never have I ever been to an amusement park." Looking over at Santiago with a shocked look and gasp.

"What?" Exclaiming as you and Frankie each took a drink. "You've never been to an amusement park?"

"Nope not once." Pressing his lips together as he shook his head. "Fish your turn."

"Uh never have I ever gone skydiving." All three of you looked at each other as nobody took a drink.

"Okay never have I ever." You looked around as you thought of something to say. "Been to a strip club."

Watching as both men smirked to each other taking a drink. Rolling your eyes not surprised by that one at all. As you sat there waiting for them to continue as they started discussing their stripper stories.

Laughing along as they joked how Benny got a boner from one of the strippers, and she left him hanging. Telling you how angry he was and that him and his right hand had to get very familiar that night.

If it wasn’t for the liquor coursing through your veins this topic of discussion would have disgusted you. This wasn’t appropriate at all, but it was amusing to you at the time.

"Okay okay never have I ever set a car on fire." Frankie looked directly towards Santiago who groaned as he took a drink.

"Come on man it was one time." Throwing his hands up as Frankie chuckled whereas you looked at them raising an eyebrow.

"What happened?" You asked nobody in particular.

"This idiot tossed his burnt cigarette near a car that he just poured gasoline on." He started off raising your eyebrows as you started laughing while glancing at Santiago. "The thing went up in flames."

"It was an accident." Throwing his head back not liking to be reminded of the things he messed up on.

Frankie continued laughing so hard he placed a hand on his chest. Santiago didn't look amused at all but you two were finding it hilarious. Santiago stood up straighter as he leaned forward grinning at Frankie.

"Alright fine never have I ever gotten head in a car." He smirked at the blushing man who immediately stopped laughing and a frown took on his face.

"Not you Frankie." You teased as he lifted up his beer taking a drink. "Alright young man explain yourself."

"It was a stripper by the way." Santiago butted in before Frankie could say anything.

“Wow shocker.” Lips pressed together not surprised at all that strippers were involved.

"At least I've gotten head in a car dick." Bob argued back as he flipped him off making Coyote burst into laughter.

"Yeah well at least I've never had to pay for head before." A hand went over your mouth as you tried not to cry from laughing so hard.

“Do you guys have any stories that don’t involve strippers?” Asking through brief chuckles.

“Not really.” Santiago confirmed.

You hated to admit it but you felt a little jealous of the stripper with Frankie. There was something about him that had you clawing at the cage to get inside. Wanting to know more about him, and possibly spend more time with him.

Granted he helped kidnap you, and was a part of a deadly gang. He seemed like a sweet man who has a big heart, and just wants to love someone deeply. Hoping he didn’t catch your stares through the night.

"Okay my turn." Taking a sip of your drink already feeling yourself getting very tipsy. "Never have I ever done it in public."

Both Frankie and Santiago took a swig as you looked at them with squinted eyes. Santiago shrugged meanwhile Frankie was just blushing even harder now. It made you giggle as you turned your focus on him, more turned on than you would’ve liked.

"And where was this Frankie?" Placing a hand under your chin as you asked the red cheeked man, Santiago wiggling his eyebrows at him.

"It was at a library." Now that was something you didn't expect to hear.

"Santi?" Turning to look at the other man with raised eyebrows, meanwhile Frankie still kept his eyes on you.

"It was at a club." Rolling your eyes playfully with his answer.

It didn't surprise you at all with that in fact you wouldn't be surprised if Benny and Will have also done it in a club. Feeling bile rise up in your throat at the thought of Will pressing another woman up against the walls of a bathroom. Hands on her hips with his lips kissing and sucking on her neck.

As you were picturing certain images in your mind you didn't realize how Frankie’s gazes on you were lingering longer and longer. How he would smile wider every time you laughed or teased him.

Frankie thought you were incredibly gorgeous and sweet. The more he get to be around you the more he wanted to keep you by his side. He felt extremely protective of you, and wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you.

If it wasn't for the alcohol that was in his system and his confidence feeling high he wouldn't have pulled his next move.

"Never have I ever." Frankie spoke as you and Santiago looked at him waiting for what he was going to say. "Kissed a woman named Y/N."

All you heard was Santiago ooohing as you lowered your head with a huge smile on your face. Frankie looked like an innocent little boy who was asking his crush to kiss him for the first time. It was kind of cute, and Frankie was an incredibly handsome older man. He might be a really good kisser for all you know.

Without saying a word you took another drink before you stood up to make your way over to Frankie. His eyes on yours the whole time as you sat on the other side of him Santiago looking between the two of you in bewilderment like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Looking from his eyes to his lips you watched as his Adam's apple bobbed. It was a joke at first he didn't think you were really going to do it. Like him though he was feeling the alcohol in his system.

Leaning forward as you placed your hands on his knees one of his hands grabbing your waist as you placed your lips on his. Santiago’s mouth dropped down to the floor as Frankie pressed his lips even harder into yours.

His lips were soft like clouds, and yours were tingling at the delicate pressure he was applying. You’ve never felt like that when you’ve kissed someone. You were hoping he felt the same way.

Frankie groaned in your mouth as your fingers squeezed his thigh. If it wasn’t for Santiago being right there who knows if kissing would turn into more. You could feel the familiar tingle and ache between your legs the longer you kissed.

His other hand came up to caress your jaw as he was really getting into it. Feeling the edge of his glasses pressing on your face. Frankie surprisingly was a really good kisser and didn't seem awkward or uncomfortable at all. What you didn't expect though was to feel his tongue pushing against your lips begging to enter.

Before you could you heard a door opening and two hushed voices. The sounds of their shoes echoed in your ear, but Frankie wasn't letting you go. He wasn’t about to let this moment go so quickly.

He didn't care if the other guys were watching he was loving the attention he was getting. He wanted the other guys to secretly be jealous of him right now. That is until Benny decided to speak first.

"Holy shit Fish." He shouted making you and Frankie jump apart wiping your lip as you stared down at your lap. "Didn't think you'd have it in ya."

"Shut the fuck up." He growled but there was a smirk behind those words.

"Was hoping I would have been her first kiss." Benny winked towards you rolling your eyes at him.

Feeling embarrassed knowing the two of you just got caught kissing. Looking up you immediately made eye contact with Will. Who was staring you down so much you literally felt like you were shrinking down to the floor. You couldn't tell if he was angry or disappointed.

Will was pissed to watch as Frankie had his mouth all over yours. He wondered since the moment they took you what your lips would feel like and taste like. Now Frankie was the first one that got to know that.

It wasn't your fault for how he was feeling you were drunk, lost and confused about everything. Besides you weren't his to control or claim so he couldn't yell at you for kissing another member. He was just glad it wasn't Benny cause then he'd be seeing red.

"Pope." He looked between the two men staring daggers at the man in the glasses with red cheeks. "Fish."

"Benny will catch you up to speed on what we're doing." Both men stood up leaving their beer bottles both nodding as they passed by Will.

Will watching them as they walked away making sure they were gone before looking at you. His stare was really intense and you couldn't look away. Right now you were nervous wondering what he was thinking and what he was going to say to you.

"Let's get one thing straight." He started off as he started stepping closer to you. "You're not here as a guest."

"You're our hostage." You hated being reminded of your situation but he kept going. "We've kidnapped you and I decided to keep you alive."

"Fucking my men is out of the question." His words had venom in them as he spoke. "If you think sleeping with them is going to get you out of this I suggest you try another option."

"Acting like a whore isn't going to get you what you want." Your mouth parting in anger when he called you that.

Will really didn't want to say those things to you, but he wanted to piss you off. He wanted you to steer clear of him and his men, and not try to get close to any of them. The last thing he wanted to happen was any of them forming a bond with you.

Even though deep down inside he wanted to keep you all for himself. He was selfish, and didn’t want any other man to have you.

"I'm not a whore." Huffing as you stepped closer to him this time.

"Could have fooled me." He scoffed wanting to erase the image of you and Frankie kissing.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Judging by the way you were kissing Fish I’d say if it wasn't for us you probably would have fucked him right there." He snarled his cheeks and neck turning a slight shade of red.

At first the way he was talking about you and being so quick to judge you was pissing you off. Then you saw a light bulb turn on and knew exactly what he was really trying to tell you. Knowing from the moment he caught you two to where you both were now.

"Oh I get it." Looking at him with a knowing smirk.

"The fuck do you get?" He asked scrunching his face together curious to where this was going.

"You're jealous." Pointing your finger at him his face unmoved and unchanging.

"Are you fucking serious?" He was acting baffled hoping that you bought it.

"Oh my are you so jealous." You we're starting to find this funny now. "And of Frankie too."

"Shut your fucking mouth." He pushed back and it only made you laugh harder at him.

"That's so cute how jealous you are." You confined to tease with a baby voice you were pressing your luck.

"I said shut the fuck up." He was screaming at you not taking notice that he was now standing in front of you.

"I'm gonna start calling you jelly Mcjea-." Before you could say anything else you felt rough plump lips pressing against yours.

——————————————

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wardenparker · 4 months

Text

At First Sight

Alan McMichael x female Reader

Rating: G for General Audiences, but this blog is always 18+! Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Alcohol, flirting, period manners, fluff, scheming family members, undesirable dance partners. Summary: Alan's sister Eunice is finally engaged and their mother is throwing a grand ball to celebrate. It is the last place that he wants to be...until he meets a young lady who wants to be there just as little as he does. Notes: It's been so, so very long since I wrote anything solo. Please be kind -- all errors are my own, and this is definitely not beta read. It's just a little piece inspired by my downtime at work and countless rewatches of Crimson Peak. Alan deserves some happiness, so I wanted to give him a bit. If there's interest I'll try to write more for these two, but I'll understand entirely if there's not. Thank you so so very much for reading! Dedicated to @julesonrecord for her tireless patience in putting up with me babbling about this character and how he deserved better. And to @ruflirtingwithme for always letting me keep Wade in my pocket wherever I go. There's a bit of him in this as well, for sure.

Despite the tailoring of his tuxedo, the familiar weight of the costume, and the well-traveled ballroom he finds himself standing in, Alan McMichael shifts uncomfortably. He’s lost weight this past year, worry and injury taking their toll, and the tailor assured him that it could barely be seen but took his jacket and the waist of his trousers in anyway. He isn’t as fit as he once was. He isn’t as strong. Not since he followed Edith up that mountain in England, only to bring her back down again to dual hospitalizations and true exhaustion. The doctors at the sanatorium don’t allow him to visit anymore .They say it causes episodes of hysteria.

So now they must live inside their own heads separately, and his mother has taken that as meaning it is time to push him to move on. “It’s for the best.” His mother had said. But Alan couldn’t be sure. Still, he was forced to resume his everyday life, and now it has been a full year since that fateful trip to Crimson Peak.

Eunice’s engagement has been a blessing to distract Mrs. McMichael. Her ploy to whisk her daughter off to New York City in the early summer had paid odd and now Eunice is engaged to the son of some banker who claimed to have an ancestor lead the charge at the Battle of Cowpens. They were all, Mrs. McMicheals told everyone in earshot, quite proud.

Now it was Alan’s turn to once again have marriage prospects pushed on him, and he stood in the ballroom ready to receive guests alongside his father with a false smile and a belly full of dread.

* * * * * *

“I thought you didn’t like Mrs. McMichaels?” The question hands in the air as you finish getting ready for the ball this evening. Spending the Christmas holiday in Buffalo with your aunt and uncle had been your brother’s idea – trying to see that you were taken care of without directly saying that having you in his house would be a burden. So you had reluctantly agreed, giving most of your staff the better part of three weeks off and taking only your maid with you to Buffalo.

It’s not that I dislike her entirely, dear heart,” your aunt Joan insists. “I adore her soirees.”

“How foolish of me.” It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes but your maid recognizes the expression and smiles privately. “I ought to have known. You and Uncle Christian will want to stay until daybreak, won’t you?”

“Certainly.” Aunt Joan quips, appraising herself in her vanity mirror. “Her cook makes the most divine fruit crepes.”

You could point out that her usual overt piety discourages desire and gluttony, but at near seventy years of age, your great-aunt has earned a little indulgence from life. Instead you hum a non-committal agreement and pick up your gloves., “Then it will be well worth staying until breakfast,” you encourage, offering her a smile instead.

“Indeed.” She seems most pleased at the prospect and shoes your maids away with finality. “Your dance card must be full tonight, child,” she warns with an alarming hint of mischief in her voice. “If we want you engaged before the worst of winter snows threaten to keep us all at home.”

* * * * * *

The McMichael’s ballroom shimmers with candlelight and each guest who is announced at the door is another jewel in the crown of the evening. Mrs. McMichaels flits about like a bird with a rare and precious seed, showing it off to everyone around her, and the guests who have eagerly arrived first bask in the shared glow of witnessing such good fortune. Fortunately, very certainly it is a fortunate thing, your Aunt Joan and Uncle Christian do not believe in arriving early to parties. They believe in leaving their home at the time the party is listed as beginning in order to appear both desirably busy and aloof, which means that your trio is squarely in the second half of arrivals to the McMichael house this evening. Even if it is only by a measure of twenty or thirty minutes, the less time you must spend with eligible men being foisted upon you, the better.

“Mr. and Mrs. Christian Tate,” are announced along with your name, and Aunt Joan practically shoves your out in front of them to make sure you’re seen. Not that anyone would have noticed you otherwise, so perhaps it’s wise. The peacock colored gown you chose shimmers softly in the gaslight, but the ballrooms of Buffalo do not have the large, expansive windows and glass doors that you are accustomed to in Newport. It is all mahogany and walnut paneling here, and all the ladies but you – in their pinks and creams and honey yellows – knew better. You will be lost in wainscotted corners in your deep blue, green, and purple hues. Though perhaps it is for the best. This is not your society anyway. You have no intention of ending your time in Buffalo engaged no matter what Aunt Joan might intend.

The two gentlemen at the center of the ballroom could not be anymore obviously father and son, but where the father jokes and jovially signs dance cards at praise of his skills in the country dances, the son seems dour and aloof. His pinched smile does not precisely forbid conversation but it certainly does not encourage it, and he all but sighs in resignation when your Uncle Christian seems happy to see him.

“My wife’s great-niece,” you hear him saying, just before you are shuttled forward again. “Visiting from Newport for the holidays.”

“A pleasure,” the man intones, though you cannot think he means it.

“Is it?” You offer your hand only because your aunt clears her throat so pointedly. But it is at this point that the skyscraper with blonde hair you are being introduced to chuckles. The sound is broken but warm, and you are not so displeased with being here that you miss the way his blue eyes sparkle like aquamarine in the flickering light.

“Perhaps,” he muses, catching the dance card dangling from your wrist before you can take your hand back. “Perhaps you are the first young lady to arrive tonight not to simper and curtsy over the supposed honor of being my mother’s guest. And perhaps I can recognize a fellow soul was was strong-armed into attending.” He looks tired, the heaviness of it hanging deep in his handsome features. Because yes, he is handsome. Intriguingly and admirably so. But that isn’t what is drawing you in to him like a rope tied into your ribcage that tugs you forward whenever he speaks. It’s something else. “Perhaps we will be allies tonight, you and I.”

“Allies?” You watch his hand as he claims both waltzes on your dance card, the first gentleman to do so and claiming what are arguably the most intimate of dances. “How terribly Napoleonic of you,” you droll in response.

He laughs again, a little more deeply, and shrugs his shoulders. “I would avoid the elder Mr. Davies if I were you,” he advises, clearly demonstrating his intent as that very ally he has claimed to be. “His wife passed last spring leaving him with three young children. He has become so desperate for a wife that he is inclined to propose to almost any new young lady he meets.”

“How very concerning for the young ladies.” You murmur back, glancing over at the man being subtly pointed out to you. He is squirrelish and balding, all the hair on his head seeming to have fallen to the bushy mustache adorning his upper lip. “Is there anyone else I ought to be wary of?”

“Oh, a dozen at least.” The mischief returns to this man-shaped mountain’s eyes and he offers you his arm. “It is well worth discussing. Perhaps over punch?”

“Mr. McMichael, I think you are using me as an excuse to abandon the receiving line.” You hum in amusement, not really able to say you blame him for such a thing. Or that you mind.

“Perhaps.” His grin has a shade of mischief and guilt to it. “But perhaps you are using me to avoid the attention of other guests who might bore, annoy, or otherwise rankle you, or even step on your shoes. Which I’m sure are quite beautiful and not to be defiled. This arrangement seems better for us both, don’t you think? I can promise you with surety that it has been more than a decade since I trod on a lady’s slipper at a ball.”

“I had intended to feign lightheadedness from the crowded ballroom halfway through the night,” you confess with a sly expression all your own. “Perhaps I still will. Or perhaps this mischief will prove diversion enough all on its own.”

* * * * * *

There have been many dances in your life that have made you terribly glad for the barrier of gloves between you and the man leading. Whether it was their manners that were unsuitable, the sweat of their palms, or some unsavory odor lingering around them like a drought-stricken pond, there seemed always to be some partners with whom dancing was as undesirable as an overturned stagecoach.

Tonight you fear it might be you.

Dr. McMichael — Alan, he has insisted that you call him Alan — is a divine dancer. The grandeur of his stature does nothing to inhibit his grace and as he twirls you both about the ballroom you have the oddest sensation of floating that has ever been. But as if grace and poise were not enough, the man has a damning and wicked sense of humour as well. It has taken only the smallest encouragement from you to earn you scathing reviews of the other partygoers from you. The descriptions have you nearly in hysterics in his arms, but worse yet is the way that he smiles. It is a sly and puckish expression that makes his eyes light and sparkle in the candlelight, and every time he aims it at you, you can feel yourself sweat in the most unbecoming and unladylike way.

Moist palms or a damp dress back do not make for a desirable partner, and all you can do is hope desperately that your gloves and corset are providing ample barrier so that he has no idea how deeply those smiles and jokes and bright eyes are affecting you.

“I must sound deeply cynical,” he comments after a pause. He has just told you the story of the two Misses Shrewsbury and their positively ghastly attempt at conning the attendants of a seance he attended in Albany some years ago. “I am not. Or at least I do not mean to be.”

“Is it society that you disapprove of? Or faith?” Neither question is a judgment on your part, but you tilt your head to him conspiratorially as you dance. “I have found myself weary of both in the past, that is why I ask.”

“It is neither,” Alan admits, though he does so with a wistful sigh. “I think perhaps I yearn for times past when I reveled in dancing and philosophical pursuits. When the contents of conversation at a dinner party provided fascination for days afterward.” Subtly, so that you can feel it but it is not seen to the plain-eyes observer, he shrugs. “Life soldiers on, I suppose.”

“It does.” You cannot dispute that, and you would not try. You know the trudging on of time as well as any other touched by tragedy. “May I ask what changed? Or is that impertinent?”

“It is not impertinent.” He casts his eye around the room then back down at you. “But I am afraid it is not polite, either. I would not shock you so, to tell it all. I will only say that I lost my dear friend very recently.”

“Then I am very sorry to hear it, but I have every belief in your humanity. Your taste for society, your faith, and your fascinations will return.” The look on his face says he wonders how you can be so sure, and you half-smile. The hint of sadness in your eyes keeps it from becoming full. “Take the word of an orphan of two beloved parents, Dr. McMichael. You will come back to life again after the loss of your friend. It may simply take time.”

“Alan,” he presses softly, reminding you of his insistence. “And I am sorry to hear of your sadness, as well. But it seems that perhaps God or the ghosts of our past have seen fit to introduce us tonight. Whichever it is that you believe in.”

“Whichever it is, I welcome their intervention.” It seems to you at this point that he does not care much for spiritualism or ghosts of any kind, so you will not speak your mind on that topic. As for God? His guidance has not been the one you sought in many years. No, tonight you will not give credence to any of it, if only to keep the mood light and perhaps make Alan laugh again. “I think, however, that I shall ascribe it entirely to my great-uncle. As he was the one to see us introduced.”

“So he was.” As the song ends, Alan bows quite deeply in deference to his admirable partner. “I believe I shall have to thank him for it.”

* * * * * *

“Why don’t I know the girl your son has been doting on all night?” Mrs. McMichael is behind her fan to her husband from the edge of the dance floor, inspecting the dancing and overseeing the needs of all her guests. Her guests. Which is why she is so perturbed not to be able to identify this young woman immediately. “Who is her family? She must be with one of your business associates, yes?”

“Let Alan flirt.” Edwin McMichael waves one hand dismissively, not even looking in his only son’s direction. “It’s good for him. He’s been too dour for too long.”

“I don’t care if he flirts.” Ellen ruffles, her lips pursed and ready for an argument. “So long as he flirts with the correct young ladies.”

“How do you know she is not correct?”

“Because I do not know who she is or who she came with.”

“She is Christian Tate’s great-niece.”

Ellen’s nose wrinkles. “The orphan?”

“The orphan with an eight million dollar inheritance and a palatial cottage in Newport in her name.” Mr. McMichael raises one eyebrow as he peers down at his wife, knowing precisely the sort of affect this news will have on his wife. After all, she married him for his fortune — why should Alan not marry a fortune as well? “Let Alan flirt. It makes him smile.”

* * *

He finds you again later, outside of the ballroom when you’ve wandered away to breath air that hasn’t come from the mouths of five other people first and doesn’t smell distinctly of stale cigars and brandy. He finds you when you are slumped, unladylike, in the window seat of his father’s library gazing out the window at the snow as it drifts lazily down from the pitch-black sky.

“I thought you’d run away on me.” His voice is light but the undercurrent of worry, or else embedded sadness, is there if you listen. Like a weariness that had taken hold in him sometime since the loss of his friend that he had not been able to shake. Rather than apologizing for it or paying it any mind, Alan simply holds out one of the delicate cups of mulled wine that he brought with him when he went in search of you. “I’m very glad to see that isn’t the case.”

“I had to make myself scarce from the quadrille,” you admit, having the good sense to look at least a little sheepish about it. “That Mr. Davies…the one you warned me about? He caught sight of the fact that I had been left out of the dance before and attached himself to me.” Though the conversation could not be considered so terrible to be characterized as harrowing or torturous or anything as dramatic as all that, you still had not enjoyed his overbearing presence and unfortunate lack of manners. “I’m afraid that I feigned a headache to excuse myself.”

He laughs. Truly and thoroughly, and from his belly. Alan McMichael laughs so entirely that you bury your face in one hand after you accept the offered drink from his hand and you sigh audibly. “I’m sorry…” he chuckles, gasping for a dramatic sigh when he can catch his breath. “ It’s just that you’re so terribly apologetic and sweet about it. No one would be cross with you for avoiding an impertinent man old enough to be your father.”

“I see you have not met my Aunt Joan.” With a dutiful but resigned sigh, you stand from your place of respite and sip the rather delicious drink that he has brought you. At precisely 4:02 in the morning it is both horrifyingly too late for such a drink and far too terribly early – a dichotomy that delights you. “She has done her best to see me partnered with every single man here tonight. It is only my ill luck that I encountered the only desirable partner so early in the night. To dance together a third time would expose us both to comment.”

“So?” Alan sips his own wine and gazes down at you curiously, wondering whether or not you actually give a damn about all of this convention and these rules that seem to have been mutually agreed upon by the same people who determined what food is served at each course at formal suppers. That is – someone very long ago and far away that no one can remember any longer. “I’d like to dance with you again. And you just said that you’d like to dance with me. So who gives a damn if someone talks about it?”

“Won’t your mother be cross with you?” He had said something earlier about his mother wanting him to dance with just every young lady at the ball tonight. And you know for certain that he has not just as you have not danced with every single man.

“My mother is routinely cross with me.” He admits, enjoying a laugh at the truth of it. “I try not to let it disappointment me too much.”

It is all you can do to consider him – broad shoulders stretching that jacket of his and bright eyes sparkling with mischief, the tilt of his smile and the invitation of his outstretched hand – before you are sighing in a rather dramatic show of resignation that barely shields the actual delight written on your face. “Very well,” you acquiesce, taking his hand and giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Let us be the object of idle gossip tomorrow. Let tongues wag. I will be gone in a week anyhow and that will be the end of it. For tonight, at least, we shall have a bit of fun.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo

Alan Tags: @nrthernsong @inept-the-magnificent @trulybetty @justcallmebirdie @jefferson-in-the-tardis @thesluttylittleknee @munsonownsmyass @laurfilijames @hudson-bay-girl @ruflirtingwithme @rhoorl @scorpio-marionette @absurdthirst

My Masterlist!

#Charlie Hunnam #Charlie Hunnam character fanfiction #Charlie Hunnam fanfic #Alan McMichael #Alan McMichael x you #Alan McMichael x reader #Alan McMichael x female reader #Alan McMichael x f!reader #Crimson Peak #period romance #just some flirts #I don't even know what I'm doing

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thisreadswhatever · 7 months

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Series Masterlist

Summary: After overhearing a conversation that could be detrimental to the future of SAMCRO, The Club has voted that you have to die. Fortunately for you, Jax has to complete the kill.

Series CW: 18+ minors please do not interact! female reader(y/n), swearing, mentions of murder throughout, knives, smut, cliff hangers, possible grammar/spelling errors, generally following the show but slightly AU

Wordcount: 6.7k+ (series not complete)

💌 PART ONE

💌 PART TWO

💌 PART THREE

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#jax teller #sons of anarchy #jax teller x reader #jax teller fiction #sons of anarchy fic #reads writes #jax teller smut #jax teller morrow #soa #jax teller imagine #jax teller x you #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy series #to keep me safe from you #writers on tumblr #sons of anarchy smut #charlie hunnam #jax teller x oc #jax teller x female reader

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watchtowerindistress · 2 years

Text

overcome that little challenge - raymond smith x fem!reader

A/N: Don’t look at me like that. I fell down the Charlie Hunnam rabbit hole and this character fascinated me the most. Please be gentle - this is my first time writing for Raymond. I’m really nervous about getting this man of a OCD-mess right.

To be honest, I wanted to work on a Teen Wolf story I had in mind, but then I watched this film called ‘The Gentlemen’ and now that’s currently out of the window with Charlie taking all the space in my brain.

This is my first time using the c-word in a sexual way. I’m so excited!

Summary: Reader works for Roderick 'The Spider' Dollison, one of Mickey Pearson’s partners, while being in a secret relationship with Raymond. How will Raymond react once he sees someone flirting with you?

Pairing: Raymond Smith x fem!reader

Warning: language, sexual harassment (to a degree), mention of smut, consumption of alcohol, angry!raymond, jealous!raymond, possessive!smut

Words: 4.4k

Read on AO3

Your arms were crossed over your chest while you were listening to another waitress who was interested in shortening her hours. Both of you were standing near the bar counter, yet still keeping everything happening in the nightclub in your eyesight.

Your body stood askew when Isabella approached you. “Y/N, I’m sorry? You have a visitor.”

You slowly turned your body until you were facing the other waitress. “Visitor?”

“You know, the gorgeous one with all his fancy clothing?” After seeing your curious stare, Isabella continued her explanation, “Could make you shut up with a single glance? You know, Rigid Ray?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. “I got it the first time.” You shook your head. “Just wanted to see what else you would describe him as.”

You turned your head to look for him when Raymond’s figure came into view.

The blond-haired consigliere wore his thick coat while standing underneath the atmospheric red-and-blue club lights. Raymond’s suit and tie were visible under the unbuttoned coat. His hands were in his pockets when he sent you a blank stare that you would almost classify as boredom.

You suppressed a smirk, knowing how much he abhorred seeking the Spider’s presence by stepping into the nightclub with all the sensory overload it offered. Raymond already blinked uneasily several times ever since he entered.

Isabella leaned forward in a conspiratorial whisper. “How is he like, by the way?”

You turned your head once you detected the curiosity in her voice. “You’ve met him, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but the lad’s still an enigma. How can you stand it when he’s staring at you like that? Just so unnerving, that’s all.”

“That’s why I can take it. Now get back to work, love.” You softly touched her shoulder on parting. “I can’t have people thinking I’m a nice superior.”

The woman shook her head while chuckling and moved away.

It didn’t take long until you slowly moved towards Raymond.

Still rooted to the spot, Raymond waited patiently for you to finally arrive.

With a smile on your lips, you gazed at him with a crooked head and befuddled eyes. “Mr. Smith.”

“Ms. Y/L/N.” Raymond nodded in greeting.

After looking over his shoulder, you teased with a murmur, “And without your lap dogs this time.” Your eyes sparkled when you gazed at him. “Should I feel special?”

“I need to talk to your boss.”

Your mouth twisted at hearing those words. “That’s not how this works. You call ahead. Not to mention, I’m the one who decides if my boss has the time in his social calendar. This is a privilege. Do not take it for granted.”

Inhaling deeply, he gazed at you with narrowed eyes.

Someone was fuming. Why did that delight you so much though? Maybe it was the idea of ruffling this man’s feathers.

Raymond blinked, inhaling deeply. “It’s been a long day. I don’t have time for games.”

You spread your arms to appease him. “Not a game. Roderick’s talking to someone at the moment.”

Raymond frowned as a slightly unsettled emotion took over his features. “…Roderick?”

“Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I’m willing to keep your secret if you could squeeze me in,” Raymond whispered softly.

Gazing over his shoulder towards the railing to see Big Stanley step out of Roderick’s office, you sent Raymond a teasing glance. With your lips pursed, you mockingly sighed, “Could be a tight fit.” You felt secretly delighted at seeing Raymond’s expression.

He clenched his jaw before blinking furiously.

You lifted your tablet to your eyes with a sigh and tweaked Roderick’s calendar a bit. “Then I reckon it’s your luck that Spider is done with his meeting with Big Stan.”

You offered your hands in a teasing gesture of a servant. “Would you like me to take your coat?”

Raymond gazed at you with a blank stare.

Almost like reading his mind, you assured him with a lilting voice, “I won’t leave any creases, love.”

Raymond sighed before debating with himself. “All right.”

A playful smile was on your lips. “Wonderful.”

His mouth twisted while he abandoned his coat with tense movements and humming noises, like this offering was hard enough for him already. “I’ll come back for it,” he said with a dark promise.

“I’m sure you will,” you whispered in return.

Raymond left your presence to advance the stairs.

Staring after him, you subconsciously stroked the dark clothing before calling after him, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Except for the fiddling of his glasses, Raymond didn’t appear to hear what you were saying before he stepped inside your boss’ office.

You only raised your eyebrows before you exhaled. You turned towards the bar and sat on the barstool.

Kylie, the woman taking care of the drinks for the evening, sent you a sympathetic smile. “Oh, someone has got their Ray face on.”

You placed the device next to you on the counter. “Oh, really? What does that look like?”

Kylie pursed her lips. “You know. Sometimes you look tired, like you just went ten rounds. Other times you look pleased. Although you always have that twinkle in your eye.”

“Pour me a red one, would you, dear?” You casually pointed a finger in the air. “It’s just fun teasing him sometimes.”

She placed a glass of red wine in front of you, “Here you go. Anything else?”

You handed her your device. “For safekeeping.” You noticed her placing it behind the counter, away from prying eyes. “I’ve got a free slot. So, if anyone needs me…?” You shrugged before taking a sip.

Kylie nudged with her jaw behind you. “The new one could use some backup for the poker game, you know?”

You exhaled and took a hearty gulp as a refreshment. “That’s okay.” Smirking cheekily, you draped Raymond’s coat over the counter. “In exchange. Be a dear and let Raymond know that nothing was indeed creased? Verbatim, though.”

Taking your glass of wine, you almost spilled the drink with an arching motion. You merely sent her a mischievous smirk. “Oops.” You chuckled. You seemed to have a waggish sense of humour tonight. “I’ll see how our little hummingbird is faring.”

You wandered through the hallways until you saw the open door to the poker room. A man stood guard outside, just to be sure. You nodded your head in greeting. If working for the Spider taught you anything, then it was that a safety precaution was never wasted. Roderick’s world often lured in people who didn’t know any bounds or decency.

“Hello, boys.”

Your eyes met Laurie, the new waitress once you finally entered the room. “You all right, love?”

Laurie nodded with a strained smile while holding a bottle of Whiskey to her chest as a shield.

You beckoned her to grant you the bottle with two fingers. “Come on. Why don’t you let me lend you a hand?”

“I think we scared her off, ain’t that, right, lads?” One man of the small group chuckled uproariously until the others joined in.

Laurie stepped towards you with careful steps, either because of the prospect of dropping a prize-y bottle or because of her high heels.

You took the bottle and leaned forward to whisper in Laurie's ear. “Just watch what I’m doing and don’t let them get to you. They’re little boys, nothing more.”

Laurie nodded in understanding.

Your eyes wandered downwards to Laurie’s legs. “Next time, wear some shoes which are comfortable. Didn’t the other girls tell you? One-inch heels are more than appropriate.”

For the first time Laurie smiled. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a smile, you turned back to your guests. “I hope our new girl didn’t leave you thirsty.”

Licking his lips, the dark-haired leader of the group with the moustache observed your legs with lecherous eyes.

The man’s obvious lewdness made you feel naked underneath the over-the-waist dress you wore.

God, what was his name again? Something like Trevor or Tony?

As your own form of petty revenge, you called him Tiny Tony in your head. Speaking of Tiny Tony...

“I’m getting thirsty by merely looking at you. Makes me want to reach out and grab-” He reached out a hand, like he wanted to squeeze your bum.

Out of reflex, you slapped his hand away until it dropped on the poker table. The men chortled at the obvious rejection.

Before retaliation could occur, you chose mischief instead. “The only thing you should grab are your cards, mate.” Without peeking at his card, you tilted your head. Loud enough for the others to hear, you whispered into his ear, “If they are any good though.”

As soon as you heard the others chuckle, you smirked. “Gentlemen … We are here for tonight’s refreshments and hope we can entertain you for the evening.”

“Oh, really?” The eyes of Tiny Tony darkened.

“How about this one for entertainment?” The second player with the blond hair muttered while his eyes lingered on Laurie.

You poured the guests their drinks. “Sorry to disappoint. We’re only here to keep the drinks pouring and you men comfortable.”

Laurie followed your example and poured in the same amount for Blondie’s drink.

“But having this one sit on my lap would make me very comfortable,” Blondie jeered.

“Don’t beg, it’s unbecoming. Not that kind of club.”

“It’s a pity. Spider could get in more of a clientele that way,” Tiny Tony retorted.

You resorted to the diplomatic route. “There are rules after all.” You remembered that the servers weren’t supposed to be like private dancers. Touching was allowed but under no circumstances were the girls supposed to lose their clothes.

“The Lodge doesn’t need more customers by surrendering to the basic carnal need of human nature. We already offer the temptation. It’s more like … foreplay, the prelude to want more. It's a tease. The stage before you lure someone into a relationship. Imagine us as the best friend of your sibling. Exhilarating, but forbidden in a way. And if we catch you doing something you shouldn’t, we’re going to cut something off.” You raised an eyebrow, like that thought secretly delighted you.

Tiny Tony exhaled a groan. “You’re like the woman of my dreams,” he said, letting his hand linger on your waist.

You allowed the touch as long as he wouldn’t touch your skin.

“What about a loophole and you give me your number, sexy?”

You inwardly rolled your eyes at the pet name. “Then I would tell you to keep on dreaming and give you the number for the pizza place for your lonely nights.”

Moustache Boy grunted. “You’re breaking my heart here. What did I ever do to you, huh? Do I have competition? Anyone special in your life? Someone warming your bed?” He gazed at your cleavage and licked his lips.

Strangely, this filled your body with revulsion, unlike the other things he said or did. Your voice took on a pitying quality to dissuade him for good. “Not really. Besides, honey, your idea of three minutes of shagging are not going to be worth my time.”

You lightly smacked his cheek in a condescending manner. When only silence rang in the room, you were surprised by the lack of laughter from his band of friends, since they loved taking the piss out of each other and wouldn’t miss an opportunity. You only felt Tony's hand tighten around your waist.

There was a tingling sensation in the air that stunned you. Your face met Laurie’s dazed expression looking at something over your shoulder.

Only one person could render someone speechless.

You sighed before you slowly turned your head. A mixture between dread and apprehension swelled in your stomach. The first thing you saw was the blank expression on Raymond’s face as he was standing by the door, with his coat slung over his arm. Only his eyes revealed his true emotions as they darkened. Dark-blue eyes lingered on the hand at your waist.

You quickly regained your composure. “Mr. Smith, I wasn’t aware that your interests lay with parlour games.”

They didn’t. Raymond usually swung by - if swinging by was something he was known for as such a strait-laced man - and instantly left as soon as the business was done.

“It’s Raymond.”

Tiny Tony instantly let go of your waist once he acknowledged the familiarity between you and cleared his throat. “Didn’t know you two know each other.”

The name of Mickey Pearson could open doors who was notorious for his connections in the business world and criminal underworld. But the mere persona of his consigliere certainly could fill the hearts with anxiety.

You scrutinized Raymond with confused eyes. Deliberately ignoring Raymond’s suggestion since this had been the first time he offered his first name in public, you revealed, “Mr. Smith is on business with Mr. Dollison.”

Your hand clasped your wrist over your stomach when you eyed his coat as a hint. “I see Kylie was kind enough to return your coat.”

You tilted your head with narrowed eyes. “Is there anything else?”

Raymond clenched his jaw. He scratched his bearded jaw in consideration.

Swallowing thickly, you felt your stomach clench. You hated how much his groomed beard affected you. Damn him for being a beautiful bastard.

“Indeed, there is. Let’s talk outside.” Raymond said as a finite statement, leaving no room for discussion.

You inwardly sighed. “Fine.” Your eyes met Laurie’s. “You can take a short break.”

She only nodded and walked towards the door. Raymond stepped out of the way to grant her space.

You followed behind her when Raymond lifted his finger. “Excuse me for one moment.”

Standing near the wall, you watched in bafflement as Raymond walked towards the man whose hands lingered on you.

Raymond placed his hand on the table to cage him in. Using his full height to his advantage, he leaned forward until there was no way he could be avoided. From afar, you could see him whispering something in his ear.

Since the man was already uncomfortable by the inability to escape, he was squirming in his chair with every hushed word being uttered.

Raymond swiftly turned around while adjusting his tie with an amicable smile. This rarity made you feel slightly unsettled since he tended to be more of a serious chap. “With that out of the way...”

Raymond swaggered to the doorjamb, but unlike with Laurie, he stayed rooted to the spot while you were forced to squeeze past him. The tall man made it impossible not to brush against his broad chest before he finally closed the door behind you.

You gestured to the dimly lit hallway, remembering that Raymond wanted to have that talk. The lingering bass of the seductive music echoed in the air. “Shall we?” You leaned against the wall, waiting for Raymond to go ahead.

He followed your example at the wall opposite of you, letting the red lights flood over his features in a mysterious way when he stared at you quietly.

“Your meeting was successful, I take it?”

“We’ve come to an understanding,” Raymond replied vaguely.

You arched an eyebrow. “Fine, keep your secrets. Spider’s going to tell me later on anyway.”

“That kind of tight bond between you two?”

“You mean, like between you and your boss?” You retorted before shrugging your shoulders. “I’d say so.” His vague answers made you blink. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Raymond was looking for an excuse to spend some time with you.

“Anything else, or were you trying for small talk?”

“The last time we talked, you told me I was a cold-hearted bastard,” Raymond mumbled.

The memory a few nights ago made your body tense in apprehension. You had to remind yourself where you were. At last, you put on a pleasant smile.

“Barely even remember why I said it though,” you replied with a deadpan voice. It was one of those statements one would utter to not let it show how much something was getting to you.

Raymond hummed under his breath. He tried to gauge your inner emotions by gazing into your eyes in contemplation. Raymond bowed his head, like he pulled off his invisible hat in kudos while glancing at you through his eyelashes. Fully realizing when he was silently asked to leave.

“Do pay your boss our deepest respect for accommodating us on such short notice.”

You merely nodded. While Raymond quietly departed, you focused on a spot over his shoulder.

A restless sigh left you. Your knee bounced nervously while you were reclining on the couch. You hated yourself for even harbouring the thought of swallowing your pride before him.

“No, no, no. I’m not going to do that.” You shook your head and glanced over to the phone laying on your coffee table. Despite the current black screen, the reminder of the text message still rang in your mind, taunting you.

Finally, you threw back your head in frustration with a groan. “Fine,” you grumbled under your breath. “This is a bad idea,” you added to your self-talk before you snatched your car keys.

“Is this your idea of a joke?” The growl left you as soon as you stormed Raymond’s home after unlocking the door. During your search for him, you found him in the sitting room. You lifted your phone in demonstration.

Raymond lazily lifted his head from the book he was reading. Gone was the uptight look and he was wearing his comfortable clothes reserved for when he was at home. He abandoned his suit and tie and changed into his cardigan.

“Hello to you, too, Y/N. What a surprise.” Raymond stared at you and tilted his head in that arrogant manner that always drove you mad.

“You shameless bastard.”

Snapping his book shut, Raymond placed it on the corner table next to the couch he was sitting on. Patiently, he folded his hands and said, “Those are brazen words, you know? It’s moments like these that make me wonder if you secretly share British roots after all.”

Raymond’s distraction tactics wouldn’t deter you. After you clenched your jaw, you looked down at the screen of your phone to read his message.

“Let’s talk about this. You know how hard it is for me to sleep without you.”

You looked up again. “Tell me again, what is there to talk about? I thought you needed ‘space’?” You used air quotes for the last word while Raymond’s steadfast gaze started to unnerve you. “I thought you couldn’t take it for me to take over so much of your bachelor home.”

Raymond calmly stared up at you with an open expression. “You want a drink?”

You narrowed your eyes at that. “What’s your game?”

Was Raymond trying to get you drunk to lower your defences? He wasn’t the nefarious type, maybe he aimed to give you a reason not to drive back home while you still had one too many?

“I just want to have a chat, love.” Raymond stood up and sent you a short glance before wandering away to a cupboard offering his prized bottles of alcohol. “Single Malt all right with you?”

You shook your head. Your stomach was getting heated with disappointment. “You know what? I can’t do this.”

The familiar intimacy was slowly getting to you. And Raymond’s cold demeanour in the past few weeks wasn’t good for you. Even while working for Roderick, his silent treatment rang through the back of your mind like the ghost of a distraction.

With every intention to leave, you turned away. You were tired of Raymond’s idea of fighting consisted of torturing you with silence and a look of disappointment and anger.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

Raymond’s thundering voice made you shiver and freeze in place in the kitchen. Raymond never got loud, he was all quiet and simmering anger.

You slowly turned around in astonishment, asking slowly, “What did you say?”

“You heard me, love.” Sarcasm lingered in his voice when Raymond used the term of endearment. His mouth was twisted into a snarl as he followed you with stalking steps. Raymond glared at you darkly behind his glasses. “What? Is someone scared of a little confrontation?”

Your fingertips were tingling at the taunt when you tilted your head. “Says you?”

Raymond crossed his arms over his chest. “What were you doing in that poker room?”

“My job. You know how this world works.”

Stepping even closer in your personal space, he grunted, “Oh yes, you two looked rather friendly from where I was standing. Makes me wonder how far you would have let him take it.”

You shook your head until the ends of your hair shook with the vigorous motion. “You’re such an asshole.”

Raymond’s eyes glazed with fire. “No, I’m a man who doesn’t appreciate someone else touching my woman.” His voice turned barely into a threatening whisper. “And I’m not very fond of the way in which you’re talking to me.”

You didn’t know what was getting into you as a delightful shiver wrecked your body once you saw anger on Raymond’s face and not the tight control. You weren’t one of those people who got turned on by their partner getting angry - on the contrary, it felt touching that you were able to tickle a part of him that stayed hidden.

“Oh really? I’m not one of your minions you can command.” Fascination glinted in your eyes when you whispered, “Now I’m truly curious what you’re going to do next.”

Raymond inched closer until you could feel his warm breath on your lips. His gaze was drawn to your mouth before he stared back into your eyes.

“Shut your mouth before I fill it for you.”

With every second passing, your breathing was turning heavy. Your mouth was agape, but no sounds came out. While your eyes were closed, you tightened your legs around Raymond’s waist while he pounded into you relentlessly.

Raymond’s body was on top of you, and you could only take what he was dishing out. His hand held your wrists in a tight vice, making it impossible for you to even reach for him while he was relentlessly punishing you with his thrusts.

“Someone’s greedy for my cock, aren’t you? You think you deserve it? You think you deserve to cum?”

The taunting words made your cunt drip. You moaned loudly when your thighs slung higher until Raymond’s member slid even deeper inside you with every push.

You craned your neck until your lips inched closer to his ear when you whispered, “You know I can make it feel good for you.” The muscles of your cunt tightened around his hard flesh.

You felt his groan deep inside you, making you shiver from the sensation.

“Such a greedy little cunt.” Raymond shook his head. Logic went back to his ocean-blue eyes. “Not like this.”

His warm breath flittered over your lips when he taunted, “I think you need to atone for your misdeeds.”

With a sweeping motion, Raymond pulled you in the air. A shriek of surprise exhaled from your lips.

Raymond was sitting in the middle of his bed while he dropped you into his lap. Grunting with exertion, Raymond slid back inside.

You exhaled heavily, like you called him home. Your fingers stroked the hair at the back of his head which was getting slippery from sweat.

Raymond pushed his glasses back until he could finally scrutinize you with appreciation again. His gaze swept downwards before his eyes met the entrance where his penis slid into you.

Raymond’s hand tightened around your hips, controlling your movements with every thrust upwards. And rhythmically pulling your hips with every sensual stroke. Pushing himself deeper until you two were melded together.

A delicious shiver ran through your body when Raymond’s eyes darkened in warning when you rubbed yourself against him until your clit brushed the coarse hair at his crotch.

“Not like this, darling.”

His hands stiffened before he spanked your bottom.

Your squeal shifted into an encouraging moan.

To torture you even more, Raymond gyrated his hips, putting your climax further out of reach. “You’re not in control of this tonight. I decide when you cum.”

Not above begging, you implored deeply, “Please, I’ll be good.”

A sigh left your lips when Raymond pressed his palm against your belly to feel his shaft thrusting deep. He tipped his head back to gaze into your eyes and whispered under his breath, “Oh really? You’re going to do as I say?”

You nodded. Only a whimper left your lips that turned into a drawn-out groan when Raymond thrust upwards.

“Oh my God, yes.” You leaned forward until Raymond was safely snuggling between your breasts.

“I hate when you’re in that poker room,” he mumbled before he shook his head to clear his mind. “I should punish you for letting him touch you. Tell me something … am I now someone who’s warming your bed?”

You exhaled heavy breaths and threw your head back as a warm sensation started in your belly. “What did you say to him?”

“Told him he’d lose his hand the next time he would try to touch you again,” Raymond admitted with a murmur against your skin.

You bit your lip and felt your clit tingle at the possessive tone in his voice.

Raymond stared at you, like he could feel the sensation by some shared link you two shared. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You felt your eyes glint when the warm sensation grew stronger with every stroke. You leaned forward until you could whisper into his ear, “You know I’m all yours.”

Raymond’s chest rumbled with a groan before he quickened his strokes, using the pad of his thumb to stroke circles against your clit until your head was swimming with a thundering pulse.

You leaned your head back. “Oh my God, right there.”

The bed made thumping noises against the wall with Raymond’s vigorous thrusts until your hands clenched around his shoulders. Your muscles spasmed until your whole body squirmed. You were still shaking when Raymond grunted loudly.

He shoved his hips deeper until something warm spurted inside your deep walls. Raymond breathed heavily against your neck before he sighed. His fingers stroked your skin delicately, like he had to remind himself that you were in his arms. “All mine.”

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @darkravenqueen98

#steph writes #watchtowerindistress #raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #raymond smith x you #raymond smith imagines #raymond smith imagine #the gentlemen #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam x reader #raymond smith x fem!reader #raymond smith x female reader #raymond smith x y/n #raymond smith fanfiction

835 notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 28 days

Note

😘

Kris, look at him. I need him! 🫠

Welcome to the Meal

Pairing: William Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Will's hungry, but not for food.

Word Count: Over 600

Warnings: Established relationship, implied explicit sexual content, reference to oral sex (f. receiving), being in love and slight feels (it's me, okay?), William Miller (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Short and sweet for Sinday and inspired by a prompt @whisperlullaby provided. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Will stared unashamedly at you from across the table as you tried to look over the menu. Again. Each time you glanced at him over the flickering candlelight, you found his blue eyes staring right back at you. The retired captain had an impressive talent of not giving away a single emotion unless he wanted to. But tonight, he didn't bother to try and hide his lust.

Just because he promised to take you out for dinner, he didn't say anything about playing nice or fair.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you begged. It wasn't that you didn't like having his undivided attention because you loved it, but how did he expect you to get through the meal when he looked about two seconds away from tossing the table aside to get to you? “Please.”

Amusement flickered in Will’s eyes, his voice low and teasing when he asked, “Like what?”

You huffed because he knew exactly how he was looking at you. He wanted to devour you and he wanted to hear you say it. “Like I’m dinner.”

“Maybe I’m hungry,” Will said.

“Well, I'm not dinner,” you said, closing the menu.

“Yes, you are. And dessert,” he smirked, licking his lips as he leaned back in his chair. “Breakfast, too, and you know how hungry I get first thing in the morning.”

You suppressed a shiver as you recalled how his eyes dragged along your body earlier that day. He had you sprawled out naked in his bed, his large hands gripping your thighs and pushing them apart so he could stare at your exposed, glistening pussy. He licked his lips like he was eager to taste you and you clenched around nothing before he dipped his head. The moan you let out when his tongue moved between your wet lips sounded a lot like his name.

The man took pride in everything he did and that included eating pussy.

“How are you always hungry?” You asked. You understood his need whenever the two of you reunited after being apart, but he was insatiable any day of the week that ended in “y”.

“Because you're delicious, sweetheart,” he answered, your heart skipping a beat as scratched along his short beard. Facial hair was never a “make or break” deal with you until him. You longed to feel him bury his head between your legs again and soothe your ache. “I can't get enough.”

You took a moment to admire the love of your life when you realized he wasn't just talking about your body. Some days he held you a little too close because he knew what it was like to lose, but you loved him all the more for it. He let you in because he trusted you when it didn't come easy. Having his heart was an honor.

Who wouldn't want William Miller to love them?

“I can't get enough of you either,” you said, reaching across the table to take his hand. He gripped it like a lifeline and it wasn't just lust you saw when you gazed into his eyes this time.

You saw paradise. Home. Love.

Everything he wanted and didn't think he deserved until you.

“Are we ready to order?” The server asked, temporarily breaking the spell.

You nodded after a moment, your heart full as you squeezed Will’s hand. “I think so, but we’re going to take our meal to-go. If that's okay.”

“Of course,” the server said.

The small smile on Will’s face told you that was his plan all along and you didn't mind.

Besides, who were you to keep your starving man from eating?

I love him, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #william miller x reader #william miller x female reader #william miller x you #william miller x y/n #will miller x reader #will miller x female reader #will miller x you #will miller x y/n #william miller #william ironhead miller #will miller #charlie hunnam #will miller fic #will miller imagine #will miller fanfiction #triple frontier #charlie hunnam x reader #will miller smut

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Text

Time.

You get shot in Colombia. Frankie, Benny, Santiago and Will all have their own ways of helping you heal.

Pairing - Santiago Garcia, Frankie Morales, Benny Miller, Will Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, mentions of blood, gunshots

Word Count - 4329

Author's Note - hi lovely people. i loved writing this one so much oh my :( those four boys in one movie together is a dream. and i don't know if you noticed, but i have a real soft spot for will. and yes, i did photoshop ben afflecks character out of that picture. more than happy to write for any of the triple frontier boys individually - just send me an ask! as always, lots of love x

my other triple frontier fics - Tethered, Tranquility and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

It’s been 6 days since you were shot.

6 days of blood, pain, sterility, stitches, hazy memories that float into your consciousness like smoke in the air.

You somehow remember it both clear as day and blurry as night.

The metallic taste of copper in your mouth, clear as day.

The searing, burning pain in your side, clear as day.

The panicked looks on the boys faces, the yelling, the frantic scrambling – clear as day.

The rest of it? Blurry as night.

You can’t remember getting home. One minute you were bleeding out on the ground in Colombia, and the next minute you’re back on US soil, lying in a bed in Houston Methodist Hospital.

You can’t remember your discharge. You fell asleep on those sterile, crinkly white sheets, and woke up in a soft bed, wrapped in a navy blue comforter that smells like Will.

All you’ve known for the last 6 days is sleep. That molten sleep that moves like molasses, warm and slow and sticky. The sun rises and sets, and you’re none the wiser. Floating aimlessly through unconsciousness, just you and your dreams.

Unbeknownst to you, you haven’t been alone for a minute since you got home. The boys have taken turns sitting by your bedside, heart rates rising whenever you stir. All of them silently processing what all of this means, for you and for them.

It was damn close. Too much blood. Pints after pints after pints of it. Pouring over Will’s hands, soaking into Benny’s jeans, slipping beneath Santiago’s boots, choking the air around Frankie where his forehead was pressed to yours, begging you to stay awake. All of them wondering the same thing – where has all of this come from? Surely one person can’t have so much blood in them. It can’t all be from her.

The Doctor said that you got lucky. Any more blood loss and you’d have lost your life too. Your surgeon said that you owed your life to whoever stopped the bleeding.

William ‘Ironhead’ Miller. He’d shoved his hand straight into the wound, applying as much pressure as he could without breaking any ribs. It was the worst thing he’d ever seen, but he was in fight or flight mode. He knew it had to be fight. He hoped you were making the same choice as you were lying there, breath rattling in your chest like pennies in a tin can.

Some would call it a miracle. Divine intervention, perhaps. You shouldn’t have survived. Scientifically, statistically, you should have died right there on that floor, in a mission gone wrong. Tragic accident. Caught in the crossfire. Collateral damage.

But you didn’t. Now, you’re half conscious in Will’s guest bedroom, enveloped by his scent. Warm, cozy, safe, and alive. You’re struggling to stay awake for more than ten, fifteen minutes at a time. It’s all catching up to you. You had to fight so hard to take each breath, that now you’re exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that sleep can’t fix. No, it’s settled into your gut, wrapped it’s limbs around your bones. It keeps you weighed down and heavy, a reminder of the trauma. You’re alive, but you’re tired. So tired.

The boys are worried. Worried beyond belief. When the Doctor told them she was happy to discharge you, reality hit the four of them like a high-speed freight train. How do they navigate this? You can’t go home. You can’t be by yourself. They’re all back on Texan soil, which means work, and family, and bills to pay, and routines to carry out. How do they factor in the woman they call their best friend, who’s currently in the deepest sleep of her life with a healing bullet hole in her side?

“I’ll take her,” Will had said. “She can stay with me, in my guest room. You guys can come over whenever you want. I have the most space, anyway.”

That was true. Santiago and Benny live in apartments, bachelor pads really, and Frankie’s second bedroom is his daughter’s room. She was only with him on weekends, but she needed a place to sleep, so that was him out of the question. Having you stay with Will made the most sense. They all agreed to come and sit with you in shifts, so Will could go to the grocery store, or for a run, or to take a shower. The Doctor never actually said that you needed twenty four hour surveillance, but the boys thought it would be best. Just in case.

So that’s exactly what they did. You’re on bed rest, and they’re all happy to play nurse for a few hours during the day, and to leave you with Will during the night. He’s been sneaking in to sleep in the armchair next to your bed. His room, a mere ten feet away, feels too far. He wants to be able to hear if you need his help. Just in case.

None of the boys quite know how to treat you. They don’t want to act any differently around you, but it’s hard not to. They haven’t seen you like that before. You, a force to be reckoned with. The backbone of the group. You, with your sharp wit, quick humor, blinding smile. You, who always seems to be a step ahead of them. You, a pillar of strength, proving yourself just as capable in this world designed for men. Lying on the ground, painted crimson, you looked fragile. Small. Frail. You looked so… innocent. So afraid. That was the scariest part for all of them – seeing the fear in your eyes. They’ve never seen that before. They never want to again.

So, they all take their different approaches. They cope the best way that each of them knows how.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

When Frankie visits, he always brings a book.

Cracking open the door, he pops his head around the frame, smiling as he sees both you and Will asleep – him in the chair, you cozy in bed. He gently squeezes the blond man’s shoulder, whispering as he wakes.

“I got her for a while. You go do what you need to do.”

Will shoots him a grateful smile and stretches his arms above his head, before padding out of the room, softly shutting the door behind him.

Frankie opens the curtains, letting the soft morning light fill the room. It illuminates your face, catches on the strands of your hair, making it glow. You look like an angel, in this orange haze. But Frankie already knew that.

Your eyes flutter open, and land straight on the broad man standing next to your bed, trusty cap sat atop his head. You smile, and his heart stops for a second. God, he’s missed that sight. All of the tension from the last week leaves his shoulders, and he sinks into the armchair next to you.

“Hi, Francisco,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse from minimal use.

“Hi, cariño,” he whispers back. “You doing okay?”

You nod, golden smile still etched on your face. The wound in your side is a dull ache, and the psychological pain keeps washing over you in spontaneous waves. But you’re okay.

“You here to babysit me?” you tease.

He smirks, which is all the answer you needed.

“You don’t need to. I’m okay, I swear,” you insist.

He looks at you and quirks an eyebrow, the corners of his lips still turning up slightly.

“Well, you’re my baby, and I’m sitting,” he winks. “Now that we’ve established that, what do you wanna do for the next few hours?”

His abysmal attempt at a joke makes you chuckle, which in turn makes you wince, pain shooting through your abdomen. He jumps out of his chair towards you, placing a hand on your cheek gently.

“Shit, querida. I’m sorry. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

Breathing deep and slow, you tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“Yes. For you to stop fussing. Sit down, Francisco. Your nervous energy is making me stressed.”

He exhales carefully, and presses a kiss onto the top of your head.

“Yes ma’am.”

He returns to his original place, and grabs a book from the nightstand.

“Have you read this already?” he asks, showing you the cover.

You shake your head, and he flips to the first page.

“It sounds good, actually. You comfy, cielito?”

You nod gently, holding his gaze. He flashes you one of his signature smiles – the rare, genuine, time stopping ones – and begins to read softly, in that dulcet, honeyed voice of his.

He reads to you for hours. You were only awake for 45 minutes, but he continued reading aloud anyway. Morning becomes afternoon, yellow sunlight beating through the open window. A gentle breeze blows the curtains and ruffles Frankie’s hair that is ever so slightly too long for his liking. He’d be perfectly content to read to you like this forever. He’s gotten so into the plot of the book that he doesn’t notice Will stood in the doorframe, watching with those careful eyes of his. They gleam blue in the sunlight, his golden hair glinting like citrine. He eventually catches Frankie’s eyes, and the older man makes his way over to the door, both boys talking in hushed whispers so as not to wake you.

“Has she been okay?” Will asks, eyes scanning your sleeping form.

“Perfectly fine. She was awake for about 45 minutes,” Frankie replies, pride evident in his tone.

“That’s the longest she’s been conscious since. Progress, huh?” Will smiles. Frankie can’t help but smile too. A week ago, they were huddled around your lifeless body, hands deep and bloody in your wound. Now, they’re watching you slumber peacefully, life returned to you like a gift from the universe.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

When Benny visits, he brings comfort with him.

He uses his key to let himself into Will’s house quietly, aware that you’re most likely asleep. It’s been a week and a half since everything happened, and while you’re awake more and more each day, you’re also still on bed rest.

Creeping up the stairs and peeking his head around the door that’s ajar, he finds Will sat at the end of your bed. You’re awake, but barely. The light shines from the hallway into the bedroom, and illuminates your tear stained cheeks.

Will wipes your cheekbone with his thumb gently, and moves to meet his brother. The older Miller pulls Benny into the hallway, shutting your door momentarily.

“She’s having a real bad day. The worst since she’s been home. The memories are flooding back man, they’re drowning her.”

All the colour is gone from Will’s face. He looks helpless. His brother hates it.

“I don’t know how to help her,” Will continues. “The tears won’t stop. It’s like every time she calms down, another nightmare takes her by surprise. I don’t know what to do, Ben. I don’t know what to do.”

Will’s voice is shaking, tears threatening to spill from those cerulean eyes. He has a hand fisted into the front of Benny’s shirt, as if he’s grounding himself. There’s something unsettling about seeing the calmest person in the room start panicking. Benny doesn’t like it.

“Hey, it’s okay. She’s gonna have bad days, that’s a given. Go get some fresh air, go for a drive or something. I’ve got her. I ain’t gonna leave her.”

Benny looks pointedly at his big brother, and inhales deeply. They exhale together, and Will wipes his face with the back of his hand.

“Are you sure?”

Benny nods. Will trusts him.

“Okay. Call me if you need anything and I will come straight back. I mean it, Ben. Anything.”

Benny pulls his brother into his chest, holding him for a moment. Will isn’t used to being the glue holding everything together, he thinks. It’s usually you.

Will pulls away and starts his journey down the stairs, momentarily pausing to watch Benny straighten his shoulders and clear his throat before opening your door carefully.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he smiles.

You don’t feel gorgeous. No, you feel like you’ve shattered into a million pieces in William Miller’s guest bedroom. The weight of your trauma has come crashing down on top of you suddenly. It’s suffocating and it’s choking you and no matter how many times you inhale, your lungs won’t fill with air. Tears keep streaking down your cheeks despite your best efforts to stifle them. You wonder if you’ll feel like this forever – forced to carry around the weight of surviving something that you weren’t supposed to.

Benny’s never been any good with words. So he tells you what he needs to with his actions instead.

He kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, throwing it on the chair. Then, he unbuttons his jeans and slides them off his legs, tossing them sideways with haphazard aim. The last thing to go is his t shirt, which he shucks over his head with ease, landing somewhere with the rest of his clothes. He moves across the room towards you and pulls back the comforter. He strokes your cheek with his knuckles gently, looking at you carefully to gauge your reaction. When he’s satisfied, he climbs into bed behind you, pulling you mindfully to sit in between his legs, his chest pressed to your back. He pulls the comforter back up over the two of you, and uses his arms to cage you in to him, enveloping you in his warmth.

Benny’s always run hot. You joke that he’s like a walking space heater, a radiator if you ever need one. Right now, it’s like having your own ball of sunshine, warming you gently from the outside in. You feel the safest you have in two weeks.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs into your hair. He pulls you in tighter, and nudges your head to rest in the crook of his neck. You inhale deeply – the first real breath you’ve been able to take all day. He smells like sunshine, and salt, and sandalwood, and safety. You relax into him and let all the tension leave your body. You let go of the flashbacks, and the fear, and the chaos, and surrender yourself to Benny.

He stays with you like that for three days. He doesn’t separate himself from you more than a few inches for 72 whole hours, keeping his arms wrapped around you from behind, as if holding you together. When he gets up to go to the bathroom, he takes you with him. You stay attached for three days, skin to skin, allowing his warmth to seep into your bones, to settle your nerves. You’re convinced that no medicine could heal you the way Benny is. Science doesn’t have a match for this. It never will.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

When Santiago visits, he brings his guitar.

The first time he came to see you, right at the beginning, he sat with you for 20 minutes before he careened out of the room, gasping for air. The silence was strangling him, sending him into some sort of panic attack. Then, the guilt settled, and he felt like he’d betrayed you so badly that he couldn’t bring himself to go back in. He sat on the floor of the hallway with his back pressed against the door for 6 hours before Will returned home, concern coursing through his veins.

When Santiago explained what had happened, Will looked at him knowingly.

“You don’t have to be deathly silent, you know. You can watch some TV, turn the radio on. Frankie reads to her. Benny talks her ear off - doesn’t stop fucking rambling. I walked in the other day and he was explaining the current state of the NBA to her, team by team. She’ll sleep no matter what.”

Santiago nods, patting Will on the back lovingly before leaving, weighed down by shame.

The next time he visits, he brings his guitar.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s hoping you’ll be asleep. It’s easier to play for you if you aren’t looking at him like he hung the moon with those big, bright eyes of yours. But, lo and behold, he walks into the room you’ve made your own, and you’re wide awake.

“Hi, handsome,” you smile. “Where you been?”

“Oh, you know,” he smirks, “just caring for all the pretty girls that need my help.”

“And here I thought I was special,” you tease.

That smile of yours wraps itself around his heart, tangling in the core of him. You’ve always had that effect on the boys. One grin from you, and all of their problems melt away, even if just for a moment.

“You staying today, or you gonna run away again?”

You’re joking with him. Why are you trying to make him laugh? You should be upset, telling him that he’s a bad friend, that all of the other boys have sat with you for hours, so why can’t he?

But instead, you continue.

“I’m kidding, Santi. I get it, you know. I don’t think I’d be able to sit in a room with you lying there all half dead and helpless if the roles were reversed.”

You’re looking at him with so much understanding in your eyes that he has to choke down the tears that are trying to escape from him.

“It’s not that. It’s just – it’s my fault, bebita. You wouldn’t have even been in Colombia if it wasn’t for me. I’m the reason you got shot.”

He’s crying now – heavy, ugly sobs crawling their way from his chest, up to his throat. His knees give out, and he sits on the side of the bed, hands fisting in your comforter.

“Santi, baby. Hey. Look at me. Please, Pope.”

Your pleading gets his attention. He looks at you with those red rimmed, watery eyes, and your heart breaks so hard you swear you can hear it shatter.

“It wasn’t your fault, Santi. I followed you out there voluntarily. We all did. You know I’d follow you anywhere. I still would. It could have been any of us that got hurt. I’m glad it was me. I wouldn’t be able to stand seeing any of you in a hospital bed. It’d break me.”

You’re crying now too, at the thought of one of the boys in your situation. The bullets, the blood, the makeshift bandages they shoved into your side, ripping their shirts and tearing apart anything they could find. You couldn’t have survived that, if the roles were reversed. You wouldn’t have wanted to.

You press your forehead to his, hands tangling in the front of his shirt. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, needing you as close as possible.

You fall asleep like that, face pressed into him, his heartbeat in your ear. Santiago tucks you back into bed gently and takes his place in the armchair, settling down. Pulling his guitar out of the case, he tunes it slowly, meticulously, before beginning to strum the strings carefully. He picks at the strings, playing you tune after tune, only stopping to stretch his arms and crack his knuckles. He plays for you for hours, time slipping by him like sand through his palms. When you wake, you keep your eyes closed, savouring his presence for just a moment longer.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Will doesn’t visit.

He sticks steadily by your side, day in, day out. If Frankie visits for 6 hours, Will sits with you for the other 18. When Benny holds you for 3 days, Will gets anxious, popping his head around the doorframe every few hours, checking in just in case. Since everything happened, Will’s whole universe has revolved around you. Which, he’s realising, is the way it’s always been. His whole world has always been you. He’s just been forced to confront that truth now, and it’s scaring him.

He’s suddenly aware of the fact that he almost lost you. He’s never felt fear like that before. He’s had men press guns to his temple, shoot at him from mere feet away, fight him with their fists. That’s nothing, now. He’d take that any day over watching you lie there, drenched in crimson, dripping with pain. His hands, twisted into your side, wet and slipping, trying to quell the dam that’s broken inside of you. Your eyes, looking into his, terror grasping your whole body like a cold chill. When he falls asleep at night, all he can hear is the way you said his name, like it was the last thing tethering you to the Earth.

He makes a silent vow to himself. A promise - to never let you go again. To protect you forever, no matter what. All of this trauma has just made him love you more. He’s not sure what the future will look like, for him, or for you. But he knows that right now, you need him.

And so he pours all of his love into his actions. He makes you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and sits with you as you eat slowly. He eats at your speed, too - always doing everything at your pace. He combs your hair every morning gently, brushes your teeth twice a day carefully. He tucks you in when you fall asleep, pulling the comforter around you, keeping you safe and warm. As soon as one of the other boys leaves, he takes their place, sitting in the armchair – making sure you’re never alone. Whenever you’re awake, he listens to you pointedly, nodding and smiling. When you have a bad day, he’s right there next to you, wiping the tears from your cheeks and murmuring reassurances gently.

He watches as slowly but surely, you come back to yourself. You’re awake more often, smiling more confidently, cracking jokes and asking for laughs. The two of you are chatting like you used to, about nothing and everything. And you watch as slowly but surely, he returns to Will. The frown lines in his forehead become less pronounced, the worry in his eyes fades slightly. The smiles he throws your way are bigger, more genuine. The scales balance out again.

You’ve been in bed for two weeks when you decide to ask him for a favor.

“Hey, Will?” you query, looking at the blond man who’s currently folding laundry on the dresser.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he replies instantly, ready to give you anything you could possibly ask for.

“Can we go outside? I think I might go insane in this room real soon,” you smile, bright and bold.

He beams at you, relief washing over him like an ocean wave. You haven’t left your bed for a fortnight. He’s offered a couple of times, but you refused, scared to leave the comfort of the safe haven you’ve created. But you’re ready now.

“Of course we can. You want me to carry you?”

His tone is light, jesting, but you know he’s being serious. Neither of you are actually sure if you can walk all the way outside.

“I can walk if you carry me down the stairs? Not sure I’m quite ready for those yet.”

He grins at you, and your heart stops. That smile of his seeps into your pores, lifts you up, sends energy flowing through your veins. You’re alive, and you’re okay, and Will Miller is looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. You feel invincible.

Admittedly, it does take you 20 minutes to get from your room to the back patio. Will throws a strong arm beneath yours, holding you up as you take the journey step by step. When you reach the stairs, he picks you up bridal style, carrying you carefully. Before he sets you back on your feet, he nudges his nose to yours, still grinning.

The sun soaks into your skin outside, gentle breeze rippling your t shirt that you’re now realising is Benny’s. The leaves rustle in the trees, and you inhale the world, as if seeing it again for the first time. Will sits right next to you on the bench, hand holding yours tightly, fingers interlaced as if he’s worried you’ll blow away.

You glance at Will’s watch and see that it’s only 1pm. You have so much time left. So many possibilities to be fulfilled, so many people to love, so many places to see. But for now, you press yourself into the blond man’s side, settling in. You fit perfectly. Almost as if this is where you belong.

“Can’t believe I almost died without telling you I love you,” you murmur. It’s quiet, but he hears you, loud and clear.

“It’s okay,” he reassures. “You’re here now. We have time. So much time.”

“Forever,” you whisper. “We have forever.”

He turns to look at you in the hues of the bright afternoon. His blond hair is glowing gold, and his blue eyes match the sky, hopeful and full of promise. His hands come up to cradle your face, and he caresses your cheeks with his thumbs, rubbing comforting circles into your skin. He moves in closer, and nudges his nose into yours. He breaks out into a grin, and you can’t help but join him. Leaning in, he presses his lips to yours, soft and reassuring. You melt into him, running one hand into his hair, the other at the nape of his neck. He pulls you impossibly closer, until every part of you is pressed together. The sun is still beaming, and the birds are chirping, and you have time.

“Forever,” he whispers into your mouth when he breaks the kiss.

“Forever,” you murmur back. “We have time.”

You have time.

1K notes · View notes

laurfilijames · 3 months

Text

Expensive

Pairing: Raymond Smith x female reader

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol. Fingering and oral sex (F receiving). Light dom/sub dynamics. Unprotected intercourse. Name calling (slut).

Summary: PWP but with feelings. Some saucy fun in lavish lingerie and a romp on the floor in front of the fireplace with our generous gentleman Ray.

A/N: I finally did it. I wrote for Raymondo. I've wanted to ever since I first watched The Gentlemen and finally landed an idea to have fun with. Enjoy!

---

Ray knew you were there before he even stepped foot inside the house.

It wasn’t planned; no discussion was had about you paying him a visit or spending time together tonight, but he had caught on to your devious plan by the tone of your voice when he spoke on the phone with you earlier, your excitement in your scheming not slipping past him.

He didn’t miss much, always attentive and observant to anything going on around him, but when it came to you he didn’t ever miss a thing.

He walked quietly to the porch, the sound of his shoes crunching against the wet grit on the bricks and the softness of the steady rain hitting his jacket the only noises registering in his ears, and unlocked the door just as he did any other night, though knowing you were waiting for him inside made his homecoming after a long day that much more appealing.

The intoxicating scent of your perfume hit him as soon as he stepped through the threshold, the smell of it so familiar and welcoming even with it being faint in the distance between where he assumed you waited for him in the living room and the entryway.

Not wanting to ruin your fun by not playing along with your little game, Ray walked through to the kitchen, acting as if he didn’t notice that your coat was draped over the back of one of the chairs or that you’d already helped yourself to the bottle of wine that he had a glass out of the night before; the level of the crisp red now sitting at the halfway mark rather than just below the neck.

He opened the cupboard that kept his glassware, reaching for one glass, then a second, a smile tugging at his lips when he heard your short, disappointed sigh.

“Spoilsport.”

“You quite like making yourself at home, don't you?” he asked, eyebrows raised as he filled both glasses with water; hydration favoured over the craveable taste of wine or scotch for the games he intended to play next.

“Breaking and entering is a felony…” he purred, removing his jacket while maintaining eye contact with you.

“It isn’t when the homeowner has gifted you the key needed to open the front door whenever you please.”

He sighed, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, “I told you I was busy.”

“I don't like being told no.”

Ray grabbed the water glasses and slowly made his way into the living room, depositing one on the small table beside the chair you were sprawled out in wearing nothing but a stunning set of lingerie.

He blinked quickly, a display of his rising frenzy, turning on his heels and taking a seat on the chair opposite you after looking you up and down.

You smiled, watching him cross his legs and fold his hands in his lap, staring at you intently like he was blatantly ignoring the fact that you were nearly naked and the balcony-style bra barely covered your nipples, the material that did cover them see-through.

“You don’t like being told no,” he spoke slowly, repeating your words to clarify or mock, you weren’t sure.

“No,” you said through a grin, uncrossing and recrossing your own legs to show off your crotchless panties, running your finger teasingly up along your stockings before adjusting the clips that connected them to the garter belt around your waist.

A groan that was hardly audible sounded from him as he sighed, taking a long sip out of his glass while watching you over the rim.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked, rising from his seat where he unbuttoned his cardigan and peeled it off his broad shoulders, revealing another layer of pristine clothing underneath.

“I’m quite certain a smart man such as yourself can think of something.”

“Flattery won’t help you now, darling,” he warned, having stalked over to you where he hovered above you dominantly.

“I appreciate you using a coaster,” he nodded to your wine glass. “At least you listen to some of the things you’re told.”

You sucked in a sharp breath in amusement at his comment, clasping the long-stemmed glass in question where you brought it to your ruby coloured lips.

“I strive to be a good girl.”

“You’re going to need to prove that.”

Ray couldn’t help but smirk, not at all serious about being displeased that you were here, feeling quite the opposite, in fact, even if you weren’t primed and ready to provide him with anything he asked.

He had regretted it immediately when he told you that morning that you wouldn't be seeing each other tonight, the usual comforting warmth of his tea tasting bitter on his tongue after he had said it, knowing all the while that all he really wanted was to relax with you and indulge in every simple pleasure imaginable, his chest tightening with hope that you would be your defiant self when you accepted his denial with a simple and suspiciously bright ‘okay’.

You returned his smile, shifting slightly in your seat on account of how adoringly he was looking at you, your arousal and need for him growing as you watched him unfasten the buttons on each cuff of his shirtsleeves and began rolling them up his toned forearms.

The wearied look in his eyes was highlighted by his glasses, his features appearing more serious than they usually were, making your heart ache in wanting to take away whatever it was that was worrying him.

“You look expensive,” he spoke quietly, almost a whisper, his focus still on his shirt as he rolled the second sleeve neatly to his elbow.

“I am expensive, Ray,” you quipped, your tone light but quiet as well.

One eyebrow rose at your answer, his head tilting slightly as his arms fell back to his side and he straightened himself, looking down at you.

You reached forward, smoothing your hand over his stomach, unfastening the buttons on his waistcoat effortlessly before grabbing onto his tie to pull him closer to you.

The smell of his almost worn off cologne and rich beard oil mixed with a sweeter hint of tobacco and marijuana, awakening more desire in you and making you draw in a deeper breath to try to capture more of it, of him, as you brought your face closer to his body, his warmth radiating off of him and making you moan softly.

Ray followed your silent directions as you continued to tug on his tie, kneeling in front of you, his blue eyes warm and bright compared to how they appeared a short moment ago.

Your body tensed slightly when his hands landed on your knees, his thumbs brushing them gently while you pulled the knot out of his tie and slipped it from his collar, admiring every part of his chest that was revealed to you as you undid each button on his striped shirt that now held wrinkles in it despite having been meticulously ironed that morning.

“What’s the price?” Ray inquired, running his long fingers up your thigh to make it tremble under his soft strokes.

You smiled, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, slipping your hands under his shirt to caress over his strong, smooth muscles.

Watching his eyelids fall shut as he relaxed into your touch, you continued to rub him, moving everywhere you could from his neck down to the flaxen hairs that crept out from the top of his jeans, and back up again where you found his steady heartbeat.

You stilled, your palm resting where his heart began to thump harder against it, his eyes opening in realization as to what your price was.

He smiled, bringing out the creases around his eyes and mouth, a twinkle shining in them that made your own heart leap. His hands came up to hold your cheeks, his eyes traveling down from yours to your lips, his tongue peeking out to lick his own quickly before he leaned forward and kissed you.

It was almost liberating to think that you didn't have a clue that he had settled the cost pretty much the moment he met you, that he would continue to pay with it over and over until you did realize you had captured his solitary heart, but in the meantime he would take every bit of joy out of pretending he owed you a fortune of his love.

You sighed into his kiss, any tension you felt leaving your body as you relished in the feel of his tongue and the softness of his beard on your chin and lips, arching your back in order to get yourself closer to him and deepen it.

Continuing to kiss until many moments were gone unnoticed, you tangled your fingers in his neatly fixed hair, disrupting it enough that your nails ran over his scalp and sent tingles down his spine, rousing him from this alluring inebriation.

A low growl sounded from him as he dug his fingers into the flesh on your thighs, looking at you with a dark hunger that sparked your soul and every other wanton desire waiting to be set free.

“Stand up, turn around, and bend over.”

His demand came out between heaving breaths, his resolve quickly tumbling apart before you, and with a sweet smile and love in your eyes for the man you would obey without hesitation, you slowly stood.

Ray never broke eye contact with you, his dominance clear and resolute despite him being the one on his knees while you stood tall above him, a trusting assurance glowing in his crystal blue eyes that you always saw whenever you were with him.

Feeling reluctant to turn away from him but eager for what was next all at once, you did, biting your lip as you hinged at your hips and gripped the back of the chair you had been sitting in, leaning forward to stick your ass out invitingly.

You gasped, Ray’s lips and silky beard meeting the inside of your right thigh, peppering kisses up along it and back down again slowly, his mouth tracing the edge of your stocking.

The wood frame of the chair creaked under your grasp as Ray continued to tease you, his lips and hands sending you into a frenzy that you had to try to contain, your legs shifting to rub them together and present yourself even more to him.

“Patience,” he chimed, fully aware of what he was doing to you, making your head fall between your arms that braced in front of you.

The gold ring that sat on his pinky caught on your nylons as he ran his hand up the inside of your leg once more, the tip of his thumb grazing your folds with a teasing nudge that made you let out a breathy sigh when he reached the apex of them.

“You’re beautiful,” he praised, his confident and evenly-toned voice softer. “And you’re mine.”

You felt so powerful, knowing he was admiring every bit of you with genuine interest and affection, his attention to detail carried over to the most intimate parts of your body, all while reminding you of his claim on you that made you soar higher than ever.

“Fuck, Ray…” you hissed, your grip hardening on the chair as his nose skimmed beside your aching core, his long, slow inhale echoing loudly in your ears.

He groaned appreciatively when his tongue swiped through your wet, immediately going back for more with a second broad stroke, your legs already shaking from how good it felt.

Your whines grew as his tongue probed inside you, taking turns with angling his chin to reach the front of you and flicking your clit while his nose buried in your soaked cunt, the precision in his pattern and rhythm bringing you dangerously close to your climax.

He wouldn’t let you have it quite that easy though, and halting his feast on you, he gave one last lick around your puckered hole and slapped your cheek as he abandoned you completely, standing with a low groan.

Running a hand over his beard, he stared you down maliciously, amused at the sight of you still bent over and writhing, your core a soppy mess just waiting to be fucked by him.

“Go over there and wait for me,” he spoke steadily, a contrast from how his chest rose and fell sharply and his cheeks were tinged with a rosy blush.

Unsteady legs brought you over to the space in front of the fireplace, and you watched with a restlessness as Ray reached for a remote on the coffee table, pressing a button before placing it back in its spot.

The fireplace ignited with a loud fwoosh, the propane instantly bringing flames up to a roaring burn, the sound startling you and making you jump.

“Nothing to be afraid of…” he cooed, smirking at you, his playful reassurance making your need for him burst just as the fire had.

He stood there watching you for a moment, slowly peeling off his waistcoat that had been left open along with his shirt, leaving you unsure what to do with yourself in the meantime.

You let your hand travel slowly down your chest, grazing between your breasts and lower until you reached your exposed core, only to be stopped.

“Ah, ah,” he tutted, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

Although you let out a huff, you did your best to hide your disappointment, willing patience to grace you as you continued to watch him undress himself layer by layer, and far slower than he needed to.

To make matters worse, Ray proceeded to neatly fold his clothes and place them on the sofa, effectively running up any patience you had mustered, leaving you to take in his perfectly sculpted body and his ivory skin that called for your lips to touch.

“Jesus, Ray…” you muttered, only to quiet yourself with the look he gave you.

He extended his finger, pointing at the floor beside you, unclasping his watch from his wrist with the other hand.

“On the ground.”

His order was calm and collected, as if you expected anything less from him, and you licked your lips as you sank down to the carpet that was already warm from the fire, feeling your arousal drip from you as you moved.

“Now,” he said, taking his glasses off and placing them carefully beside his pile of clothes. “What to do with you…” he pondered out loud, stalking over to you as he grasped his hard cock with his hand and began stroking it.

“Put me out of my fucking misery…” you complained under your breath, squirming on your knees.

He grinned, “Ah, just a naughty girl begging to have her cunt filled in.”

His accusation washed over you like a drug, making your attitude vanish as quickly as his words came off his tongue, unable but also not wanting to deny that what he said was completely true.

Standing tall in front of you now, he glanced down at you, his mouth parted slightly, his hand still pumping his shaft as he brought it close to your face.

“Yes, Ray,” you whispered, ready to beg and worship at his feet if you had to, feeling the most desperate you ever had for that cock and how intensely he always pleasured you.

He tapped his leaking head against your cheek, and you sucked in a deep breath, inhaling his musky scent as you subtly titled your head closer to his groin, your mouth watering at the thought of tasting all of him.

“As you wish.”

Ray stepped behind you, his finger tracing along your jawline softly so that your head tipped back, relishing in such a simple touch that would only be the beginning of so much more.

He joined you on the floor, kneeling directly behind you so his strong quads met the back of your thighs, his cock nudging at your folds to tease you. His hands wrapped around your front, one traveling upward while the other went down, landing on your throat and your hot cunt where he stopped, his mouth beside your ear.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, the depth of his voice making you shiver.

“You.”

His breath fanned out on your searing skin when he chuckled softly, “You have me.”

He kissed your neck, his lips slow to move but powerful in their action; sucking and pressing into your flesh, his teeth gliding along where your pulse hammered furiously.

You moaned, the sensation of his kisses and the way his deft fingers toyed with your nipple already making you insane with lust, and when he slipped his other fingers inside you, you prayed for him to never stop.

He always knew exactly how to build you up quickly, removing his fingers from you where he rubbed your clit with your slick while continuing to pinch your nipple through the thin lace of your bra, his cock sliding back and forth between your legs where it threatened to breach your entrance as he moved his hips.

Hazy from ecstasy, you didn’t notice when Ray had reached for a pillow off the chair beside you and placed it in front of you, the tartan fabric soft to your touch when you leaned forward and grabbed onto it with both hands.

“Fuck…” Ray hissed, admiring the view you provided him with as he stroked you from behind, his fingers easily sliding in and out of you again.

You moved down onto your elbows, thankful for his consideration for having them cushioned by the pillow and not the hardwood floor, but knew you would sacrifice having bruises mark your skin for this without question.

He exchanged his fingers for his cock, pressing his engorged head against your hole, smearing his precum onto you in slow, circular motions until he couldn't wait any longer.

A long moan came from him as he pushed his cock inside you, inch by inch, savouring every moment of it until he filled you completely. Slowly, he dragged back out, his cock coated in your milky wet that made his mouth water and eager for more, slamming back into you where you cried and jolted forward slightly from his force.

Ray didn’t hold back, letting out all of the day’s frustrations on you while also conveying everything you made him feel, thrusting into you harshly until a layer of sweat broke out over his skin.

It was difficult to keep yourself upright on your elbows, his vigorous tempo forcing you onto your chest, feeling his body lower down to cover your back where he kept up his brutal pace.

Gripping under your left leg, Ray guided it up to lay at an angle, his hand slipping under your body to reach around for your clit, massaging it with perfectly rough strokes while his cock pummeled your g-spot with each blow.

Spit smeared over the plaid pattern of the pillow, your mouth unable to control the evidence of your pleasure between that and your cries, the sound of your wet skin meeting with his sending you close to the edge.

“Ray…I’m- fuck! I’m close!” you wailed, the admission of it making your climax barrel forward faster.

You clenched around him, rolling your hips up and back against his in a hurried, desperate pace, the seconds of waiting for him to grant you permission feeling like a cruel eternity.

“Are you?” he asked, a hint of malice laced in his tone.

He stopped rubbing your clit, halting your orgasm in its tracks, your grip on the pillow loosening slightly as you whined in frustration.

“You know you’re to fucking ask,” he reminded you, his voice somehow calm and his expression composed as you glanced over your shoulder at him.

You dared to smile at him, making him tilt his head in warning and resume his barrage on you, fucking you harder than before.

“Fuck, Ray!” you whined, the rate at which he brought you right back to where he left you making you tingle from head to toe, that blissful heat coiling at the base of your spine.

Somehow, you managed to bring yourself back up onto your hands, meeting his thrusts with your hips in a frantic need, his hand returning between your legs to circle your swollen bud while his other tore at your chest, pulling at the lace covering your breasts until they fell out of their covering.

“Fuck!” he roared, pawing at your tits as they shook to his movements, his own climax not far off.

His grunts spurred you on, hearing how good you made him feel taking you to a place of no return, and you rushed to ask for your permission before it was too late.

“Can I come, Ray?” you cried, your words coming out as a weak and trembling mess as you did your best to hold off the inevitable.

“Yes! Fuck…” he breathed. “Come around that cock you fucking slut!” he growled, his pace increasing as he fucked you senseless, throwing you into one of the most intense orgasms he had ever given you.

You shuddered as you choked him with your cunt, grinding on his fingers that remained firm on your clit, feeling your high bring out his own as he pounded you harder and harder until he pulsed inside you, generously dragging out your climax with his.

Ray watched his cock slide in and out of you, creamy cum leaking out with it as he did, slowing his movements gradually as you both came down from your highs, the sound of your ragged breathing the only thing heard over the soft roar of the powered flames coming from the fireplace.

Sweat glistened in the dip of your lower back, and you couldn’t look more heavenly as you glowed from the heat on your skin and the wetness between your legs, your luxurious set of lingerie beautifully disheveled.

Trails of sweat dripped down his own body, and as he remained inside you until he no longer could, he smoothed his hair back with his hands, fixing the stray pieces that had been misplaced during his efforts.

He leaned over and retrieved his glasses from the sofa, replacing them on his face with a few quick blinks, watching out of the corner of his eye as you carefully stood on wobbly legs from your spot, trying not to make a mess on the expensive threads that were soft on your feet.

Ray gracefully laid down on the carpet, his chest rising and falling heavily as he relaxed, his hand splayed across his abdomen comfortably while the other arm rested above his head.

Nothing was said as you grabbed your bag where it sat against the wall between the living room and kitchen, getting your clothes out to get ready to make your exit, not wanting to disrupt Ray’s night more than you already had.

He sighed, his glasses pushing up as he pinched his nose with his fingers, wishing you didn’t feel the need to whisk yourself away like you were nothing more to him than something to wet his cock.

Taking a deep inhale and blowing it slowly out through his mouth, he tipped his head, able to watch you where he knew you had strategically placed yourself between pieces of furniture for him to see.

You were bent over, stepping your feet into your shoes after having slipped your skirt over your waist, your bare pussy that he had just finished ruining on full display in those crotchless panties Ray knew he would be thinking about for days after.

“Come back over here.”

His voice cut through the room with a demand to be heard, making you pause in reaching for your shirt, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’ll count to three.”

Once again, his warning came out far gentler than it should, his ability to so nonchalantly list off orders in that sultry voice making excitement bloom in your belly.

You turned on your heel to see him staring up at the ceiling, looking as divine as ever in the warm light of the fire that flickered over his features, his naked form a rare sight for anyone but you to see with it so frequently covered in layers of posh garments.

Ray was a bit recluse, and you didn't take his affection toward you for granted even for a second, smiling with a sense of pride and devotion as you kicked off your shoes and slowly made your way back over to the man your heart had begun to miss already.

He welcomed you by opening his arm, giving you space to tuck yourself up beside him, your head finding a spot on his chest where his heart thrummed in your ear.

“I wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place…” you reminded him, feeling slightly guilty over showing up unannounced.

Ray hummed, always carefully assessing whatever thoughts were about to pass through his lips, his thumb rubbing your arm languidly.

“No,” he blinked quickly, his tone lighter. “But I’m glad that you are.”

As much as Ray tried keeping things neat and tidy between you, he couldn’t ignore how tangled you had become in his soul, his thoughts distracted by you more times than he would care to admit or ever want the Boss to know of, something he swore would never happen taking place before his very eyes without any intention of stopping it.

Ray pressed a kiss to your temple, thinking how he had paid the price a long time ago with you, the expense of your love something he would go broke for a million times over, letting you take careful possession of the one thing he would never pay out to anyone else.

---

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#raymond smith #raymond smith smut #the gentlemen #raymond smith x female reader #charlie hunnam #raymond smith x reader #charlie hunnam characters #raymond smith fic #the gentlemen fic

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rayslittlekitten · 7 months

Text

I Almost Told You That I Loved You Ch. 19

Chapter 18 | IATYTILY Masterlist

A/N: I've been waiting so long (honestly like probably a year) to finally post this chapter and this GIF. 🤣

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,143

Pairing: Jax Teller x F! reader

Plot: This takes place shortly after Tara leaves Charming. You start working at Teller-Morrow and an unlikely and messy relationship forms between you and Jax.

Warnings: maybe some mild, colorful misogynistic language

These last few days have made you nostalgic about Cara Cara. Working for a porn company doesn’t seem so bad anymore. Maybe you can ask Luann for your old job back. You’re pretty sure she’ll give it back to you, no questions asked. Although TM pays better and honestly, it couldn’t possibly get any worse. Jax has been hot and cold since the incident with Will. He’s been cautiously trying to get your attention, apologizing multiple times, but you’ve been turning down his advances. And when you do, he’s no longer groveling at your feet. His soft words turn into sharp knives instead. Your favorite so far is “I hope you choke on a dick!” That sure is going to get you to run back to him.

Fragile male egos. You know a few things about those. They don’t actually care about making things right. They just want the last word and if things are going to end, it’s going to be on their terms, no matter how much they have to try to charm you. They will say and do anything to win you back just so they can leave you. If you can just focus on work and keep your interactions with Jax to a minimum, you might be able to get through this until the end of the semester at the very least.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m stepping out for lunch and running some errands,” Gemma tells you as she gathers her things. “Will probably be gone for a few hours. You’ll be okay by yourself?”

“Yeah, sure,” you nod and throw her a smile, pulling yourself away from sending a fax for a moment.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

As Gemma walks out, the phone rings so you walk over to answer it.

“Thank you for calling Teller-Morrow, how can I help you?”

Just then Opie waltzes into the office and leaves some filled forms on the desk in front of you.

“Yes, we can do that. If you come by with your car, we can take a look at it and give you an estimate.” You look at Opie and hold a finger up at him to let him know to give you a moment.

“We are open 7 days a week, 8 to 6.” You glance at the form on the desk and you look like you’ve just seen a ghost. “Uh, y-yes. You have a nice day.” You hang up the phone.

“You okay?” Opie asks.

“Is this customer still out there?” You ask him.

“Yeah, he’s gonna wait for his car and wants to pay for it now. Why?”

You stare at the window for a moment before walking over to it and taking a peek outside, recognizing the blue BMW.

“Shit.”

“What? You know this guy or something?” Opie asks.

“That’s my ex-boyfriend. What the hell is he doing on this side of town?”

“You want me to handle this? I can—“

“No,” you sigh. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You sure?” Opie asks again.

“Yeah, thank you.” You force a small smile.

Opie nods and hangs around for a moment in case you change your mind before walking out the office. When he returns to the garage, Jax walks up to him while wiping his greasy hands on a rag.

“What’s up with this preppy boy’s car?” Jax asks, his chin pointing in the direction of the blue BMW.

“Just needs his headlights changed,” Opie answers. “But also, apparently, preppy boy is Y/N’s ex.”

“What?!” Jax asks with raised brows.

“Yeah, she seemed a little spooked. Do you know what the deal is?” Opie asks as they watch you walking towards the blue BMW and its owner.

Jax doesn't answer. They can see the interaction between you and your ex is awkward and Jax sees you recoiling when your ex tries to reach out to you. Jax’s jaw twitches. He picks up the nearest tool next to him and stalks over to the both of you with a torque wrench in his hand.

“Hey, I’m gonna be the one fixing your car.”

“Jax—“

“It’s alright, darlin’,” Jax puts his arm around you. “I can take it from here.”

“Wow, are… are you dating him now? Huh. And you thought I was a piece of shit? You definitely downgraded.” A smug smile plays upon his face. "Now be a good girl and wrap this up, will ya? I have actual important things to do."

“You need your headlights changed, right?” Jax asks.

“Yeah, hope you’re smart enough to figure out that simple task,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, well it looks like you got a broken mirror too.” Jax take a heavy swing with the wrench and knocks one of his side mirrors clean off.

“What the fuck, man?!”

“Jax!”

Just then out of nowhere, Opie jumps in.

"Whoa, whoa. I'm so sorry about that, sir. We'll fix that for you, on the house." Opie tries to pull Jax away until Jax sees you walking away.

Jax follows you back to the office, calling out for you, and leaving Opie to sort out the mess.

“Why the fuck did you do that? You could’ve just changed his headlights and let him be on his fucking way!”

"You're pissed at me? That’s your piece of shit ex, right?” Jax points towards the lot.

“Yes, I'm pissed at you! So what if he's my ex? He was just here for his goddamn headlights. He wasn't here for me.”

“He tried to put his hands on you!”

“And? I can defend myself. Besides, what the hell was that out there? You can’t keep pulling shit like that.”

“I was just trying to protect—“

“Bullshit, Teller! You need to stop acting like we’re in a relationship every time another guy talks to me when you treat me like I’m one of your MC groupies every other week.”

Jax scrubs his beard and looks down at his feet.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” Jax says quietly.

“No, you only care when it's convenient for you. You don't get to pick and choose when you want to care about me."

"I'm really trying here," Jax tells you.

"Trying what exactly? I'd much rather you just treat me like shit because at least that's consistent. You're no better than him." You point in the general direction of the lot.

"Don't compare me to that fucking asshole!" Jax shakes his head.

"You know what? You're right. You're not like him. At least he knows he's an asshole and owns up to it."

Just as Jax is about to say something, the phone rings and you pick up.

"Thank you for calling Teller-Morrow, how can I help you?"

You both stare each other down for a moment before Jax punches the wall on his way out of the office.

#charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam fanfiction #jax teller #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller x reader #jax teller x you #jax teller x female reader #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction

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