#charlie hunnam x you

[hotdamnhunnam]

On Your Knees

A/N: So as I noted in this teaser thingy, I don’t really intend to be back on tumblr actively, BUT I just couldn’t resist writing for Kai!! This fic will be smutty, while also providing a bit of backstory that I feel he needs and deserves honestly. I fucking love this guy 💗

Pairing: Kai x F!Reader Warnings: smut (p in v, oral), swearing, dom!Kai, dirty talk (but it’s not until Part 2 that shit gets degrading and dark) Word Count: ~3.8k

“On your knees.”

It’s been forever and a day, since you last laid your eyes on Kai. Since then you’ve searched for him across the whole entire fucking sky. Whatever words you had expected him to say… you never would have dreamt of these.

On your knees.

The blood in your veins is on fire; it burns as the blue of his gaze starts to freeze. The blaze rises higher, so desperate to melt down this fortress of ice that you hadn’t believed you would find. Paid the rumors no mind—he’s a bounty hunter or a gun for hire, who would sell his soul to any well-paying buyer, or so everybody agrees—yet you’ve come here to seek out the true heart of gold that you know lies behind. But all gold can be sold and it seems that he’s taken his fees.

And now he’s set on taking whatever he damn well may please.

Your voice escapes your throat pathetically. “Kai, it’s me…”

Cocks his head. Lifts his brow. Silent laughter at what you just said. Obviously. But who you are doesn’t mean shit to him now. “Aye, I see.”

You might just choke. The heart that never once stopped beating for this godforsaken rogue just fucking broke.

He snickers down as if the beating of your heart is just a joke. The curl of those cruel lips holds even more force than his words. And that’s what brings you to your knees and makes you weak, so weak it hurts, as he comes close and rests his palm against your cheek, piercing your soul straight to the core with just one stroke.

Straight to the core. Summon what strength you have to speak, unsure whether the vows that you once made have any value anymore. “I’ve come back to you just as I swore…”

“Of course,” he utters as those ice-blue eyes seek out and strike the deepest truth in yours. “You’ve come to me just as you were before: still nothing but a worthless fucking whore.”

***************

--- Years Earlier ---

“Impressive.”

You smile over your shoulder as he comes up from behind to wrap his arms tightly around you, in a warm embrace that’s all at once affectionate and aggressive. Passionate and possessive. Just as his touch is every night when he pins you to bed and pounds you.

Kai is wildly impressed to see you standing tall at the helm of this ship where he’s found you. The ship is in shambles and beaten down, long since abandoned here out on the plains past the outskirts of town. Still the grandeur of spacefaring vessels like this never fails to astound you. The freedom that they represent gives you hope that someday you and Kai might escape from this planet that’s bound to the rule of a ruthless imperial crown.

Yet this starship is broken and dead. It feels good to stand here for a bit and pretend you can steer it—steer something for once in your life so that you can cling onto what little is left of your spirit, forge on towards the future instead of just having to fear it… but you know it’s best not to let false hope get to your head.

“You’d make a fetching pilot, love,” Kai purrs into your ear while he plants kisses on the soft skin of your neck. “So fucking hot I think you might stir up the engine of this wreck. Won’t be surprised if you just up and fly it off.”

The laughter on your lips melts into his, as you lean back to taste his kiss. “I wish I could. The two of us would fuck shit up in space so good.”

“Aye, that we would.”

For now Kai is more than content to fuck you up against the window of this spacecraft and you both know that’s exactly what’s in store. Know you were put upon this planet just to serve him as his filthy little whore. On any planet you would always be just that and nothing more.

Through the layers of both of your clothes you can feel the thick length of his shaft, pressed up against your lower half. Desperate hands reach into his pants to set him free and grasp at every perfect inch of him that you exist to worship and adore.

“Impressive,” you echo his words from before.

He chuckles in that playfully suggestive, sinful way that always hits you in the slick heat of your core. The man knows he’s massive. He wields his cock like a damn weapon of war.

But with you it’s a war fought for love and he makes it so pure.

It’s just unfathomable to you that this man is fucking yours.

You’ve only ever been to this small corner of the vast expanse of space, yet when you look upon his face, you have no doubt that he’s the most beautiful man in all the universe.

As ever in his presence you’re tempted to fall on your knees. It’s your favorite position: to kneel before him in submission. To swallow his cock till he fills your throat with his delicious release. Kai knows this but is ever the tease. He knows just what you’re wishing, but holds you up right where you are to prevent you from sinking so he can keep kissing your lips, one hand gripping your hips, while the other roams over the parts of your body that nobody else ever sees.

“K-Kai please…”

“What is it you want?” he sadistically taunts, and then animalistically grunts, as he feels the wetness of your cunt.

You can’t speak, at the touch of his fingers exploring the treasures they seek.

So he feeds you the words. “This big cock in that sweet little mouth of yours?”

“Yes—please, yes…!” you gasp, heightening his desire as well as your own as you handle his hardness with long strokes and squeezes, loving how it throbs in your tightening grasp.

Kai loves making you plead, getting off on the way that you moan for him over and over again. Till he’s ready to finally provide what you need. Ready now then he reckons. A wicked smirk crosses his mouth and it threatens to end you this second. “Indeed. Since you’re beggin’.”

At last then he lets you sink down to the floor, where you instantly bury your face in his crotch and start slobbering madly all over his cock because this is what you fucking live for.

He smells and tastes simply divine. Better than any man fucking should. Smash your nose in the fine golden hairs at the base of his dick and get drunk on his scent like it’s wine… swipe your tongue up the length in a sensuous line…God it’s good. The salt and sweetness and the musk with earthy undertones of wood. You know nothing of what gods exist in this world or the next, other than being certain that Kai is a living breathing god of sex.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer into him and holding you right fucking there. It’s heaven when he plows your throat. No other feeling could compare. You reach to clutch at the firm muscles of his ass and meet his blue gaze as you eagerly wait for him to unravel and explode. The twinkle in his eye reminds you that you’re his and that he never wants to share, just as he’s yours and no one else deserves the privilege to take his precious load.

You take it down with your cheeks hollowed, throat contracting tight around him as he groans in utter bliss. Your love for him deepens with every drop you’ve swallowed, since the day when you first met and every day and night that’s followed. Didn’t think it would be possible to love him more than this. To be so cock-drunk and so lovestruck… fuck, it’s glorious.

Your worship of him always takes him somewhere far beyond the stars. So fucking far. He loves the whore you are, just as you love the whore he is. The kind of love that heals as deeply as it scars. You’re only whores for one another which is why the love you make is always pure no matter how dirty it is.

He worships you in turn, that filthy mouth on him a fire-breathing sin. Making you burn. Laying his claim to every last inch of your skin and every fiber of your being deep within. Your impulse is to be down on your knees for him but when the man insists on pleasuring your cunt—because for him your pleasure’s always at the forefront—well of course you just give in.

And then he fucks your cunt to pieces to make sure you won’t ever forget that his sex is the reason you’re living.

You can’t begin to wrap your mind around him being so damn perfect. But you sure as hell can wrap your pussy tight around the war weapon that’s pumping deep inside of you so powerfully erect. Both of you like it good and rough, and soon enough, this stranded spaceship’s not the only thing that’s wrecked.

The vessel tilts a little bit with his last thrust; this ship is huge but so is Kai, and he’s apparently so strong that he just rocked the goddamned deck. That shit is so insanely hot you might just die. Combust. Crumble to dust. As you both come down from the high, your pulse is racing and he traces its pace with his parted lips pressed to your neck.

The two of you remain entwined for hours, as you always do. Whispering sweet nothings that you wish could be true. Let’s just pretend this ship is ours. That the universe is ours. That we’ll fly away, and soar the skies someday, just me and you. But nothing is nothing regardless of how sweet it seems, and you can’t fly away from the fact that the universe bows to formidable powers. To forces that devastate dreams, through and through.

To the powers that be. Powers that crush all hopes of ever being free or being happy.

Kai reads your mind as your thoughts drift to that dark place. Knows that it’s time to tell you what he came to say, when he found you aboard this ship today, before he got distracted and ended up fucking your brains out past the farthest reaches of space. It’s not a message that he’s eager to convey. But it’s an order that you can’t really afford to disobey.

Still he wants you to stay, blue eyes begging you to as he softly caresses your face. Yet he knows on some level that dreams of resistance are silly to chase. That the price of just one slice of heaven is steep and there’ll be hell to pay.

He clears his throat and breathes in deep, wishing the price weren’t so damn steep. “Meant to tell you that he’s been… requesting your presence again.”

You had known to expect this. Chosen to neglect this. As if you could run to some empty abandoned starship to hide from the constant demands of that monster who thinks he’s a god among men.

But you can’t and to even attempt this… is useless and reckless. Though Kai referred to the imperial officer’s order as just a request, it was obviously a command. So you stand, smooth your skirt with a trembling hand—knowing Kai wishes he could hold on to you now and protect what is rightfully his—but your honor is yours to defend. No one else’s. All yours in the end.

He knows this too but wishes he didn’t. He hates this part. Watching you leave is the part when he cages his heart, locking it in a block of cement. “So you’ll just run off to him then?”

All too familiar with his defense mechanisms, you don’t halt your rhythm. The whole fiasco of this moment is always the same with him, despite the fact that he must know this isn’t something either one of you enjoys. So rather than rushing to blame him, or letting the swell of emotions inside you erupt into violence, you cast him a side glance, remind him in silence: it’s not as if I have a choice.

Evidently today the cement is much thicker than usual; the next words off his lips at your lack of response come off particularly cruel. “What, lost your dignity and your voice?”

God, he knows how to hit your inner slut, and make her want to die. To bleed her dry. His name escapes your throat in a defeated sigh. “Kai…”

He hates himself right now more than that monstrous fucking officer or anyone at all. Down to his core. Your knees just buckled and he rushes to catch you before you fall, but he’s so broken now himself that you both end up on the floor, down on your knees. The words he’d just uttered were driven by demons he’s struggling to bury—lately there have been a whole lot of these. Pulls you in close and releases his heart from its stone wall, as he dissolves into a mess of regrets and apologies. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Inevitably you end up making love, which is the only answer when words aren’t enough. Soft and slow. But it has to end quickly, because you have somewhere to be. Can’t hold on to the afterglow. Leave before tears overflow. Just a few words then you have to go.

You wish Kai could see things from your point of view. He gives you every reassurance that he gets it; his response earlier was impossibly harsh but he clearly regrets it. Still you can’t help but feel as if he’s disappointed in you. Despite how authoritative the Imperium is and the consequences that are sure to ensue if you stand up against it… he sees your obeying the officer’s orders as something you’re making the choice to do.

And that view baffles you because how could you possibly choose to do something that fucking destroys you?

The officer knows all your weaknesses. If you should ever defy him he’d go after Kai, to hit you where he knows it would hurt you the most and you can’t stand to think or to speak of this. You’d rather die. And your fear of that terrible punishment forces your hand; you must heed his command. Without having to spell this shit out you just wish Kai would understand why.

“I understand,” he says, but he can’t meet your pleading gaze. He’s not quite certain whether what he said is true, and surely you would see right through. Instead looks out the spacecraft window at the distant stars that deign to cast their rays upon this conquered stretch of land. It feels like pity and that shit infuriates him in a million fucking ways. “I understand, I do. It just kills me to think of someone else inside you—”

“Kai, I’ve told you time and time again to trust me that he hasn’t…”

“That’s not even what I meant.”

“It’s what you said.”

With worlds of pain behind his plaintive eyes he reaches out to cup your cheek then smooths his thumb across the creases in your forehead. “What I meant is that I just can’t shake this sense that he’s gotten inside your head. To men like that nothing is sacred. He’s attracted to your spirit ‘cause he knows that he can break it. Wants to wait for you to give your body to him though it’s well within his power to just take it. And whatever little honor you’ve got left down to the final fucking shred… he won’t stop till it’s fucking dead.”

His warning chills you to the bone, because you know it to be true. For better or worse you’ve got some defense mechanisms of your own. Just a few. Brush off his touch and clench your jaw and let a little bit of spite sharpen your tone. “So then what would you have me do? Not all of us can be as honorable as you.”

Now his jaw clenches too. So hard that he might be at risk of breaking it. “The choice is yours, of course,” he mutters, eyes flashing an icy shade of blue. “Just know you’re making it. Don’t hide behind the lie your hand was forced.”

At that you turn to leave him with a scoff, throwing a bitter glare that tells him to fuck off.

But just before you disembark, you catch a glimpse of some metallic thing that glimmers in the dark. The mess of clothes that Kai had flung off of his shoulders when he fucked you up against the window, some hours ago… he’d had a gun tucked in among them and the sight of it right now is fucking stark. You have no reason to be shocked about it though.

He wasn’t hiding it from you; the fact that he’s been packing unauthorized arms is something you already knew. That doesn’t mean it’s something you wanted to know. Seeing this fatal metal thing strikes you as such a blunt reminder of what he intends to do. And you know where it’s bound to go.

Where your gaze and your thoughts wander his always follow. “There’s a strategy session set up for tomorrow,” he states in reference to the folks in your town who believe independence is something that any respectable person would die to defend. Even if it means battling forces against which they can’t even try to contend. “May be able to make concrete plans now that we’ve finally got enough guns stashed in our secret cargo. I already know better than to ask whether you’d want to attend. Guess the answer will always be no.”

The two of you have talked about this countless times before. And every time it turns to fucking when you both can’t bear the talking anymore. It’s irresponsible and immature, but in the rosy throes of youth, it seems to you love is the only fucking truth, the only thing you know for sure. The only thing that’s clear and pure. Love keeps you whole so you don’t fall apart from fear of what your hopeless-looking future has in store.

But you’re not that young, and you can’t just fuck away these pressing issues for that long. He can’t just kiss you to prevent the words from falling off your tongue. He knows it too and so you sit and talk for once and hope shit doesn’t go too wrong.

You admire and love him for being so brave and so strong. Tell him so. But that small band of big-hearted rebels is not somewhere you feel you’ll ever belong. He has to let it go.

And you have to let go of your hope that he might change his mind. That he might decide doing what makes sense to simply survive matters more than misguided delusions of honor chasing after some kind of freedom he won’t ever find.

You tenderly caress his face and feel the warmth of his blood rush to meet your hand. It’s all that you can do to pray his precious blood won’t spill someday fighting a war over some worthless stretch of land. This lovely planet is your home but in your eyes it’s all worth nothing without Kai. “I know how fiercely you believe in your brothers, and in your friends. In the rebellion that all of you have planned. What terrifies me is this feeling that it’s fucking doomed to fail and if you die… I can’t fathom anything worse. Of course I know the choice to fight with them is yours, but for my part I’m not as brave as all the others. I can’t bring myself to stand behind this cause when I’m afraid it won’t be worth it in the end. Please understand.”

Kai leans into your touch and turns his face to kiss your palm, cracking a sad smile to fight the tears that otherwise would come. Unshed they shine like stars hiding behind his eyes so blue. “Aye, I do.”

It’s a lie. Lie as big as the sky. But he hides behind it till it might become true, or at least fucking tries to.

At that it’s time for you to go, fearing that you should have done so hours ago. The sheer pressure of fear shatters you; fact is deep down it shatters him too. He just copes with his hopes and fears in a more complicated way.

“I promise I will always come back to you.” These are the same words that you always say, when you leave—words you fiercely believe—to assure him that nothing could keep you away.

When you leave him with those words Kai usually lets you, eventually once he’s done venting all his pent up rage and dealing every card he has to play. But evidently not today. “You wouldn’t have to. If you’d just stay.”

The way his voice trembles with gentleness, with selflessness, as he abandons every one of his defenses… it fucking kills you when he gets this way. It doesn’t happen often, and it always makes your heart open and soften. “That’s true. Maybe I can keep him waiting just one day…”

His eyes go wide, unable to believe that this is something you would actually decide. It makes him love you even more and suddenly he’s shy and blushing as if he thinks he’s unworthy of the privilege of your touch. “Or just one hour or one minute for I ought to know I shouldn’t ask too much—”

You shut him up with your forefinger pressed against his luscious lip. Provocatively bite your own to make it known that you want him to spend all day fucking you up against this ship.

Last time he did it shook the whole entire deck; maybe this time the sex will be so fucking hot that it’ll set fire to this wreck. Wouldn’t put anything past Kai. It’d be a perfect way to die.

Slamming your back against the window of this wrecked dreadnought, he effortlessly reads your every thought—goddamn that thought just now was a particularly bold one—and from his wicked smirk it’s plain to see that he agrees it would be perfect and insanely fucking hot. “You might want to hold on.”

And you do, clinging closely to him like the sky clings to stars at the coming of dawn. In the bright glare of day they’ll no longer shine through. But that won’t mean they’re gone.

Here tonight, and even if they’re out of sight, come morning light… all the stars in his eyes shine for you. With those stars guiding you, you’ll hold on.

***************

… To be continued in Part 2!

The plan is for Part 2 to explore more of the earlier timeline and also carry forward the opening scene of course, which is when dark degrading dom!Kai will be out in full force 🔥

If you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist for this fic (below), just let me know! Much love to all of you 💖

Masterlist

Taglist for this fic (based on responses to the teaser) – @midnightbabylon @rayslittlekitten @pikapuff-316 @youflickedtooharddamnit @laurfilijames @okin-awa @lovebittenbyevans @jmamas92 @theliterarybeldam @dirtytomatoedwrites @ughdontbeboring @netflix-imagines

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[darklydeliciousdesires]

Command - A Jax Teller/Reader Smut Drabble.

A swifter than swift bit of Jax filth for my lovelies!

Words - 267

Warnings - Smut below the cut! Under 18? This ain’t for you!

Some command, some submit.  

Rarely do those who give the commands submit to the power of another.

“Take off your clothes, now.”

A dutiful strip is undertaken.

“God, don’t you look pretty naked? Yeah, you do. Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

“I know.”

“Oh, and cocky, as well.”

“You know it.”

“Come here.”

Ahh, loitering. There’ll be none of that. “I said come here.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll fucking spank the living hell out of you.��

“What if I want you to?”  

An approach is eventually begun, an amused look given.  

“Oh, you’ll take this seriously.”

“Alright, taking it seriously.”

“Down, on your knees, right now.”

A crouch is undertaken, two knees bending, the floorboard creaking beneath. “And now I’m down here? Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

“Wrap your mouth around me.”

Two perfect lips part, a tongue slowly rolling out, taking a firm lick, those lips then sucking, a hungry groan reverberating, two hands sliding over warm, yielding flesh.  

“Yeah, just like that. Fuck, you’re so good.” Pleasure is stirred, a dark, sexual mist of pure lust rising, tingles melting down two spines, one mouth agape and singing a song of ecstasy as another sucks and licks with carnivorus hunger. “Oh, god, that’s perfect.”

Some command, some submit.  

Rarely do those who give the commands submit to the power of another.

Except when you’ve ordered Jax Teller to drop to his knees and delight you with his mouth, then the man who is in control and command of so much has absolutely no issue with another taking control of him for once.  

A/N - Did you enjoy it? Rewarding your hard working author with a comment and reblog goes a long way :)

#jax teller #jax teller smut #jax teller smut drabble #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller fanfic #jax teller fic #jax teller x reader #jax teller x you #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy smut #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfic #sons of anarchy fic #Charlie Hunnam #charlie hunnam smut #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam fanfic #charlie hunnam fic #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam x you #soa #soa fanfiction #soa fanfic #soa smut #soa fic

[calif0rnia-lovers]

kiss it better 02.

read part 01 first

pairing: jax teller x black!reader | words: 2.1k

warning: none for this chapter..just mention of Opie's death...rip Ope.

sum: years have passed. you find yourself back in charming. but the man you've left behind now carries a thirst for vengeance you're not certain you can save him from.

A shot of whiskey. The pounding resonated beneath Jax's bruised skin. His left eye sporting a freshly pounded bruise. His knuckles split open. Lip busted.

Deja vu.

Nearly three years have passed, but the scenery is the same. The clubhouse has not changed. The loud music, exchange of alcohol, laughter over games of pool and cards, crow eaters looking for a body to take home. 

The only difference is that Jax Teller is seated on the sofa with a bottle of whiskey. It's pressed against his swelling eye, a feeble attempt to cool off his heated skin. Lisa sits alongside him, her fingers toying with his hair. Any other night, she would have him undressed by now. But tonight, she can hardly get Jax to speak, let alone look at her.

It's been two days since Jax's return from County. Two days since Opie's wake. Although a party in their fallen friend's honor is in full swing, Jax is seated. He knows people are watching, waiting for his next move. Waiting to see if he's going to cry, scream…do something other than act as though business was on as usual. 

He'd somehow survived a meeting with Galen and the IRA and met with the mayor in a single day. The meeting with Galen was more eventful than the easy ploy to convince the mayor to assist in Jax's latest plan. Galen couldn't entertain, let alone trust, the young president. He found Jax short-tempered, cocky, and undeserving of the patch on his chest. The swollen knuckles on Jax's left hand are evidence of his short temper.

"Wanna go home?" The warmth of Lisa's lips caresses Jax's ear, her palm drifting down his chest. Shifting closer to him, she nuzzles her nose against the warmth of his pulse. She's surprised to find it beating calm and steady beneath his heated skin. "Take your mind off everything?"

"I'm good tonight," Jax mumbles, shifting forward and out of her touch.

Despite the cold dismissal, Lisa remained seated alongside him. Jax's jaw flexes as her palms drag along the shoulders of his kutte. The weight of her chest presses against him as her lips press a soft, lingering kiss against his cheek.

"You haven't seen me since you got back," she hummed. "You need a proper welcome home."

Jax is incapable of responding. The little energy he has left is directed towards holding off retrieving his gun and heading across town. Biding time, suppressing the urge to act had proven more exhausting than he'd initially thought.

The heel of his palm pressed against his eye. The action seems to double the pain, but he doesn't stop. Apart from the pain, the voice in his head is jumbled. Amplified. Getting louder with each passing second.

Sergeant Mackey…home invasions…Charming Heights…Abel…Opie… Gemma's shit…fucking Clay…Opie…Pope…Opie. 

Each issue at hand seemed to demand immediate attention. And time. Time Jax couldn't possibly have. He hadn't slept since he left County and has barely been able to scratch the surface of the shit he was set to handle. 

His grip tightens around the bottle in his hand as a vibration sets loose against his chest. 

"Shit…" 

It's the fifth call in the last half hour. Jax lets it ring. Straight to voicemail. 

Unscrewing the cap, Jax downs a hearty swallow of whiskey. He can't help but wince as the liquid burns his throat. He's in the process of going for a second swig when he spots you. The bottle stops short of his lips, his eyes blinking. 

His first thought was an illusion. A trick brought on by the mixture of lack of sleep and whiskey. The last time he saw you, there were tears in your eyes. 

As he blinks, Jax finds his vision has begun to blur. But, despite the blurred vision, you're still there. Caught in Bobby's tight embrace, unaware that Jax has noticed your arrival. 

"How is he?" Your question comes out muffled against Bobby's shoulder.

"Don't think it's hit him yet," Bobby admits as he lets you go. He runs a hand over his tired eyes. "You know the kid. Keeps shit inside. Been trying to handle club shit from the moment he got out."

Jax was arrested…Pope…a debt to be paid…Opie…laid to rest.

The phone call was a blur. Hell, the last 48 hours were a blur.

Gemma had called in a panic. Her initial call was rejected and sent to voicemail. You aren't sure how she got your number. It had changed the moment you landed in New York years prior. The plan with her and Charming was simple—out of sight, out of mind. But the thing about Gemma is…she can't be ignored. It took three more calls before you answered. 

"Jax's been arrested—"

"Since when is that new?"

Instead of meeting your comment with her typical sass, Gemma shared the news.

Jax, Tig, and Chibs arrested for murder. Opie was dragged into the transport van. Damon Pope's unwavering demand, and Jax's inability to find another solution to end the war festering between the Sons and the kingpin. Opie's sacrifice to prevent his best friend from being the member of the MC to die on the floor of Stockton prison. Jax hadn't shared the details with his mother. In fact, he hadn't spoken a single word about the events of the short time spent in the walls of the prison. But the look that passed over Chibs' face as the Scot had arrived back at the clubhouse, Opie's death was bloody.

You have no recollection of hastily packing a carry-on. No memory of buying a plane ticket or even flying from JFK. 

You just remember the sickening feeling, the pit in your stomach. The fear that not being able to get to Charming fast enough would lead to Jax doing something he couldn't take back. 

It's a feeling that dissipates the second your eyes meet his. By the time you spot him, Jax is halfway to you.

"Hey—"

The initial weight of his body threatens to knock you off balance. Jax's arms wrap around you, the firmness of his grip pinning you against his chest. His arms tighten around you, his face burrowing against the warmth of your skin. The tears he's spent the past few days suppressing are unlocked. They silently fall, his shoulders trembling enough to advert the eyes of his fellow Sons. 

As your fingers gently pass through his hair, Jax's body relaxes. Each touch encourages his breathing to slow. It's an unfamiliar feeling, the weight on his shoulders seeming to lift for the first time in years.

You swallow, a feeble attempt to push the lump rising in your throat back down.

You can't cry. Not in front of him.

It was the one rule you'd repeated to yourself the entire plane ride. Tears for Opie had to be spilled out of Jax's sight. No matter how much you loved Opie, you knew it paled in comparison to the love he received from Jax.

You allow your grip to loosen around him, but Jax remains. Your eyes grip shut as the pads of your fingers pass over the familiar stitching on his back.

The smiling reaper silently challenged you to voice the request on your mind. Possibly because he knew you to be the only one brave enough to ask the President to follow suit with the impossible task. Or, maybe because he knew without Opie, Jax's moral compass has cast too far from true north. And although Jax could never deny you in the past, the man shaped by your time apart was different than who you left behind that night.

You find yourself cowering beneath the Reaper's silent challenge. After years apart, you can't have your first words to Jax unleash his festering anger.

Your words come out barely above a whisper. "You're going to be okay, Jax."

You're not sure where the confidence in your voice comes from. You've known him long enough to know Jax is resilient. He has carried more than any ordinary man. But you both know he might not be able to carry this—not alone.

Maybe that’s why, despite her hatred for you, Gemma called you when she saw the unfamiliar icy, cold look in her son's eyes. She knew that if she selfishly tried to tackle the issue alone her son would be too far gone.

Be okay.

If he disagrees with your belief in him, Jax doesn't protest. He remains silent. 

"What happened to your face?" 

It's a question he's heard from you a hundred times, yet Jax has never found a perfect answer. His eyes drop. Asked a few years prior, he would have a rehearsed response prepared. One that watered down the details. Tonight, it stops just shy of his lips. Lying to you is always the hardest. Paired with his exhaustion, he doesn’t have the energy.

He watches your brow furrow as you take in his recently earned black eye. A deep breath fills his lungs, the look of concern in your eyes forcing Jax to release it.

"Pointless shit," he sighs, wincing as your thumb brushes over his swollen knuckles.

"You need to ice this."

"It's fine," he dismisses your concern, slipping his hand out of yours. Jax's grip tightens around your waist, a silent plea to remain close as you step towards the bar. 

Your touch instinctively lifts his chin. The warmth of your palms against his cheeks pulls his eyes shut. Finally, he allows you to assess the damage of his most recent fight. 

Another useless fight fueled by his misplaced anger.

The first kiss is featherlight, settling on the bruise beneath Jax's eye. Each that follows seems to possess magical healing powers. Passing over his wounds, both seen and unseen. The pain throbbing beneath his skin seeping away with each touch of your lips. 

Your lips stop shy of his, the action forcing Jax's eyes open. 

The bright blue you'd come to love was dimmed. His youthful playfulness was replaced by tiredness. As his forehead rests against yours, your palms slide down Jax's chest. 

The patch you had helped sew on a few years prior was now faded. Almost as worn of the leather it was stitched too. As your fingers trace the stitched letters, you can't help but doubt your previous statement.

President.

It comes with an unbearable burden and the task of making tough decisions. Decisions often result in scars not visible to the human eye. And just as many visible ones. 

Seeing Jax’s skin bruised and scared is second nature. But your mind can’t stop from wondering how bad it got in your absence.

Your teeth dig into the flesh of your lip, your fingers tracing the letters on his chest. Slowly building the confidence to present your request. One you knew that Jax would have to deny. Not only because he was President, and his men would look to him to lead, but because his best friend was just ripped from him.

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid." You don't need to open your eyes to know Jax's eyes have rolled. The sharp intake of breath is enough of an indication. "I'm serious, Jax. Retaliation is out of the question—"

"Y/N—"

"Jackson, I'm serious." Meeting his gaze, you keep your voice low. An argument is the last thing either of you have energy for. "Not tonight, when you can't think straight. Promise me you won't do anything."

Jax remains silent. His shoulders fall with the breath he releases. His hand passes over his face drawing your attention to bags set deep beneath his tired eyes.

"Not tonight," Jax echoes. The kiss he leaves against your forehead is the seal of his promise. 

The vibration of his phone pulls Jax back to reality. 

The sixth call of the night, whoever was on the other end was relentless.

He reaches into his kutte, his brow furrowing as he reads the caller id.

"I gotta take this," he sighs, his palm dragging down his face. 

He catches sight of the look in your eyes. A weak smile finds his lips.

"Relax, y/n." Jax chuckles, the sound almost enough to convince you he's back to normal. "It's just Nero."

"Nero?"

"He's a friend," Jax replies, phone already against his ear. 

Despite the reassurance, your eyes remain on Jax as he moves to step away. His fingers find yours for a brief moment, his mind already drifting toward the next task.

"Where you staying tonight?"

You blink. The thought hadn't crossed your mind. "Uh--Figured I'd just get a room—"

Jax's brow furrows. Ignoring the rattling of Nero's voice in his ear, Jax covers the receiver of the phone. 

"It's getting late. You can stay with me tonight."

Jax doesn't wait for a debate on the matter. A gentle squeeze of your hand, and he's gone. 

Your eyes follow the Reaper on his back, your teeth digging in your lip as he disappears through the chapel doors.

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#this is late af but it's up #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam x you #jax teller imagine #jax teller x black!reader #jax teller x reader #soa fic #soa imagine

[navybrat817]

Sooo I would like it very much if he can take me on a ride on his Harley but more importantly on his dick! Please!! Like we can pull off on the side of the road, and he can just slip it in!?! Those are my thots of the day! Love you! ♥️♥️

And you say I'm the menace?! You know what you did!

Detour

Pairing: Jax Teller x Female Reader

Word Count: Almost 800

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), teasing, possessive behavior, Jax Teller (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Hey, lovelies! I blame @maskedmistress87 and, by extension, @sgt-seabass . I would love to give Jax a proper story. Today, it's simply Sinday. 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. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

When Jax suggested going for a ride, you planned for him to pull over before you reached your destination. Being bent over his bike not only excited you, but your pussy throbbed from going too long without him. Anyone who had the pleasure of being fucked by Jax understood, but that was in the past.

Jax is yours as much as you're his.

No one fucked with his old lady.

All morning you rubbed your ass against his crotch each chance you got. The hitch in his breath and grunts each time you pressed against him, it amazed you that he hadn't buried himself inside you. Especially since you chose his favorite pair of pants. Your ass looked fantastic in them and you refused to let him rip them.

If he dripped out of you later once your pants were back in place, that was a different story.

"Don't start games you can't finish, baby," he warned, grabbing his helmet.

"When have you ever known me to quit playing?" you smiled, grasping the back of his neck to pull him in for a kiss. His beard tickled the skin around your lips as he claimed your mouth, reminding you who had control.

Let him think that.

You shrieked a moment later when he smacked your ass.

"I'd fuck you, but I promised you a ride."

"Promises, promises."

A few minutes later, you're on the road. Your arms securely around his waist, you never felt more free. Jax brought every cell within you to life, which is why your hand wandered down to his jean covered cock.

You weren't sure where he pulled over.

It didn't matter.

The pants you enticed Jax with had been pushed down as far as they could go within seconds, his frame bracketing yours as you bent over at the waist. Your breasts pushed against the seat as you held on. There would be no prep, no teasing. His cock would split you open in seconds and you'd thank him later for it.

By screaming his name and coming all over his cock.

"Couldn't fucking wait, could you?" he asked, his cock slapping your cheek before he brought the tip to your aching hole. "My greedy slut has to have my cock, hmm?"

"Yes!" you cried as he sheathed you in one single thrust.

"Then let me take you for a fucking ride."

You bit your lip as you stretched around him, your nails digging in at the thought of someone catching you. Not that it would stop Jax. His pussy, his rules. If he wanted the entire club to watch as he painted your insides, no one would argue.

"Fuck, baby, you're so wet," he grunted as he snapped his hips. You unashamedly cried out as you took each brutal thrust, his rings pressing into your skin as he pulled you back and forth. "Gonna make a mess my cock, hmm? Leave me nice and wet while we finish our ride? 'Cause it's mine. You're mine."

You wish you could look up at him as you nodded, but your soaked walls around his cock told him what he needed to know: you belonged to him.

"C'mon, baby. My name," he demanded, bending down to bite your collar bone. The angle made him brush that spongy spot inside you, relentless as he hit it over and over. You prayed your knees wouldn't buckle.

"Jax, fuck! Let me come!"

It was never "make me" because he always made you let go. Sex wasn't a release for Jax, it was a way he communicated. Inside you, he reminded you that he loved you the way he could. You loved him just the same.

"Shouldn't let you after you teased me," he taunted, not slowing his pace as he chuckled. He wouldn't fucking dare. "But I'm feeling generous. C'mon, baby. Come. Don't you fucking hold back on me."

Any shred of self control you had left vanished as you came hard and fast, collapsing against the bike as you gushed around his cock. He wanted a mess and your body delivered, riding out the wave of your orgasm as he pistoned into you.

"Fuck, messy girl. Every fucking time," the last word growled as he stilled his hips, emptying himself with groan.

You refused to move as he stayed inside you, basking in the afterglow. It took a moment to remember that you were outside. Anyone could've seen.

"You okay?" he breathed, kissing your temple.

"Yeah," you smiled, tilting your head enough to brush your lips together. "No one caught us?"

"Not yet."

Yet?

"You thought this was one and done?" he asked, lightly rolling his hips as you moaned. "No, baby. I want your pants ruined by the time we get home."

*****

So. More Jax? Yes? No? Love and thanks! ❤️

#navybrat writes #jax teller x reader #jax teller x female reader #jax teller x you #jax teller x y/n #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller imagine #jax teller au #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam x female reader #charlie hunnam x you

[miagomez-1509]

#celebrities #2000s icons #burnette #beautiful #movies #early 2000s #black and white #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam characters #charlie hunnam fic #charlie hunnam x you #jax teller x you #jax teller imagine #jax teller #dirty blonde #kids

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

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."

#murphy's 500 followers celebration #jax teller x reader #jax teller #sons of anarchy #soa #sons of anarchy smut #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy fluff #sons of anarchy imagine #charlie hunnam #jax teller imagine #jackson teller #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller smut #jax teller x you #jax teller x oc #jax teller fluff #jax teller x reader smut #jax teller x reader fluff #jax teller x female reader

[hawktims]

PACIFIC RIM (2013) dir. Guillermo del Toro

#pacific rim #pacificrimedit #cinematv #filmtvcentral #cinemapix #mako mori #raleigh becket #raleigh x mako #charlie hunnam #rinko kikuchi #otp: drift compatible #mine #m: gifs #they're so special to me you don't understand

[thisreadswhatever]

Only Mine

find my masterlist here

[description]: jax teller x fem!reader

[wordcount]: 2.4k

[cw]: 18+ only, smut, jealous overprotective Jax, angst, short fight scene (if you can even call it that), car sex, oral f receiving, teasing, unfinished sex

[authors note]: I had this idea floating around for awhile and then this request inspired the rest! thank you!

“I’m sure you say that to all the ladies.” 

You were along the bar, chin in palm, blinking your lashes at the man sitting beside you. He smiled back wryly. He was pretty perfect. Clean cut, slightly muscular, no tats covering him from top to bottom, no bike sitting in the parking lot. He was a little cocky, aware of his good looks, and in all honesty, any other day he’d be the type of guy you’d usually find pretty boring. But for tonight, he’d be a welcome distraction. 

“So you’re really here alone?” the man asked, looking around as he took a sip from the glass in front of him. 

You smiled back, twisting a strand of hair into your fingers as you sipped your beer, “that surprise you?” 

“Someone like you doesn’t come around here often. Can't imagine you haven’t been snatched up yet.” 

Technically, he was right. Jax and you hadn’t spoken in days, and although the mutual silence was a regular occurrence, you somehow always found a way back to each other. It never had been made ‘official’, but it never really needed to be. You both stuck to each other like the end poles of magnets, impossible to keep apart yet impossible to stay together. You and Jax were a burning flame amongst a sea of trees condemned to an endless drought. Your love was toxic and infuriating, and it pained you both how hurtful you could be to one another. Yet for some reason, you always went back. You’d reconnect, one of you would fuck up, and then it was back to square one all over again. 

“Haven’t found the one yet”, you teased. 

He gestured to the bartender with his hand, “can I buy you another beer?” 

You smiled politely back at him, “you can buy me as many as you want.”

You picked up your drink and pulled his hand with your other as you led him to one of the quiet booths settled at the back of the bar. You spent the next hour cosying up to your stranger, soaking in the attention he gave you. He was overly attentive and extremely polite, almost a little too nice for your liking. No roughness on the edges, no fight in him. Just a gentleman through and through. You sat inches from each other, tension building as the drinks continued to appear. 

“Can I kiss you?” The man asked as he leaned in, hovering above your face. It wasn’t often you were asked to be kissed. You stared into his eyes through your long lashes, nodding in approval.

He smiled shyly into your lips as they pressed against his. He was gentle, his hands slowly moving to your waist, never straying further. 

He laid back into the bench, taking a sip from his beer. “You know I never did catch your name.” 

You didn’t want to share anything with this stranger, the anonymity bringing less questions and expectations. 

“Later.” 

You cupped his face in your hand, grazing his jaw with your fingertips as you brought his mouth to yours again.

He was nice, but the longer you spent kissing your gentle stranger, the more you yearned to be in the hands of your depraved biker. Jax was urgent and desperate for you each time you were in his arms. There was a mutual desire that turned you both into crazed maniacs when you were together. It was something you’d searched for every time you were with someone else, because nobody you’d ever come across had given you that same feeling. 

Jax had a way of turning you into the only girl in the world. Until he was fucking the next croweater who threw themselves at him the following day. 

Tonight, you were going to allow yourself to enjoy the gentlemen in front of you. You leaned back into the bench, trying to edge him on top of you as you sunk into the bench against his lips.

You were so entangled in your stranger that you never even noticed him arrive with half of The Club. It wasn’t until you were interrupted by the break in your lips as he was pulling the man off you by his shirt, forcing him to the floor as he was knocked flat on his back. 

“Jax!”

“Dude! What the fu-“ he tried to stand up, but Jax placed his shoe directly on his chest, crushing him to the ground. The man grunted under the weight, failing to pry the shoe off of him. “What the fuck are you doing!?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” He pressed down into the man’s chest harder, restraining himself from crushing his rib cage all together. 

The stranger looked at you with wide eyes, trying to speak through the force compounding his lungs, “she said she was alone!” 

Jax smiled at him as he laid spread out on the dirty bar floor. 

“I don’t give shit what she said. Your time is up, pretty boy.”  

You were ashamed to admit that you thoroughly enjoyed watching Jax furious with envy over you, but you did feel bad for the innocent guy beneath his sneaker. 

“Get the fuck off him, Jax.” 

He glanced up at you, taking a long look at your flushed pink cheeks and swollen lips.

The crowded bar was now zoned in on your table, watching and entertained by the drama unfolding. Chibs, Juice and Bobby guarded the table, ensuring no onlookers got in the way of Jax’s jealous fuelled rage. 

He picked the man up by his collar, pulling him to his feet as he threw him against the wall. Jax gripped at his jaw, lifting his chin to force his eyes towards you at the bench. “I suggest you apologise for bothering my girl.” 

“Jax don’t be ridiculous-“ 

He ignored you, glaring at the man in his grasp, tightening the grip on his collar. 

“I’m sorry, okay!” 

“Not to me, asshole. To her.” 

You rolled your eyes, watching as he tormented the innocent stranger you had set yourself upon.

“I’m sorry I bothered you.” His voice cracked from the hold Jax had on his collar, draining the circulation from his neck.

Jax shoved the man off the wall, releasing him as he was once again flown across the laminate. He stumbled to regain his balance before he started running, bolting for the exit. He disappeared at the speed of light, chuckles from Juice and Chibs echoing through the bar as he ran. 

You stood up from the bench, storming off in anger for the door. 

Jax followed you into the empty, dark car park outside the bar. His hands stuffed into his pockets as he watched you slump against the brick wall, sliding down to sit on the pavement. You put a cigarette to your mouth as you searched for a lighter in your bag. You hadn’t felt tipsy until the air hit you, realising your head was spinning.

He paced over to you, crouching forward with his lighter, igniting the cigarette between your lips. 

“You’re such a prick sometimes, you know that?” 

Jax slid down the wall beside you, his legs bent slightly at the knees as he sighed to himself, lighting his own cigarette. “Not gonna argue with that.” 

He exhaled a large cloud of smoke as he spoke, “but you were basically fucking that guy in an open bar, y/n.” 

“First of all, no I wasn’t.” 

He chuckled, amused by your irritation. 

“And second of all, what the fuck has that got to do with you? You’re the one who decided to get knee deep in Ima last week, again.” 

“I told you I was drunk.” 

“And now I’m drunk too”, you protested.

He shook his head as smoke escaped his lips, fingers twirling the silver lighter in his hands. “That isn’t going to happen again.”

Your head fell back as you groaned at his promise, leaning against the hard brick behind you. “Yeah, ‘cause I haven’t heard that one before.” 

He smiled, nudging your leg with his playfully. “You know I mean it. Doesn’t matter who I’m inside, there's only one face I see.” 

You turned your head towards him, leaning your face on his shoulder. “I’m tired of this, Jax. You and your mommy issues are giving me whiplash.” 

“Yeah, well your baggage ain’t so easy to handle either.” He placed a hand over the back of your head, stroking your hair as he spoke.

You responded with a punch to his knee, swaying his leg. “You can’t just keep beating men up because they’re interested in me. That guy was actually sweet.” 

He threw his cigarette across the pavement before he grasped his hands into your hair, entangling his fingers between the strands. He crushed his lips against yours, his tongue lapping into your mouth. His fingers smoothed against your face, the feeling of his cold rings brushing against your cheek. Your foreheads connected as your eyes closed, resting silently along each other. “I can be sweet too.” 

You chuckled, playfully biting his lip. “You’re a sweet, jealous prick, Teller.”

He pulled into you once more, pecking your lips slowly before escalating into your lips, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him there in the lot, surrounded by empty parked cars in the dead of night. His hands gripped at your waist, pulling your body tighter to him, the feeling of his erection pressing into your jeans. Your hands twisted into his hair, holding his head against yours. He smirked against your lips, trailing his hands lower to your ass, as he secured his hands in your back pockets. He stroked your cheek with his nose, kissing the pink tinted skin.

“I just don’t like sharing what’s mine.” 

Your mouth found his as you raised your eyebrows, mumbling into his lips, “then take what's yours.”

He grinned, lifting you in one swift motion from his lap, standing you up against him. He pulled you across the parking lot as you stumbled drunk, trying to keep up. He led you to your car, opened the back door and pushed you flat against the back seat. 

Jax laid above you, planting himself between your legs. He angled himself between the seats, crushing his mouth against yours. His touch was ravenous, ripping the buttons from your jeans waistband as he pulled the denim from your ass. You giggled as he struggled to get them off entirely between the leather of the flat seat. You lifted yourself up, helping as he removed them. He pulled at your shirt, lifting it higher to expose the skin around your stomach as he leaned into you, gnawing at the skin in short pecks from your navel to your now exposed panties. You grasped at his hair as he claimed you with his warm mouth, suffocating himself into the fabric that covered your mound. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking soaked for me.” He groaned at the taste of your slick pooling into the cotton, pulling your panties to the side. He circled his tongue against your clit, watching you, utterly mesmerised as you whimpered at the sensation. He rolled his thumb against your dripping fold, “this pretty cunt is mine.” 

Vibrations filled your entire being as he nuzzled into your mound, lapping his tongue repeatedly against your slick, his hands lifting your ass to push deeper into you. You tugged at the roots of his blonde hair, drunken moans of his name filling the car park as you struggled to keep quiet. He pulled away, his face glistening from your juices as he smirked at you, caressing his fingers against your pussy. “You want your sweet guy to finish you off?”

Your head fell back at the taunt, “c’mon Jax, don’t- stop-”

He pulled your panties down your ass, exposing your cunt entirely. His tongue stroked you, prodding at your swollen nub, before hesitating again. “Tell me you’re mine.” 

“Fuck, Jax- I’m- yours. I’m only yours.” The words trailed slowly from your gritted teeth, your head swirling from the feeling and the beer. You chased for his mouth, drawing your hips up closer to his face.

“Look at me when you tell me.”

You used all your might to lift your head from the seat, finding his eyes staring into yours, fire blazing within them. You spoke between your sharpened breaths, trying to form a coherent sentence. “I said- I’m yours.”

“I can’t hear you, darlin’. You’re only what?” 

Your head collapsed into the leather seat, cries escaping your lips as you squirmed your hips higher to find his mouth again. “I’m yours- Jax- shit-”

“That’s my pretty girl.” 

He stoked his tongue against your clit, enjoying every moment as you pleaded through your moans for him to take you to your climax. He was revelling in your anguish as he teased at your cunt. He played with your folds again, his fingers caressing the soaking skin. 

“No other man comes near my pussy, isn’t that right?”

You groaned in response, his claim on you sending you further into spiral. “No- no one else.”

His lips reconnected to your cunt, whimpers of desperation pouring from your lips. His fingers finally found your entrance, rewarding you as he slid into your seam, pushing you towards your release. 

He muttered into your mound, “you only cum for me.”

Your body exploded at his instruction, collapsing onto his fingers as they curled against your sweet spot, his mouth soaking in your orgasm. He delighted at your unravelling, his hands travelling your body as he found your breasts, kneading into the soft skin.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Let go for me.” Your thighs shook around his face uncontrollably, squeezing his head into your cunt.

He released his hand from your mound, hovering over you as his lips laid flush against yours. He danced around your mouth, forcing you to taste your slick that covered his tongue. Jax straddled over your hips, holding himself up against the headrest of the seat as his throbbing cock found your entrance. He positioned himself, sliding between the folds, a squeal escaping your throat as he filled you entirely. 

Before he could fuck you senseless, a loud repeated bang was heard against the hood of the car, startling you both.

“Jackie boy! We gotta go!”

Jax collapsed against you, groaning in frustration. If you weren’t so drunk from Jax and the beer, you would’ve been furious. Instead you giggled, amused by the interruption, “Chib’s and his impeccable timing.” He sighed, his head resting against your chest. 

He pulled out from you, as you rushed to put your underwear back in its place. He smirked against your mouth as he kissed you one last time, parting your lips between his, "guess I’ll just have to finish claiming you later.”

read part two here

#jax teller #sons of anarchy #jax teller x reader #jax teller fiction #jax teller smut #sons of anarchy fic #reads writes #soa #jax teller morrow #smut #jax teller x you #jax teller imagine #jax teller one shot #jax teller love #charlie hunnam fiction #charlie hunnam fic #chibs telford

[darlingdekarios]

good enough to eat.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 2,116 content: Jax Teller x f!reader, established relationship, smut [receiving fingering, unprotected p in v], kink(s) [spit as lube, breeding]

when Jax is starving, there's no waiting.

When your partner returned from a daytime ride you were busy with the final preparations of dinner, setting the table for yourselves and your parents who would be joining you for the first time. His boots against the hard wood signified he’d found you in the dining room setting the table before they paused, his large frame pausing to lean against the door frame and soak in the pretty little dress and red panty hose you’d worn today. 

“Call your parents and cancel,” he instructed, and if it were anyone else his demanding tone would have been enough to set you off. From Jax, however, it had only ever felt right to listen to him. Even still, this wasn’t exactly the kind of notice you gave when cancelling plans.  

“What?” You questioned, turning to face him with a puzzled look on your face. Jax nearly groaned at the sight of you in red lipstick. “Is something wrong? Did something happen while you were out?”

He walked toward you then, trapping you between the table and himself with hands grasping both of your hips to encourage you to sit on the surface. His blue eyes shining with something mischievous and hungry he shook his head, hands leaving you to rest on either side of your waist on the table. “Had a good ride, nothin’ went wrong,” he replied, eyes dragging down your body slowly. “I woulda come back sooner had I know this is what was waiting for me.”

Before you could interrogate him, he leaned down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, one of his knees knocking your legs apart so he could step between them. He always kissed you like a man on death row – you supposed he was in a way – and now was no exception, his tongue entering your mouth to kiss you deeply until you were breathless. Your parents were due on your front porch in an hour. Still, you couldn’t help your curiosity.

“If you knew what was waiting for you? Dinner? It's a special dinner, I told you what I was making,” you started as you gasped for normal breaths, his lips trailing a familiar route to your neck where he kissed over your pulse.

“Not the food, I don’t give a shit about that right now. I’m talking about you,” he breathed out, sucking softly on the most sensitive part of your neck, lips molding into a smile against your skin when you gasped. “You look so fucking pretty in this dress setting the dinner after cooking all day. Like a proper little housewife. Where’s Abel?”

“He…he went down for a nap a little bit ago,” you gasped out. It was almost shameful how fast you melted beneath him, how fast his soft lips and rough beard against your neck had you gripping his shoulders. “But my parents…”

“Don’t want to see what I’m about to do to you, sweetheart,” he cooed to silence your whine, his lips brushing lightly against the sensitive spot behind your ear. Even after months of being with Jax you still felt goosebumps break out on your skin when he whispered in your ear. “Don’t care what you tell ‘em, besides not to come. Tell ‘em Abel is sick, or you’re sick, or hell – tell ‘em the truth.”

You definitely weren’t going to tell them the truth, but there was no use attempting to say no to him when he was running the tip of his tongue on the spot, causing a shudder down your spine. “What about dinner, Jax? I worked away all day in that kitchen…”

“Don’t worry, darlin’, I’ll make it up to ya,” he cooed, nipping at the spot before withdrawing to look up into your face again, his nose lightly brushing against your jaw as he went. He tapped your phone on the table beside you to further his point. “I can’t wait hours, I’ve gotta have you right now.”

You picked up your phone with a shaking hand, Jax smiling triumphantly before using one hand departed the table to slide up your thigh, pushing the skirt of your dress higher until it was around your hips. As you managed the number to dial your mother, he stepped backwards to take you in, mouthing “no panties?” to you. You bit at you lip and nodded as a smile broke out across his face, cheeks burning red as the familiar voice answered. 

“Hi mom,” you greeted, sounding entirely too normal for Jax. He reached a hand forward, running a finger experimentally over the crotch of your hose that was already soaked with your arousal. He smirked when your voice hitched higher, his finger sliding to connect to your clit. “I’m so s-sorry to do this last minute, but I don’t think you should come over. Abel has been throwing up and is running a fever…y-yeah, I’m sure he’ll be okay…okay I will…okay maybe tomorrow. Love you too, bye.”

His lips connected with yours again as he took the phone from your hand, sliding it down the table to remove any change of distraction. The kiss became desperate, his hunger burning through as he applied more pressure to the kiss, his hand now working his pants down his hips to free his straining cock. Once unencumbered by his pants and underwear he attempted to pull your panty hose down with a tug to the material over your thigh, pulling away from the kiss with a huff when there was no give.

“I don’t have time for this shit,” he snapped, connected both hands to the material and tearing so there was a hole in the crotch area. He bowed his head to connect his lips to your neck again, his fingers swiping through your folds experimentally. He smiled crookedly when you moaned quietly, head falling back to give him better access to your neck. He nibbled at the spot behind your ear before slipping his index finger into your velvet entrance. “So, fucking wet, baby. Bet you could take me with no warmup you’re so soaked.”

You whimpered at his words, sliding a hand to the back of his head and lacing your fingers in his hair to tug his head backward, twisting your head to kiss him desperately again. He gave you a few pumps with his index finger before adding a second, repeating the thrusts and picking up the speed to piston the tips into the spongy spot behind your clit. 

“Fuck,” you whined when you released him from the kiss for air, Jax immediately running his eyes over your face to drink in your expression before running them back down your body, watching his fingers disappear into you repeatedly with the most vulgar, wet noises. He removed his hand from your hip to connect that thumb to your clit, expert figure eights combining with his thick fingers to coax you toward oblivion. 

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed, nipping at your collar bone gently, smirking when your hips bucked upwards at his praise. “You go ahead and make a mess on my fingers, and I’ll fuck you right here.”

He curled his fingers again, repeating the motion over and over in time with the circles he was rubbing on your clit until your legs were shaking. As much as he loved to watch you gush around him when you orgasmed, he connected his lips to yours again, swallowing the loud cry that came from you as you did exactly that. Your vision blinded by white and senses on overload you hardly noticed his hands leave you, one fisting his cock firmly to give it a few pumps as the other grasped your hip, pulling you to the edge of the table. 

When you became barely aware again you felt pre-cum leaking head being rubbed through your truly soaked folds before he dipped into you, slowly sliding inch by inch into your wet heat. He pulled away from the kiss again to watch his cock disappear into you, groaning quietly as he leaned his forehead to your shoulder. You turned your head to kiss behind his ear as he had already done for you several times tonight, a shudder running up his spine as he buried into you to the hilt. 

Once he felt the head of his cock bump into your cervix he stilled for a moment, giving you a chance to adjust to him – he was so thick it didn’t matter how many times he’d taken you, there was always a stretch to accommodate him. You wrapped your arms around his neck after encouraging him to raise his head again, your hooded gaze meeting his before you leaned forward to bite at his bottom lip gently, pulling back to signify he could move. 

And oh, could he move. Jax Teller had the hips of a god, his thrusts into you slow and sensual and so deliberate, each inch of him massaging your inner walls perfectly. When you released his lip from your teeth to moan and slide one hand to the back of his head, fingers clutching his hair slightly he set the perfect pace, groaning at a feeling that got better every time he had you. 

He removed his gaze from your connected cores to look deep into your eyes, releasing a shaky breath. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he panted out between breaths, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’ve been so good lately, taking care of us. Fuck, I’m crazy about you. Who’d you get all pretty for today?”

 “You,” you whined out, barely capable of forming a coherent thought let alone words as he found the perfect spot to bump with each thrust. The hand you had on his shoulder gripped harder, your fingernails denting the leather he still wore. 

“Say my name,” he groaned out the instruction, one he often had to give as you lost yourself in him. He connected his thumb to your clit again, increasing the challenge knowing full well he was pushing you toward another orgasm and taunting you with the ledge. “Whose pretty fucking housewife are you, baby girl? Tell me that and I’ll think about lettin’ you make a mess on my cock, but not before then.”

You whimpered loudly, pulling his hair slightly to hold his head back so you could connect your gaze with his icy blue eyes, full of so much adoration it was almost sickening. Wanting to only add to it more you nodded, gasping out your words in moans. “’m yours, Jax,” you whined, clutching onto him tighter as you pressed gentle kisses to his lips over and over. “Fuck, I love being yours.”

He practically growled as his motions on your clit quickened, spitting between your bodies to give himself more lubricant to rub faster and faster. He started kissing you gently then, lovingly and soft as his breathing increased, sweat breaking across his brow in concentration. When your legs began to shake slightly he slowed his movements, bumping the tip of his nose against yours lightly. His next words were quiet, serious as he fought to hold off his own release. “Lemme fill you up then,” he asked, though it hardly came out as a question the intent was clear. “Wanna see you pregnant with my baby.”

Your walls clenched around him involuntarily at his words, a silent confirmation if the pornographic moan that fell from your lips wasn’t enough. Suddenly he could move again, and he did so perfectly, coaxing you right back to the edge of release. When your walls began to flutter around him he simply nodded, connecting his lips to yours in a heated kiss as your second orgasm rushed through you. With a few more thrusts of his hips, he spilled his own release into you with a groan, opting to pull away from the kiss to lean his forehead against yours gently. 

When you’d both finished and fallen into one another’s arms, faces buried in each other’s neck, you pressed lazy kisses wherever your lips were able, hands rubbing gently in whatever positions they’d landed. When he pulled his head away to look down at your neck, he smiled at the perfect marks he’d managed to leave, the sight almost good enough to make him hard again. Forcing himself to maintain composure he removed himself from you, running his eyes down your body to where your combined releases were dripping from you. 

“…can I eat before you take me to bed?”

He questioned, eyes flashing with the mischief that meant he was far from done with you. This new family dinner was certainly something you could adapt to.

masterlist.

#jax teller #sons of anarchy #jax teller x reader #jax teller x you #jax teller smut #jax teller fanfiction #sons of anarchy smut #sons of anarchy fanfiction #charlie hunnam

[rayslittlekitten]

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

[hotdamnhunnam]

On Your Knees (fic teaser)

UPDATE: This fic is now posted!

A/N: Hello my dears! It’s been a minute since I’ve posted on here. I still intend to be inactive for the most part, BUT of course Kai has stolen and broken my heart, and this “on your knees” gif struck at my inner slut 💘 So here we are! This is a teaser for a fic that will have lots of smut, while also giving Kai some backstory that I feel he deserves and I wanted to share what I’ve got so far!

“On your knees.”

It’s been forever and a day, since you last laid your eyes on Kai. Since then you’ve searched for him across the whole entire fucking sky. Whatever words you had expected him to say… you never would have dreamt of these.

On your knees.

The blood in your veins is on fire; it burns as the blue of his gaze starts to freeze. The blaze rises higher, so desperate to melt down this fortress of ice that you hadn’t believed you would find. Paid the rumors no mind—he’s a bounty hunter or a gun for hire, who would sell his soul to any well-paying buyer, or so everybody agrees—yet you’ve come here to seek out the true heart of gold that you know lies behind. But all gold can be sold and it seems that he’s taken his fees.

And now he’s set on taking whatever he damn well may please.

Your voice escapes your throat pathetically. “Kai, it’s me…”

Cocks his head. Lifts his brow. Silent laughter at what you just said. Obviously. But who you are doesn’t mean shit to him now. “Aye, I see.”

You might just choke. The heart that never once stopped beating for this godforsaken rogue just fucking broke.

He snickers down as if the beating of your heart is just a joke. The curl of those cruel lips holds even more force than his words. And that’s what brings you to your knees and makes you weak, so weak it hurts, as he comes close and rests his palm against your cheek, piercing your soul straight to the core with just one stroke.

Straight to the core. Summon what strength you have to speak, unsure whether the vows that you once made have any value anymore. “I’ve come back to you just as I swore…”

“Of course,” he utters as those ice-blue eyes seek out and strike the deepest truth in yours. “You’ve come to me just as you were before: still nothing but a worthless fucking whore.”

--- End teaser ---

If you’d like to be tagged in this fic if and when I post it, just let me know! I don’t plan to tag my full taglist since that list was from aeons ago 🙃

As always much love to all of my fellow Hunnam hoes! 💕

#charlie hunnam #rebel moon #kai #charlie hunnam fic #rebel moon fic #kai fic #charlie hunnam fanfiction #rebel moon fanfiction #kai fanfiction #charlie hunnam imagine #rebel moon imagine #kai imagine #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam x you #kai x reader #kai x you

[musings-of-a-rose]

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!

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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

[author-morgan]

Title: Daylight Rating: M Pairing: Arthur x fem!Reader Summary: Arthur always knew you and he would make a fine match. ...hiding all of our sins from the daylight... I've now collected all(?) your husbands for my infinity gauntlets. a late merry christmas and an early valentines for you boo. @mrsragnarlodbrok.

“SORRY,” ARTHUR MUTTERS, “hands are rough.” He noticed how you pulled away from his calloused touch as he pressed the stained damp cloth against the bloody wound on the back of your shoulder—remnants of an arrow after Bedivere and the Mage helped him dig out the bodkin point. It’d likely been meant for him in the heat of the battle and he cursed himself seeing you fall nigh feet from him, pulled away to shelter by his kingsguard. Even with the power of Excalibur, he’d been unable to protect you—an age-old promise broken.

You lift your gaze from the charred stone floor, looking at your reflections in a fogged-over mirror on the opposite side of the room. Focus has his brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. “You always say that,” you tell him, words slurred from the pain, exhaustion, and strongwine, and voice rougher than normal. This isn’t the first time Arthur Pendragon has tended your hurts and woes, and at this rate you doubt it’ll be the last.

Dried blood and sweat washed away, Arthur picks up the piece of tree bark with a salve prepared by the Mage to stave off the pain for a while and keep the wound from festering. Then, Arthur binds the wound with fresh linen and wipes his hands, kneeling in front of you—hands resting on your hips. You lay your hand on his cheek, thumb sweeping across his cheek, marred with dirt and soot. Leaning toward him, he meets you halfway, and you set your lips on his—a soft, fleeting kiss like the touch of butterfly wings.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you tell him, fingertips mindlessly combing through the scruff on his jaw. He straightens to full height but does so with a grimace. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” You ask again.

“Just bruises,” he assures you, and this time, it seems like he’s being truthful, besides the few scratches on his hands and the slim, already scabbed-over, cut on his forehead. 

Arthur sits next to you on the edge of the bed, looking toward the open balcony. You both can hear the joyous shouts and chants. Bedivere and the others will only be able to satiate the men for so long. They will want to hear from the one who led them to victory. From the Born King. “They’ll be waiting for you to give a speech,” you tell him. 

“They’re waiting to go headfirst into the barrels of grog,” he amends, but if the out-of-tune songs are anything to go off of...  

“Sounds like they already have,” you laugh. Tonight, there will be revelries for the victory against Vortigern and his forces. In the following days, there’ll be feasts to honor the fallen and growing lists of preparations for a coronation. But right now, Arthur Pendragon doesn’t want to be a king just yet. Right now, he’s content just to be Arthur the street rat, especially when you lean your head against his shoulder and link your fingers through his—and then he’s certain there’s no one else in all of England for him except you.

“HIDING FROM ME? Or everyone else?” Your head quickly swivels to the side, only to relax at the sight of Arthur approaching. You cannot help but wonder how he isn’t cold. He's not dressed anywhere near as layered or warm as he should be for the winter evening, but somehow, he manages to look cozy even in just a scarlet linen-and-wool doublet. Stepping back, your eyes flit up to the scarlet-tinged leaves, still clinging to the branches of the white-bark birch, before looking beyond to the fresh falling snow. 

He stops at your side and looks up, too. “Was just thinking about what a bad influence you’ve been on my person,” you tell him, a small half-smirk creeping onto your features. Arthur tilts his head back in amused question, then stares up at the leaves and the silver sliver of the moon peeking through the winter clouds. “As I recall, I was an innocent girl before you came along and ruined all that.”

His blue eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest. “You’ll have to refresh my memory on how I did that, darlin’.” He moves a little closer, and you sense his ploy, twisting and ducking when he moves to grab you. 

You face him with brows raised, smiling. “Such a brute,” you taunt, “grabbing at innocent girls in the castle courtyards at night. Is that any way for the King of England to behave?” 

Arthur only rolls his eyes, trying to smother another smirk, and this time, he catches your arm as you move around him. It takes little strength to move you how he wants—pressing you into the trunk of the great tree at the heart of the courtyard. His hands press against the smooth bark beside your head as he leans in enough to look down at you. The glint in his eyes is mirthful, but there’s something else shining in his gaze too—you’ve seen that look a dozen times now, and you’re almost afeared to think about what it can mean. “Maybe you have a point,” he drawls, wearing that crooked, boyish grin that makes your heart flutter.

Your laugh almost catches him off guard. His hand slips down to run gently along your waist, the other toys with the hair at the side of your head. You lean back into the tree more, relaxing as your hands find his waist to rest on. “My father sends his kind, innocent daughter to study in Londinium, and what does this strong, noble boy do?” Arthur raises his brow. “He shoves her against a wall in an alleyway because he has no reasonable way of expressing his feelings with words.” He was just a street rat orphan and you were the daughter of some fancy lord from far away—opposites in nigh every way but more alike than you ever could have imagined. “I was never the same after that.”

His head dips down into the crook of your neck, nose training across your throat and inhaling the scent of roses and lavender. “No,” he smiles, voice low—more of a muttering husk—lips twitching as he pulls back, glancing to your lips and up, “but you’re more fun now.” Your expression falls flat, and Arthur laughs. It’s nigh impossible not to grin or melt at the sound and how little it seems you’ve heard it of late—and by Merlin’s beard, he’s impossibly handsome with laugh lines crinkling the edges of his eyes and a lopsided smile. Leaning further into him, his breath dances across your cheek, the back of his fingers brushing along your neck. 

You exhale shakily, and Arthur teases you again with light presses of his lips along your jaw and neck—hands smoothing up and down your waist as he does. For a moment, your hands find their way to his chest before you remember how open the courtyard is and that anyone can happen upon the two of you like this. Glancing around, you breathe his name in a flustered whisper, hand pressing against his chest—the last thing a new king needs is rumors to turn into scandal. 

Arthur takes a step back, giving you both room, but then there’s a new glint in his eyes. The playful mirth disappears from his cornflower eyes, replaced by something more serious—kingly, even. It’s something he’s been thinking about for years. Maybe even since the two of you first met by happenstance in the streets of Londinium and struck up an odd friendship. But over the years, Arthur thinks he cannot just call you a friend, not anymore. What he feels runs deeper than that, and given his newfound title and responsibilities...“I’ve been thinking,” he starts.

“And does it pay well?” You quip in a poor attempt to lighten the now solemn mood.

He rolls his eyes, exasperated, unable to hide how his lips quirk upwards. “Would you let me finish?” And so you do, unsure what he must say or ask that warrants such a dramatic change in his usual demeanor. Arthur reaches for your hand, the rough pads of his fingers curling around and into your palm. He stoops forward, lips brushing against your knuckles—reverent. “I’d like you to stay,” he breathes, straightening back to full height. Your brows furrow. “Here,” he adds, “with me.”

You know what he is asking of you—marriage—and it should be an easy answer. Yes, of course. You’ve loved Arthur since before you knew what the word truly meant. But given the events of the last few months and the precipitousness of his proposal, you’re left speechless, heart beating in your throat until all you can do is run to the haven of your chambers with tears pricking your eyes.

A LOUD KNOCK on the great wooden door echoes in your bedchambers. You rouse from sleep, righting the oversized tunic hanging off one shoulder in an attempt to appear decent at the late hour. Part of you already knows who will be waiting on the other side, but when you crack open the door, it still surprises you to find him standing before you—wearing only a loose, nigh threadbare tunic and pair of dark britches. “Arthur,” you greet, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before motioning for him to come in.

There’s still an uneasy air between you after the earlier events and conversation in the courtyard—his proposal. “I shouldn’t’ve….” he starts as you do. “I should not...” You both fall silent, eyes searching the other’s face for an indication of who will be the first to speak, the first to act, but there’s only silence. 

“Yes,” you quickly tell him—the shock of his initial proposal has faded, and now you’ve never been more certain about something in your life. You still can’t say what it is that caused you to react in such a way—Arthur’s the only man you’ve ever loved, the only person you could have ever thought of having a life with, even before all this Born King shite. The answer is ‘yes.’ It had always been. 

“Yes?” He repeats with furrowed brows, not sure he’s heard you correctly.  “I’ll stay” —you reach to comb your fingers through his close-shorn beard, and he leans into the touch— “with you.” Forever.

He smiles, and it’s as though a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Arthur cradles your face in his hands, thumbs running over your cheekbones. You smile for him, and he leans toward you, closing the distance. His lips are on yours in an instant.

You answer his kiss, slowly at first, then with more fervor when you settle your hands on either side of his neck, drawing yourself closer. Parting, you press your forehead against his and meet his heated stare. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?” Arthur asks, breathless.

Then he’s kissing you again and again—hands straying to your waist and backside, pulling you closer, tighter. And it fans the embers burning low in your belly to flames. Arthur breaks the kiss with an anguished groan—fighting a losing war with himself. He brushes back the hair falling in front of your face, the rough pad of his thumb running over your lips. “Tell me to stop,” he mutters—it’s almost a plea. And then he’s adrift in your soft and dark gaze, knowing if you do nothing to stop this, he’ll be acting on countless years of love and pent-up desire.

“No,” you breathe, catching his wrist and sliding his hand up from your neck—peppering his fingertips with gentle kisses. He watches you, lips parted and heart aching. Closing your eyes, you draw in a slow breath, and with a final kiss to his palm, you guide his hand to rest on one of your clothed breasts.

“Arthur.” You speak his name as though it is a quiet prayer. “I want you.” He pulls on the string at the neck of your nightshirt, loosening it until the gauzy material falls off your shoulders—puddling around your ankles, 

Though bare, you still hold his clear blue gaze. He goes silent as he draws in a sharp breath—eyes dart over the length of your body. His eyes darken, though, a mix of lust and adoration. “Think this is the longest you’ve been qui–” He cuts you off with a kiss, and one of his hands rises to cradle your cheek—the side of your neck again—and his lips coax yours open.

You sigh into his mouth, hands instinctively dipping under the hem of his roughspun tunic, fingertips trailing over the taut muscles of his abdomen and the scar on his ribs. Arthur breaks the kiss, quickly shrugging off his shirt, and lets the undyed piece of wool fall to the floor.  

Then, suddenly, he lifts you off your feet effortlessly. You hastily grip his shoulders for balance until he lays you on the bed—standing back to take off his trousers, and you watch him with a weird mixture of hunger and wistfulness as he strips. Arthur kicks aside his discarded clothes, then crawls onto the bed, making room for himself between your thighs—his clear and cold gaze burning with the warmth of the Sun and never once straying from yours.

You gaze tensely at his face as he studies you. His expression is greedy and appreciative, and the firelight glowing in his eyes just makes him look all the more ardent, and the longer he stares at you without doing anything, the more restless you are for him to act. You want his touch, his cock, his lips on yours, and all he’s giving you is this appreciative greedy stare, and it’s not enough.

Arthur kisses you again, and then he leans away from your lips and kisses the angle of your jaw. His mouth travels to the side of your neck, and your pulse flutters in your throat. His lips are surprisingly soft, and as his mouth trails from your neck to your collarbone, the delicacy of his kisses makes you feel lightheaded —a mix of pleasure and disbelief. 

He nuzzles your collarbone, then places a kiss just above the swell of your breast, and you arch helplessly toward his mouth. The heat of his breath wafting over your breast, making your nipples go taut with anticipation, and when the scruff of Arthur’s beard brushes over your nipple, you jolt and make a helpless little mewling sound. You twine your fingers into his golden hair, trying to hold him in place against you. But Arthur shoots you a quick smile, then shuffles lower on the bed still and kisses your breast —and you twist your hips, hands slipping from his hair to his shoulders.  

A sob leaves your throat—not a crying kind of sob, but an instinctive noise tore from your throat without your permission. He lifts his mouth from your breast and smiles at you, and you stare stupidly at his handsome face—the spark in his clear eyes and the boyish smirk twisting his lips.

Arthur palms your breast and squeezes gently. He shuffles lower still on the bed and places a sweet, open-mouthed kiss on your navel, and your sense of surreal disbelief ratchets to a nearly unbearable degree. His mouth drifts lower now, the scruff of his beard tickling your belly as he presses his lips to the skin below your navel and eases your thighs further apart.

Arthur places a kiss between your legs, and your mind goes blank with pleasure. 

“You alright, darlin’?” He smirks. You stare at him, too stunned by pleasure to find a clever response. Instead, riled by the teasing sparkle in his face, you spread your knees wide. His gaze drops between your legs, and his expression darkens with interest as he places his hands on your knees—stroking up to your thighs. He places another firm, wet kiss between your legs, and a helpless moan leaves your lips, and he hums with approval, a smug, half-growly little hum.  

You gasp in a breath, realizing you haven’t been breathing at all. Arthur lifts his head to look you in the eye. “Relax, love,” he croons, smoothing his palm over your belly as he laps at your cunt with slow hot sweeping strokes of his tongue. It’s not long before a finger presses into you, working you slowly open.

Your hips jerk softly along with his movements, and there’s unspoken interest in his gaze as he stares down at you, relentless in his efforts to see you come undone. His tongue and lips are at your clit, fingers stroking and curling deep within you. You jolt, and then he moves slower, dragging over the sensitive spots he’s discovered inside you and leaving your nerves tingling with every touch.

Pleasure washes over you in waves, making your calves twitch, your fingertips feel numb, and that high-pitched mewling noise leaves your throat. Overwhelmed—enraptured—you buck your hips toward his face and clench your fingers convulsively in his hair, and he keeps licking and kissing you until you can’t take it anymore. You pull on his hair to stop him, and he finally pulls away, lips glistening in the moonlight and fading glow of the firelight. “Enough,” you groan. “Need you.” It’s nigh a broken plea.

You shudder as he moves, situating himself between your thighs, calloused fingers dipping into your cunt to gather your slick and spread on his hard cock as he strokes himself. “Arthur, please,” you whimper, impatient, and he won’t keep you waiting.

He slides his cock through your folds before his angle changes just slightly, and on the next pass, your breath stutters as his cockhead presses just inside you—barely splitting you open. Arthur’s hand grabs your hip and angles you up just a bit so he can slide deeper inside you, and you cling onto his biceps—feeling his scars press into your palms and admiring the way his muscles flex under your touch. 

Arthur hisses through his teeth when he fully seats himself inside your warmth, then releases his breath slowly and smiles at you. “You’re lovely,” he murmurs, twining his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hands into the mattress. From the moment Arthur first saw you in the Londinium streets, he knew your fates were intertwined—just as your bodies and hands were now. He trembles at this personal heaven, then draws his hips back, starting to move.

You laugh breathlessly, mindlessly. “Charmer,” you pant, hooking your legs around his waist. You roll into his thrusts, pulling him deeper. His ragged breaths and grunts mingle with your sighs of pleasure—panting scarcely keeping up with your racing heart. 

He huffs in amusement. “Can’t say that’s something I get called often,” Arthur says as he pumps his hips slowly, teasing you and pleasing you almost more than you can bear. Then he lowers his lips to yours in a kiss—there’s something sweet on his tongue, like honey wine. 

His whole body begins moving, surging, and writhing against yours. One of his hands releases yours and caresses your cheek before he slides it down your body. Without thought, your body arches into his hand as it moves, ripening under his touch—thoughts clouded by lust and love. His fingers find your clit at the same time his mouth latches to your neck.

Another guttural cry bursts from your lips. He’s pounding into you now, and he’s still holding your hand while his other grips your hip. Your breathing is loud, and so is his, and his hand is tightening on your fingers. He drags in a breath, then expels it in a strained groan.

He shudders, then pounds into you hard, twice, thrice, and then he pauses with his cock deep inside of you. His jaw clenches, and his grip on your hip is so tight that it’s almost painful, but you like it—just as much as you like the guttural sound he makes as he shudders in completion. A few long seconds later, he gasps in a breath, then sighs and releases your hand. “Fuck,” he groans, holding his weight above you on shaking arms. 

You beckon him to lie atop you, his golden head pillowed on your breasts as his breathing steadies, sighing when you kiss his hair and whisper a quiet, I love you, for him to relish. He stays sheathed inside your warmth, unwilling to part just yet. “I love you,” he murmurs in turn, never tiring of how you smile when he says the words. Sighing, he rolls to the side, and you whine at the loss of him and the empty feeling between your thighs.

He lays on his side, and you pillow your head on his outstretched arm, nuzzling close against his chest and threading one of your legs through his. Arthur presses his cheek to the crown of your head and strokes your hair as the first dregs of daylight break over the horizon, shining upon England, Camelot, and his future wife and queen.

[Forever taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @hereforreadandwrite / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @rigshak ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my forever taglist, or any other character/fandom taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#King Arthur #King Arthur x Reader #Arthur Pendragon #King Arthur Legend of the Sword #King Arthur: Legend of the Sword #Charlie Hunnam #Charlie Hunnam Fanfiction #Charlie Hunnam Fanfic #my writing #wow i havent written and posted anything in a while #yet again im blaming you for this claire lol #how about we all petition to get this movie the sequel it deserved #also 10 points if you can spot the rdr2 reference

[navybrat817]

😘

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

[miagomez-1509]

#celebrities #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam x you #charlie hunnam fic #charlie hunnam characters #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction #jax teller #jax teller imagine #jax teller x you #raleigh

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Tethered.

The lines of friendship blur when you’re this close. Also known as - each of the times you’ve kissed Benny, Frankie, Santiago and Will.

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

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, sexual content, mentions of sobriety

Word Count - 5523

Author's Note - by popular demand!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, it was so helpful!! don't worry, there is still a stewy hosseini fic coming very soon. i love writing for the triple frontier boys, so if anyone has any requests or particular thoughts, please send them my way. i'm also a total will girly, if you couldn't tell. as always, lots of love <3

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

Masterlist. Requests.

Will’s strong hand rubs steady circles into your thigh under the table as you all hunch over laughing.

Benny’s telling the story of his bad date from the night before. The combination of his masterful storytelling and the whiskey that seems to be refilling itself is making you giddy, all of you high on the joy of being with your best friends. There’s no feeling quite like it, laughing until you cry.

“Wait, that doesn’t explain why she slapped you!” Santiago exclaims from opposite you, clapping Benny on the back.

“She slapped me because, it turns out, I’d kissed her best friend a few months ago. She called me a dog and everything,” he laughs, tears escaping from his eyes. “She had a strong hand!”

“Did you know who she was when you saw her?” Frankie asks, genuinely intrigued.

“I realised as soon as I sat down. I didn’t know it’d be a problem! Man, fuck blind dates,” Ben chuckles.

“Am I crazy for not seeing the issue here?” Santiago asks, looking around the table.

“I didn’t see it either, apparently. It’s not like me and Lucy ever went anywhere. It was just a kiss.” Benny’s face is scrunched up in confusion. It makes you want to smooth your thumb over the crease between his brows.

“She was giving me the look, I swear,” he continues. “So I went in for the kiss, and she hit me.”

The boys are all laughing again, and as guilty as you feel, you can’t help but join them. Benny has such an animated, expressive face, that even the most boring of stories are entertaining when being told by him. It’s a gift. He just has a way with people.

“What do you think, hermosa?” Santiago asks, looking at you pointedly. “Would you kiss someone your best friend has kissed?”

“I don’t know,” you reply carefully. “Depends on the situation, I guess. I’d try not to, I think.”

Will’s looking at you with amusement in his eyes, slight smirk on his face. It’s clear that no one is putting the pieces together.

“Would you, Santi?” you question, lips quirking up at the corners.

“Probably not. I’d avoid it, if possible,” he replies.

The whiskey is making you braver than usual, a warm buzz running through your veins. Without thinking, you laugh,

“Too late.”

Everyone looks at you, brows raised in confusion. Will’s grinning now, chuckling to himself quietly. You’re giggling at their faces, their naivety making you smile.

You watch as Frankie looks slowly around the table, and then back at you. Shaking his head, he catches your eyes and snickers.

“Minx,” he mutters, still smiling.

“Am I missing something here?” Benny asks, surveying the silent communication happening between you, Frankie and Will.

You sigh sarcastically and throw your drink back, downing it in one go. Well, we’re doing this, you think.

“I’ve kissed every single person at this table,” you start. “Which means you’ve all kissed the same girl your best friend has kissed.”

Santiago and Benny go silent for a moment, processing this new information. Will and Frankie are still smiling, already a step ahead.

“Wait, what?” Santiago finally speaks. “You have?”

“Oh no. Pope thought he was special,” Frankie laughs, head thrown back.

“Stop it, Francisco! You are special, Santi. It just so happens that they are too.”

You point generally at the other boys, all of them with their eyes fixed on you. You can see that Benny is still figuring things out, the alcohol making his brain work slower than usual.

“I’ve known you guys for years. We’ve been through a lot together. And you’re like, the four most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen! It was bound to happen sooner or later,” you justify.

Everyone’s laughing now, the final piece finally being put into the jigsaw. You can tell they’re all thinking back to their kisses – you are too.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Benny had been the first one to kiss you.

It happened right at the beginning of his boxing career. He’d started working out religiously, meal planning, prepping for his first big fight. He set strict rules for himself – no alcohol, no women, no sex. You were glad he’d found an output for his energy, glad he was taking something so seriously – even if the idea of him getting hurt did terrify you.

The four of you had gone to support him, eager to see him win after months of watching him train and prepare. He’d really committed to the process, which was a surprise – Benny was a notorious ladies man. He loved to relax with a beer. But he’d never broken his self-made rules, not once. No matter the outcome of the fight, you were insanely proud of him. All of you were.

The atmosphere in the warehouse was electric. It was a big venue, with hundreds of people gathering to spectate. You hadn’t realised this was such a popular event. Adrenaline buzzed through the air, making you antsy with anticipation. You and the boys had front row seats by the ring, allowing you the perfect view, the ideal place to support Ben.

“I’m gonna go get us some beers,” Santiago yells over the noise.

“I’ll come help you,” you shout back, linking your hand into his so you don’t get separated.

You make your way out of the double doors and down the hallway in attempt to find the bar. On the journey, you spot a sign that points to the locker rooms.

“You order, I’ll be right back,” you tell Santiago, before following the directions.

You push open the door and step into the locker room. Benny is sat on the bench, headphones blasting music so loud you can hear it from 10 feet away. You make your way over, and touch him on the shoulder gently. He doesn’t startle.

“I don’t want to disturb you, Ben. Just wanted to say good luck,” you say quietly.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit next to him.

“You could never disturb me, honey. You’re my good luck charm,” he winks, and the cheekiness of it warms your chest.

He pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you, breathing in the scent of your strawberry shampoo. You inhale with him, and soak up the heat that’s seeping into your skin.

“It doesn’t matter what happens out there,” you tell him. “I’ll love you no matter what.”

You press a kiss to his cheek, and throw a beaming smile at him before leaving. You find Santi at the bar, and help him carry the beers back to the boys.

You’ve never seen this side of Benny. He’s throwing and dodging punches like it’s second nature. The man moves like ocean waves, fluid and constant, never once caught off guard. There’s a lot to be said about the pastime of men fighting each other, but honestly, Ben has found his calling.

Electricity crackles through the air as Benny swings his last punch. His opponent falls to the mat as you rise from your seats. All of you instantly begin screaming, roars of celebration filling the space. Ben throws his fist in the air, signalling his victory. It’s rare, this feeling. The five of you don’t win very often. This needs to be savoured.

Eventually, the cheering dies down, and Benny leaves the ring to go and get changed. The boys are all ecstatic, chattering with pride in their voices about their brother, their teammate, their best friend.

“Be right back,” you tell them, moving to slip out of the doors and down the hallway.

You strut into the locker room, eyes scanning the space for the man you’re looking for. You find him stood, unwrapping his hands. Before you know it, you’re running into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he spins you. His bare chest is dripping with sweat. He’s covering you in it, but you couldn’t care less. You’re both laughing, joy and love filling the air.

“I’m so proud of you,” you breathe into his neck, still in his arms. Your feet finally find the floor, and you lean back slightly to stare up at him.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, pretty girl,” he beams at you.

You can feel the energy coursing through his veins. He’s thrumming with it, buzzing with adrenaline – it feels like he’s going to burst. He’s practically vibrating.

Before you can even register what’s happening, Benny pulls you back to him, smashing his lips onto yours. He skims his hands down your back to grab at the backs of your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist and press yourself into him.

The kiss is needy, desperate, pulsing - all teeth and tongue. Benny walks you backwards to slam you against the lockers, using the pressure of his body to lean forward into you. Your hands thread through his hair, pulling forcefully. He groans, deep and guttural, and it’s one of the most gorgeous sounds you’ve ever heard.

He’s grabbing at your ass as he dips his head down to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck, biting at the column of your throat. Your dress is practically around your waist, and you roll your hips forward, searching for friction. It’s your turn to groan now.

“Fuck, honey,” he murmurs. “Prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

He holds you up with one arm, and moves the other hand to twist into the waistband of your underwear. He’s pulling them down when someone bangs on the door, startling you both.

“Benny! Champion! Get out here, man, or we’re coming in!”

It’s Will’s voice, that deep tone instantly recognisable.

You pull your lips from Benny’s, your head dropping back against the locker with a clang.

“Shit,” he chuckles, gently pressing a kiss to your sternum.

“Shit,” you repeat, giggling gently.

Benny puts you down carefully, smoothing down your dress with those big hands of his. He fixes your hair next, sweetly moving it out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. He runs his thumb under your bottom lip, wiping where your lipstick has smudged.

“Do we look like we just made out?” you ask him, amusement evident in your tone.

“You do. I look like I just won a fight.”

He smiles at you, and you can’t help but smile back. God, this man. One minute he’s got you whining against the lockers, and the next he’s got you giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Come on,” you urge. “They’re gonna come busting in here any second.”

Right on cue, the door swings open, three men barrelling inside. They all jump on Benny, ruffling his hair and pulling him into a headlock affectionately. You watch from a short distance away, smile still etched on your face. You love them so much you’re worried your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

You look at Will, and find him smirking at you. Always a step ahead. Frankie grabs your wrist and pulls you into their celebrations. You’re being thrown around like you’re in some sort of whirlpool, dizzy with the joy of being with your best friends. You wouldn’t change a thing, even if you are a little lightheaded.

You catch eyes with Benny, and he winks. You know that the events of tonight aren’t going to change anything between the two of you. Your friendship is so solid, you’re convinced it can withstand anything. The five of you are connected, somehow. This unexplainable, invisible tether, binding you wherever you go. The kind of friendship that they write books about.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Frankie was the next person to kiss you.

Or maybe you kissed him. You’re still not sure.

The five of you were at a bar downtown, drinking and laughing. The boys were a few beers deep, muscles relaxing and minds quietening.

But not Frankie.

When he’d made the decision to get sober, he’d included everything. He wasn’t a man who believed in partially sober, or ‘California sober’. If he was going to commit, he was going to commit fully. Alcohol included.

Usually, it didn’t bother him. He could go to bars with his friends, happily crack open beers for them when they watched a football game, make a mean margarita when they hung out at his pool in the summer. But that night, he was on edge. He didn’t know why, couldn’t pinpoint any reason specifically, but he was on overdrive. His mind wouldn’t slow down - thoughts barrelling into him at a hundred miles an hour. He was debating going home to bed, before realising that he was designated driver. So, he’d sat back in his seat, taken a deep breath, and tried to pretend like he wasn’t about to combust.

You’d noticed. Of course you had. You, with your observant eyes, your careful gaze, your genuine smile. You’d noticed.

Will had too. He was keeping an eye on Frankie from across the booth, but he wasn’t worried. He knew you were watching him like a hawk. That reassured Will to no end.

“Oh yeah? Come on then, old man, put your money where your mouth is!” Benny’s yelling at Santiago, grabbing him by the bicep, up and out of his chair. You watch as he drags him over to the pool table, determined to prove himself.

No matter where you were, or what you were doing, somehow, Benny and Santiago always managed to turn it into a competition. You, Will and Frankie were always happy to watch – you usually ended up playing referee, only interfering when someone cheated or got too rowdy.

The two of them began setting up a game, leaving you at the booth with the other two.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Frankie says suddenly, standing up and making his way out of the door.

Will gives you a look of concern.

“I got it. Just make sure those two idiots don’t kill each other with pool cues, please,” you joke.

Will chuckles and nods, squeezing your waist as you move past him to follow Frankie.

Outside, you find him around the side of the bar, leaning against the brick wall. He’s breathing heavily, clearly trying to get a handle on things. You watch as he takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. He slides down the wall, sitting on the cool ground, legs bent in front of him.

You walk over and sit down next to him, ignoring the feeling of the cold concrete underneath your bare legs. You lean into him slightly, placing your head on his shoulder. He breathes you in, and you feel some of the tension melt from his muscles.

Eventually, you speak.

“You okay?”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer.

“Yeah, cariño, I’m okay,” he murmurs. “I’m usually fine in bars, it doesn’t bother me. Guess I’m just anxious tonight.”

You hum in understanding, before realising something.

“What’s today’s date?”

He looks at you with puzzlement written all over his face, but answers you anyway.

“March 16th.”

“Happy one year of sobriety, Francisco.”

You can see it all clicking into place in his head. The reason he’s been on pins all day, the reason he’s been so wound up tonight, unable to settle. You figured it out before he could. Clever girl.

“And I’m celebrating it in a bar, apparently. How appropriate,” he laughs. It’s a real, hearty, genuine laugh. You love when he laughs like this – so hard that he starts wheezing. It’s so endearing, it makes you want to cry.

“I can’t believe I forgot. A year ago, it was like, the biggest milestone ever. And I forgot.”

You can tell he’s almost disappointed with himself. But you’re not. No, quite the opposite, actually.

“You see how great that is though, right?” you ask him. “You’re so busy living your life now, working, being the best dad ever, that you didn’t even have to think about it. It’s not a bad thing that you forgot about it, Frankie.”

He pulls you closer, both arms wrapped around you, your head pressed into the crook of his neck.

“How do you do it, hermosa?”

“Do what?”

“Always know exactly what to say.”

“Years of knowing you, probably. Years of loving you,” you answer.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, but you hear him clear as day.

“No, I don’t deserve you. I’m so proud of you, Francisco.”

He pulls away from you to look at you earnestly. He smiles at you, and you grin back at him. If love could lift you up, you’d be floating, both of you levitating with it.

Frankie leans in closer to you, and you mirror the movement. You’re not sure who kisses who, but suddenly his lips are on yours, his hands moving to cradle your face. It’s careful, and it’s gentle, and it’s so full of gratitude and history that it takes everything in you not to break out into a grin. One of his hands moves through your hair as the other one caresses your cheek. You can’t remember the last time you were kissed so tenderly. Neither can he.

Unbeknownst to you, Will has come out to check on you both. He stops in his tracks when he sees the two of you wrapped up in each other. His heart swells in his chest, and he can’t help but smile. He knows that this won’t change anything between you and Frankie. It’s just the comfort he needed – you both needed. He makes his way back inside quietly, grateful for the both of you and the way you look after each other.

Eventually, you both pull apart. Frankie rests his forehead on yours, and takes the first full breath he’s taken all day. His shoulders relax, his jaw unclenches. He’s okay, thanks to you.

“Thank you, cielito,” he murmurs.

“For what?”

“Everything. Knowing me better than I know myself. Knowing all of us better than we know ourselves.”

“Someone’s gotta keep you all alive,” you grin, and he chuckles, the vibration of it settling into your bones, warming you up from the inside out.

He pulls you back against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You both sit against the red brick, cold ground underneath you, for what feels like hours.

“There they are!” Santiago yells when he spots you both.

“Mom, Dad, can we go home?” Benny jokes, clearly down one drink too many.

“Of course we can, baby,” you smile, pulling Frankie to his feet with you.

You all clamber into Frankie’s truck – you riding shotgun, the other boys crammed in the back. You reach for your drivers hand, and interlace your fingers, resting your palms in your lap. You hold onto him all the way home, and can’t help but notice how much lighter he seems.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Santiago kissed you next.

The five of you were having a pool day at Frankie’s, trying to cool down in the Texan summer heat. It was rare, for all of you to have the same day off, so you planned to make the most of it.

The four boys were already in the backyard when you arrived. Letting yourself in, you made your way through the house, briefly stopping in the kitchen to put your popsicles in the freezer. You’d purposely picked the strawberry ones, knowing they were Frankie’s daughters favourite. She was at her mom’s house for the week, but you knew she’d be back at the weekend.

“Hey, honey!” Benny yells when he spots you at the back door.

All of them turn to look at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by all the golden skin on display. Benny is wearing swim shorts with an inseam that can’t be any more than 5 inches, strong thighs just begging to be bitten. Will’s navy shorts compliment his blond hair beautifully, and Santiago’s green ones bring out the dark brown of his eyes. Frankie still has his shirt on, but it hugs his biceps just right. Damn, you think. I might just have the most attractive best friends in the world.

They’re all grinning at you as you survey each of them. You know they don’t mind being ogled just a little.

“Eyes up here, princess,” Santiago teases, no seriousness whatsoever in his voice. You scoff and throw your head back in a laugh, all of them simultaneously joining you in your amusement.

You put down your bag and kick off your shoes, before grabbing the hem of your dress.

“Give us a show, Miss Supermodel,” Benny whistles, winking playfully.

You peel your dress over your head slowly, wiggling your hips as you go. You’re left in a little black bikini that admittedly doesn’t leave much to the imagination. You don’t mind. You’re safe here.

They’re all whistling and cheering, make you laugh. You never feel more appreciated than when you’re with these boys. It’s everything. They’re everything.

“It’s like Sports Illustrated in real life,” Frankie grins, bumping your shoulder with his.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Will says quietly when you catch his gaze. You roll your eyes playfully, but smile at him genuinely, silently thanking him.

Your eyes flicker to Santiago. He has a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. It’s more than his usual appreciation. It’s hungry, hot, burning. It makes your skin prickle, the hairs on your neck standing up. You have to get away from his stare before you jump his bones right in Frankie’s backyard.

“Want me to make you a margarita?” Frankie asks, innocently breaking through the moment.

“Yes, please. That sounds amazing.”

He smiles at you before retreating to the kitchen, Benny following him in search of beer.

The heat doesn’t ease up all day. It’s sweltering, covering you all in a sheen of sweat that can’t seem to be wiped away.

Santiago’s gaze doesn’t help your warmth. Every time you look over, he’s surveying you carefully, eyes raking over your body in a way that makes your breathing quicken. There’s always been chemistry between you, sure. You have chemistry with all of the boys. But it’s never been like this with Santiago. Yes, you flirt with each other – it’s in both of your natures. But this is different. This is real.

You spend all day lounging around. Frankie keeps you topped up with margaritas as you make trips in and out of the pool, messing around with the boys. Benny hoists you up onto his shoulders in the water, throwing you up into the air as high as he can and laughing when you splash back down. You and Will throw a ball back and forth, doubling over when he overshoots and hits Frankie, who’s soaking up the sun in a lawn chair. In the late afternoon, Frankie fires up the grill, preparing to barbeque for dinner.

“Pope, you gonna help me?” he shouts from the deck.

Santiago looks at you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, before joining him. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. There’s anticipation bubbling at the pit of your stomach, butterflies swirling. Warmth has settled in your core, and Santi’s heated glances are only fuelling the fire.

The sun finally gives you some respite in the early evening. You all settle on the grass, drinks in hand, laughing about nothing and everything. Benny’s telling you about his next fight, describing his opponent in hilarious detail. You look down, and realise your glass is empty.

“I’m gonna get a refill. Anyone want anything?” you ask, smiling as you watch Benny jokingly pretend to box his brother.

“Can you grab me a beer, princesa?” Santiago asks, pointed gaze trained on you.

You nod and make your way inside, praying that it’s cooler in the kitchen. The sun might have gone in, but the warmth in your core hasn’t left.

You reach into the fridge for the jug of margaritas that Frankie made earlier. You’re rising onto your tiptoes to fetch a new glass from the top of the cabinet when you feel a presence against your back. Santiago grabs one from the shelf and places it on the counter in front of you, leaning forward as he does it. His lips are brushing the shell of your ear, and you shudder out a breath.

“So you’re feeling it too, mi amor?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you breathe. You’re worried you might combust if he keeps speaking to you in that deep, low, raspy tone of his.

“Don’t know what’s gotten into me. Can’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispers. He feels a shiver wrack through your body and chuckles.

You turn around to face him, and he steps forward, caging you in against the counter, arms on either side of you. You can’t go anywhere. You don’t want to.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he practically purrs.

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, testing the waters. You catch it with your teeth and pull it into your mouth, biting down gently before sucking, not once breaking eye contact. He groans and tilts his head back, exposing his throat to you. You tangle a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, and give him a look that says I dare you.

Santiago surges forward to capture your lips with his. It’s desperate and needy - a perfect representation of both of your states all day. He slips a strong thigh between your legs and pushes upward, making you whine. You’re pressing yourself into him, trying to get as close as possible. His hands are everywhere all at once – your hips, your hair, your back, your ass. He wants to feel all of you, and can’t decide where to start.

You feel drunk off of him as he kisses you. His tongue is making you melt, his steady hands the only thing keeping you upright. You could kiss him like this for hours, surrendering yourself to this man you call your best friend. This man you’ll love forever.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t notice Will entering the kitchen. He clocks the situation in front of him and tries to exit silently, walking backwards out the way he came in. He knocks into the recycling bin, startling you and Santiago, causing you to jump apart and hit your head on the cabinet behind you.

“Shit, sweetheart, you okay?” Will asks, genuine concern etched on his face.

Santiago cradles the back of your head as he looks at you, eyes searching yours for any signs of pain.

“I’m good, I’m good, don’t worry,” you reassure them.

Will smirks at you and winks cheekily before he leaves, grabbing a beer on his way out.

“Oh god,” you groan, leaning forward to rest your head against Santiago’s chest. He strokes your hair lovingly, a laugh rumbling through him.

You both know Will isn’t going to say anything. He’s the most trustworthy one of them all. Always observing, never gossiping.

“Love you, hermosa,” he chuckles.

“Love you too, Santi,” you reply, wide smile painted on your face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Will was the last to kiss you.

It had been a long time coming.

Some people think Will is hard to read. He’s introverted, quiet, a wallflower of sorts. But he isn’t hard to read. Not really. You just have to know what you’re looking at.

He’d called you up one Sunday morning, asking if you had plans. When you’d told him you didn’t, he invited you over for a day of pancakes and terrible movies. It sounded perfect.

Which is how you found yourself lying on Will’s couch, legs tangled together, your back to his chest. His strong arms have found home on your waist, wrapped around your middle. You’re not sure how you ended up here, as you started the movie on opposite ends of the sofa. No one’s complaining.

It’s rare, this kind of intimacy. Casual, effortless, easy. No thought goes into it. You just fall into each other as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Will’s always had that gift. He makes people feel comfortable. No matter where you are, or what you’re doing, one look from those big blue eyes is all it takes to calm you down. It doesn’t matter if you’re being shot at on a battlefield, or just getting overwhelmed in a supermarket. Will’s there, and he knows exactly what you need. You’re convinced the man might be a mind reader, honestly.

He’s not, in fact, clairvoyant. He’s just a listener. No matter what you’re talking about, Will’s looking at you like you’re the centre of his universe. He’d be perfectly content to listen to your voice, to watch the way your eyes light up when you tell stories like this forever. You feel like the only girl in the world, as you lay here in his arms.

You’re deep in thought before you decide to break the silence, voice floating through the warmth of the room.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?”

You feel him hum from behind you before he answers softly.

“Every day since I met you.”

You nod gently before relaxing back into him, sighing in contentment.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?” he asks, mirroring your question.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think about kissing you, William,” you murmur.

His arms tighten around you slightly, pulling you impossibly closer. He presses a kiss into your hair, and another to your bare shoulder.

You sit in the silence for a while, letting the questions hang heavy in the air. It’s not awkward – no, it’s the exact opposite. It’s comfortable.

“I’ve kissed Benny, Frankie and Santi,” you confess quietly. You’re not sure why, but it just feels like something you need to get off your chest. You don’t want him to judge you.

“I know,” he speaks softly. He knows. Of course he does.

“Does it make you think differently of me?” you query. You almost don’t want to know the answer.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he replies earnestly. “Why would it?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t look good for me, I guess.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart. They’re your best friends. You love them. A kiss doesn’t have to change anything - not always, anyway.” He pauses. “Do you regret any of it?”

“Not at all,” you whisper.

“Exactly. We all think the world of you. You should know that by now.”

You shift and turn so that you’re sitting in between his legs, facing him. You press your forehead into his, and he smiles gently.

“I love you,” you say softly.

“I love you too,” he replies, grinning widely.

Suddenly, he jumps off the couch, pulling you up with him.

“Let’s go outside,” he prompts, dragging you out the door behind him.

“Will, it’s raining!” you squeal as he practically carries you into the backyard.

He grabs you by the waist and spins you around, both of you laughing. The downpour has drenched you both, clothes sticking to your skin, hair dripping. He puts you down and looks at you as if he’s reading the words off the very surface of your soul.

Gently, he pushes the hair out of your face, moving it to behind your ears. He uses his thumb to catch a raindrop that’s making it’s way down your cheek, swiping it away. You’re both soaked through, but you can’t feel the cold. You feel the warmest you ever have, love illuminating your bones.

Will leans down and presses his lips to yours. His hands are on your waist, and he pulls you closer, plastering you together. It’s tender, and it’s sweet, and it’s a perfect amalgamation of Will. You’ve never felt more at peace.

When he pulls away, you remember his words from earlier.

“Does this kiss change anything?” you ask, megawatt smile etched on your face.

“Everything, sweetheart,” he replies, grinning widely. “It changes everything.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You saved the best until last,” Will beams, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

The boys all scoff, laughing as they do it. You smile broadly, moving to peck his lips tenderly.

“Sure did.”

Benny and Santiago roll their eyes jokingly, while Frankie jabs them both with his elbows.

“Idiots,” he murmurs, still chuckling.

Will’s hand finds yours under the table. His fingers twist the ring you’re wearing absentmindedly, and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I love you, Mrs Miller.”

“I love you too, Mr Miller.”

“Guess I just had to kiss a few frogs to find my prince,” you wink at him, the whole table erupting into protests. You throw your head back in a laugh, your whole body vibrating with it. All four of them agree it’s their favourite sound in the world.

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