#teller is back at it with the good writing

[macfrog]

rack 'em

the girlies watched triple frontier last week and it was the single most inspiring thing i have ever seen so here’s a lil frankie fic to cleanse my mind. dedicated to my babies @gracieispunk (who put this concept in my head for the wee laddies), @hellishjoel & @strang3lov3 🤍

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x f!reader

summary: when your parents ask you to housesit for them, you take the opportunity to spend some quality time back in your hometown, hanging with your older brother and...getting reacquainted with his best friend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, teasing & touching, dubcon (reader is a little drunk, frankie is not), oral sex (f receiving), alcohol consumption, quick mention of dr*gs, cursing, frankie's a bit of a dick but reader gives as good as she gets

word count: 6.1k (cause apparently i don’t know how to write short fics 🤪)

main masterlist

When you were four, a new family moved in across the street. Nobody knew them – your mom spent two straight days trying to scoop for information. Who they were, where they’d moved from, what was with the banged-up Ford pickup they drove. Nobody knew a thing.

You didn’t take much interest, being four years old – two months shy of your fifth birthday, by the way – and too invested in whatever politics a woman of your age finds herself wrapped up in, but you noticed one key thing about them.

The mom had tattoos.

Two full sleeves. Colorful ones, too. A bright red heart on her shoulder, a green snake wrapped around her forearm – among others. It was fucking cool, alright? No matter how much your mom whispered to Ms. Teller over the fence about them.

One night, when you were supposed to be in bed, you snuck out of your room and crossed the landing to your brother’s. Santiago and his friends were all staying at Tom’s, and you knew that in his desk he had permanent markers. You clicked the door open, as quiet as you could, and crept over his matted carpet to the drawer. You took one Sharpie, and spent the night adding snakes and hearts and whatever else came to mind to your Barbies’ arms, legs, faces, necks.

They looked fucking awesome. Just like that mom across the street.

But somehow or other – and I’m not blaming anyone – the next morning, a drawing appeared on the bathroom wall. In Sharpie. Your mom hit the roof.

As soon as Santi got home, she dragged him by the ear into the bathroom and pointed a trembling finger at the drawing. You forget what it was – it’s been years, and you were never much of an artist.

His plea of innocence helped him none; she knew he owned Sharpies, knew he sucked just as bad as you did at drawing, and he was grounded for three whole weeks. No soccer practice, no TV, no PlayStation. Which, at thirteen, is basically a stint in Rikers.

Your brother, though…he was always better than your mom at reading your mind. He saw the guilt on your face plain as the black marker behind the toilet tank. He cornered you in your bedroom as soon as she went back downstairs, and established three key rules going forward.

One: do not enter his room ever again.

Two: no touching his stuff.

And three: anytime he took the fall for you, you owed him. Big time.

You’ve followed the rules ever since. You barely knew what the inside of his room looked like, growing up. But it worked, ‘cause ever since the Sharpie incident of ’99, you two remained closer than most siblings with an eight-year age gap.

So, now, two days into a two-week stay back in your hometown to housesit while your parents head off on a cruise to celebrate their anniversary, you’re in the car with him. Listening to music, bitching about your mom, arguing over the best Cola flavor.

It’s like old times.

“She said, How’s my baby girl?” you yell over Stevie Nicks’s voice, reading from your phone.“And when I said I’m fine, she said, No, I meant the dog. Is she fucking serious?”

Santiago’s head tilts back with laughter, dark curls nudging against the headrest. He’s driving you to Lucky’s, a local sports bar he and his buddies frequent. He promised when he picked you up at the airport he’d take you out, get you drunk, and he was holding to it.

You pull your legs down off the dash as he turns into the parking lot, pulling in right under the white fluorescent sign, four-leaf clover flashing under it.

“She’s looking forward to seeing you when they get back,” he tells you, switching the engine off.

“Oh, yeah? That why she didn’t even hang around to see me before they left?”

He hands you a smug grin, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t have it all, big shot. You move a thousand miles away, you forfeit your chance of being the favorite.”

You swing your door open and hop out, chasing him around the car to follow him inside. “You say that like I was ever in the fucking running.”

He snorts, pushing the door open, and a loud cheer roars through the bar. You blush as you follow your brother across the room to two tables full of familiar faces.

“Hey, baby.” Your best friend’s arms pull you in, her gold hoop earrings cold against your cheek. She smells like rose and cedarwood.

“Mal,” you hum, smiling as she pulls away.

“My mom said your parents only just made it on board,” she says, detaching strands of her long, black hair from the cuff of your jacket. “Said they had a flat tire and had to race to get to the boat.”

Your head jerks back. “She never told me any of that. Just asked how Ange was.”

Mal snorts.

“Hey, lil Santi!”

You glance over your shoulder to watch as Benny Miller stalks over, almost shoving some old guy off his feet, arms wide open, wide grin spread across his lips. His brother, Will, follows behind, and gives your shoulder a loving slap when Benny pulls you in for a hug.

“How’s Boston treatin’ ya?”

“Good,” you reply. “How’s…MMA treating you?”

“Good!” he echoes, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

It’s kinda part of the deal that your older brother’s friends become brothers in their own right to you, especially when you’re as young and easily-influenced as you were. They used to use you in their elaborate plans – send you in as a distraction while they filled their pockets with food at parties, or use your smaller stature to their advantage when attempting to break into places they shouldn’t.

By the time you were old enough to follow their orders, they were well into their teens. Which is basically grown-up, as far as six-year-old you was concerned. They were always allowed to do things you’re still not sure your mom would permit you to do at twenty-eight, like disappear all day without checking in, or come home black and blue after an organized street brawl with the boys from the other side of the neighborhood.

But there was no denying they cared about you. Will, Benny, and Tom, at least. They showed their affection by ruffling your hair as they passed, or sneaking you candy under the table even after your mom had told you you’d had enough. They’d christened you ‘lil Santi’, a name that – despite the embarrassment it always casts over you anytime you hear it – still sticks to this day.

Your brother’s friends were family to him, and, by extension, family to you.

Well. All but one.

Frankie Morales – nickname Catfish: long-time best buddy of your big brother, and long-time fucking asshole. There isn’t one thing on Earth that you two see eye to eye on, except for that very fact: he hates you almost as much as you hate him.

Always have, always will.

He’s in trouble almost regularly for drug-related stuff you don’t bother asking Santiago about. You don’t need to hear details to know he’s a pain in the ass. He’s been antagonizing you for as long as you’ve known him – where the others ruffled your hair, he’d shove into your shoulder as he passed, sending you – and whatever you were holding – flying. Any attempt you made at conversation with any one of them resulted in an argument between you and Frankie.

You hated him. Fucking hated him.

And tonight, you almost think yourself lucky. Almost go over to thank Santi for not inviting him, when you notice the silhouette of his baseball cap and that denim button up hunched over in a bar stool, and your eyes narrow.

You can’t help yourself. It’s been a years-long feud. And you’re old enough to take him on now. So, you stride over.

“You here to poison my drink?”

“What?” he asks, shaking his head. Already exasperated just by the sight of you.

“I bet you cheered the loudest when I walked in.”

He shrugs. “Cheered when your brother gave me fifty bucks to show face.”

Your upper lip curls. When the bartender notices you standing, elbows propped on the bar, he leans over.

“Beer, please.” Your smile twists into a grimace when you catch Frankie watching you. “What are you doing here? You have to be the person least excited to see me home.”

“I told you,” he says, lifting the bottle to his lips, “I’m bein’ paid.”

“Alright, so what do I gotta pay you to make you leave?”

Frankie scoffs, opens his mouth to answer what you’re sure is a comment laced with just as much venom, when Will’s strong arms slap down on each of your shoulders.

“We buyin’ our favorite veterinary nurse a drink, Francisco?”

You take your beer from Nick’s outstretched hand, sliding him the cash in return, and hold it up to Will in reply. “I’m good, thanks. Wouldn’t wanna eat into that fifty bucks, Catfish,” you mutter, turning to wander off.

You weave in and out of bodies, making your way to the opposite side of the bar where the pool tables sit. Doused in the warm strip light over the green felt, Santi chalks his cue ready to play against Mal, who’s already lining up her shot.

You hop up on a stool right next to the table, glancing back over to the bar where Frankie sits, now turned to face your direction. His elbow sits on the wooden surface, head turns from the football game showing behind the bar, over to you. And when he sees you looking, turns back to the TV screen, cool expression never changing.

“You done?” Mal asks Santiago, feeding the cue through her ring-decorated fingers.

He nods, tossing the chalk back over to you. “Better get your purse out, Bennett. Lotta sober people in here, all gonna want a free drink once you lose.”

“As if,” she breathes, and breaks the rack.

Somewhere throughout the game – a grueling and controversial one, by all accounts – Frankie makes his way over, following Will. You’re thankful when he plants himself on the other side of the table, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other around a bottle of beer. Though the light only comes up to his chest, right where the last button is done up, you notice him looking. Every fucking glance.

It pisses you off. Not the glancing. The way it makes you feel having him watch you. Wherever it comes from, you swallow it down with one big gulp of alcohol.

The game ends in a questionable loss. This side of the table swears the white skimmed off of Mal’s final solid when Santi hit it, right before it potted the black. The other side objected, claimed it was a clean shot ‘n you all know it. A winner wasn’t officially announced, but, being that Mallory Bennett is a force of nature where her competitive nature is concerned, Santiago was forced to buy the loser’s round.

She saunters up to you with her free whiskey in her hand, silver jewelry clinking off of the cold glass.

“Proud of yourself?” you ask, smirking.

She hands you your third beer of the night, sweeping her silky hair out of her face. “It hit it, alright? I saw it move.”

“Was that before or after you nudged the table?”

Mal holds a finger to her lips. You swat her hand away and the pair of you giggle, leaning into each other like schoolgirls whispering secrets in the playground.

“You know something,” Santiago materializes over Mal’s shoulder, shaking his head, “if you gotta cheat to beat me, I’ll give you the win.”

“Oh, get out,” you throw back. “Don’t blame her for your bad aim. Ms. Teller could’ve hit that shot and she’s got cataracts in both eyes.”

Your brother nods at you, tongue in his cheek. “Alright, smartass. Grab a cue.”

You scoff. Look around the room, shaking your head. The crowd has dispersed a little, folks have turned back to the TV screens, shifted focus back to the alcohol in their glasses. And then you look back to Santiago, holding his arms out.

“Alright. Fuck it.”

You hop down and snatch the second cue, wandering around the table while he racks the balls. He lifts the triangle, rolls the white over to you, and tells you to break.

The multicolored balls scatter in a fleet, two stripes tumble into pockets, and you stand back to survey your options. There’s a third stripe close to a pocket on the right, so you wander around to your left and turn.

“’scuse me,” you mutter, nudging Frankie’s stomach with the bottom of your cue.

He shoots you a dead-eyed stare, and takes one step back. And then his eyes drop, and you feel like you could slap him.

But you’re three – almost four – beers deep, and there are heads turning to watch how this plays out, and you can feel the bassline of the music rippling up from the soles of your feet all through your body, and you can feel the heat of his stare on the backs of your thighs, right where the hem of your dress sits.

Suddenly, slapping isn’t what you want to do to him.

Your head turns back to the pool table and you bend over, drawing the cue back between almost shaking fingers, and slam it into the white. It fires into the red striped ball, which hits the corner of the cushion, millimeters away from falling into the pocket.

You sigh, straightening up and waiting for your brother to begin his taunting, but it never comes. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone, tapping the screen and holding it to his ear.

“Yep?” There’s a pause, Santiago’s face sours, and then he glances around the bar. “Right now? Really? No, it’s just…” He sighs. “Alright. I’ll be there. Just…I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He hangs up the phone and curses under his breath, then turns back to you, answering the question on your expression with: “One of our informants just got himself killed. I gotta go.”

“You haven’t even taken a shot yet,” you huff, taking his cue when he holds it out.

“I’ll make it up to you, hermana, promise. How are you gonna get home?”

You shrug. Mumble an, “I dunno.”

His eyes scan the room, passing over Will – already worse for wear, leaning shakily against a nearby table slurring to a group of strangers, then to Benny – stumbling out of the bar door with some girl on his arm, and finally land on the figure behind you, sliding a bowl of peanuts across the table to himself.

“Morales,” Santiago calls, and you throw the cues down on the felt.

“No, no way,” but your brother is already pushing past you to get to his friend. “Pope, no fucking w–”

Frankie turns, handful of nuts, cheek full and chewing.

“I gotta go, trouble at work. Can you do me a favor, man, ‘n make sure she gets home alright?”

“No,” you repeat. “He is not taking me home.”

“Baby,” Santi pleads, “just go with him, please?”

“I’ll walk. It’s, like, a twenty-minute walk.”

“No way. Mom would kill me.”

“Well, then, we just don’t tell her. Pope, please.”

He ignores you. “You are not walking home after dark. No.”

“Probably be safer than in the truck with him.”

Frankie’s head stops flitting between the two of you and his glare settles on yours. “Fuck you,” he spits, shaking his head.

“Right back at you,” you reply, insincere smile on your lips.

Santiago puts his palms together and holds them out to you. “Look, just – please. Just this once. I’ll owe you one.”

He doesn’t owe you one often. Makes a point of deliberately trying not to owe you one. This is an interesting offer. You sigh, and roll your eyes.

“Fine. You better fucking pay me back, though!”

“You got it,” he says, patting your shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he whispers to Frankie as he passes, slipping through the crowd toward the exit.

You and Frankie are left, two feet apart, filled with silence and resentment.

“You looking for someone else to hand your ass to you, lil Santi?” he asks, tossing another handful of peanuts into his mouth.

“You’re funny.” You hand him a smile, which drops the second he looks at it.

But when you turn back to the table and lift the cues, you hand one to him. Push it into his chest, shoot him a narrow-eyed glance.

“One game. And only ‘cause I need a sub.”

He dusts his hands together, shrugs. “Shouldn’t take me too long.”

You stalk back over to Mal, who’s giggling into her glass. “You two are unbelievable.”

“Don’t.” You hold your hand up, taking another swig of beer as Frankie lines up.

On his first shot, he pots that same red you were trying to hit before. His eyes lift only for a second, but you catch the cocky look he throws you and screw your face up.

“Fucking…ass,” you whisper.

Frankie’s shoulders jump, his teeth take his bottom lip. He’s laughing to himself when he takes his next shot, and pots another stripe. And then he stands up straight, holds his hands out.

“Just tell me when.”

“When what?”

“To start going easy on you.”

Fuck off. Fuck off, fuck you, fuck this. Fuck!

One more ball potted and finally, fucking finally, he misses a shot. It’s an impossible shot, anyway, there’s no way in hell he was gonna make it, but that’s not what matters. What matters is the way you twirl your cue in your fingers, then lift it and wander around the table, squeezing between Frankie and the wooden edge to get to your shot.

Your ass brushes past his jeans, and when you turn your head to whisper a sarcastic Sorry, he fucking growls. Low, almost inaudible. But just enough for you to notice, and enough for you to keep pissing him off.

The buzz you’re getting from antagonizing him this much must awaken some sort of billiards skillset you never knew you fucking had, because you pocket four balls in quick succession. Red, then green, then blue, and purple. There’s one ball between you when Frankie rounds the table, eyes scanning the felt for the next best shot he can take.

“Hurry the fuck up,” you mutter as he passes by you, on his third lap of the table.

He tsks. “Impatient,” he replies, shoulder brushing yours heavily. You feel the rough denim of his jeans graze your thighs, the weight of him against your backside for the second time. You push back, leaning into him as he moves past, then leans over, slinks his cue between his fingers, and takes his shot.

The yellow sails into the nearest pocket like there’s a magnet pulling it. The purple does the exact same – he barely has to tap it with the tip of the cue and it’s dropping in atop its predecessor.

Frankie turns, shimmying a little up the table, hip nudging yours out of the way. “Move,” he mumbles, shutting one eye to aim for the black. “Come on…” he breathes, and then shoots.

It bounces off of the opposite side of the table, thudding off of the cushion before it’s rolling toward the pocket and dropping in with a plunk.

He stands, fixing his baseball cap, and leans the cue against the table. “Good game, loser,” he says, ruffling your hair as he passes you.

“What age are you?” you sneer as he wanders back off to his beer, waiting for him on the table next to his bowl of peanuts.

Will wraps an unsteady arm around your shoulder as Frankie tips his bottle against his lips. He’s swaying, dragging you left and right with him as if you’re on a boat.

“He’s…he’s always been the best outta us all,” Will slurs, using his bottle to point at Frankie. “’s why he’s such a good pilot. Good aim.”

You sigh, pushing his heavy arm off yourself and slip back over to Mal, who hands you a sad smile and fixes your hair.

“It was a good attempt,” she says.

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, tossing your bottle up and draining the last of it onto your tongue. “I need another drink.”

You cross the room, suddenly less blurry and tilted, more boring and flat, and lean over the bar. “Nick,” you call, and he twists around, “grab me another–”

“It’s alright, Nick,” a voice yells over your shoulder, “I think she’s good.”

You spin around and it’s that stupid fucking baseball cap and the stupid denim button up again.

“What, I’m not allowed to drink now?”

Frankie’s head cocks. “You don’t think you’ve had enough?”

“I’ve had three. Three beers. The fuck is your problem?”

He tuts, glances left and right, and then back to you. “I think I should get you home.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

“Are you this fucking difficult with everyone when you’re drunk?”

“Nope,” you beam at him, “just you.”

He lets go of the grip he has on your arm and starts backing away. “I’m leaving, baby,” he tells you, nodding goodbye to Nick. “You’re either coming, or Pope’s gonna hear all about it.”

You ball your fists, watching the door swing closed behind him. Your feet stay rooted to the ground, eyes flitting from the parking lot over to Mal, who lifts her arms in a question. You shake your head in response, and her shoulders drop.

Sorry, you mouth, beginning to walk off in Frankie’s footsteps.

Mal blows you a kiss, winks once, and then salutes you goodbye. You shoulder out of the bar.

The ride back to your parents’ place is silent, except for the dull drone of whatever fucking music Frankie has choking out of his radio. You watch your hometown pass by, never taking your eyes off of the blurry streetlights or passing mailboxes, refusing to turn your head further than the middle of the windscreen at him.

He’s humming along to the song, jaw swinging as he chews on gum, arm hanging out of his open window. Everything he does is so fucking irritating, like a constant buzzing in your ear, an eyelash stuck in your eye, the feeling of stepping on a wet floor in socks.

So why, every time you do sneak a glance of him out of your peripheral, does the sight of those focused brown eyes, the strands of gray in his beard, the way his curls flick under the brim of his cap – why does it all stir something inside of you?

Frankie pulls up across the street from your house, white wood a milky blue in the moonlight. You unbuckle your seatbelt and let the strap whip off of your body, rattling against the interior of the truck. The most you’re willing to offer him is a nod of the head in thanks, which he returns, and your fingers hook around the door latch.

“Hey, mind if I come in ‘n use your bathroom?” he asks.

You pause. “Uh, yeah. I mind. No.”

“Come on, baby, I gotta piss like a racehorse.”

You scoff, ignoring him and slip down out of the truck. The door slams closed and you wander over to your parents’ drive, hearing a second slam as you cross the street.

“Uh, where do you think you’re going?”

“If your mom knew you weren’t letting me use her bathroom, she’d kill you, ‘n you know it.”

“My mom doesn’t know you like I know you, asshole,” you retort, but he’s still following you to the front door. “Just – alright. Do me a favor and disinfect it once you’re done. I don’t need them coming home to piss all over the floor.”

“You think my aim’s that bad? Just schooled you in a game of pool.”

You sigh, refusing to rise, and open the door. There’s the gentle scuffing of claws on the wooden flooring, trotting nearer and nearer in the dark hallway, and then the weight of your childhood dog shoves into your body.

“Hi, Angie. Hi, girl,” you whisper, scratching the dog’s white fur, her front paws against your tummy.

She jumps down when Frankie slips in behind you, wandering over with her tail swinging back and forth. He crouches down and holds his hand out, cooing, “Hi, baby,” as she nuzzles against his palm.

“She likes most folks who come by,” you utter, hanging your coat over the banister. “Don’t think you’re special.”

“She always loved me most,” he says, still fussing over the pup, “didn’t you, girl? Yeah, yeah you did.”

You roll your eyes and wander upstairs, leaving Frankie to find the bathroom, use it, and fuck off on his own.

It’s been almost eight years since you last lived here, but your room still looks oddly similar. Same bedframe, different sheets. Same wallpaper, only not covered in posters of your favorite bands. Same shelves, too, just that they hold stuff like vases and seashells and other random ornaments your mom’s picked up, rather than a collection of your favorite movies or framed photos of you and your friends.

You pull your dress over your shoulders and kick your boots off, grabbing a tee from your bag to sleep in. The Nirvana logo lies loose across your chest, the hem dancing along the line of your panties.

As you kneel on the mattress, tossing the million and one fucking pillows your mom has stacked down to the foot of the bed, you hear the door creak open.

“Damn,” Frankie mutters, glancing around the room, “haven’t been in here since I was, what, seventeen?”

“Weren’t welcome then, still not welcome now.”

“You still got that Black Eyed Peas poster rolled up somewhere?” He’s walking in, boots scuffing along the wooden floor.

“Are you lost?”

He looks over to you, stood by the bed, t-shirt barely reaching your thighs. “You know something, you ‘n your brother are so fucking different, it amazes me you’re related.”

“I imagine there’s a lot that amazes you, dumbass.”

He scoffs. There’s a hint of genuine humor in it. Like he’s impressed. And then his eyes scan down your body, lingering on the bare skin of your legs, shifting up to the pink cotton of your panties. They shoot back up when you speak again.

“Seriously, dude. What are you still doing here?”

Frankie turns to the dresser by the window, adorned with framed pictures of you and Santi as kids. “Making sure you get home alright, like Pope told me to.”

“Well,” you shrug, “I’m home, ‘n I’m alright. So…”

He picks up a silver frame; inside, faded by the sun and years that have passed, lives a photograph of you and your brother. He’s on his BMX bike, wide, toothless grin, and you’re behind him, standing on the pegs and gripping onto his t-shirt sleeves as you battle not to fall off.

Frankie laughs a little, turning the frame to show you. “You were always so fuckin’ annoying, you know that?” And then, with a shake of his head as he sets the frame back down, “Still are.”

You cock your head, throwing your hands up with an infuriated sigh. “If I’m so annoying, then why are you still here?”

The look he gives when he turns back around answers that question for you, in a way that his words never could. Never would, to be honest. He’d never admit the thoughts running through his head right now, same as you won’t admit that, likewise, they’re running through yours.

It’d be fucking weird. It’d be wrong, hooking up with his best friend’s little sister. Santi only asked him to get you home safe, not follow you inside, walk straight into your bedroom, look at you the way he’s looking at you right now, silhouetted by the streetlight shining through your still-open shades.

So then, why can’t he walk away?

You make to step forward, and Frankie’s already moving. He meets you halfway, stood on some fancy-looking rug your mom probably spent too much money on, his arms instantly finding your waist underneath your short tee.

“You fuckin’ piss me off, you know that?”

“I know,” you breathe, bottom lip brushing against his, “I know.”

He pushes you backward, sends you stumbling across the floor on your toes until the back of your calves hit the mattress and you fall, dragging him down on top of you. You knock the baseball cap from his head and run your hands through his brown curls, pulling him nearer as his hands begin to move north under the worn cotton of your shirt.

His rough hands cup your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples as his lips fall to your neck, sucking a bruise into your soft skin.

“Frankie,” you breathe, “what the fuck are we–?”

“Shut up,” he whispers back, teeth grazing over your collarbone. He’s moving down, kissing over your tee as he goes, until he’s kneeling on the floor, your legs dangling off the bed either side of his body.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching him as he presses fleeting kisses to the insides of your thighs, making his way closer and closer to your center, covering ground painfully slow.

“Would you – just – fucking – get there?” you ask, head tilting back with a groan.

“Always so fucking impatient,” he mutters, pulling your legs further apart. “Makes sense, though,” he whispers, finger hooking around your underwear, “already so wet.”

“Dick,” you hiss, laying back flat on the bed.

Frankie holds the lace off of your core and then dips his jaw, lips lightly ghosting across your folds. You hum with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, ready to buck your hips up to him if it’ll just make him move faster.

But you don’t have to wait a second longer. He licks one broad stripe up your center, pressing one chaste kiss to your clit before his tongue dips where you need him most. Your legs go to clamp shut, stopped by his shoulders.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan, hand coming down to knot your fingers in his hair.

He hums against your pussy, tongue lapping inside you, nose at the perfect angle for you to rut your clit against.

“Fuck…” you repeat, and he fucking laughs against you. “Quit it,” you hiss, and he lifts his head.

Your eyes shoot open, finding his. Alarmed meeting cool.

“Fine,” he says, smirking. “I’ll quit it.”

“Don’t you fucking– Frankie.”

“Your words, baby.” He shrugs, eyes flitting down to your cunt, soaked under his touch.

“I didn’t mean it,” you moan. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

He looks back up. The corners of his mouth pull his smirk into a grin. Some devilish grin, thick with arrogance.

“I’m an asshole,” he echoes, elastic of your panties shifting up to his knuckles.

He watches your cunt as he does it. Runs two fingers between your folds, coating them in your arousal, dipping them deeper until they’re at your entrance.

Your head hits the bed heavily, your body writhing over the white sheets as he pushes closer and closer. His free hand comes up and pushes down on your tummy, holding you steady to the mattress, then –

“I’m the asshole.”

He inserts his fingers, curled, thick, stretching you out over his hand as he pushes in deep. A gasp passes through your lips, exchanging itself for a throaty moan when Frankie begins fucking you on his hand, lowering his lips to your clit again.

His wrist pumps in and out, tongue swirling over the swollen bud, palm pushing harder into your stomach to keep you from upsetting his rhythm with how badly you want to move around.

Your fingers lock a vice grip around his hair, your hips the only part of your body he’ll let you move. You establish a pace of your own, fucking up to meet his fingers, grinding yourself on his wet tongue.

“I’m close,” you pant, Nirvana logo distorted in ruffles at the base of your neck. “So fucking close, Frankie.”

And he can feel it. Feel you tightening around his hand, feel the rhythm of your hips start to miss beats, move clockwise instead of up and down. He can hear as your mouth stops rounding the words, fading into slurs and breaths and moans instead of coherent language.

“F-Frankie,” you cry out, and it’s like music to his ears. “’m there, I’m–”

“On my mouth, baby,” he mutters, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his lips again, tongue pushing inside you as you fall apart all over him.

Your back lifts from the bed, fists ball around his hair, pushing his face even harder against your cunt as you ride out your high. You’re moaning his name over and over, echoing off the walls of your little room, escaping out the door and swirling around the hallway.

If you could hear yourself, or cared enough to try, you’d feel fucking embarrassed at what you’re doing – coming apart under Frankie’s touch. It’s Frankie.

The same Frankie you started an argument with one Fourth of July over which was better: ketchup or mustard; the two of you spitting insults over the striped tablecloth, obscene hand gestures being thrown up over plates of burgers.

The same Frankie who’d found out it was you who drew on the wall, and from that day on used it as leverage anytime you set a foot out of line. Used it to shut you up, anytime you so much as thought about talking back, or ratting on the boys.

You’re supposed to hate him. Ask anyone – Santi, Mal, your parents. They’ll all say the same. Like cat and dog.

And yet, here you are. Begging him not to stop, keep his hands and his mouth on you; gasping for breath when he eventually lifts away from you and you collapse back into the bed.

You glance down from under heavy lids, watching as he kisses your thighs again, slowly bringing you back to the room. His chin’s glistening, covered in your cum, beard soaked in you.

You slowly sit up, holding yourself steady with two palms pushed into the mattress. Frankie readjusts your underwear and sits back on his heels, running a hand down his chin and wiping himself clean.

“That was…” you pant, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

He just nods, breathing heavy himself. “Yeah.”

“I gotta…I gotta let…Ange out,” you say, words swaddled by your breath.

Frankie nods again. “I should go.”

You stand at the same time, straightening up face to face. His right side is lit warmly by your bedside lamp, the brown of his eye reflecting a tiny yellow orb back at you; the left side is darker, flecks of hair lit in the pale light from the street, face dark and unreadable. Like he’s two different people, split down the middle now, a before and after.

You’re staring at one another, mapping every inch of the other’s face. Learning it, like it’s new. Like you’ve never really seen each other until right now.

And then he’s turning, picking his hat up from the floor in one swooping motion, and walking out of your bedroom. A deep sigh passes your lips as he goes, relief mixed with satisfaction. And then you follow.

Angie circles him when his boots thud down from the bottom step. He bends to give her more attention, waiting for you to softly pad down alongside him. The dog trots off toward the kitchen, and he turns to you.

He’s back to his unphased self, jaw circling around the gum that he’s still fucking chewing. “Two drinks you owe me, now, lil Santi.”

You cock your head. “Hm?”

“One for showing your ass at pool, ‘n another for that.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Morales.”

He snorts, wandering off down the hall. You spin on your heel and follow the sound of Ange scraping the back door, throwing a glance over your shoulder.

Frankie meets your eye, and like a reflex, the pair of you toss the finger to one another. He laughs, stepping out onto the porch.

“Anytime you feel like losing again, you know where I am, baby.”

----------

taglist: @serenaxpedro @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @pattwtf @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #francisco morales #bbf!frankie #bbf!frankie morales #pedro pascal #pedro pascal frankie morales #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #enemies to lovers #frankie morales enemies to lovers

[bellaxgiornata]

Neighbors [Chapter 1]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.6k

[Series Chapter List and Summary]

Warnings/tags: 18+; contains friends to lovers, violence, fluff, eventual smut, angst

a/n: Finally chapter one is here after that initial prologue! And so is Frank in this part! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mycobrakai1972 @stilllivindue2spite @luvr-bunnyy @pone21

Keeping your hand steady, you continued to write out the new seasonal menu on the chalkboard hanging by the coffee shop's register. Every beginning of the month you'd change the specialty lattes over to some different flavor combinations that you'd come up with which you felt were fitting for that time of year, and this morning it was time for that list to change.

You had been focused on what you were doing for the past fifteen minutes now, teeth biting down on your lip in concentration, until a noise coming from the back of the coffee shop caught your ear. Your hand momentarily paused on the ‘B’ you'd been trying to write as you attempted to decipher the sound, beginning to feel slightly on edge. Despite the fact that your shop was bright and airy inside, full of natural light from the large shop windows that allowed for the varying plants you had everywhere to thrive, you always found yourself a little nervous when you were here alone. It was always a fear of yours that something would happen–even if this was generally a friendly small town.

Turning your head, you focused on the door that led to the backroom as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder. Your hand tightened around the bit of chalk you were holding, your body tensing. Seconds later you spotted Allison making her way through the doorway. Quickly relaxing at the sight of her, you felt ridiculous for having been on edge thinking it could've been anyone else.

Of course it was just Allison, you told yourself. She was on the schedule to open today.   

She sent you a smile when she saw you standing in front of the chalkboard. “Good morning, boss!” she greeted you.

“Morning, Aly,” you replied, attention returning back to the chalkboard. “Do you mind unlocking the front door so I can finish working on this?”

“Already on it!” she replied.

She made her way around the counter, grabbing your keyring from off of the top of it as she passed by. You heard her make her way over to the front door and stick the key into the lock as you finished up the second line on the seasonal menu. You lowered your hand, taking a step back and eyeing your handiwork, trying to see if the lettering looked even enough by your perfectionist standards. 

“So I went on that date last night,” Allison told you.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, head turning to the side as your eyes narrowed at the spacing of a few words. “How'd the second date go?”

Allison placed the keys back onto the counter near you before she made her way back around it. With a sigh you finally figured the second line looked perfect enough and you began to focus on starting the third line.

“Awful,” she told you. “I don't think I've endured so many awkward silences in my life. I mean, it's like he lost the ability to make small talk entirely this time!”

“Maybe he was just nervous?” you told her, focused on the ‘L’ you had begun writing. “You are a big personality after all.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Allison grab an apron from off the back wall and throw it on. Chewing on your bottom lip again, you tried to perfectly space out the next letter with the lines already written above this one. If anything was just slightly off, you knew it would bother you all month long. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Allison said with a sigh, coming to rest her forearms onto the countertop near you. “But I like my men bold and outgoing, you know that.”

You laughed lightly, nodding your head. “That I certainly do,” you agreed. “But maybe someone more subdued could ground you sometimes. Never hurts to give people a chance.”

“Speaking of giving people a chance,” Allison began, the tone of her voice causing you to stop writing and shoot her a side-eye, “when are you going to let someone take you out on a date?”

“Never,” you told her, focusing back on the chalkboard. “I like my men nonexistent. I don't have time to date, you know that, Aly. Besides, there's not a decent option in this town near my age who's still single and doesn't slog it up at The Crooked Antler most nights.”

“You do know there's a thing called the internet, right?” she asked. “That's what dating apps are for.”

“Dating apps are mostly for hook-ups, Aly,” you pointed out, focused on spelling out the word ‘lavender.’ “I'm not looking for that. Or anything. I'm busy enough with the shop and Lily right now.”

“Okay,” Allison said, drawing the word out suspiciously. “But what if you happened to meet a guy in person? Could there be someone who might change your mind?”

“Considering I don't leave this town hardly ever and I've already said there's not many prospects here,” you replied, “I find that highly unlikely.”

Out of your peripheral you saw Allison shrug, her attention fixed on the front of the shop. You continued to work on the third line of the chalkboard, knowing full well Lily would want to decorate it this morning when you finished with it.

“Well what if a really hot guy just walked into Common Grounds looking like a tree that needed to be climbed?” Allison asked casually. “Like a really, really hot guy?”

Your eyes narrowed at her, your hand hovering over the ‘E’ you'd just written. “I'd say that'd never happen and sounds like its bordering on inappropriate work talk.”

Aly rolled her eyes at you. “Only because you don't like to talk about your love life,” she said.

“Because it's not up for discussion,” you stated, turning back to the chalkboard. 

“If you say so,” she sing-songed under her breath.

Beginning to draw out the ‘R’, you heard the door to the shop open behind you. You half-expected to hear Lily’s excited voice greet you along with the cold blast of wind from the early spring morning, but instead you heard heavy footsteps making their way over to the register.

“Good morning and welcome to Common Grounds!” Aly cheerfully greeted the customer. “What can I get you today?”

“Just a large coffee,” a deep voice rumbled out. “Black.”

Finishing the letter you were working on, you couldn’t resist glancing over your shoulder at the man standing in front of the register. He was broad-shouldered under the black jacket he was wearing, his presence easily commanding the space he was in. He stood with almost perfect posture as he focused on swiping his card through the reader once Aly had read off his total. 

The slight head gesture Aly was making at the man when he wasn't looking caught your eye and your attention shifted over at her. She mouthed out ‘he's hot, get his number’ to you and you immediately shot her a pointed glare in return, shaking your head. Aly abruptly straightened back up, plastering a smile onto her face as if nothing had happened when the man looked up at her, sliding his card back into his wallet.

“Your coffee will be ready in just a minute,” she told him.

You watched as Aly turned around, beginning to work on making the man's black coffee. For a moment you stood there, silently eyeing him as he waited patiently for his drink. You had to admit, Aly was right. He was attractive. He had a chiseled profile with a prominent nose, and thick dark hair on his head that you wouldn't mind running your fingers through. A bit of dark stubble covered his jaw, accentuating his cheekbones. He even looked well-built beneath his jacket as he stood with his hands clasped at his waist in front of himself. But the more you observed him, the more you were positive that you'd never seen him in town before. Before you could stop yourself, the question was already leaving your mouth. 

“I haven't seen you in here before, are you just passing through or visiting?” you asked.

The man's full attention shifted to you at the sound of your voice. There was a faint scowl on his lips, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he briefly looked you over. A sudden self-consciousness washed over you under his gaze and the surly, unfriendly expression on his face.

“Neither,” he answered gruffly.

“I just say that because I'm usually great with remembering faces and coffee orders,” you continued, hoping to ease the awkwardness with a friendly smile, “and I don't recognize either with you.”

“Look, I'll be honest ma'am,” the man said, that dour expression never changing, “I’m not one for small talk. It's been a long week and I got a long day ahead of me. I just want some coffee.”

He took a couple of steps farther down to the end of the counter, turning his back slightly towards you and abruptly ending the conversation. Your eyes widened in disbelief at his rudeness, your eyebrows rising up onto your forehead. That wasn't common in this small town. 

Shaking your head at his back, you were about to return to your chalkboard menu when the door to your left once again opened. The sight of Lily beaming at you as she dragged your brother into the coffee shop had a smile instantly returning to your face.

“Good morning, Nini!” Lily happily greeted you. 

“Morning, coffee bean,” you greeted her back. “You ready to help me here this morning?”

Her index finger landed on her chin, tapping it lightly as she glanced up towards the ceiling as she often did when pretending to be in thought. A smile tugged at your lips as you exchanged a look with your brother. You both knew what was coming next–a pastry request.

“If I help, can I get a cinnamon sugar scone?” she asked, her eyes going wide and doe-eyed as they landed back on you.

“Of course, coffee bean,” you answered, taking a step forward and reaching a hand out to ruffle her hair. 

She giggled, beaming back up at you. Just as you were about to say something more to her, the man who'd been rude to you made his way towards the three of you congregating near the door, his large coffee in his hand. Your mouth closed again, your lips instantly thinning into a straight line along your face at the sight of him and that still grumpy expression.

“‘S'cuse me,” he muttered, head ducking down.

He slipped past the three of you, accidentally bumping into your shoulder as he headed towards the door. Your eyes narrowed at his back, watching as he made his way out of the shop and down the sidewalk. 

“Who was that?” Jaime asked curiously, a thumb gesturing over his shoulder. “He doesn't look like one of your usuals. Never seen him around here before.”

Your attention returned to your brother as you shook your head. “Don't know,” you answered. “But he sure was grumpy. Anyway,” you continued, not wishing to spend anymore thought on the stranger's rudeness, “I'll drop her back home at half-past five tonight? As usual?”

Your brother's eyes darted down to his feet, his hands slipping into his jacket pockets. He suddenly looked almost nervous.

“Is it possible you could watch her until eight?” he asked. “I've uh, pulled some strings and got some extra time at work tonight.”

Your head tilted to the side, brows knitting together. “At the Antler?”

“No uh, at work,” he answered, his eyes still avoiding yours as a hand slipped out of his pocket, awkwardly running over the back of his neck. “There's a project that is being rushed and my boss was accepting a few volunteers to work more hours to help speed things up.”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, curious as to why he was acting so strange about this. “I can drop her off by eight. Maybe we can order pizza for dinner,” you said, glancing down and shooting Lily a wink.

At the mention of pizza, Lily instantly perked up. She began bouncing up and down as she clutched her stuffed husky to her chest. You smiled, your mood instantly lifted by her presence.

“Thanks, sis,” Jamie murmured. “You don't know how much I appreciate your help.”

You waved him off with a dismissive hand. “Don't worry about it, we're family,” you told him. “And I love having my little coffee bean helping me keep things running smoothly here.”

Jaime nodded, shooting you an almost sheepish smile before he turned and knelt down towards your niece. The pair of them exchanged their usual goodbyes along with a hug before Jaime made his way out of the coffee shop without another word. You watched him leave for a moment as he headed back towards his car, still curious as to why he’d seemed so off this morning. 

“So, Lily,” you began, eventually tearing your eyes away from your brother and focusing back on your niece, “why don’t you go fill that watering can in my office while I finish this sign? And then after you’ve finished watering the plants I can grab you that scone to enjoy. By the time you’re done with that I should have this month’s menu written out and you can decorate it. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, yes!” she exclaimed, excitement shining in her eyes. “I’m going to draw butterflies and bunnies and flowers on it!”

Grinning, you gestured your head towards the back door of the coffee shop. “Sounds perfect, coffee bean. Why don’t you get started with that watering can?”

Without being told twice, she darted off through the coffee shop and around the counter, disappearing through the doorway and down the hall towards the back office. Allison was smiling after her, pointing a finger in the direction she’d disappeared.

“If only someone could bottle up that energy and brew it into a coffee,” Allison joked. “I’d like five of those.”

“You and me both,” you agreed.

Heading back to the chalkboard, you tried to focus on finishing it, but you could feel Allison’s eyes on you. With a sigh you turned towards her, an eyebrow shooting up questioningly.

“What?” you asked her.

“That guy might’ve been hot, but his attitude?” she said, shaking her head and making a face. “Wow. I was not expecting that. Definitely no longer Allison-approved for you.”

You shot her a cheeky smile as you teased, “Especially because he despises small talk so much?”

Allison laughed, shaking her head. “Yes, that too. I guess it’s true when they say looks aren’t everything.”

“No, they certainly are not,” you agreed with a sigh.

Once more focusing back on the chalkboard, you began to start on the final line. You wanted it finished before the usual morning rush appeared in a few minutes. But as you were drawing an ‘R’ on the board, you heard Allison speak again and the comment she made had you botching the letter.

“Bet he’s still good in bed, though,” she said, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your face heated as a brief mental image of that man in a more intimate setting flashed through your mind, but you quickly tried to push it away. It had been far too long since you’d last been with someone and you didn’t need to start thinking about that right now.

“Alright, Aly,” you lightly scolded her. “Lily is just down the hall. Let’s keep it PG for now, alright?”

“You got it, boss,” she answered.

But you didn’t miss the tone of her voice that told you she’d noticed your reaction to her comment. Clearing your throat, you focused twice as hard on your chalkboard in silence.

Hanging up the call on your cell phone, you set it down on the small kitchen island. “So Lily,” you called out, turning around and making your way out of the kitchen and back towards the living room. “I just finished ordering us a large pepperoni pizza from Francisco’s and–”

You stopped dead in your tracks as you entered the living room at the sight before you. Both Lily and your dog Penny were perched at the front window, faces pressed to the glass and looking out of it. Presumably the pair of them were once again staring at the neighbor’s driveway–something you'd scolded her for doing a few times already now. 

“Lily, what do you think you’re doing?” you asked her, arms crossing over your chest.

Both her and Penny looked back at you simultaneously. The sight was almost laughable with how much of a pair they always made together, especially with the matching looks of guilt on their faces. You fought to keep a fairly stern expression on your own face at the sight because she’d been trying to watch the neighbor all evening ever since his truck had pulled up and she had told you that he'd been unloading it. The only way you managed to pull her away from the window for any length of time earlier was when you told her she could plate the cookies she’d made for him. Which of course turned into her picking out a leftover plate from Valentine’s Day, one that you’d used when the pair of you had baked heart cookies and handed them out to neighbors and friends the other month. You'd reluctantly helped her plate them, your embarrassment at the prospect of dropping the cookies off only growing with her plating choice. But at least she was coming with you, because there was absolutely no way in hell you’d have delivered them yourself.

“Seeing if he’s done unpacking,” Lily answered guilty. “So that we can go give him the cookies.”

“Lily, you can’t be staring at people outside,” you told her. “It’s rude and people don’t like that. Don’t be a nosey Nancy.”

“But he just grabbed the last box!” she whined, turning around towards you. “Can’t we go give him the cookies now, please ?”

Sighing, you glanced down at the watch on your wrist. It was getting late now that it was nearing six. Any later and it would be incredibly rude to go knocking on his door to drop off cookies. And if it was the last box that he’d taken out from his truck, you hopefully wouldn’t be interrupting him too much, but maybe you’d have an excuse to hand him the cookies, welcome him to the neighborhood, and then run away back to your place and hide from his reaction since he’d need to finish unpacking.

 “Alright,” you relented with a sigh. “We can go drop off the cookies.”

Lily let out a shriek of excitement before she bolted past you, tossing her stuffed husky onto the coffee table as she raced to the kitchen. Penny darted excitedly after her, her nails clacking across the wood laminate floors as she went. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you made your way over to the entry closet, pulling out shoes for you and Lily. 

When you turned around, you saw her carefully carrying the plate of cookies in both of her hands out of the kitchen, the vibrant pink and red heart pattern on the plate impossible to miss even with the plastic wrap holding the very pink and sprinkle-covered cookies in place. Internally you cringed, but the look of pride on your niece’s face had you smiling back at her instead. Because admittedly it was a very sweet gesture she’d thought of all on her own. Even if you still wished she’d just wanted to make regular chocolate chip cookies for the man instead.

It took the pair of you a couple of minutes to get your shoes on before you stepped outside onto the small front porch you shared with your neighbor. Lily walked a step ahead of you, proudly carrying the plate of cookies in her hands down the short distance between you and your neighbor’s front doors as the light waned outside. The sun was near setting behind the row of houses across the street now and it wouldn't be long before it was completely dark outside.

Inhaling a deep breath in as the pair of you came to a stop in front of the neighbor’s front door, you reached a hand out and knocked firmly three times against it. You kept internally hoping this man wasn’t about to make some sort of asshole-ish comment to your niece about the cookies, desperately hoping he was as polite and gentlemanly as Cora had made him sound. But a few moments later when the door unlocked and swung open, your eyes grew wide and the smile completely fell from your face. It felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs at the sight of the rude man from Common Grounds this morning standing before you. The very same one who’d refused to make small talk and then bumped into you on his way out. All your hopes of him being friendly and polite to your niece immediately disappeared, leaving you with nothing but a sinking feeling of dread.

The scowl you remembered from this morning was still on his face as his gaze landed on you first, his eyes narrowing just a fraction in something like suspicion as he scanned your face. You were still trying to figure out what the hell to say to him when Lily finally spoke up.

“Look, Nini!” she exclaimed, finally catching the man’s attention, “it’s the grumpy man from the coffee shop!”

You swore your heart stopped beating in your chest, embarrassment flooding you completely. Slowly the man’s eyes returned to you, one of his dark brows raising up onto his forehead. Swallowing hard, you’d never wished you could disappear into thin air more in your life than right now.

“Grumpy man, huh?” he asked.

An awkward laugh slipped out of you, a nervous smile sliding onto your face. “I suppose we’re all a little grumpy before our caffeine,” you awkwardly replied. Clearing your throat as his hardened stare only grew your discomfort, you quickly pressed on. “Look, we didn’t mean to disturb you, we just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” Pointing to yourself, you gave him your name in a rush before gently placing a hand atop Lily’s head. “And this is my niece, Lily. She’s often with me and she was the one who wanted to bake you cookies when she heard I was getting a new neighbor. So we just–just came by to drop those off real quick.”

The man’s expression shifted slightly as he focused back down on Lily at your side. An emotion crossed his face so fast that you almost didn’t catch it, but you had. Curiously you noted he'd briefly looked pained, but then the unthinkable happened–he smiled .

“Well is that right?” he asked, crouching down to your niece’s height. “You made me cookies, sweetheart?”

“Yes, they’re heart cookies,” she told him, holding the plate out towards him. “Because heart cookies make me happy, so I thought they’d make you happy. Nini and I made them yesterday.”

He reached out, accepting the plate of cookies from her little hands so gently while the smile only widened on his mouth. As you watched the surprising interaction play out, you had to actively make sure your jaw hadn’t dropped onto the front porch floor. Because whatever you’d been expecting him to do or say in reaction to receiving those cookies had most certainly not been this.

“Did you pick out the pink frosting?” he asked her, examining the cookies.

“Yep!” Lily answered proudly. “Pink is my favorite color! And so is purple and green.”

The man glanced up from the plate in his hands at your niece, a genuine smile still on his face as he nodded. “Well those are good colors, but I think you chose well with the pink,” he told her. “And I like the sprinkles.”

“Thank you!” Lily said, beaming and twirling a little back and forth in excitement before him. “So what’s your name?”

He chuckled lightly at her enthusiasm, his focus solely on her. The unexpected and pleasant deep sound of it warmed you, especially with the sweet way he continued interacting with your niece.

“My name is Frank,” he told her. 

Lily nodded her head, still smiling her heartwarming smile at the man. The look on his face had you realizing maybe you’d completely misjudged him this morning, though you worried he wasn’t going to like you much after Lily’s initial comment about his grumpiness. Hopefully that wouldn’t make things strained between the pair of you, especially with being neighbors.

“It’s nice to meet you, Frank!” she chirped.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, too, Lily,” he told her. Gesturing his head towards the plate of cookies in his hands he added, “Thank you for these. Been awhile since anyone’s brought me baked goods.”

Lily’s eyes lit up at his words, a surprised gasp leaving her. “Well in that case,” she began, her excitement somehow increasing further, “maybe we can make you brownies next! And Nini makes the best cinnamon rolls!”

“Hey, coffee bean?” you said, quickly cutting in. 

She looked up at you, all innocent eyes and bright smiles. You sent her a tense smile in return, ignoring the way Frank’s gaze falling back on you was beginning to make you feel multiple confusing things all at once.

“Maybe we should let Frank get back to unpacking and settling in, yeah?” you suggested. “He just moved in, remember?”

The expression on her face slightly fell at your words, but she nodded slowly. In the doorway, Frank began to rise back up to his full, intimidating height. Swallowing nervously, you focused back on him, sending the tense smile on your face his way.

“Sorry to have bothered you this evening, I'm sure you're busy,” you told him. “But welcome to the neighborhood. I’m uh, just next door if you ever need anything.”

He nodded his head curtly in reply, muttering out a quiet ‘thank you.’ You gently nudged Lily’s shoulder with a hand, attempting to direct her back towards your duplex with you. But as you turned and began to make your way back home, you overheard Lily speak up one last time.

“You know,” her little voice said, “you really aren’t so grumpy after all.”

Your eyes snapped shut as you sucked in a sharp breath, momentarily pausing mid-step. Why did kids always have to say whatever was on their mind?

“No,” he agreed with a soft chuckle, “no, sweetheart, I’m not. Thank you again for the cookies and I hope you ladies have a good night now.”

Cheeks straining from the awkward smile you plastered back onto your face, you glanced at him over your shoulder, sending him a partial wave. He shook his head, laughing softly to himself before he turned and closed his front door. Lily skipped happily over to your side as the pair of you made your way back to your front door, entirely unaware of your current embarrassment.

“How much longer until the pizza gets here?” she asked.

“Soon, coffee bean,” you answered, opening your front door.

Hopefully soon enough for me to bury my face in it and forget about that awkward encounter, you thought, hurrying back into your place. Because that was uncomfortable. Hopefully we don’t run into each other all that often.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle x you #frank castle #the punisher

[totaly-obsessed]

can you write for Katie where her and reader have been dating for awhile and meeting eachothers parents and them getting on well :)

Meeting the Parents

Katie McCabe x reader request

-> Meeting your girlfriends parents goes better than you would have thought

-> @ anon I hope you like it! -> Another short one

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Anxiety wrecked through your body as you stood in front of Katie’s childhood home – Today was the day you would meet her parents. With ten siblings it's hard to get them alone, but tonight everything worked out. Your girlfriend of five months wanted to introduce you to her family gradually, and not throw you into cold water, meeting all of them at once.

“What are the chances that you’d let me not meet them, then tell them I died or something and we can run away together and—”

“Breathe, baby. Please!” The Irishwoman couldn’t help but laugh, finding your nervousness cute, but she obviously already knew her parents, and you didn’t. “They’re gonna love you, don’t even worry your pretty little head about it.”

Instead of knocking like you wanted to, your girlfriend just pushed the door open. “Mum! Dad! We’re here!” her loud voice drowned the soft background music out, as two figures made their way towards you from the kitchen.

“Oh it is so lovely to meet you – look how pretty Gary!” Katie’s mum immediately started to fuss about you, pulling you in a bone-crushing hug, before keeping you at arm's length, looking you up and down. “We need to get some meat onto ya!”

Wow. This was a lot.

But Katie couldn’t help but smile, watching her mum be so excited towards you and openly inviting you into her family home. Her dad gave her a firm pat on the back, obviously a lot calmer than her mum was – but he also pulled you in a quick hug, making you feel very welcome.

No ten minutes later after getting a tour of the entire home, the four of you were sat at the dining table – or rather Katie and Gary were sitting, while you insisted on helping Sharon carry the many side dishes and help cut the bread. It was delicious – a pasta mushroom ragout with incredible homemade bread, very hearty and filling.

Everything was going well and Katie admired the way you just fit in perfectly with both her parents. Sharon and you shared a passion for cooking and gardening while Gary admired your subtle and funny digs at his daughter.

“So what do you do for a living?” Gary had swatted at Katie to help her Mum clear the table, making you sit back down again, insisting that you had already helped enough and that your girlfriend was indeed able to do some work, even if she would try to convince you from other things.

“Oh, I’m a Bank Teller. I help our customers cash checks, withdraw money, move transactions to different accounts, create checking and savings accounts, and provide checks to customers – stuff like that.”

Both Gary and Sharon had wide eyes, that just screamed impressed – while Katie had that annoying, cocky smirk on her face as her hand rested on your thighs. “Told you she’s smarter than all of us!”

You could see where Katie had gotten her wit, humor, and compassion from. Her parents truly were incredible. Eleven children was no easy feat and all of them had grown to be lovely human beings. It made your eyes water a bit, hearing the parents brag about their youngest getting good grades and finding passion in drawing.

“Katie here was always a little special though.” You couldn’t help but laugh at your girlfriend’s wide eyes – she was fucked. The conversation had turned from her sibling's embarrassing stories to her own and she knew it. “We once went to church, and the priest raised his voice at the end of his sermon, to emphasize his point. And because Katie here, wasn’t allowed to shout in the house, she stood up on the pews and yelled at the top of her lungs ‘Inside voice only!’ – the whole church laughed!”

Gary could barely tell the story, or get through the impression of his daughter without nearly dying of laughter – and you joined him. Katie could only watch you, mesmerized that you fit in so well, that she didn’t even care that her parents were just completely embarrassing her with story after story until your belly hurt from laughing so much.

The way out took at least thirty minutes, someone always found something else to say. You were sure that you had hugged Sharon at least five times now. “Okay! We’ll be off now!”

Once again you hugged both of her parents, whispering a small ‘Thank you for having us’ in their ears while Katie watched. “Oh get some leftovers, would’ ya?” And with that you were gone again, leaving your girlfriend with her father by the door.

“Do you like her?”

“I think I like her more than you.”

Katie scoffed. She could definitely understand her father, and she was happy that the evening had gone over so well.

Meanwhile, Sharon and you were in the kitchen, making a huge box of leftovers to take home with you. “Thank you for loving my daughter. You were one of us from the moment you started taking care of her.”

“Thank you for giving birth to Katie – and for welcoming me!” Both of you laughed through the tears at your clumsy statement.

You left Katie with her parents, already getting in the car to give them a moment alone. The night was cold and Katie’s coat only did so much to keep you warm, but the box of food still emitted a warmth. Not only because it was still hot, but also because it felt like home.

“I’m gonna be honest my love. Watching you guys together made me glad because I know you have someone when your mum and I leave this earth.” Sharon still had tears in her eyes, and now Katie did too.

“Don’t say stuff like that Dad, make you look old!”

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso imagines #arsenal wfc x reader #katie mccabe #katie mc cabe x reader #katie mccabe x reader

[thisreadswhatever]

Only Mine: Part Two

find part one here

[description]: jax teller x fem!reader

[wordcount]: 2.2k

[cw]: 18+ only, smut, smut and more smut. unprotected p in v sex, oral m receiving, some almost getting caught tropes (kinda) and just jax having his way with you

[authors note]: so I wasn’t planning on making this a two part series but here we are! this is basically just pure smut but I owed it to you guys after that cliffhanger. thank you again to THAT anon for the fantasy that inspired this second part! it was too good not to write.

Your hands dug into the front of his leather cutte, weaving your fingers in between the cotton of his shirt. The only sound was the roaring of the bike beneath you, and the wind as it thrashed your hair into chaos against your helmet. You weren’t sure where you were going, but at this point you didn’t care. You squeezed your arms as they wrapped snug around him, tightening as he sped faster into the unknown.

Chibs followed just behind. They had been on their way to a Mayan warehouse earlier that night, before Jax decided to make a detour when he saw your car parked at the bar. When it was clear they had to go, you had begged Jax to bring you along. To your surprise, you had somehow convinced him. His dick was clouding his judgement, but you were both desperate to find an end to what you had started in the backseat of your car.

They parked the bikes in the back of a desolate warehouse, alongside a large empty truck. The building was fenced in with metal chain links and surrounded by broken security lights. From what you could see through the darkness, it was completely deserted.

Jax approached Chib as he rocked the kickstand on his bike as you waited patiently alongside his.

“Bobby and Juice on their way to the Clubhouse?”

Chib’s placed his helmet on the bike, “aye. Everything according to plan.”

“Alright, let’s get this done.”

Chibs placed his hand on Jax’s chest, “ye sure about bringing her? Could be here awhile pal.”

He knew he was right, bringing you with them wasn’t the smartest decision Jax had made tonight. He lit a cigarette between his lips as he walked back to you, “Just a straight forward drop off, Chibs. Stash the shit and get in the truck.”

Jax pulled you into him by the waist as you fumbled to undo the clasp of your helmet. His mouth pressed firmly against you, kissing you intently as his hands held your face to his. He watched you for a brief moment under him, your eyes staring up at him as he held your lip between his teeth. He broke only to smile widely down at you as he spoke, “c’mon, I got an idea.”

“We’ll be inside.” he called out, collecting a black satchel from the back of his bike. Chibs didn’t respond, only chuckling to himself as he watched Jax lead you away. “Kids.”

He pulled you through the warehouse by hand, obviously familiar with the surroundings. The building was dimly lit by a single light that shined from the entrance, just enough that you could see your feet beneath you as you walked.

You didn’t ask questions, just followed as he weaved his way through a thick maze of tall empty shelving units. He gripped your hand tighter as he pulled you into a small room cordoned off in the back of the building, housing the now derelict security unit and remnants of old office supplies.

There was a large display window that overlooked the majority of the warehouse, which would’ve been used to watch the ongoings of the building when it was up and running.

“Wait here.”

You obeyed his order, sitting on an old computer console that towered from the floor. It was just large enough that you could sit with your legs bent alongside it, straddling it beneath you.

The distant light was too far to aid in your sight as you attempted to watch him through the display window. Jax disappeared into the darkness of the warehouse. You could hear the sound of a door opening and closing from the opposite end of the building.

It felt like he was gone for eternity as you sat in silence, waiting for his return.

Suddenly an external door into the office opened, making you jump, and Jax re-entered, this time empty handed as the satchel he carried in with him was gone. He locked the door behind him. He moved toward you, now standing with his waistline parallel to your face. He was looking out into the warehouse from the side of the display window. “Just gotta wait for the pick up and then we’re out of here.”

“How long will we be? This place gives me the creeps.”

“Shouldn’t be long. Then I’m taking you home. We got unfinished buisness of our own, darlin’.”

Jax laid his hands to your cheeks, cupping your face upward to look at him. His thumb stroked your skin gently, as he peered down at you with hungry, desperate eyes.

“How ‘bout you just swallow my cock now to pass the time.”

You chuckled at his adavance, raising your eyebrows at the suggestion. “Here? What if someone comes in?”

Jax lowered himself down, forcing your head to turn on its side, as his lips pressed to your ear. He spoke slowly, unravelling you with every word. “Let them watch. I don’t give a shit. Your instructions earlier were very clear darlin’, you told me to take what’s mine. I’m going to take you, here and now. I’m going to have you where I want you, when I want you. You are mine to take, however the fuck I want.”

You nodded as he turned your face to his, your eyelids batting against your cheeks that were smushed beneath his hands. His thumb found entry between your lips and you instinctively opened your mouth wide for him. He smiled contently at how quickly you obeyed his silent demand. You held your tongue out, and he grasped at your jaw in response, turning your head side to side as he observed every inch of your face. “You are so fucking perfect. So fucking mine.”

You had never wanted him more than you did in this moment. You were prepared to beg and plead on your knees for his cock, you would do anything for it, and he knew it.

“Fill my mouth, Jax. Please.”

He leaned down to you as he unclamped the buckle to his belt, smirking against your lips as he placed them on yours.

He released his long length against your face, and you immediately took it into your hands. His head fell back as you stroked him intently, pressing the tip of his cock against your lips. You planted small, wet kisses against his shaft, as your hands caressed his erection. Once you’d kissed every inch, you took him into your mouth, forcing him in deeper as you pulled him in you by his unbuttoned jeans.

He groaned at the sensation of your wet tongue, circling his length before you choked at the fullness of him inside your mouth. There was nothing quite like gagging on Jax’s cock.

“Look at me when you take me”, he demanded. Your eyes trailed up to him as you swallowed his cock, drool dripping from your chin and down your neck. Moans escaped his gritted teeth and his hands entangled in your hair, collecting the strands into a ponytail behind your head. He tugged at the root to push you in closer, as he used your mouth over and over again.

“Get on the floor.”

You knew better than to question the order. You did exactly what he said, laying against the cold concrete floor that laid beneath you. He stroked his length as he stood above you, instructing you on every move to make.

“Take off your shirt and lay down.”

Once you were half naked on the floor, Jax lowered himself into you. His cock pressed against your waist, as he pulled down your jeans and panties.

“Spread your legs wide for me.”

Jax didn’t wait any longer. He encapsulated himself into your mound, opening your wet folds as he thrusted into you. A gasp escaped your throat as he entered, relief filtering through every inch of your core.

“Oh you’re still fucking soaked for me, babe.”

You couldn’t help but whine at the immediate pressure building between your thighs, desperately trying to hush your voice. It was near impossible to keep from screaming as the heat from your groin was burning to be released. You’d waited for what felt like forever since Jax had you in the same position in the backseat of your car, and the anticipation of being relieved was a feeling you revelled in. He grabbed your throat with his hand as you laid beneath him, your ass crushing repeatedly into the cold tile as he pounded into you.

“Remember what I told you earlier? While my face was covered in this perfect pussy?”

You couldn’t respond, let alone think of anything that happened earlier tonight. You groaned out as the length of his cock engulfed your insides, and hearing him talk this way was sending you over the edge. How the hell were you supposed to think?

“What’s wrong, darlin’? Can’t remember?”

“I can’t think straight- like t-this, Jax,” you admitted. You were staring into his eyes as he pounded into you, fighting the need for yours to roll in the back of your head.

“Let me help you.”

He sat you upright, his dick still embedded in your mound, as he lifted your legs, bending them against him. He pulled at your ass, bringing himself even further inside, the feeling of fullness overwhelming you. Your back was now arched against him, giving him full access to your clit.

“Fuck- not helping-“, you cried.

His hands travelled from your ass to your cunt, circling his fingers over the swollen nub, while he fucked you into oblivion.

“Jax- oh my go-“

He smiled as he watched you lose yourself in your climax, succumbing to his cock. His head fell back in pure bliss as he felt your orgasm squeezing him.

“I told you, you’re mine.” His cock pushed further into you as his hand tightening around your neck, the skin turning a shade of red at the force.

Your head nodded violently, “I’m yours-“ you somehow managed to muster out, your voice cracking under the pressure of your orgasm and his hand around your throat.

Just as Jax was going to unravel with you, you were interrupted by the sound of the main entrance door opening, followed by footsteps. “Did you hear that?”, you whispered.

Jax leant backward enough for him to peer over the display window. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness to realise who the intruders were. It was Bobby and Juice.

“Is it Chibs? Do we need to go?”

Jax looked back down at you, sprawled half naked against the floor and completely, totally his. Seeing you this way, he couldn’t of cared who entered the warehouse, he was going to finish claiming you no matter who watched. He gleamed at the sight of your flushed pink cheeks and hair utterly strung awry, all the result of his doing. “Oh no, darlin’. I’m not finished with you yet.”

His cock found your entrance again, sliding into your dripping mound as he bit back a groan. “You feel so fucking good- taking me so well-“

You tried desperately to suppress your scream, failing as a squeal slipped through your lips.

Jax quickly placed his hand over your mouth, and you were thankful for the aid in silencing your whimpers. He roamed over your body and face, watching as pleas left your eyes, begging in desperation for another release. His lips pulled into a devilish smirk as he lowered himself completely into you, forcing his cock to push even deeper into your mound.

You groaned into his hand, his hips finding a way to submerge even further into your core. Jax was enjoying every moment of this, watching as your composure expired around his cock, while he never wavered, just holding himself there within you.

“You gotta be quiet for me now, darlin’,” he murmured slowly into your ear. “Can you do that for me?”

You nodded at his request, struggling to move from the weight of his body pressing against you. His hand tightened around your mouth as tears began to stream from your eyes, overwhelmed by the urge to stay silent against the extreme fullness you were enduring.

The footsteps grew closer, as Jax pushed deeper and deeper into you with each thrust.

You could hear Bobby lowly calling out, “Jax, where you at?”

He ignored his calls, focused entirely on you beneath him. Nothing else mattered to him but the way you felt wrapped around his cock.

He was relentless, repeatedly finding a new depth with each thrust into you. His hand stayed out against your mouth, and you bit at the skin to suppress the groans that couldn’t be muffled. He quickened his pace, and your fingers squeezed at the leather of his cutte as you found your final climax. Jax hunched his back, bringing his face to yours as he found his release with you, filling your aching cunt with his seed.

When he recovered from his end, he began to trail plentiful kisses from your chest, and up your neck. He paused at your jawline as he pressed a tight smile against your skin, nibbling at the flesh.

“You’re only mine.”

find my masterlist here

#jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller x you #jax teller fiction #jax teller smut #reads writes #sons of anarchy #soa #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #jax teller morrow #jax teller fic #jax teller boyfriend #jax x reader #jax teller imagine #jax teller dom #sons of anarchy smut #sons of anarchy one shot

[pumpkin-writes]

i'm sorry

jax teller x reader

warnings: mature language, some mildly steamy smoochin', mostly just soft, fluffy, sappy jax. you know, what the show robbed us of.

word count: 1.1k

notes: as requested by @thisreadswhatever

i hope you enjoy, love! i had so much fun writing this 🤭 thank you again so much for your request & positive feedback on my other jax stuff ❤️

you had hardly slept. you tossed and you turned, you stared at the ceiling, you stared at the empty space in the bed that jax normally slept in. the two of you fought for hours the previous night, and ended up going to bed angry. you never went to bed angry at each other, and really you two didn't fight. but with all of the stress of the club, jax hadn't been himself lately, and he unfortunately took it out on you after dinner last night. what started as an admittedly snide comment from you about dirty dishes or something irrelevantly domestic like that turned into a screaming match between the two of you. you spewed things like "arrogant" and "mama's boy" at him, you finally broke down and told him how much you hated that he never talked to you about club stuff. and when he erupted back, he called you things like "nosey" and "ungrateful" all things that stung when you heard them, but what got you is when he called you a bitch. it wasn't what you were used to from him by any means, he typically adorned you with pet names and practically worshipped the ground you walked on.

jax knew he fucked up, the second the word left his lips. things with the club had really been getting to him, and suddenly, he felt like his world was falling apart. all his knew was the sons of anarchy, it was his legacy. but since he'd found and read his father's journals, he wasn't so sure of that anymore. he wasn't sure of most things, and he hated the uncertainty. he hated how on edge he'd been lately, working late, sometimes not even getting a chance to see you before you were off to bed. but he always came in and slipped under the covers with you and wrapped you up in his arms. god, he wished that's how last night went. just when he thought he'd been lucky enough to spend the evening with you having dinner, he had to go and fuck it up. he didn't even realize how fired up he'd gotten and how out of hand your argument got until he saw tears instantly swell up in your eyes in reaction to him calling you a bitch.

he took the liberty of sleeping on the couch, not knowing where to begin when it came to his apology. just as you barely slept, neither did jax. instead, he stared at the ceiling until the sun came up, just thinking about how he could make this up to you. was he really willing to lose you over an argument? an argument that shouldn't have even happened, he thought, but either way, the answer was absolutely not. by the time the birds started to chirp outside, he couldn't wait anymore. if he was going to do this, it had to be now, while everything he wanted to say was still fresh in his brain.

the sound of the bedroom door creaking open behind you made you go stiff. should you just act like you're asleep? before you could even decide, you felt the familiar feeling of the duvet lifting and jax sneaking under it. you bit your lip, unsure if you should just turn around and say something; tell him to leave, or tell him how upset you still were. but you stayed frozen on your side, waiting for his next move. that's when you felt him scooting closer in toward you, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. with a final, swift movement, he'd wrapped his arms around you and pulled your body flush against his.

"good morningggg," his voice was low, yet still possessed a sing-song tone that made the corner of your lips start to curl up into a smile. his hand started to work it's way up, then so gently down your arm, and jax found himself nuzzled into the crook of your neck. "i know you're awake." he mumbled into your skin before pressing a kiss to your neck, sending shivers down your spine, another kiss following not a moment after. "i'm sorry."

you sighed and finally gave up. you couldn't just sit there and pretend to sleep while he was trying so hard to get you to face him. although you still felt conflicted about all that had been said the night before, you hated not talking to him. not sleeping beside him. and he knew just how to make you weak, peppering your neck and shoulder with more and more kisses. it was kind of nice to have him so desperate for your attention and forgiveness. maybe you'd let him keep trying to prove how sorry he really was.

you shifted a bit in his grip before fluttering your eyes open to meet his baby blues. how are you supposed to stay mad at at face like that? but you kept it together, following through on making him work for it. "are you now?" the tone of your voice was so very obviously teasing him, and he knew it once he saw the cocky smirk you sported. if you wanted to play this game, he was down. "i am so," he began, all while he snaked his arms around your waist entirely, grabbing a proper hold of you. "so, so," his head dipped down and your foreheads met in the middle, "so sorry." seeing jax this way made you gush on the inside. you were starting to feel bad, almost, and you didn't see yourself playing hard to get much longer.

you were practically stuck in jax's arms, he'd been holding onto you pretty firmly and didn't intend on letting you go until he made things right with you. you'd been eye to eye, faces only inches from one another and all you could think about was his lips. his soft, beautiful, generous lips that you just couldn't take your eyes off of. and jax noticed, of course he did. he knew you wanted to kiss him, or him to kiss you, and hell, your wish was his command; no need to say it out loud.

without another second of hesitation, jax leaned into you and pushed his lips to yours hungrily. it's all you need to give in and accept his apology, returning his energy and moving in synchronization. you felt him softly bite your bottom lip, and it incites a soft moan to escape from your lip. you feel jax smile against your lips before pulling back from you, leaving you longing for him to keep going. "i knew i could make it up to you." his words made you roll your eyes, and all you could say in response was what you'd already been thinking all morning. "maybe you should be sorry more often."

#jax teller #jax teller one shot #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy one shot #jax teller x reader #mine

[laurfilijames]

Under His Kutte

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 3.2k

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See you later, Teller.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Isn’t half the fun undressing me?”

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

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

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

“Now, get naked.”

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

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

“That’s not naked, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Happy now?” he chuckled.

You nodded, “Mhm. Are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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Taglist: @sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @rhoorl

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

[rebelwrites]

IM HERE FOR THE FLASH FIC!!

I’ve been craving some Jax Teller. I need something tender and sweet, but in character. Something to make me feel safe and wanted, but not simply desired. Idc what you write or how you do it because I know it’s going to be 👌

You Aren’t Meant To Be Back Until Christmas Eve

Jax Teller x Reader

This is a flash fic so it hasn’t been edited. It’s also good to be back writing again 🥺

It was the week leading up to Christmas and to say you were rushed off your feet was a complete understatement. This was your favorite time of year, even though your stress levels were through the roof, you practically lived off coffee and energy drinks and hardly saw your boyfriend Jax. You knew he understood why you were so absent in the run up to the festive season, the small bakery had queues running down the street from mid October.

Leaning against the stainless steel counter, you took a deep breath looking at the stack of cookie trays that were cooling waiting to be iced ready for the morning rush. Your body ached to where all you wanted to do was sink into a scalding hot bath, not moving until the hot water eased your aching muscles.

The sound of your phone echoing around the industrial supplied kitchen pulled you from any thoughts, you knew it would be Jax, it always was this time of night. No matter what time you were working he would always drop you a call to see how you were getting on, even when he was on runs with the club he would always make a point of calling you. Brushing the flour on the front of your jeans you grabbed your phone, quickly answering the call before pressing the device against your ear.

“Is it a late one again Darlin’?” Your boyfriend hummed, you could hear the tiredness hanging from his words, this last run for the club must have taken more of a toll on him this time.

“I think I’m still gonna be here come opening,” you sighed, letting your gaze fall to the countertop. “Don’t get me wrong I love Christmas and the bakery but I just want to spend time with you.”

“The money is nice as well,” he chuckled, causing the corners of your lips to tug into a small smile. You knew how much the bakery meant to not only Jax but the club too. This was one of the first legitimate businesses that was set up, Jax surprised you one day by showing the vacant lot and the new sign he had designed, from that day the “From Anarchy, With Love” bakery was born.

“How was the run?” You asked, pulling the phone away from you ear, putting in on speaker so you could be free to move around the kitchen.

“Long as fuck,” he groaned, you knew he would be running he hand across his face as he spoke. “I am so fuckin’ done with the muling, it is just getting more risky with each run,” he mumbled, with each word he spoke you could hear the pain in his voice.

Before he could carry on the sound of someone pounding at the front door gained my full attention. “Hold on baby, I swear someone is trying to put their fist through the front door of the bakery,” you huffed in annoyance. It was probably one customer trying their luck to see if they could get their order early. But that didn’t stop you from reaching into the cupboard by the doorway of the kitchen, grabbing my hand gun, flicking the safety off before tucking it into the bank of my jeans. One thing was for sure when it came to being Teller’s old lady, you was never without protection, whether this was in the form of a 9mm, a member of the club or Jax.

As you moved through the building, the knocking got louder and more persistent. “Bloody hell, don’t punch my door in, it never hurt you,” you scoffed, fishing the keys out of the pocket of Jax’s hoodie.

You felt myself fumbling with all the locks, once again thanks to Jax being over protective, soon enough the door was finally unlocked and the moment you pulled the heavy wooden door you dropped the set of keys on the floor as you saw your boyfriend leaving against the brick entrance.

“Hey Darlin’,” he hummed, quickly closing the gap between the two of you, engulfing you into his arms. The feeling of his muscular arms wrapping around your body caused all the stress to dissolve. “Fuck, I missed you,” he whispered against your hair, guiding you further into the shop before kicking the door closed with his foot.

“You aren’t meant to be back until Christmas eve,” you breathed, pulling back slightly so you could take in the look of your tired man. Somehow you freed one of your arms, allowing you to reach up brushing your fingers against his cheek. “Not that I am complaining nevertheless, what happened Jaxy?”

The fact you were greeted with a moment of silence told you everything, you knew things were rocky with Clay, no one knew the toll that everything was taking on the blond nuzzling his face into your shoulder. He wouldn’t let the outside world see him like this, but with you he felt he could let the walls come crumbling down, allowing him to process all the emotions he was feeling, and he knew his feelings would be taken seriously.

“Clay is going off on one again, his hands are getting worse and he has gone behind all of our back and the club is now in a deep hole with the cartel,” he had a wobble in his tone as he spoke, he was angry about the whole situation and I couldn’t blame him, I would be to. “I just needed my girl.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, to the world he was the vice president of a violent club but behind closed doors he was just a puppy wanting love.

“I know you need to work so I can’t take you to the Christmas market I know you want to go to but I have brought take out,” he hummed, holding up the plastic carrier bag you had completely missed when he first came into the bakery, “and I thought we could spend the night icing them amazing cookie, like we did when we were getting this place ready for the opening.”

Tears threatened to spill over your lash line, you had never been with someone who would abandon everything just because they wanted to spend time with you, even if that meant that they would be working till the sun came up.

“You know I want the cookies to be edible and sellable right?” You smirked, cocking your brow at him.

“Shut up and get your ass in that kitchen, Darlin’”

@chibsytelford @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @withmyteeth @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @princess76179 @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @princess76179 @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @lmao-liz @babypink224221 @daddysgirl2857 @bravo-four-seal-team @garbinge @pedrohoe04 @littlekittymeow @nichia88-blog @zozebo

#sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine

[taintandviolent]

bend without breaking ; Jimmy Darling x reader

summary and word count: 4.4K! requested by @sugarr-and-spicee. you get jealous of Maggie Esmeralda, and decide to give Jimmy a taste of his own medicine. Angst, smut and a little fluff ensues.

w a r n i n g s: contortionist!reader, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, angst, jealousy themes, rough sex, alcohol mention, clunky writing, uhhhhhhhh Jimmy being real handsy and kinda' manhandling reader a bit. maggie esmeralda hate.

a/n: written partially at work, so if it's clunky or disjointed I apologize!! divder by cafekitsune!

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here!

It's not like you owned him or anything. It's not even like he really even cared about you outside of the scope of the general, amiable 'member of the troupe' kind of relationship. Now, of age, he flirted with you casually, like he did all the girls, but you, as delusional as it may have been, thought you had something special – because boy, oh boy, did you care about him. You were obsessed with Jimmy Darling, in all ways possible. 

You'd grown up alongside him, from the age of sixteen when you got kicked out for a plethora of reasons, and ran away to the traveling freak show that was opportunely in town. It had taken the owner, Elsa Mars, almost all day to be convinced, but when you bent over backwards, putting your head through your legs and pleaded with her upside down, a sly smile spread across her thin, aging lips.

You thought that Jimmy might’ve fancied you – that was until Maggie came along. The liar. The fraud. The insolent little brat that she was. She’d taken a liking to Jimmy, and seemed to snatch up every second he was alone – something that you used to do. He had fallen for her fortune teller act, but you certainly hadn’t. Your aunt had been a fortune teller and had possessed a true and genuine gift. This broad did nothing but spin silly little tales about misfortune and good luck, generic things that any person could identify with. 

You’d decided to test the waters one hot summer afternoon. It was before the show, and Jimmy was preoccupied setting up the cash box. With your skirt in your hand, swishing it back and forth, you strolled up to him feeling as giddy as ever. It was rare that you didn’t feel bubbly when you were around him – he had that effect on you. Before you spoke, you took in his appearance; a sheen of glistening sweat covered his bare, tanned shoulders, his caramel-coloured locks hung in a cluster on his forehead, and his dark, brown eyes swept over the cash as he counted it, arranging the tickets neatly next to the box. 

“Hey Jimmy,” you cooed. “Need any help?”

Without looking up, he replied: “Nah, doll. I’m just about finished.” 

“Well, maybe I could help you with whatever you’re doing next…” 

“If I need ya’, I’ll find ya, sweetheart.” 

“Or you could find Maggie.” 

“She’s in her trailer.” 

Your heart quivered and sunk, cracking like a delicate porcelain vase. He already knew; he’d already found her. 

“Of course she is, and of course you’d know that.” 

He grinned crookedly, exhaled out of his nose and shut the cash box, turning the key. He looked at you then, with a pointed gaze. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean? Huh?” 

Your brows rose high on your head, feigning innocence. He, of course, with all his charm and wit, saw right through it. You didn’t care. “Oh, nothing , Jimmy. Nothing at all.” 

“Sure, dollface, sure. You wouldn’t be jealous, now would ya?” 

“Of her? I’d be more jealous of a drowned rat in a sewer than I would be of Maggie.”

With that, you stomped off, your steps crunching the tall grasses that covered the field you called home for this month. Your heart was pounding, your cheeks had flushed. Feeling like a fool, you marched right to your trailer, taking great care to slam the door as hard as you could. 

You spun around, facing the door as thought he was behind it. “How dare he think I’m jealous of her ! That horrible woman, and he thinks – oooooh! ” You clenched your fists, shaking them at the door. 

It had taken you two hours to calm down. Two hours of pacing your small bedroom, fussing with your appearance and reading a magazine you’d picked up in town last week. It also took you two hours to come up with what you thought was the revenge plan of the century. 

An hour later, you found yourself at the local diner, schmoozing with a cute young man in his early twenties. You’d batted your fluffy lashes and pouted your lips and with hardly a few words, you had him wrapped around your manicured finger. He’d bought you a milkshake, which you were nursing, taking small sips in between answers.

“You’re sure you won’t run out of this diner screaming?” 

“No - no. I promise I won’t.” 

“I’m a travelling performer… I’m only here for a few more weeks. I work at the Freak Show in the field down the road.”

“What do you do?” He asked, cautiously, looking you over your body with a suddenly very critical eye. To most, you looked normal . Sure, you were a little longer and lithe than some girls your age, but you didn’t fit the bill of a freak. That was until you bent and contorted your body into the most mystifying, inappropriate positions that they had ever seen a woman in. 

“I’m a…” you leaned in, dipping your chin to your chest, keeping your gaze sternly locked on his. “A… contortionist.” 

“A what?” 

Oh, what a dumb bunny . He was cute, you’d give him that; his pretty, sea-blue eyes, pink lips and dirty blonde hair that had been perfectly styled. The clincher was that he had two very nice hands – strong, and veiny. The truth of the matter was that you preferred Jimmy Darling’s hands – but he didn’t need to know that. To him, this would be a threat, and if everything went according to plan, Jimmy would be red with anger, furiously jealous and looking as though he must bust a vein. 

“I’m flexible. Very flexible.” 

His eyes lit up. It was a predictable response, and one you’d seen before. Men were grotesque, they liked the idea of bending a woman into unique positions like a jointed doll, just to see her body in a fresh, new way. They liked the thought of fucking you while you were bent over backwards, folded up neatly. 

The waitress brought your food; you’d only ordered a side of fries, which you dipped into the remainder of your shake. A habit that you’d learned from Amazon Eve – it was easily the most delicious combo you’d ever tasted. As you two ate, the conversation drifted naturally. You laid on the charm heavy. Every other response contained a compliment, telling him how handsome he was, how you’d never seen a boy as cute, so on and so forth. He fell for it hook, line and sinker. And you. 

Afterwards, he paid and held the door open for you. As any gentleman should, he wasn’t earning any points with you. Only one man could… 

“Can I come see your show?” He asked, playing idly with your fingers.

You reached over and yanked one of the flyers from the nearby telephone pole, folded it in fours, and pressed your lips to the paper, leaving a crimson mark. You tucked it in the man’s shirt pocket. 

“See you tonight. Tell ‘em that I sent you. Front row seats.” 

He stammered out an agreement, looking flustered. With a wink, you were sauntering back down the sidewalk. The great big sun, orange and warm, was making its heavy, tired descent back into the horizon, and you quickened your pace. The last thing you needed was Elsa being upset at your disappearance.

As you made your way back to the field, you hummed the song that was playing in the diner and skipped. There was something to be said about the butterflies in your stomach, though you couldn’t discern whether or not they were for the fact that you were going to see that man in the audience. You suspected not. Jimmy Darling would be jealous and that was the thought that sent you. 

Later that night, as the calliope played, your hands glided up over the curves of your thighs, and over your sides, gracefully, like a burlesque performer teasing a reveal. With one movement, you brought your leg up to your head, pulling it tight. A few oooh’s and chortling chuckles from men in the audience dotted the room. With floaty, delicate movements, you slid down into the splits, never losing your bright smile in the process. More pleased reactions and some applause. You crossed the stage in backbends, working the crowd as they cheered for you. 

At the final backbend, you sunk to your stomach, laying on the floor. You were just nearly at the edge of the stage, and directly in front of you was your diner boy. His eyes were locked on you, enchanted, enrapt and obsessed like a dog staring at a fresh cut of sirloin. With a come-hither smile, you reached out and swept your hand along his jawline before tapping his chin with a single finger. You sucked in a deep breath and brought your legs forward, curving your spine around until your feet were planted on either side of your face. 

The crowd gasped in horror, and little girls shielded their eyes, expecting to hear the dull crack of your spine as it snapped in two. But Diner Boy was fascinated, and still staring at you. He was looking at your body, the unnatural curve of it, and the way that you’d brought your cunt somehow closer to his face. As the seconds passed, he looked more and more like a dog to you, hungry and slobbering. 

You smiled, scanning the crowd again. Your eyes drifted to the corner of the stage, where Jimmy stood against one of the support poles, arms crossed. At least, despite Maggie, he’d retained his habit of watching every performance you did – though this one, he didn’t look as delighted with. You could tell by the way the corners of his mouth were pointed down in an angry frown, his eyes narrowing at the little things you did to entice Diner Boy. You grinned at Jimmy, acknowledging him and tapped the toes of your shoes childishly against the stage before unfolding your body again. 

The rest of your show finished without a hitch, and Diner Boy played his part very well. He took in every moment, and at one point, when you reached your hand out to him, he interlaced his fingers with yours. A nice touch. When you looked back to where Jimmy was, he was gone. You smiled inwardly, prideful and gratified by the way your devious little plan had gone.

As soon as you went off-stage, Jimmy grabbed you by your arm, gripping your bicep hard. Almost too hard. You winced. “What was that about?” 

“What? I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” Casually, you yanked your arm from his grip and began to polish your nails on the fabric of your shirt. 

“Cut it out! You know what. Who was the guy in the audience? You sure were payin’ him a lot of attention.” 

His words, though loud, were a little slurred, his breath smelled of alcohol; you could tell that he'd taken a few gulps of liquid confidence before approaching you. You didn't mind; your father used to say that the truth came out with booze. You hoped that would remain true with Jimmy and he'd spill his guts to you.

“Just someone I met at the diner, Jimmy. Why are you getting so heated over him? You flirt with girls in the audience all the time.” 

“It’s part of the act, doll! You know I have to act a certain way, I can’t –” 

“Can’t what? Stand to love me?” 

Jimmy stopped abruptly, his mouth hanging slack. His chest rose and fell with hot, angry breaths.

"Just because I can bend without breaking doesn't mean my heart can, Jimmy."

“Dollface, wait.” 

“No.” 

You pushed yourself through the flaps of the tent, storming off towards your trailer. Jimmy followed close behind, calling your name.

“Doll, c’mon, hang on a minute!” 

“No, Jimmy. Maybe Maggie can hang on a minute .” 

“Hey!” He bellowed, catching your arm again. You pressed your back against your trailer’s door, again, yanking it away from him and crossing them tightly across your chest. Your heart thudded against your ribs, deeply delighted at the fact that he was chasing you, pursuing you with an overbearing jealousy. 

“What.” 

“Can we just…” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “...talk about this a second?” 

“Sure.” You snapped. 

Jimmy’s black coffee eyes scanned over you, searching your face for some semblance of softness. He found nothing but a tightly pressed line of lips and a cold gaze.  

“What’s your problem, huh? I can’t flirt with other guys?” you finally asked, your stern voice shattering the awkward silence. 

He shook his head, almost sheepishly. “I don’t like seein’ it. I know they don’t care about you.”

“And you do?” 

Jimmy swallowed again, forcing the lump in his throat down. For the past several years, you’d been a constant in his life, by his side, and taking all his showman flirtations in stride. You’d never once fired back at him, and he thought that it was because you could care less about what he did or who he flirted with. Against the voices in his head, Jimmy pacified the anger in his gut by leaning forward to crush his lips against your red ones, tasting the sweetness of whatever gum you’d been chewing before the show. 

He lingered there a moment before his conjoined digits made their way up your waist, gripping it softly. He waited for you to soften, to ease into his kiss, but you didn’t. You stood your ground, arms still pressed against your breasts. You intentionally filled your mind with thoughts of Maggie Esmeralda and how close he’d gotten with her. You thought of all the times that he flirted with girls in the audience, damn near kissing them with how far he’d lean off stage during his song. 

“Baby, please…” You blinked. His low, smooth voice pulled you out of your hateful thoughts.

With a heavy sigh, you murmured, “I want to hear you say it, Jimmy.” 

“Say what?” 

“You know what.” 

The muscles in his jaw fluttered as he clenched them, grinding his teeth hard. Jimmy spent his whole life being put on the spot, but it never got any easier. Especially not in front of you – the girl he’d fallen hardest for. He inhaled, puffing his chest out and mustering up all the confidence he had. 

“I don’t like seein’ you flirt with other guys… ‘cause… I wish it was me.” 

“Who’s jealous now, huh?”

“I am.” He looked at your lips, then back up to your eyes. A cricket started off somewhere in the field, and your attention flitted off towards it, only to have Jimmy’s large, warm hand bring you back. “Hey.” 

He kissed you again, his strong tongue darting out to taste you again, his plush lips closing around your bottom lip to suck it gently. This time, an undulating warmth erupted deep in your core. You couldn’t help but melt into him and your arms relinquished their position, dropping heavily to your sides. Your fingers reach forward to claw at his shirt, just above the waistline of his jeans and instead latch onto his belt loops, pulling him closer at the hips.

You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, swirling your tongue with his. Mingled with his personal taste, he tasted like warm honey and the liquor you smelled on his breath earlier. Not always admirable, it was something that you knew him to dabble in when his mother wasn’t looking. More often than not, he’d sneak some booze, saying it calmed his nerves before and after shows. You didn’t mind; in fact, you wondered what it would be like to have a drunk Jimmy, sloppy and unable to control himself around you. 

“I’ve waited a long time for this…” you broke the kiss, breathlessly whispering over his lips.

“Me too, honey. Me too.”  

Keeping your eyes on him, you blindly felt behind your back, where the handle of your trailer was digging into your soft flesh. You yanked it open, and took a fistful of Jimmy Darling’s shirt, tugging him inside. 

It was like someone had fired a gun and Jimmy was a racehorse. He charged at you, his big, conjoined fingers wrapping tightly around your hips on either side, kneading the flesh like dough. He kissed you again, hot and in a hurry, like you only had a few minutes to do whatever it was you were going to do. With your hands on his pectoral muscles, you pushed him off gently, just enough to get a look at his face. 

He, being mere centimeters from your breasts, wasn’t looking at your face. His attention was clearly elsewhere. A low, rumbling groan vibrated through his throat as he craned forward to kiss your skin. 

“Jimmy, baby, slow down…” 

Between feverish kisses to your neck and chest, he muttered: “I can’t, I’m sorry.” 

He had you where he wanted you, after so long, and he wasn’t going to let that slip through his fingers this time. Jimmy muscled you backwards, urging you towards the small hallway where your bedroom was. He was all hard-working muscle. Having done set-up for so many years  had lined his body in bulky strength, the kind of strength that you only get from hard labour. So, when he started guiding you backwards, you could do little to protest. 

“Jimmy, my god, what’s the rush?” 

“I want you bad, baby… bad.” As proof, he urged his hips against yours; the hot rigidness of his erection pressing into your hip bone. You let out a surprised mewl, and wrapped your arms around his warm neck, fingers slipping into his short-cut hair. His lips found yours again as the backs of your thighs hit the mattress. He kissed once and playfully, shoved you down. You bounced twice on the bed, looking up at him with a heavy, wanton gaze. 

“I’m all yours, Jimmy Darling. All yours.” 

Jimmy didn’t say anything, just sunk to his knees, his hands finding the stretchy hem of your sequined shorts. He pulled them down in a swift jerk, before moving right back up to your waist. Those striped tights were next. He rolled them down off your thighs and over your knees; which fell apart, exposing the already-damp satin of your underwear. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him as he worked.

He was in too much of a hurry to bother taking off your shirt, instead just gathering the fabric and pushing it up over your breasts, letting them bounce free. He may have been raised a gentleman, but he wasn't immune to the tantalizing sight of some tits -- especially when they belonged to a girl he'd been lusting over for months now. 

"God damn, baby. Look at those." 

You couldn't help but blush, feeling your cheeks grow hot at his compliments. You bowed your head, casting your eyes to the floor. You were so stern before -- what had happened? Silly question. You knew; he was undressing you in your trailer, all that confidence had melted away underneath his strong, fused fingers.

“Jimmy, promise you won’t flirt with Maggie anymore…” 

He scoffed. “She’s nothin’ to me, honey. Gals like her are a dime a dozen.” He pressed his lips to your kneecaps before kissing his way up your thighs.  You whimpered, your head lolling heavily back between your shoulders. You thought about revealing that she wasn’t a real fortune teller, but Jimmy’s mouth neared your cunt, and the thought disintegrated. 

“...my god…” you breathed, your lids drifting shut. Jimmy nuzzled his face and lips against your soft mound, the hard bridge of his nose teasing at your soaked slit.

“You like that, baby?” 

You nodded, again, whimpering. He pressed his fingers slowly against your soft mound, over the fabric. Feeling the puddle that had settled into your underwear made Jimmy clench his teeth, hissing loud through them. With one hand, Jimmy maneuvered your underwear down your thighs. Once they were off, he tossed them carelessly behind him – you’d find them a day later in your kitchen sink. Now exposed, you gazed at him sheepishly, for the first time since he'd started kissing you. His eyes fixated on the wetness that glistened in the low-light of the trailer.

"I had no idea..." he said, the pad of his thumb sweeping over your clit with just enough pressure to make you writhe in lustful agony, aching desperately. 

"No idea what?" You breathed.

"To be honest with you, that you liked me that much..." 

You leaned forward, taking his chin into the palm of your hand. You stroked it gently, falling deep into his eyes. "Jimmy... I've wanted you since before I could have you." 

You looked on at his face in admiration as the thoughts played out, the realization of what you meant dawning on him. He grinned his bright, lopsided grin and his large hands slid up your legs, caressing the outside of your thighs thoughtfully.

"Baaaby," he hummed before dipping his head down. You gasped, your lids drifting shut in ecstasy as you felt his breath rush over you -- you knew what was coming; one deep sweep of his tongue along the length of your cunt, between your folds to taste you, to savour your silken wetness. Burying his nose in your pussy, Jimmy alternated between using the strong tip of his tongue to flick at your sensitive spots and lapping at your clit with a flattened, thick tongue. Adventurous and hungry, he'd venture further down to get a mouthful of your sweet, heady wetness and would murmur how good you tasted into your cunt -- the vibrations of his voice made you shiver every time. 

After a few minutes of this, you felt the inner core of your legs begin to shake every time he made contact with your clit, your tummy tightening in a warning clench. You reached forward, gripping his head on either side, yanking him softly off your cunt.

To your relief, he straightened up, chin glistening with your fluids. He swallowed you down, growling in satisfaction; the intimacy of tasting your lover's ejaculate was unparalleled, and when your eyes finally opened, they met Jimmy's lust blown ones. He was ready, and so were you. 

"Fuck me," you said, nodding. 

Jimmy made quick work of undressing, pulling his briefs down over his ass cheeks before he lined his red-tipped cock up with your leaking slit, bumping into the sensitive bundle of nerves a few times before he stuck you. He didn't ease in, just bottomed out and you let out a pleasurable yowl, tossing your head back at the sensation of being so full as his thick cock violated you, slipping against your slick walls. He found a rhythm, thrusting his cock up into you as deep as he could. You clenched hard around him, pulling a groan from deep within his chest. He pulled out, looking down at your sopping wet and now reddened cunt.

"'Hoh' my god, baby... do that again." 

He gripped your hips hard, pulling you roughly onto his cock. You clenched again, swallowing him into you. The tip disappeared inside you, hot and leaking, and he held himself there, completely engrossed in the sensations. You clenched again, pulling him further in and Jimmy's head fell back, his hips bucking hard out of instinct. You both found a hurried rhythm, grinding and rolling against each other with voracious desire. 

As he thrust into you, Jimmy watched you intently, holding onto you tight, his thumbs working your hips, kneading them in small circles. He looked starved for your image, the way that his eyes climbed from your hips to your breasts to your face and back down again. You let out a particularly ecstasy-ridden moan, and Jimmy dug his fingers into your hips. 

Rocked back and forth with the strength of his thrusts, you look down, watching as his thick cock pumped in and out of you. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, and Jimmy's dark eyes followed them as they moved.   

"Huuuh... I'm gonna' lose it, baby... you feel so god damned good..."

"Give it to me," you coax, moaning deeply. His thrusts get faster, more feverish and uneven, and before you can say another word, his expression contorted, brows pulling together in pleasured agony. You felt the warmth of his cum as he filled you up with a few spurts, but kept pumping until it leaked out the sides, groaning deeply. Your orgasm raced towards you quickly after that, pulsing around him in a hungry grip. 

With a heavy sigh, Jimmy pulled his softening cock from your cunt and flopped heavily onto the bed onto his back. Your chest rose and fell with every laboured breath, sweat streaming from every pore. Both of you, collapsed in lust, saying nothing, just enjoying the warm scent of sex that lingered in the air. Soon, your sappy gaze drifted from the ceiling to Jimmy. His fawn coloured hair clung to his forehead in sweaty clumps, his cheeks flushed. You'd done that. Made him jealous until he fucked you silly. You smiled inwardly, and adjusted your head on the small mattress. 

"Turn the fan on, Jimmy, it's hot." 

Jimmy leaned over, flipping the small metal switch. The fan rattled to life, blades spinning and washing your sweaty skin with a soft breeze of cooler air. He leaned back, enjoying the change in temperature. 

"I meant what I said, dollface. Maggie's nothin' to me now that we're uh..." 

You pressed your lips against his softly, smiling into the kiss. "We're what?" 

"Y'know..." 

"Fucking each other like teenagers?" 

"More than that, baby. More than that."

You weren't sure what that meant yet, but you weren't about to question a bit of it. You paused, furrowing your brows. You realized that Diner Boy had probably expected to see you after the show, but you hadn't shown. You hadn't even thought about him, far too busy with Jimmy's lips to even remember he was there.

"What?" Jimmy asked, concerned.

"I wonder if he was waiting for me..."

"I hope he was, and I hope he figured out real quick that you weren't comin'."

You kissed him again, inhaling his scent. Jimmy hummed into your lips, pulling you atop of him, his face bright with adoration.

He stayed in your trailer that night, and you two fucked each other, explored each other's bodies repeatedly. When the morning sun peeked through your lacy curtains and your lids peeled apart, a yawn ripping through your mouth... you wondered if Maggie Esmeralda saw that coming.

#Jimmy Darling #Jimmy Darling x you #Jimmy Darling x reader #AHS Freak Show #ahs freakshow #myfics #requests

[marvelous-slut]

Revenge - Happy Lowman

No lie, Better than Revenge by Taylor Swift was the inspiration for this! Lmao. Hope you all enjoy xx

Being the sister of Jax Teller had some advantages, you got to spend lots of time at the club house. Lots of time talking up the scariest member or the MC, Happy Lowman. There was something about him that you couldn’t shake feelings for, you didn’t know if it was that he was mysterious and quiet, or that he’d kill at the drop of a hat. It gave you a strange feeling in your stomach thinking about having him as yours, how you’d never have to worry about anyone coming for you because they’d have to pay the price with him.

Those thoughts all were nice while they lasted.

You walked into the clubhouse, it’s early in the morning and you decided to bring breakfast by. Jax always complimented your cooking and once Happy tried it he did too. “Makes me think of my mommas.” He would say. You see Jax sitting on the bar stool, cigarette in hand.

“Hey sister.” He says, reaching out his hands to grab the platter. He knows what you’re about to ask and he doesn’t want to tell you what he knows.

“Hey, you seen Happy?” You ask, feeling that funny feeling turning in your stomach. He sighs, deciding he should say nothing instead of lying or telling the truth. You look at him puzzled, until you see who comes down the hall. Ima. She’s wearing Happy’s gray reaper shirt, smiling as she knows what she’s done. She can see the hurt all over your face. You and Ima haven’t gotten along since you told her she was a skank and to leave Jax and Tara alone. This was her way of giving you some pay back. She would come to the club with Lyla, seeing how you swooned over Happy. How the light shined in your eyes when you talked to him.

“Good morning!” She says, cheerful to see the pain she’s caused. Jax shakes his head and puts out his cigarette.

“Go get your shit and get the fuck out.” He says to her, you can’t stay here any longer. You dart out the door, ready to be home. Once you get to your car, you ponder for a moment. No, she will not get the best of you. If you knew how to do anything, it was how to get the last world. The last laugh. You grin, thinking of the perfect way to give her some pay back.

It is a bright and sunny day in Charming, a perfect day really. You head down to Luanns porn studio to extract your revenge on Ima. The brownies in your hands are still fresh, topped with a bow and a card you had Jax write out. It reads “for someone special.” No name mentioned, but you knew Ima would get a kick thinking a man had took time to bake for her. Really, you had done the baking, cracking eggs and measuring flour perfectly. Cutting up the chocolate laxatives so fine you would never be able to tell they were a special add in. You sit the brownies in-front of her door and knock, running off. It’s about an hour before she’s due to shoot, you know she’s going to eat one because as you’ve seen at the clubhouse she can’t resist chocolate sweets. Just like she couldn’t resist a man in a kutte, or a man who had an old lady. She’d be drawn to them like flies to shit.

The shoot begins, it’s your average porno shoot. Guy and girl, nothing special. Before Ima can move, you see the look on her face. You know the laxatives have hit her stomach, making it rumble. Before she can go anywhere, brown liquid run down her leg and so do the tears from her eyes. You smile, watching the chaos unfold. “Ew!” Her partner for todays shoot yells out, running away from the havoc her bowels have let out. She shouldn’t have fucked with your brother and his family, but she definitely shouldn’t have fucked with what was yours. Well, what you were trying to make yours. She’s screaming as she runs back to her room, hopefully she’ll be on the shitter for hours.

“My my, my sister is an evil genius.” You smile at Jax, patting him on the shoulder.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Jackson!” You smirk as you speak, smiling softly. He lets you read a message from Tara.

“So proud of her. Getting some revenge for the both of us.” It reads. You smile, you were glad to give Ima a small form of payback. Gemma and Tara shooting up her car obviously didn’t send the message to her, and maybe this wouldn’t either but you felt better. You feel your stomach sink as you see Happy approach you. You want to run away, but you stand as still as a statue. He walks over to you, standing in-front of you, unsure if he was angry or somewhat amused.

“That you?” He asks, word travels fast at the club house. Especially when Tig sees some drama unfold. You assumed he had let Happy know about your tears and running out when you saw Ima in Happys shirt.

“Guess she has a bad stomach.” You say, he smirks, putting his arm around you.

“You know, all you had to do was say you wanted to be my old lady.” You perk up, looking at him with a smile plastered all over your face. “I don’t show emotions good, don’t read them well either.” After Tig informed Happy of the morning incident, he knew why you were so upset. It had to be because you had feelings for him that you hadn’t expressed. “Come on girl, let’s go back to the club house, smells like shit in here.” You giggle, walking along side of him with his arm reach over your shoulder.

“Oh God! Come on people, it’s a bodily function!” Luann yells out, trying to get her actors and actress under control.

“Yeah, but my bodily function ain’t ever come out like that!” Bobby shouts out as the MC chuckles behind him.

Revenge. It’s a sweet, sweet thing.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy x reader #happy lowman #happy lowman soa #happy lowman x reader #happy lowman x you #happy lowman imagine #sons of anarchy imagine

[qqueenofhades]

Do you have any idea why people are so fixated on Biden’s age but not Trumps? I know he’s 81, but Trump isn’t exactly far behind at 77: in fact he’s the second oldest. This keeps stumping me: it’s not a big gap in age

There are a few reasons for this, yes. As you might imagine, all of them are very stupid.

First and most critically is the way Trump's violent extremism has been completely neutered, mainlined, and normalized by the mainstream media. That's why we still have said media largely treating this as a normal presidential election, instead of that of a successful incumbent against literally the most deranged, unfit, treasonous, criminally and civilly liable, already-led-an-attempted-coup, deep-in-hock-to-Russia, adjudicated rapist, 91-felony-counts-indicted career cheater, grifter, and failed businessman who nonetheless appeals to the still-very-powerful isolationist, racist, white supremacist, and Christian nationalist elements in this country. Crucially, he also appeals to the billionaire class that owns the media and who will benefit from Trumpian tax, economic, and labor policies (especially now that Biden used the SOTU to once more call for a minimum 25% corporate/billionaire tax rate). The media also openly wants Trump back in office, as all the shitass insane things he did (and will do) are good for ratings, and allows them to act like the Principled Truth Tellers, instead of shilling so hard for a greasy orange fascist that we may well lose our 250+ year old democratic republic if he, God forbid, is elected again. Profit is more, well, profitable than truthful reporting, so the media has been completely disincentivized to cover this in any accurate way. We presume they will all wake up with shocked Pikachu faces when Trump packs them off to concentration camps with everyone else he hates, as he has openly promised to do.

Because we're also starting from an underlying premise that everything is the Democrats' fault, this means the party should be blamed for running said successful incumbent for reelection, even if he has low poll numbers which have in fact largely been produced by the media's relentlessly stupid and dishonest coverage. I was reading an article in the AP today about how 15 major student/youth groups have endorsed Biden and plan to work for his reelection; even so, the author could.not.stop going on and on about how Zomgz Old Biden was and how supposedly most Americans thought he was mentally unfit for the job (which is a straight-up lie produced by the endless "Zomgz Biden Old!!!!" handwringing have been subjected to without end. Weird how that works). That is also why we have all those idiotic "Biden should step down!!!" opinion pieces by Very Smart Pundits, notwithstanding the fact that a) it would be completely insane, b) it would be completely insane, and c) somehow nobody seems to think that hey, maybe the Republicans shouldn't nominate an openly seditionist generally god-awful fascist shitweasel who has already been the worst thing to happen to American politics in the twenty-first century (I'd say also the twentieth century, but unfortunately that was when we had Reagan).

In other words, Trump is just taken as a given, while the media spends all its time attacking Biden, calling on Biden to step down, amplifying "concerns" about Biden's age, producing idiotic narratives about Biden, distorting or ignoring the things Biden has done, and then writing concern-troll navel-gazing pieces earnestly wondering why people don't like Biden. (Apparently people's opinion of Biden drastically improves when they learn what he's actually accomplished, but the relentless parade of lies somehow makes it difficult for them to learn what those actually are. Again, weird.) Likewise the endless coverage we get of Biden's smallest slips or stumbles, while the media resolutely ignores Trump's full-on recent descent into absolute raving dementia. Hello, double standards!

This is also fueled by a heaping helping of racism and misogyny, because if God forbid Biden does die in office, what happens? The vice president takes over! We have a clear and constitutionally established precedent for this that has happened many times before! Except, oh no scary!!!, Biden's vice president is a brown woman, and that means SHE WOULD BE IN CHARGE!!!! TERRIFYING!!! So all the scaremongering around Biden's age, aside from being generally dishonest and stupid, has as its implicit message that sure, maybe you're fine voting for an old white man, but are you really comfortable doing that if it means a brown woman might also have the chance to be president?? I DON'T THINK YOU SHOULD BE!!!!!

Anyway, yes. It's a complete straw man argument, it's fueled by bad faith and stupidity, and as with most things in the current American media environment, it's geared toward helping Trump win. Because you know. Something something BUT HER EEEEEEEEEEEEMAILS BUT BIDEN WAS OOOOOOOOOOOOLD.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

[astrobiscuits]

Unknown asteroids #1

🦭Adorno (21029) – of Spanish origin; means to decorate/embellish; (for females only) if Sun, Mars, Saturn or the Descendant are badly aspected by this asteroid in the natal chart, it can indicate being “objectified” by men; if one of the mentioned planets/angle are positively aspected by this asteroid, it can indicate fighting for women's rights when it comes to the objectification of women

🦭Advincula (23017) – of Latin origin; denotes someone advanced in a certain skill/job/life experiences OR someone who can advance a certain field

🦭Aenna (1155) – of Hebrew origin; means favor/grace, God has favored me; denotes someone getting blessed by a higher force

🦭Aemilia (159) – of Latin origin; means industrious; denotes a workaholic and/or someone who works in engineering; a second meaning: to strive/excel

🦭Aeschylus (2876) – father of Greek tragedy drama; denotes a strong affinity for drama works (either in reading or writing them); if it aspects Uranus, it can bring popularity due to scandals/dramatic past

🦭Bengt (1846) – of Latin origin, but frequently used in Sweden; means blessed

🦭Cappi (49777) – of Italian origin; means lucky

🦭Elpis (59) – of Greek origin; means "the spirit of hope"; like the star card in tarot, this asteroid shows us where we are most hopeful

🦭Gorky (2768) – of English origin; means awkward/strange

🦭Khandrika (12068) – of Indian origin; means small village/small place

🦭Khalat (468725) – of Indian origin; means robe; denotes someone with high social status, someone who dresses expensive

🦭Libby (5672) – of British origin; means God’s promise; if relevant in synastry, it can indicate fated connections, someone given to us from the above

🦭Odeh (34786) – of Arabic origin; denotes someone (or something) coming back into your life, similar to Aesculapia (1027)

🦭Oenomaos (164555) – from Greek mythology (corresponds to King Oenomaus of Pisa); shows love for consuming wine; if prominent in the natal chart, it can point to an alcoholic

🦭Oenone (215) – from Greek mythology; a nymph abandoned by her lover, Paris, who choose Helen of Troy over her; prominent in people who have been cheated on/left by lovers

🦭Okugi (5174) – of Japanese origin; means the heart or depth of something, secrets, mysteries, esoterica

🦭Okuni (7769) – of Japanese origin; means homeland or native country

🦭Olathe (18984) – its meaning comes from the Shawnee language; means lovely/beautiful

🦭Paeonia (1061) – of Latin origin; denotes the latin term for peony (symbols of peony: love, honor, romance, beauty)

🦭Palach (1834) – of Russian origin; means executioner, hangman, butcher, torturer

🦭Piedade (11912) – of Portugese origin; means pity, mercy, kindness towards an enemy

🦭Pierre (1392) – of French origin; means stone, rock

🦭Quigley (18699) – of Irish origin; means “from the mother’s side”; denotes someone very similar to their own mother or her family, heavily attached to the mother figure or someone who has grown up without a father; a second meaning: “unruly hair”; denotes someone with crazy hair

🦭Quinn (107561) – of Irish origin; means wise, intelligent

🦭Quito (10793) – of Spanish origin; means “center of the world”; denotes someone popular and/or famous

🦭Seiwa (16700) – of Japanese origin; means saint; denotes a person of superior knowledge and virtue; a second meaning: peace, calm

🦭Vangelis (6354) – of Greek origin; means good news

🦭Vate (12312) – of English origin, but borrowed from Latin; means prophet, fortune teller, inspired writer; prominent in witches and tarot readers

🦭Vedrana (176014) – of Croatian and Serbian origin; denotes someone who is lighthearted, joyful, cheerful

🦭Xenia (625) – of Greek origin; denotes a great host, someone hospitable and welcoming with guests and strangers in need

(21029, 23017, 1155, 159, 2876, 1846, 49777, 59, 2768, 12068, 468725, 5672, 34786, 164555, 215, 5174, 7769, 18984, 1061, 1834, 11912, 1392, 18699, 107561, 10793, 16700, 6354, 12312, 176014, 625)

#astro #astro community #astrology #astro placements #astro observations #astro posts #astroblr #astro blog #astro notes #asteroids #asteroid astrology #asteroid observations

[shadowdaddies]

Omg it’s been forever!!! I have a request for Azriel!!! I was thinking, the reader is an amazing story teller and is known for being really creative and imaginative. At some point azriel asks if she’s ever thought about writing her stories down and he finds out that she doesn’t know how to write. Maybe juts some fluff with azriel and maybe cassian and rhysand teaching her how to write and like when she does something good azriel gives her kisses or something And then (sorry it’s kinda long) but maybe one day azriel asks her to tell him a story and it leads to some smut maybe… maybe where he’s kissing her neck while she’s telling the story I DONT KNOW I DONT KNOW but it’s been forever and I’m really missing requesting these! Love you 😘

Hey lovely! I've been having a little bit of writer's block lately and this was kind of therapeutic? idk but I had so much fun writing it💜💜

Inspired

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: smut below the cut, romantic sex, oral f!receiving

Nyx’s giggle rang through the room as you waved your arms dramatically, acting out the story as you told it. 

“The sorceress’s eyes glowed an eerie green light as she smiled, a snap of her fingers an order for the dragon behind her. Breathing a rush of fire, the creature lunged,” you continued, dragging your mate from his seat as you urged him to act out the scene with you. 

“...And then the handsome knight charged, his sword raised to strike the hideous beast.” Azriel raised his arms as though he were holding a sword. Rolling your eyes, you muttered, “no, Az. You’re the dragon.”

“Right, of course. My mistake, Handsome Knight,” he retorted, spreading his wings as he hunched slightly, his best effort at resembling a dragon. Your arms swung, mimicking the action as you told the story of slaying the mighty dragon, Azriel clutching the imaginary sword in his chest as he made a dramatic heaving noise, collapsing to the floor.

“What is going on in here?” Feyre teased, an amused smile on her lips as she leaned against the doorframe, hand on her hip. “Nyx, it’s time for bed,” she chided the pouting toddler, reaching a hand to carry him to his room.

“But momma, Auntie’s story!” Nyx protested, the deep frown on his face emphasizing the boy’s chubby cheeks.

“Yea, Feyre. What about the story?” Cassian protested, his eyes wild as he looked to you and Nesta for backup. 

Nesta scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully as she leaned into Cassian’s side. “I think we can wait until tomorrow to hear the rest of the story,” she promised, silvery eyes twinkling as she gave you a knowing smile. 

You turned to your nephew, giving him a kiss on the cheek goodnight as you promised to continue the story - and make sure Azriel knew his role better - tomorrow night. With another grateful smile, Feyre lifted Nyx into her arms, the boy yawning as he rested his head on his mother’s shoulder.

You turned to see Azriel still sitting on the floor, laughter bubbling up as you took his hands in yours. “You can get up now, dragon,” you purred, a gasp leaving you as he stood swiftly, scooping you into his lap as your mate settled back on the couch. 

“Where do you come up with these stories? They’re too good to just be bedtime stories for Nyx. I would read it in a book,” Cassian noted, flashing you a charming grin as he sipped his drink.

With a nervous laugh, you leaned into Azriel’s side, shaking your head as blush crept over your cheeks at the compliment. Nesta leaned forward, that warrior’s determination shining through her sharp features. “Really, you should try writing. I know some of the priestesses in the library have great resources and would be happy to help you... And so would I.”

Azriel’a arm wrapped around you, giving an encouraging squeeze as his lips grazed your temple. You turned to your mate to see hazel eyes shining with admiration as he grinned at you. “What do you think?” you breathed, nervously biting your lip as you awaited an answer.

“I think that you are the most beautiful, creative, talented, and kind person I have ever met, and I know many others would pay to hear what you have to say,” he murmured, finger crooking against your jaw as his lips pressed softly against yours. 

“All right,” you whispered, unable to hold back the bright smile on your features as you turned to Nesta. “I would really appreciate the help, if you wouldn’t mind.”

WIth that, you made plans to meet Nesta in the library the next day, starting a pattern of working with the priestesses and using the House’s resources as you learned the tedious process of writing a book. 

~~~

Exhausted, you trudged up the endless flights of stairs to your room, oblivious to your mate seated by the fire, who watched as you tossed your books, notes, and half-worked manuscript onto the nightstand. With a dramatic sigh, you flopped onto the mattress, burying your face in the pillows as you willed your head to stop pounding.

The bed dipped next to you, the familiar scent of cedar and rain instantly calming as Azriel’s hand touched your shoulder. “Everything alright, love?” he murmured, voice deep and soothing. 

You practically melted into his touch, reveling in the feel of his warmth as you rolled onto your back to face him. A scarred hand cupped your cheek, tenderness in Az’s eyes as he waited for your answer. “I’m just tired, Az,” you sighed, gesturing towards the daunting stack of papers next to you. I didn’t realize how hard it would be to plan out a story. It’s so much harder to actually write everything down, I don’t know if I can do it,” you admitted, tears springing to your eyes as you finally felt the overwhelming weight of your work.

“Hey, hey,” Azriel soothed, lifting you so that your back laid against his chest as his muscular arms wound around your waist. “You don’t need to do this if it doesn’t bring you joy, my love. I love you and your stories, no matter how you decide to express your creativity.”

Laying back against his chest, you leaned up to press a lingering kiss on Azriel’s cheek. “Thank you,” you whispered. “I do want to write. I feel so inspired, I just don’t know how to articulate it on paper, if that makes sense.”

Azriel hummed, his hands idly playing with yours as he thought. “What are you inspired by, love? What is driving your story?” You blushed, dipping your chin slightly as you curled further into your mate.

“My main character - he inspires me,” you admitted. “He is kind, thoughtful, willing to do anything for those he loves,” you paused, leaning your head against Azriel’s neck as you reached up to run a hand through his hair. “He’s devilishly handsome - with hazel eyes and dark, wavy hair. He makes everyone in his life feel special, but he is the most special person I have ever met,” you spoke, barely above a whisper as you pressed a kiss to his throat.

Waves of onyx hair brushed your cheek as Azriel’s head dipped, working slow kisses down the side of your face and neck before he settled on your shoulder, humming against the skin. “Why would you want to write about such a person?” he murmured, voice a low rumble as his hands slid down your body, fingertips skating lightly over your thighs, up to the waistband of your pants.

Breaths turning shallow, your mind reeled as you focused on the question. “Because... You make me feel a joy that I want others to see. You give me hope that I want others to have. You give me love that I want others to know is possible.”

Azriel’s hands continued teasing, feather-light touches across your stomach, dipping below the band of your pants as you bit back a moan. “Maybe, if I refresh that feeling, would you be able to ‘articulate’ it in writing?”

A knowing grin spread across your face, eyes glinting with mischief as you looked up at your mate. “I suppose that might help,” you teased, nipping at the skin of his jaw. 

Azriel wasted no time, his deft fingers sliding under the waistband of your clothes, a low growl vibrating through his chest as he felt how wet you were. One finger slid, tortuously slowly, through your folds, gathering your slick as he lightly brushed your clit.

Head thrown back against his shoulder, you ground your hips up against his hand, desperate for friction. “Az, please,” you begged, already breathless and craving his touch. A soft laugh left his lips as cool wisps of shadow twined through the fabric of your pants, pulling them down to expose your lower body to the open air of the room.

A soft mewl escaped you as the soft tendrils wound their way back up your legs, spreading them open for their master as he continued his slow, intentional movements against your core. “How do you want me, love?” he whispered, his smirk evident in his tone.

“Your hands, your tongue, please. All of you, Azriel. I need all of you,” you begged, fighting against his hold as your need overwhelmed your other senses. Without another word, Azriel lifted you from his chest, laying your head against the pillows as he shifted to lay between your legs.

“Don’t think, just feel, my love,” Azriel murmured, his warm breath fanning over your clit before licking a stripe up your center. You gasped, back arching as your mate pinned your hips down, spreading your legs open for access. Lips wrapped around your clit, sucking in rhythm with the finger that curled teasingly at your entrance. 

Head tossing back and forth against the sheets, you babbled incoherent pleas for more, a pleasurable gasp leaving you as he pushed his finger in, curling in tandem with his alternating sucks and kitten licks on your clit. He added another finger, the coil inside of you building as you neared the edge. 

Azriel hummed his praise against your writhing body, bringing your attention to the male before you. Your mate, who knew you better than anyone, made you feel like no one ever could from the day you met. As the coil inside of you snapped, you were taken back to your first time with Azriel - the euphoria of finding the only person meant for you, and joining with him as one. 

You came down from your high to see Azriel looking at you with an awed expression, his hand moving to wipe tears you hadn’t realized you’d shed. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to his palm, guiding Azriel to lay on his back as you straddled his hips.

“I will always have inspiration, because I have known you,” you whispered, lowering yourself onto his length. The both of you sat there for a moment, basking in the tenderness of being one, when the idea struck.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mumbled, scrambling to reach for the parchment and pen on your bedside table, scribbling down your thoughts before they could be forgotten.

“What are you doing?” Azriel breathed out on a laugh, watching as you bit your lip, sheer focus and determination on your face while you wrote.

“I know the next part of my story,” you responded, a proud smile on your features as you set the paper aside. “Now where were we?”

Azriel laughed, a full, rich sound as he flipped you onto your back, lining up at your entrance as he pressed kisses all over your face. “You were meant to be a writer,” he teased, amusement clear in his gaze as he eased into you. Pure love and admiration flowed each way down the bond - the beginning of one of many long nights finding joy and inspiration in each others’ presence.

banners by saradika

#acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel #acotar fanfic #acotar imagine #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel x reader smut #azriel x you #azriel x reader #acotar smut #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #acotar reader fic #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader fluff #azriel acotar x reader #acotar azriel x reader #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #cassian #nesta acotar #nyx archeron #feyre archeron #acotar reader imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader smut #acotar x y/n

[jeremywhitley]

Here we are, six weeks later...

HEY!

So, in case you haven’t heard, our six week run on Love Unlimited following Gwenpool wrapped up today and...

and as much as I did write all of this and it is extremely important to me, I feel I really need to make sure you all know that this didn’t start with me.

To be completely accurate, it started with Chris Hastings and crew for creating such an amazing and nuanced character out of what could have only ever been a high concept and a cover gag. Not that the cover gag wasn’t good, but the statue that is revealed from that piece of marble over the course of The Unbelievable Gwenpool is truly astonishing.

Then, of course, there’s you. An audience of fans with an incredible love and passion for a character who also saw a lot of the quirks and experiences that we as people on the asexual spectrum experience and talked about it online.

Which is where the incredible @alannawrites, my editor, comes in. Alanna had been looking for an opportunity to tell a story about being ace in Marvel comics. We had kind of skimmed around the edges during Unstoppable Wasp, but ultimately being a character who owed so much to a movie franchise, there were a lot of nerves there. Gwen was not only a great opportunity to tell a story of a person hyper aware that they are in a story struggling with the tropes that affect their actual life, it was a chance to bring about this story for a character a lot of the fandom already saw as ace. Obviously, not everybody, but still a lot.

So when editorial game to okay to tell this story, Alanna reached out to me - somebody she’d worked with but also specifically had just had their own little coming out as demisexual a little while back. I was thrilled by the idea and before long we brought on @bailiesartblog and Kelly and had a full creative team of people on the ace spectrum. This is easily the first time that’s ever been a thought.

For me it was important that it not just be a story of coming out, but that it be a Gwenpool story. A story of knowing how stories work, what tropes you can play with, trying to direct the story where you think it should go, and ultimately finding that the story just won’t comply. And for people who have experienced being on the ace spectrum or a lot of other marginalized genders and sexualities - that’s a very familiar problem.

Ultimately, it’s different from a lot of other Gwenpool stories because it’s not the world around her. She has 2-3 real working possibilities for romantic relationships in this story and one that is about to become a fully adult sexual relationship with a woman whom she really loves before it skips the tracks. Ultimately, it’s not a thing from the 616 that’s holding her back, it’s a thing she brought with her from the real world - her sexuality - and no matter how worthy you are, you can’t beat that with a hammer.

There’ll be lots of time to talk about this later, but along with her actually saying the words and waving the flags above, one of the sequences that’s most important to me is the opening sequence of issue 6

This is the problem sometimes with being story tellers. When you think you know the story, realizing you’re not who you thought you are can feel like maybe you’re a villain. Maybe you’re a monster. Maybe you don’t belong here.

Some people on the internet seem to have decided to misinterpret this sequence as us comparing being asexual to being a monster, when very clearly that’s Gwen doing it. I’m just going to assume they’ve never had the experience of struggling to understand themselves and where they fit. Sounds fake, but whatever.

I love this FF story. I love Ben Grimm. I love this cover and that was why I gave my art team the truly unenviable task of recreating it. Like, I don’t know if you’ve been there, but I certainly have and I’d wager that most of us have at some point.

But perhaps the most important image in this scene is the next one:

Julie sees her friend, her girlfriend, the person that she cares about spiraling and literally yoinks her right out of the frame.

And sits her down and talks to her about it. And listens to her about it. And when she starts asking questions that Julie can’t answer, she finds Gwen somebody who can.

And that is an incredible gift to give to someone. And yeah, maybe we should all do that for each other, but man is it hard. Julie for one is in a multi-month relationship with this girl that just told her that not only was she lying about being ready to have sex with her, but that she didn’t actually like kissing her and has been faking enjoying some aspects of their relationship. You wanna think you would still be there for this person, but that’s a lot to handle and it takes a lot to be the person Julie is in this moment. But, personally, I love Julie Power and I think she’s the kinda person to stick with it.

And ultimately I think this scene is so important to me because I hope this book is our opportunity to be Julie Power to somebody reading this story. I hope someone who is going through a hard time or struggling with how to define themselves will find this story and it can be the hands that pull them out of the cover of Fantastic Four 51 when they need it. Maybe that’s a lot to hope for a comic, but it’s really the ambition I think the team went into this comic with. We want to tell a story about an aroace character coming to terms with who they are and learning to accept and be comfortable with it, but ultimately we hope this story gets to someone out there when they need it and makes the difference.

Well, this has gone really long and I’m sure there will be other things I wanna say about it later, but until then take care of yourselves and hopefully you’ll get the chance to be someone’s Julie Power.

P.S. - Julie, you’re amazing and I’m sure we will find a romance for you that works out eventually. Sorry that we’ve collectively now put you through three breakups.

#gwenpool #julie power #comics #marvel #power pack #deadpool #lgbtqia comics #asexuality #lgbtqia+ #love unlimited #jeremy whitley

[bellaxgiornata]

Under the Stars

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Frank finally convinces you to join him on a camping trip and he intends to make sure that you fully enjoy it.

Warnings/Tags: 18+; smut, oral (fem receiving)

a/n: I've finally finished this little smutty fic for Frank! I needed to just finally let it go and share it because I've been writing this piece for far too long. Hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Frank Castle One Shot Tag List: @heimtathurs @linamarr @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @mattkinsella @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx  @leikelle @pinkratts @1988-fiend @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza

Resting comfortably along Frank’s chest with your head burrowed just beneath his chin, you rose and fell in sync with each of his slow, rhythmic exhales. Your eyes remained fixed on the night sky above as you listened to the sound of Frank's even heartbeat in your ear that was pressed against his chest. The sound only further relaxed you in his embrace, your own arms tightening their hold around him.

The pair of you had set up camp at this campsite earlier today, though truthfully it had been Frank doing most of the work setting everything up. You had spent the afternoon enjoying the view of him bent in half, admiring his ass in his jeans as he put the tent together. You had attempted to help him, but mainly you'd stayed out of his way so you wouldn't mess everything up. 

Now it had grown late as a smattering of stars dotted the black sky above. As you lay cuddled against his side, you could feel the day's exhaustion finally hitting you. The hike you'd both taken earlier had worn you out even if it had been enjoyable spending all that time alone with him.

This camping trip was the first one you’d ever let Frank talk you into joining him on, even if he’d mentioned bringing you along with him plenty of times before. But now, lying beneath the stars with only the sound of the crickets chirping as you cuddled up beside him, you could see what he meant by it being peaceful. It was just the two of you out here surrounded by nature with no other distractions. Nothing but uninterrupted time together.

It was perfect.

Frank’s fingers continued to gently trace a pattern along your shoulder, just over the fabric of the shirt you were wearing. He’d been absently doing that since you'd both laid down among the grass a bit ago and you couldn't help but to focus on the steady loops his fingers continued to draw along you. Smiling in contentment at the repetitive gesture, you sighed audibly as you slid your leg over Frank’s thick, solid one beside you, relaxing further against him.  

“Okay, you’re right,” you admitted, breaking the silence. “I could get used to this. It is very relaxing being out here all by ourselves, just surrounded by all the pretty scenery.” Poking your finger into his chest, you added, “Though I’m still not so sure about that coffee maker you brought. I can’t see how it’ll make good coffee in the morning.”

Frank chuckled warmly, the sound a sweet, rumbling vibration against your ear still pressed to his chest. Your smile only grew wider in return, your hand flattening along him and affectionately running back and forth over the expanse of his broad chest. You could feel the muscles beneath his black tee-shirt, each and every defined, hard bit of them under your palm.

“It’s just coffee, honey,” he replied in his deep voice, shifting his head so he could look down at you. “It doesn’t need to be any of that fancy shit to get the job done.”

Turning your head, you glanced up at him, taking in the teasing smile just barely present on his lips. Even in the dim moonlight from above he looked exceptionally handsome as he gazed fondly back down at you, his warm, brown eyes full of affection.

“And that,” you said, tone teasing, “is where we differ, Frank.”

“Well either way,” he replied, his hand sliding down your shoulder until it landed on the swell of your hip, easily drawing you all the way up on top of himself next, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Though I think I could make this even more enjoyable for you, sweetheart.”

" Frank ," you whisper-yelled, your eyes darting around the pair of you as you steadied yourself with your hands on his shoulders. "We can't do that here!"

Frank laughed beneath you, both of his hands gliding over your hips before they landed on your ass, gripping it firmly in his palms. He grinned up at your surprised face before you felt one of his large hands lightly tap your ass. You couldn't fight back the giggle that slipped out of you–you loved this playful side of Frank.

"No one here but us, sweetheart," he pointed out. "We can do whatever we want. Next campsite is far enough away that it doesn't matter. No one'll see us." 

He bit his lip, a sly smirk sliding its way across his face before he ground his hips upwards into you. You sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his already hardening cock, eyes widening at the unexpected gesture.

"Though I s’pose they might hear you," he teasingly rumbled out.

Heat burned low in you at his words, your hands tightening along his shoulders, fingers digging into him. Frank’s tongue slipped out between his lips, your eyes watching as it slid along his bottom lip while he cocked a brow at you.

"What d'ya say, honey?" he asked. "Want to enjoy this camping trip even more?"

His large palms began kneading your ass over your jeans, taking their time as they moved in sync with each other. Your eyelids fluttered as your hips involuntarily ground back against him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Frank damn well knew how to work you up. 

"What'd you–" you paused, gasping when Frank slowly ground himself up into you again with that cocky grin on his mouth. Blinking rapidly, you tried to finish your sentence instead of focusing on the wet heat growing between your thighs. "What'd you have in mind?" you breathed out.

Before you knew what was happening, Frank had rolled you onto your back, one of his hands carefully cradling the back of your head as he did. He’d climbed atop you just as fluidly, straddling you beneath him with a mischievous look on his face as he gazed down at you, the moonlight softly washing over his features.

"Oh I know somethin' you’d like, honey," he replied cheekily. 

Leaning down, Frank closed the space between you both before pressing his warm lips to yours in a delicate, slow kiss. Your hands roughly tightened their grip on his shoulders, your nails digging into them as you eagerly responded to his mouth. Tugging at him desperately, you attempted to draw him further flush to the front of yourself, your mouth moving hungrily against his as you quickly found yourself growing wetter from anticipation–it had been a few days since you'd last seen each other and had a chance to have sex. But despite that, Frank only continued his leisurely pace, sensually sucking your bottom lip into his mouth as you whimpered beneath him, your hips involuntarily bucking upwards against him.

Frank's solid thighs easily held you in place beneath him as he continued to straddle you, making the impatient squirming of your hips useless. His tongue danced along your lip in his mouth as your nails clawed helplessly at his thick, broad shoulders in return. Soft, desperate whines slipped out of you at the attention his tongue was paying you, but you were too far gone to be embarrassed about the pathetic noises you were making. You just wanted him already. 

The sound of a zipper undoing soon met your ears over the silence of the night, though it took you a moment to realize that Frank had unzipped your jeans with one hand. Seconds later you felt him slip his warm hand inside the denim. You loosed a pleased moan when the pads of his fingers slid over your underwear, your eyes instantly snapping shut when he brushed over your covered clit.

Finally releasing your lip from between both of his, you heard him chuckle lightly. Your eyes flew back open at the sound only to be met with the sight of a pleased Frank grinning down at you. He began rubbing his fingers along your covered mound in a delicious, slow drag back and forth, his eyes focused along your face as it twisted in pleasure at his touch. With the sight of him above you swathed in the moonlight as his fingers continued to tease you over your underwear, another moan managed to tumble out of your lips. Frank seized the opportunity, abruptly leaning forward and pressing his mouth back to yours before swallowing the sound of pleasure down as his tongue pushed its way inside your mouth.

Lying along the grass, you began desperately grinding your hips upwards into Frank’s hand, your fingers curling around his shirt in sheer desperation. Soft whines and loud, panting gasps began to fall out of you as his fingers increased their pace against you, your mouth moving fervently back against Frank’s in a silent plea for more. You could feel your arousal further dampening your underwear with the way he was touching you, your body aching for more of him now.

Unexpectedly, Frank broke away from your mouth and you grunted an irritated noise of protest. Your head rose up from the grass, your lips chasing after his mouth with hunger in your eyes, but he only offered you a soft peck in return. With a frustrated groan your nails slid further down to claw at Frank’s back, your hips grinding harder against his fingers as you squirmed helplessly beneath him.

“ Frank ,” you groaned.

"So wet already for me, honey," he purred back at you. "Y'know how much I love it when you get like this."

You whined, your head falling back in the grass as you huffed out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t tease, Frank,” you begged. “That’s not nice.”

He shook his head at you, amusement shining in his eyes. “Not teasin’, sweetheart,” he assured you. “Just takin’ my time. Promised I’d help you enjoy this trip even more, didn’t I?”

His hand gradually began to continue its delicious movements, gliding back and forth over your damp underwear. As he did, his other hand grabbed the hem of your shirt before pushing it all the way up and over your breasts. When it was finally out of his way, he grabbed onto the edge of your bra before sharply yanking it down and releasing your right breast to the slight chill of the evening. A faint surprised gasp slipped out of you as the cold danced along your newly exposed skin, goosebumps raising across your bare stomach.

Frank’s attention focused downwards, a satisfied smile gradually drawing itself across his lips. He began to gently pull at your stiffening nipple, tugging it between his calloused thumb and index finger. The sensation sent a burst of pleasure through you, your hips yet again squirming beneath his other hand's tantalizing movements. You wanted his fingers or his mouth or his cock on you or in you and you wanted it now .

"Frank, come on," you panted out, writhing beneath him. "Please, baby. Stop–stop teasing me."

“Relax,” Frank murmured, still grinning back at you. “I’ll get you there, sweetheart. No need to be in such a hurry. Just gonna take my time with you.”

For another moment, his calloused fingers gently toyed with your nipple, alternating between lightly tugging at the hardened peak and gently but firmly pinching it between his fingers. When you were biting your lip between desperate whines of ‘please, Frank’ he finally lowered his head towards your chest, his fingers releasing your nipple after a final, teasing pinch. Cupping your breast in his large hand, he gradually drew his lips towards you, but the moment his hot breath grazed over your cold skin, a shudder raced through you, your nipple further stiffening. 

His warm, wet lips soon wrapped themselves gently around the sensitive peak just before he tenderly sucked it entirely into his mouth. You moaned at the contrast of the heat of his mouth to that of the light chill of the night as your back arched up from the grass towards him. As the tip of his tongue lightly circled your nipple, you felt his other hand glide up towards the top of your underwear before his fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric. Your eyes pinched shut in response, your right hand flying up from his back and tangling in his dark hair as you expelled a breathy sigh.

Frank rumbled out a deep moan against your breast as two of his fingers gathered the slick between your folds, clearly pleased with how wet you'd become from his teasing. At the sound, your left hand fisted the fabric of his shirt, desperately grabbing at him as waves of pleasure coursed through you. Your eyes squeezed tighter shut when both of his fingertips gently eased their way inside of you. 

" Frank ," you breathed out.

Frank's teeth gently bit down onto your nipple at the sound of his name and you sucked in a sharp breath as white danced across your closed lids. Your fingers tightened in his hair at the pleasant sting that shot through you while his fingers gradually sank all the way inside of you. 

“Feels so–so good,” you whispered out. “Please don't stop.”

He released your nipple from between his lips with a soft, wet pop . Eyes fluttering open, you saw him gazing up at you as his face hovered above your chest. A self-satisfied smile sluggishly spread itself across his face, his lips glistening with his own saliva. Without warning, his fingers slid out before he thrust them fully inside of you. Your head rolled back along the grass, a moan flying out of you immediately. 

“That's my girl,” he praised softly. “So good for me. Lettin’ me take care of you like this.”

You bit your lip, your eyes focused on the stars shining above in the dark. Frank's thick fingers continued to pump in and out of you as you felt his other hand slip your left breast from the confines of your bra. A gasp fell out of you as his fingers began to tease your other nipple.

“You like that, d'ya?” he purred.

You nodded your head frantically along the grass in response. “Mhmm,” you hummed out. “Yes.”

“But you want more, don't ya, sweetheart?” he asked.

Your eyes snapped shut again when you felt his fingers hit deep inside of you, curling perfectly to hit the right spot. Stars danced across the back of your eyelids, as many as there were along the night sky as yet again you moaned out. Everything he was doing felt amazing.

“Yes,” you panted out, answering his question. “Need you, Frank. Please.”

“I got you, sweetheart,” he assured you.

Bottom lip rolling further back between your teeth, you felt his lips encircle your left nipple. His fingers continued their avid movements inside of you as he continued their pace, pumping them into you over and over. Every few thrusts his fingers would hit the right spot before both of them curled until you were a writhing and moaning mess along the grass beneath him.

It wasn't long before you felt that coiling pleasure tightening deep in your gut. Your breath was coming in fast and hard by the time he finally released your nipple from his mouth. Though he promptly began to place lingering, open-mouthed kisses in a delicious trail that gradually moved down towards your stomach, the sensation causing your toes to curl in your shoes. The closer his mouth neared your aching clit, the more breathless you felt yourself becoming. 

When he finally reached the place you needed him most, his fingers slowed their pace inside of you. Frank's plush lips lightly kissed the sensitive bundle of nerves and your hips jerked up towards his mouth at the faint touch. Raising your head from the grass, you glanced down at the sight of him between your thighs as his fingers briefly slipped out of you, both of his hands working to pull your jeans and underwear halfway down your legs and out of his way. As if he could feel your eyes on him, his head tilted upwards just enough that he could look at you beneath his lashes. The little smirk that crossed his lips had your cunt tightening involuntarily around nothing, a slight whine leaving you at the loss of his fingers.

“Gonna take care of you, honey,” he promised. “I got you.”

You hissed out a sharp breath between your teeth, your head falling back along the grass beneath you as he eased his fingers back inside of you. Seconds later you felt his hot breath blow across your clit and your hands flew out to your sides, gripping tight to the blades of grass next to you as your breath came in even shallower.

“Thatta girl,” Frank praised gently.

His lips wrapped around your clit as his left hand grabbed onto your hip, pressing you down into the grass and holding you steady the moment you began squirming beneath him. He was switching between sucking your clit into his mouth and lapping sensually at it until your eyes were rolling back behind closed lids, your breath entirely catching in your throat. Your hips were frantically trying to fight his firm hold to keep you still, bucking up against his face. His hand only tightened on your hip as he moaned against your cunt, burying himself even further between your thighs as his nose pressed hard into your pubic bone.

Between the wet sounds mingling with Frank’s own deep and muffled moans vibrating against your cunt and the way his fingers once again increased their pace as he fucked you with them, you soon felt yourself teetering on the edge of your climax. Right hand releasing the grass beside you that you'd had in a death grip, you reached out and grabbed onto his hair yet again. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you breathed out in a flurry of curses.

Your back arched along the ground despite Frank still holding your lower half firmly in place beneath him as his mouth passionately focused on your clit. That familiar warm, tingling sensation began to race its way up from the base of your spine until you felt it heat your entire body. You felt ready to float off the ground if it wasn't for the fact that Frank’s hand was keeping you in place beneath him. As his lips once again sucked that sensitive nub into his mouth, a cry of pleasure flew from your lips and you came hard, falling over the edge of your climax. 

Frank quickly withdrew his fingers from inside of you, replacing his lips with them as they rubbed tenderly against your clit, working you through your orgasm. His mouth switched to focus on your soaked entrance, his tongue eagerly lapping up everything that spilled out of your cunt as your whole body slowly sunk into the ground. Frank didn't let up with his ministrations until he’d pulled you through your orgasm and you'd begun to gasp and whine from overstimulation.

Gradually your eyelids fluttered open again, spotting Frank on his knees between your own as he sat upright. He was smiling triumphantly up at you as his hands landed on both of your quivering, bare thighs, your slick apparent on his lips and chin in the moonlight. You sent him a blissed out smile in return, your body feeling limp on the ground as you tried to catch your breath.

“If this is what camping with you is like,” you began slowly, panting hard, “I've really been missing out.”

Mischief danced in his eyes as his hands released your thighs and grabbed onto the hem of his shirt. You watched silently as he pulled it up and over his head, tossing it carelessly to the side. Immediately your eyes raked over his muscled and bare torso in the dim light of the night. 

“Don't worry sweetheart,” he replied with a devious grin, “this trip isn't over yet. And I'm not quite done makin’ sure you enjoy it.”

Eyebrows raising high onto your forehead, your lips parted in surprise. Frank let out a deep, amused chuckle at the expression on your face as he gradually drew himself up over the top of you. Before his lips were back on yours, you briefly made a mental note that you needed to join Frank on camping trips more often.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle x you #frank castle #frank castle x fem!reader #the punisher

[thisreadswhatever]

The Chase: Part One

Pretty Sweet

series masterlist

[description]: jax teller x female reader

[wordcount]: 2.7k+

[summary]: Jax Teller is used to getting what he wants. At least that was the case before he met you.

[cw]: 18+ only minors do not interact - AU, follows some canon characters & themes but timeline is different. otherwise none yet, but stick with me, I have a smutty plan!

[authors note]: this has been really fun to write. thank you so much to this anon for requesting this idea! I plan on writing a good few parts of this.. as I am really loving writing this reader insert. if you have any ideas or suggestions on where you would like this to go, please let me know! I absolutely love getting your suggestions. I really hope you enjoy!

It had been a long sixteen hour drive. You sighed with relief as you sped past the large wooden slice, “WELCOME TO CHARMING”. You rolled your windows down, the wind blistering through your hair as you took in the warm California sun. 

You turned the music up, attempting to drown out the events replaying in your head that led you here in the first place. 

Charming wasn’t exactly on your bucket list of places to travel. Your parents had split a few years back, after your mom decided she could no longer handle the baggage that came with the Sons of Anarchy MC. Your Dad was an avid member of the Denver Charter, and she soon realised she couldn’t sit back and watch as he grew deeper into the Club. It was a quick and amicable divorce, made easier by the fact you were an only child and more than understanding of why the relationship had to end. You were old enough to see the pain your mom went through trying to make it work, and you knew that it was the best decision for them both. Your Dad on the other hand, never really got over it. 

When your mom remarried last year, he decided to leave Colorado and transferred to the SAMCRO Charter. Charming was his home now. He’d been begging you to visit him for months, and despite the fact you were genuinely pleased that he was happy, seeing him so far from home and content without his family wasn’t something you’d looked forward too. 

Charming was a small place, and from what your Dad had told you, it had never really left the seventies. Denver was the total opposite, a city full of life and people, and ever growing with new expanding chains of business. Even with the freezing winters, there was always something to do in Denver. But Charming? They barely had a population of fifteen thousand. 

You had evaded the trip for as long as you could, blaming college assignments and exams for the reason you couldn’t make the drive. Now that you’d graduated, the excuses had run thin, and it was time to visit your Dad in Charming. 

You pulled into the road of the address he had given you, entering a long unpaved driveway that ended on the outside of a dainty cabin. Your Dad’s bike was parked stagnant on the dirt. You dug your suitcase out from your trunk and walked up the wooden steps to the porch, bringing your hand to the door to knock. Before your knuckles could meet the wood, the door flung wide and your Dad lunged at you with open arms. 

“You’re finally here!”, he squealed in excitement as he grasped you into a giant bear hug.

“‘Finally’ is right. That was a serious drive, Dad.”

He took your suitcase and carried it through the entryway. “Sure is. I’m so glad you got here safely, kiddo. Come on, let’s get you settled. You hungry? I was just about to make some lunch.”

You followed him inside as you observed the interior of the quaint, dusty cabin. “I could definitely eat.” 

—

Your Dad showed you to your room and then became sidetracked from lunch, giving you a full tour of his new home and the complete low down of all things SAMCRO. He’d explained that the place was owned by the Club, but nobody ever frequented it unless they were in hiding. Your Dad was housed here for the long term, or at least until he could find something he liked better inside the Charming suburbs. 

Once he’d caught you up, he made his start on lunch. You watched as he strolled throughout the kitchen, sitting patiently at the small round dining table. 

“It’s a nice place, Dad. Not sure how I feel that you’re out here all alone though.”

“I’m barely here, kiddo. Spend most of my time down the Clubhouse.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued to make sandwiches, dropping a piece of turkey in the process. “I can’t wait for you to meet the guys, y/n. A lot more warm than the ones up in Denver. Some of them are your age too.” He placed the plate in front of you, and you grimaced at the site. Your Dad had never claimed to be a great chef. 

“Thanks.” You smiled at him politely, taking a bite and struggling to swallow down the piece of dry sandwich. “I’m sure they’re great, Dad.”

“So, how’s your mom?” 

You shrugged dismissively, unsure how to broach the uncomfortable topic of the newly weds. “She’s doing well. Mike is good to her.” 

He nodded. “That’s good. I’m really glad she’s happy.” 

It was hard to see your Dad try to be okay with the fact that your mom had moved on. The awkward silence was interrupted by his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up from the table. “Finish lunch and we can head on out. The guys are getting together at the Clubhouse tonight, you can meet them all there.”

You knew an evening with a bunch of Californian bikers was going to be inevitable during your trip. At least you could get it over with on the first night. 

“Sounds great, Dad.” 

—

You weren’t thrilled to be back in the confines of your car so soon after your long road trip, but your Dad knew better than to ask you to sit on the back of his motorcycle.

You rolled the windows down of your car as you followed his bike through the winding road from the cabin. As you re-entered Charming, you passed by locally run stores and cafes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was a quiet, peaceful town. But you did know better. You knew what the Club’s presence actually meant for a small community like Charming. If SAMCRO was anything similar to the Denver Charter, the underworkings of this town would be anything but quiet and peaceful. 

You pulled into the lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive Repairs, instantly drawn to the huge row of Harley motorcycles lined up on the inner bays.

Your Dad parked up and met you outside your car, telling you all about his new job in the garage as you walked together. He led you across the lot towards a small black door, entering into the SAMCRO clubhouse. It was impressive, a comfortable space with its own bar and lounge area. The place was full of MC memorabilia and pictures from the club’s long history. The furthest wall was centered by two large double doors that were surrounded by mugshots of the SAMCRO members. You had visited the Denver Clubhouse enough to know that room was where the decisions were made.

Your Dad introduced you one by one to several members that were there, a few of which he’d mentioned to you that afternoon. Bobby, Chibs, Trager, Juice and Opie all greeted you with open arms. They were extremely friendly and welcoming, just as your father had promised. The one your Dad called Trager seemed very pleased with your arrival, hugging you for a little too long. Your Dad managed to break the long embrace, pulling you away to start touring you around the building. 

“Don’t get too close to that one, kiddo. He’s a little out there.” 

You giggled as you nodded in agreement, “I’ll keep my distance.” 

—

You sat alongside the club’s Secretary, Bobby, on a leather bench that faced out with a view of the entire room. You observed as the Clubhouse filled with more members and women, a handful of which were old ladies. The rest of them, very clearly single. Of all the members you’d met so far, Bobby had been the easiest to talk to. He clued you in on some of the Club’s legitimate businesses, Cara Cara and Red Woody Productions. You figured that’s where most of the girls came from, retired and current porn stars. 

It was a little strange, and anyone else may have felt uneasy seeing their father in this kind of environment. But you were used to the life of girls and guns from growing up with a dad in a motorcycle club. The Denver Charter had its fair share of women in and out of their doors, but mainly just bartenders and the odd crow eater looking for a way in. These girls were more forward, scantily clothed, makeup on point, and obviously comfortable with their surroundings.  

Bobby nudged your shoulder, regaining your attention from the party happening around you. “You know your Dad talks about you constantly. He’s so happy that you’re here, kid. We all are.” 

You glanced over at your father, a huge smile forming as he collected a drink from the bar. 

“He does seem happy. Just weird seeing him away from home.” 

“You got a home here with us too now, y/n.” He placed his arm over you and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, “we’re your family as much as we are his.” 

“That’s really sweet, Bobby. Thanks.” 

He pulled his arm back as he chuckled to himself, his large stomach bellowing as he laughed. “I am pretty sweet.” 

Suddenly, the front door opened and a roar of drunken welcomes filled the clubhouse as two more members entered. The President of SAMCRO, Clay Morrow, walked in smiling ear to ear, hands held up as though he was a celebrity greeting his adoring fans. You’d heard a lot about Clay from your father, mainly that he was the initial sponsor for his transfer from Denver, and some remarks about what an ass he was. Behind him, a much younger member followed, embracing Opie as he entered. He was different from the other members, not totally clean cut, but you could at least tell he had showered. Not only was he bathed, he wasn’t harsh on the eyes either. You watched as he talked with Opie, his hands pushing his long blonde hair behind his ears as he spoke. 

“Who’s that?” You asked Bobby, your eyes never feigning from the man. 

“That’s Jax. Club’s VP.” 

As you watched him converse with Opie, he suddenly glanced your way, locking eyes with you. You quickly turned away from him and back towards Bobby. 

“He looks a little young to be Vice President”, you mumbled as you took a swig from your beer, still conscious that he was looking at you. 

Bobby laughed, “Yeah, well, he’s a Teller. His Dad was First 9 alongside Clay and Piney Winston, Ope’s pops. Jax has been SAMCRO since he came out of the womb.” 

You raised your eyebrows, glancing back over your shoulder. Jax’s attention had now been obtained by one of the Cara Cara girls. She was pulling him in by his cutte, batting her eyelashes at him as she leaned against the bar. 

Bobby watched as you observed Jax. He sipped his drink, amused by your interest. “He’s known for his way with the ladies.” 

You wanted to press Bobby further, but your Dad suddenly was stumbling over beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Come on over here, kid. I want you to meet my sponsor.” 

“The asshole?”, you whispered to him as you stood up from the chair.

He snickered back at you, patting you on the back. “He’s having a good day.” 

—

You were impressed by the brotherhood the Redwood Originals shared. It wasn’t unfamiliar to the Denver Charter, but the way the members of SAMCRO loved one another was palpable. You observed quietly throughout the night as they all ripped into each other with lighthearted banter and spilled beer all over the place. You were conflicted by the fact your Dad fit in so well here. It was painful to know he had chosen this life over one with you in Denver, but you still felt at peace knowing he had found a place in this family. 

He was now slumped over a leather armchair in the lounge, snoozing after one too many beers. You nudged his shoulder, trying to wake him. “I’m gonna head back to the cabin, Dad. I’ll meet you here in the morning?” 

“You sure, y/n?” He tried to stand up as he slurred, but his balance failed him, collapsing back into the seat. “I can lead you back-” 

You chuckled, placing a hand on his head as he closed his eyes, “No way are you getting on a bike in this state. I remember the way.” 

Tig overheard and slid himself beside you, placing an arm across your waist. “We’ll take care of him, sweetie. Don’t you worry. Get back safe, okay?”

You unwound from his grasp, collecting your bag from the coffee table as you searched through the contents for your keys. “Thanks Trager.”

A strange laugh left his throat as he watched you leave, before his face turned straight as a board. “Call me Tig.” 

You said your goodbyes to the members that were sober enough to communicate, and made your way to the parking lot. 

Jax Teller was sitting outside the clubhouse, journal and pencil in hand. He glanced up at the sound of the door opening, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

He smiled boldly, in a way that perplexed you. Almost like he was happy to see you, even though you’d never met. He took the cigarette from his lips as he asked, “you’re Ralph’s kid, right?”

“I usually just go by y/n.”

He placed his pencil inside the journal and tucked it snug in his cutte, standing from the bench. “It’s a nice thing you’re doing, coming all this way to see him.”

You nodded, “had to make sure my Dad wasn’t living with some crazed psychopaths, you know?” 

He exhaled, his lips forming a perfect O as the smoke left his lips. “Pretty sure a few of those knuckleheads could pass for psychotic”, he teased. His mouth pulled into an infectious smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

Jax walked closer towards you, your bodies now inches apart. He held out an open pack of cigarettes, prompting you to take one. You shook your head, declining the offer.

 “And what about you? How’s your level of sanity?” 

Jax hesitated. “A work in progress.” 

You smiled politely as you walked past him, making your way to the car. “Anyway, I was just leaving. Was nice meeting you.” 

Jax’s brow creased in concern, “you heading to the cabin on your own?” 

You looked over your shoulder to see him pacing behind you, flicking his cigarette to the cement.

“My Dad’s not exactly in riding order.” 

“I can take you back.” 

You stopped outside your car and turned to him, scoffing at how forward he was. “I met you thirty seconds ago.”

“So?” He shrugged. 

“I don’t really think that’s appropriate.” 

“I’m not asking to get in bed with you, y/n. You can ride the Harley with me and I’ll leave the second you’re in the cabin.” 

You opened the car door, sliding into the seat. “Not gonna happen.” 

“I won’t lay a hand on ya, darlin’,” he raised his hand up, smiling, “scouts honor.” 

You pressed your lips together, suppressing yourself from giggling at his innocent gesture. “I don’t ride bikes.” You affirmed. 

Jax cocked his head at you, confused at the statement. “Denver girl’s scared of bikes?” 

Your eyes rolled at his assumption. “No offense, but I just met you. I’m not sure my safety is your concern.” You shut the car door, realising your window had been left ajar from the way there. You wanted to curse aloud that the good Californian weather enabled the opportunity to ride with the windows down.

Jax didn’t push further, nodding his head as he watched you settle into the driver's seat. “No offense taken.”

Jax leaned his head into the open window, resting his arms on the roof of the car. You turned the ignition, letting the engine roar to life. “Nice to meet you, Jax.” 

“You too, darlin’. Will I see you again?” 

You were looking directly at him, your faces parted only by the frame of the window between you. “I’m here for the week, darlin’.” 

His lips pulled from ear to ear, smiling playfully as you put the gear in reverse, forcing his hands off the car as you pulled out of the parking lot. You peaked in the rear-view mirror, finding Jax still watching you drive away into the Charming night.

back to masterlist

#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 #bobby munson #tig trager #tig x reader #opie winston #juice ortiz #angst #jax teller fic #samcro #sons

[saintmurd0ck]

kiss and don't tell

masterlist

pairing: elektra natchios x f!reader + matt murdock and frank castle

summary: when frank and matt tap elektra's phone to figure out what she's up to, the last person they'd expect her to call is you

warnings: phone sex, matt and frank arguing like husbands, f!masturbation, elektra making everyone in her vicinity whimper, m!masturbation, exhibitionism

a/n: credits to my lovely @chvoswxtch for inspiration with elektra's phone background and @mikeymurdock for confirming darling matthew's birthday! this is my first time writing for elektra so be kind pls & HAPPY FUCKIN PRIDE !!!

“Thought you said she was always on that thing,” Frank grumbles, tapping on a flat-screen monitor displaying the layout of a phone lockscreen. He stares intently at the red supernova background, scrunitising on the halo of stars ringed around the edges of the phone. 

“She is,” Matt murmurs, furrowing his brows until they almost disappear beneath his glasses.

Frank sighs, leaning back in his chair, interlacing his hands behind his head. “It’s been four hours, Red. Why don’t ‘ya get some shut-eye, and I’ll stay up.” It wasn’t a question.

“Can’t be,” Matt breathes, mussing his hair. “It’s happening”–he pauses, fingers flitting over his watch–”tonight.” 

Disconcertion settles over Frank’s face as he wonders if this really is the way he’s spending his Friday night. His mouth quirks to the side. “First I’m gonna ask you how you know that, and second I wanna know exactly what we’re doing.”

“I know her, Frank. I just… know.”

“The fuck kinda answer’s that?” Frank glares, incredulous. “What, so you can listen to people breathing five blocks away, anticipate a bullet’s exact trajectory and now you can predict the future?”

Matt loosens his tie, looking more offended at the implication of being a fortune teller than at any other of Frank’s digs tonight. ”Of course not! S’just that… all of a sudden, she’s back in my life again. I wanna know what she’s doing, why she’s here, and what she has planned. You don’t know her like I do, Frank. Elektra isn’t good news.”

Frank yawns. “So? Ask her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Hmm.” 

A muscle feathers in Matt’s jaw, the tension more palpable than ever, especially with the time ticking idly by. He adjusts the earbuds connected to the laptop in front of him, straining for a single sound, or any hint of activity, but he picks up on nothing. 

They’ve got all her communications tapped, thanks to Micro and his–as Foggy so aptly put it–technological wizardry, but this inactivity is well beyond her arrhythmic patterns. Matt glides his fingertips over her activity logs; every record of data painstakingly collated by Micro throughout the last two weeks. If there’s one thing about Elektra, it’s that Matt could count on her being out on a Friday night. 

Matt’s aware of Frank’s narrowing eyes, in similar concentration on the monitor ahead. “You think she’s really gonna leave us hangin’?”

“No, no, it’s just– she’s smart, okay? She’s smart, but I don’t think she knows. She’d make it obvious otherwise.”

“I dunno Red,” Frank shrugs, “Baitin’ your ex like this? That’s ballsy. Even for you.”

Matt’s head whips to the side at the mention of that word, ears pricking at the sudden dilation of Frank’s pupils, and the acceleration of his heartbeat. He’s readying himself for a fight. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction of a response, Frank.”

Frank tsks. “Ah, but ‘ya just did.”

Click.

It’s the unmistakable noise of Elektra’s phone being unlocked.

2-1-1-0-8-7

Matt straightens up in his chair, pushing his earbuds further in. “Frank!” he hisses. “Screen!” 

“Ain’t that your birthday? October 21?” Frank smirks.

Reddening, Matt pushes the grating thought aside. He’d discuss her passcode later, when time wasn’t of the essence. “Keep an eye on that screen–”

“She’s calling someone,” Frank interjects. He squints at the display. “Who’s… ‘Darling’?”

“Darling?” Matt stumbles over his words as the dial tone rings a little too loudly in his ears. “I-I don’t know.” 

There’s a hint of amusement in Frank’s voice. “She ever call you that?” 

But Matt’s response comes out quick. Too quick. “No!”

Frank’s mouth curves into a smile. “S’what I thought.”

Matt goes to retort, but the purpose of this mission embeds itself in his mind. “We have full access to her calls, her internet history, all her devices…If she’s planning anything, it’s gonna be tonight.”

“Can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but I trust ‘ya,” Frank nods. “We got her.”

“Alright. I’m taking these out.” Unceremoniously, Matt yanks the earbuds out of his ears, wincing as the dial tone plays over the loudspeakers wired to the entire setup. 

Frank cocks his ear towards the speaker in the corner, glancing at the call logs laid out on his lap. He counts softly to himself. “I’m seein’ this Darling a lot. At least twice a day.”

Before they can deliberate further, Elektra’s ambient voice fills the tiny space. “Hello, Darling.” She pauses, hinting a smile. “Ready for me?”

Frank arches an eyebrow. “The fuck?”

“What took you so long?”

Matt stands up so abruptly that his chair falls to the ground, dizzy with the clang of metal on concrete. “That’s–”

Out of all the people they’d unassumingly characterised as the mysterious Darling, they would never, not in a million years, expect to hear you. 

“Did you look at the package I had delivered to you?” Elektra purrs, honeyed in a way that prickles the hairs on the back of Matt’s neck. “I would’ve sent it myself, but duty calls.”

“Shit, Red,” Frank chuckles. “You’re in deep shit.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, “and it fits perfectly. You know me so well, Ellie.”

“Ellie?!” Matt mouths. “What?”

“I knew it’d fit, Darling. Now be a good girl and spread those legs for me.”

In complete disregard of Matt choking on his own spit, Frank’s eyes fly open. “This part of your mission?”

“N-no. Definitely not. But–” Matt hesitates, swallowing dryly. “We need to keep listening. For all we know, our friend here could be a contact.”

“Fuckin’ perv.”

Feeling his temper rise, Matt takes a deep breath, willing his urge to fight dissipate. “S’there a way to turn the volume down?”

“Beats me,” Frank replies, nonchalant. “But small world, huh? Our friend–”Frank emphasises–“and your ex. A girl you’re into and a girl you used to be into.”

“I’m not into her.”

Frank snorts. “Yeah, you are.”

“Hmm,” Matt says, nodding, “so explain why your heart beats faster around her.”

There’s more than a hint of annoyance in Frank’s reply. “What?”

“I know you heard me correctly, Castle. You can’t hide shit from me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Frank growls, kicking his chair away, sending the call logs scattering to the floor. 

“I’m so wet for you,” you gasp, unknowingly diffusing yet another fight, your breathy moans barely audible over the speakers. 

Frank stiffens, his fists unfurling from his sides. “Wait, wait, wait. Did I just–”

The tips of Matt’s ears go pink. 

“Mm,” Elektra muses. “I can still taste you, you know.”

“And how do I taste, Ellie?”

Elektra laughs, the sound crystalline. “Delicious.”

All of a sudden, it feels as if the labyrinthine, constricting nature of Micro’s lab seals off from the outside world, trapping both men and their paramours inside. 

“Please,” you whimper, every stuttered breath punctuating the words that come to mind. 

“Use your words, Darling. Please what?”

“Tell me how to touch myself.”

Frank shifts uncomfortably in his chair, wringing his hands as his eyes search for a distraction. “Feels like we’ve crossed a line, Red.”

“Since when have you ever cared about crossing lines?” Matt asks, scowling. “It’s pertinent. To…the mission.”

“Cut the shit. We’re not in Catholic school. You can just admit you’re horny.”

“Jesus, Frank! I’m not…”

“Of course,” Elektra hums, but the inflection in her voice indicates the kind of coyness that tells Matt she’s in complete control, physically present or not. 

Strained nostalgia sends him into overdrive, even more so as he contemplates just how she knows you. 

You, of all people, he knows, would be better off without someone like Elektra. 

Yet here you are. 

“Use one finger, Darling,” she continues, “and touch your clit for me. Up and down, just the way you like it.”

“Fuck,” you murmur, squirming as Elektra conducts your pleasure. “I want more.”

“Greedy, aren’t you? You’re lucky I feel generous tonight. Do you think you could handle two fingers?”

Matt exhales softly, licking his lips as he falters back to his seat. “Maybe you’re right.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Anything you ask for, Ellie. I can handle it.”

“Good girl. Let me hear how wet you are.”

Tipping his chin towards the ceiling, Matt reaches forward, fumbling for the cable connecting the speakers to their set up. “We’ll try again tomorr–”

“No,” Frank murmurs, holding his hand out reflexively.  He hesitates swatting Matt’s hand away from the wire, but he still follows through, however unconvincing the gesture seems to be. It’s true; his stance was different just moments ago, but he thinks about it carefully now. Maybe Matt’s right, and the outcome of the call will be more useful than not, but maybe, buried deep down amongst the feelings he harbours for you…

“Why?”

Saying nothing further, Frank turns his attention back to you, still conflicted about whether or not he should listen in.

Positioning the phone between your legs, you lean down to rub your clit, alternating between featherlight strokes and deep-pressure circles. As you begin to splinter with the thought of your impending orgasm, you dip two fingers into your pussy, hoping the mic picks up on the slickness pooling between your legs. 

Slowly, you stretch yourself out, picturing her there, watching you. Savouring you. “God, Ellie, it feels so–”

“Mm,” Elektra moans, pausing to praise you as she ruffles around her nightstand. “Can you guess what I’m doing?”

You slide a pillow under your hips, groaning as you rock against your fingers. “I’m picturing you and your legs spread, your red silk robe draped over the side of the bed, and you’re– fuck! Fuck, Ellie–”

“Cum for me, pretty girl.”

Crying out, you arch your back into your own touch, riding your hand until your body recovers just enough to go again. “I know you’re… you’re grabbing your favourite dildo, so you can fuck yourself while you fuck me.”

“Hm, has anyone told you how clever you are?” 

“You’re picturing it, aren’t you?” Matt asks, his face indiscernible. “The two of ‘em, together.”

Frank nods, pressing his lips together. “Yeah.”

“I guess we finally agree about something,” Matt says, chuckling.

“Yeah? And what’s that, exactly?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you, Castle?”

Elektra huffs into the receiver, a faint buzzing emitting from her end of the call. “Put the phone down, Darling.”

“But–”

She continues, humoured and unfazed. “I can still hear you, don’t worry. I want you to use one finger on your clit, and hm… Three fingers in your pussy.” She poses her next words as a question. “Although, I know from the way you moaned my name that you added a third without asking?”

“Mm, Ellie–”

“I’ll let you off, just once.”

With every noise he picks up, Matt feels himself growing flustered. With all his tells laying out in the open–the flush in his cheeks, to his staggered breathing–he’s a dead giveaway. He pulls his tie over his head, unable to form a single coherent thought, the pretense of the mission long gone. Clearing his throat, Matt sits upright, draping his arm across his lap in an effort to conceal his growing erection. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but one of Elektra’s moans punctuates his focus, catching him off guard. 

Warmth singes Matt’s spine as he notices Frank’s gaze sliding to his lap.

“Shit, Red,” Frank murmurs, shaking his head, “I’m just… gonna leave you be. Okay? Call out when you’re… done.” He stands up promptly, stalking to the bedrolls in the other room.

“Wait–” Matt calls out, wanting to communicate that being left alone to act on his impulses is the last thing he needs…

But Frank makes a good point. Especially when he’s off to do the same thing.

“You know I can hear you jerking off, right?!” Matt yells. 

Frank’s retort bounces off the walls. “Mind your own damn business, Red!” 

“Whatever,” Matt mutters. Grateful for the privacy, he takes a moment to unbuckle his belt, tuning out the clinking of the metal in favour of the conversation overhead.

“Will you do me a favour, Ellie?” you gasp, pumping your fingers in and out of you with increasing speed.

“That depends on what you want.”

Desperation limns your voice, but you’re past the point of caring. “I want to hear you fuck yourself. Let me hear you cum.”

There’s a shuffle of fabric on the other end of the phone as Elektra makes a small noise of approval. 

Matt doesn’t need to be told that she’s moved in favour of a better position. 

Cowgirl was always her favourite.

He groans, still fully clothed, bucking into his hand as he concentrates on Elektra’s rhythmic breathing and hisses of pleasure. He palms himself, knowing she’s riding her dildo the same way she’d ride him, knowing just from the way she sounds that she’s getting close.

But she’s not the object of his attention tonight.

Not when you’re right there, unbelievably tangible yet barely within his grasp.

He wants you, affirming the thought as he pushes his underwear down; just enough to wrap his fist around his cock. He doesn’t have time to take it slow, so this will have to do.

In the other room, the noises you make echo in Frank’s mind, playing and replaying until he’s forced to hold onto the concrete wall to maintain any semblance of sanity. He squeezes his eyes shut as he fucks his hand, picturing you all stretched out, taking him until he has no more left to give.  

As if they both hadn’t just spilled into their hands, unable to shake the relief that gave way into yearning, they remember that there is still the matter of the mission at hand.

“I… I think they’re finishing up,” Matt rasps, rolling his chair up to the laptop on the main desk. 

Frank replies with a curt nod, taking his place on Matt’s left. 

“Better?” Elektra exhales, satisfaction now evident in her tone. 

“Always.”

“Same time tomorrow, Darling?” she asks, cheerful. 

“Why don’t I come over to yours, Ellie? We can leave the curtains open again, give New York a little show.”

Elektra clicks her tongue. “Ah, like the one we put on tonight?” 

Frank shoots a sideways glance at Matt. 

She continues, more resolute than before. “I think an in-person show might be better. Don’t you think so, boys?” 

“No goddamn way,” he mouths.

Elektra pouts. “You both came awfully fast, didn’t you?”

Frank was right; they’d listened far too long. To something far too personal. 

Matt swears, searching for a way to end the call. 

“You really think I wouldn’t find out? Amateurs.”

Frank sighs as the dial tone rings in their ears, clapping Matt on the back. “Well, I think our cover’s blown.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Nice knowin’ you, Red. Nice knowin’ you.”

tags {x} for everyone who interacted with the original post/people who might like this 💗 @v4leoftears @devils-dares @chvoswxtch @itwasthereaminuteago @castlesnchurches @reborn-rekall @qu1etwolf @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass @murdock-and-the-sea @fxlsealarm @hailey-murdock

#matt murdock smut #frank castle smut #elektra natchios smut #daredevil #the punisher #frank castle #matt murdock #elektra natchios #elektra natchios x reader #matt murdock x reader #frank castle x reader #rhi writes 💻 #x reader