main account @bloatedandalone04 - this is where i reblog stuff since i have ocd and need a tidy account. unfortunately can’t follow back on this account but i love y’all.
Pairing: teenage!Jax Teller x teenage!fem!Reader Word Count: 4.6k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]
Warning/tags: angst, infidelity, breakup, mentions of abuse/alcoholism, no happy ending
Summary: Growing up with an alcoholic, abusive father, the most you'd ever known about love came when you met Jax at sixteen. Despite all the warnings Charming tried to preach about the club, you finally found safety and a home among the Sons. But after your high school graduation when Jax had finally patched into SAMCRO, you were hit with a harsh realization–you were always bound to lose it all.
a/n: I've had these two/the situation stuck in my head for a bit, so I decided to write it out as a potential prequel for a story further down the road after I finish some others. Feedback (reblogs/comments/likes) is always appreciated!
With the sun hovering high overhead baking the asphalt, the blacktop shimmered in the overwhelming heat. Beside the Sons’ clubhouse and the closed garage of Teller-Morrow, the familiar long line of Harleys usually parked together in a row was noticeably absent from the lot, making both buildings appear half-abandoned in their vacancy. But after last night's argument with Jax, you'd hoped for exactly that. Which was why you'd waited until nearly two in the afternoon before finally making your way back to the Sons’ compound, figuring he'd be gone already, out with the Sons doing something for the club and pretending nothing had happened.
But something did happen. And now you didn't think you could ever look at Jax again.
Dragging your tired feet over the pavement, the soles of your shoes scraped over the asphalt with each of your steps. During your slow, reluctant progress towards the door beneath the grinning reaper, you were acutely aware of how your feet didn’t quite feel like your feet even if they were wearing your worn, black Adidas. Granted, not much felt real anymore, not after Jax shattered absolutely everything last night.
Someone else might as well have taken possession of your body, controlling your limbs while the rest of you remained locked far away somewhere inside of your mind. After how much you’d cried last night, you’d grown numb and detached once the sun had risen. Because those weren’t your feet continually traveling towards the Sons’ clubhouse, shuffling over the scorching blacktop with determined purpose. Those weren’t your fingers scrubbing against your aching, stinging eyes trying to wipe away tears that weren’t yours despite them staining wet trails down your cheeks.
Instead of waking up next to Jax in his room at the clubhouse–a place which had also become your room over the past five months–you'd spent last night at Zoe’s house. Unlike all of the other times you'd stayed over at your best friend's house before graduation, neither of you painted your nails while giggling and talking about boys, staying awake until two in the morning watching movies and eating junk food. You'd spent last night an inconsolable mess on Zoe’s bedroom floor, crying so hard that you’d eventually stopped making any sounds, struggling to catch your breath and nearly vomiting on her carpet. You hadn’t calmed down until a heartwrenching clarity finally struck you near four in the morning.
Eyes sore and hollowed out from all the tears you’d shed, you trudged up to the door of the clubhouse and brushed the sleeve of your sweatshirt against your damp cheeks, ignoring the black streaks of mascara darkening the gray fabric. Your other hand paused on the door handle when your stomach gave an unexpected violent lurch without warning. Before you could stop it, the memory of the last time you'd stepped through that door abruptly shoved itself to the forefront of your mind, and your insides roiled in savage protest at the idea of returning.
There’d been a party at the clubhouse last night like usual. You’d slipped inside past a handful of Sons hanging around with a few of the croweaters searching for Jax, desperately needing his comfort and calming presence. You’d made the mistake of going back home to find some clothes to keep in Jax’s room, wanting more options to choose from than just the handful you’d packed up the day you’d left that house a few months ago. You’d expected your father to be out already, wasted at one of the bars downtown, but he’d taken you by surprise by being wasted at home instead.
After an upsetting altercation which ended in a beer bottle being thrown and nearly missing you, smashing to pieces as it hit the wall beside your head, you’d fled back to the safety of the Sons. You simply wanted to snatch a few beers from behind the bar–something no one batted an eye at despite you both only being nineteen–and pull Jax back to his room before forgetting the whole encounter with your father and all of the horrible things he'd yelled at you as you fled.
Except when you found Jax, it wasn't the scene you anticipated. He was in the far back of the clubhouse, comfortably lounging on one of the sofas with a croweater on his lap. You'd gone so immobile at the sight that you'd even stopped breathing, tears filling your eyes as some other girl's fingers tangled in his long hair while she shoved her tongue into his mouth. Bile had risen into the back of your throat watching her grind against his lap, his hands cupping her ass in her short skirt and encouraging the movements. Your stomach turned roughly at the sight before you spun around and bolted.
“It was just a kiss! A drunken fuckin’ mistake!”
He'd found you in the parking lot a few minutes later, hyperventilating and sobbing while mascara ran down your cheeks. There'd been a lot of shouting on both sides before you’d flung some awful names at him, utterly destroyed as the pain of his betrayal cut straight through you. You'd told him off and cursed him out before running away, leaving him in the parking lot drunkenly yelling after you just like your father.
Last night had wrecked you. Jax had been the only constant in your life, the only good thing you’d known ever since you’d met him nearly three years ago when you were sixteen. You’d been leaning against the bleachers outside of your high school, vacantly staring at the empty running track that looped before you like some grand metaphor about life. You’d been contemplating skipping school while questioning your entire existence after yet another argument you’d had with your father that morning when Jax and Opie had found you. Having always been warned to stay away from the bad boys who’d grown up in the local motorcycle club, both of them already deemed awful criminals by association with the Sons, you’d never gotten to know Jax growing up. But he offered you a genuine smile and a distraction that sounded more thrilling than sitting through a day of lectures, so you’d followed both of them off campus.
You'd become inseparable ever since that day you’d skipped school, the three of you eating gas station burritos on the picnic tables outside of Teller-Morrow. Jax became the family you'd never had before, him and all of the Sons. Even Gemma had grown to be like the mother you'd always needed after losing your actual mom when you were young–the sole reason for your father's excessive alcohol consumption. Everyone around Teller-Morrow or the clubhouse always made sure that you were fed and had somewhere to sleep, or that you had a ride to school or protection from your father if you ever needed it. For the first time in your life, you’d had somewhere you belonged.
Once Jax had finally gone from prospect to patched member, which had happened just before you'd graduated from high school a few months ago, you'd been permanently staying with him at the clubhouse. No one cared that you were always hanging around, especially because you’d learned the rules about where you were and were not welcome. None of that mattered to you though, because you were able to avoid returning to your house and seeing your father, something you refused unless necessity absolutely demanded it. Which unfortunately it had last night.
But now Jax had crossed a hard line that you’d long since made clear to him. You wouldn’t tolerate cheating, you had no intention of sharing him with the girls around the clubhouse. You’d always trusted him despite temptation constantly walking around in short skirts and tiny tube tops, even if you hadn’t liked the way he occasionally flirted back. But after witnessing him making out with some croweater probably a decade older than both of you, letting her dry hump right in the middle of a party, you lost every ounce of that trust in seconds. And with the loss of trust, you’d immediately lost everything you’d ever wanted in one fell swoop–safety, family, and a place to call home. Jax had ripped it all out from underneath you without warning, as if those almost three years of sharing nearly everything together had meant absolutely nothing to him.
That’s what led to the heartwrenching clarity that’d struck you so early in the morning. It was a simple fact that your relationship with Jax always had an expiration. Zoe had cautioned you countless times about getting too comfortable with Jax, stating the obvious examples of how every other Sons’ relationships and marriages had dissolved because of infidelity. Even Gemma had given you some warning about the lifestyle of a Son, not that you hadn’t seen it firsthand on multiple occasions over the years. But you’d naively always thought Jax loved you as much as you loved him. You believed that he would never be tempted to stray towards the other eager, willing women that threw themselves in his path because you genuinely believed he was happy with you.
Now you realized that you were simply a nineteen year old idiot. How stupid could you have been thinking someone as good-looking and charismatic as Jax would remain faithful to you? He was young and charming, why the fuck would he settle for just you? With the way the Sons were always partying and sleeping around, it was obvious that Jax would eventually want to take part in that himself. That day had always been coming, the end of everything always sitting just around the corner, and now you’d finally met it.
You didn’t have much but a small stack of cash, a handful of clothes, and your worn black school backpack. All of which were tucked away in Jax’s room, which was the unfortunate reason as to why you'd had no choice but to come back to the clubhouse. You needed to gather up all of your belongings, but this would be the very last time you ever stepped foot in here again. Because you were done with Jax, the Sons, your father, and Charming.
Swallowing down the lump forming in the back of your throat, you pushed away all the memories of last night and finally opened the door to the clubhouse. Already used to how empty it often was during the day, you were grateful for the eerie silence that greeted you as you strode past the bar and towards the hallway leading to the back rooms. Moving through the clubhouse with a determined purpose, you intentionally avoided looking at the couches in the corner, not needing to recall the mental image now seared into your mind. Trying to block out the hurt and pain clawing at your chest, you buried yourself a little further into the recesses of your mind as you headed to Jax’s room. You were here for a reason and you refused to think about anything else.
The plan was simple even if it wasn’t entirely well thought out. You’d grab your things and get far away from Charming, California. You couldn’t go back to living with your father, not without the protection of the Sons. He’d already grown used to you moving out months ago, and so had you. Trying to return back to that house and that awful situation would’ve only resulted in more abuse, which you couldn’t stomach any longer.
So this morning you’d contacted Unser before leaving Zoe’s house. Wayne always had a soft spot for you, and he’d frequently tried to find excuses to toss your father into county jail or the drunk tank just to give you a quiet night at home. He’d agreed to give you a ride out to Stockton this afternoon as a personal favor, dropping you off at a Greyhound bus station since you didn’t have any other form of transportation. When you got there, you would grab whatever ticket you could afford that would take you the furthest from Charming, and then you’d figure out the rest of the details afterwards. Only Zoe knew the full scope of your plan, which was why she’d helped you ditch your old phone and gotten you a new one this morning so that you could keep in touch.
When you stopped in front of Jax’s room at the end of the hallway, you found the door partially ajar. Your hand hovered in the air as you stared at the pockmarked wood, your body temporarily tensing as you hesitated. What had happened after you’d yelled at Jax last night and left him here? You’d both never fought like that before, and while you hadn’t explicitly told him that things were over, you’d certainly made it clear that you were furious with him. Had he gone back inside the party and slept with that croweater? Had he brought her back to this room and fucked her in the same bed you shared together?
Shaking your head roughly, you shoved those thoughts aside, fighting back the sting of tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. It didn’t matter what he’d done after that kiss you’d caught, it wouldn’t change how he’d betrayed and broken your trust. He might’ve tried to downplay it as a drunken kiss, but you’d seen what’d transpired on that couch. What would’ve happened if you hadn’t caught him when you did? Would that drunken mistake of a kiss have turned into a drunken mistake of a fuck? Would you have come back to go to bed only to find him already in bed with her? And was that the first time it’d ever happened, or was that just the first time Jax had ever been caught?
Pushing open the door to his room, it gave way with a soft creak. Ignoring his bed with its crumpled, messy sheets, you abruptly turned towards the couch beside his dresser. Your black Jansport backpack was still sitting on the corner of the lumpy couch where you’d last left it. You headed straight towards it, opening up an inside zipper pouch and finding your small wad of cash safely tucked inside. It was just a few hundred dollars, and while you doubted you’d get far on that, you didn’t see what other choice you had.
In less than ten minutes, you’d found all your clothes and the few personal items you kept in Jax’s room, stashing them away in your backpack. You moved with an extreme focus, zipping the bag closed as your mind shifted to meeting Unser at the gas station downtown next. He’d agreed to pick you up there around two-thirty, which meant you had just enough time to finish packing here before walking the four blocks through the heat to the Quick Stop.
Bent over the couch with your back to the door, you were so lost in your thoughts that you startled when two knocks came from behind you. Fear slingshot itself through you as your head whipped over your shoulder, your heart nearly jumping straight out of your chest. You expected to find Jax standing there, either irate and furious after last night’s argument, or giving you that guilty expression he wore whenever the club destroyed your plans together. But it wasn’t Jax standing in the doorway, it was Gemma.
Her eyes dipped down towards the backpack on the couch, watching you finish zipping it shut before they knowingly rose to meet yours. You tensed beneath her stare, uncertain what reaction the matriarch of SAMCRO would have to seeing you packing your things and ducking out on her son. You didn't doubt she'd already heard about the fight last night, and while you’d always been close with her, you knew where you ranked next to Jax.
“Guessin’ you're planning to disappear without saying anything?” she observed, something cold weighing down her words. “Suppose that’s why you're packing your bag while he's out, right?”
Carefully turning around to face her, you slipped the straps of your backpack over your shoulders. Gemma wore a neutral yet guarded expression, and it was a completely devastating contrast to all the warm smiles she usually greeted you with. It wasn't lost on you how she remained standing in the doorway either, blocking your only exit out of Jax’s room.
“There's nothing left to say,” you stated. “Pretty sure we said everything last night.”
“You sure about that, sweetheart?” she countered, eyes narrowing.
The tension between you both sat heavy in the small room, that hard look on her face making your chest feel tight. Gemma's lips thinned in the minutest display of her disappointment, and you felt your stomach dip, hating knowing that you put that look on her face after she'd taken you in at sixteen. She’d invited you over to countless family dinners, even if Jax was out late with the club. She’d taken you out to get manicures together, bought you the dress you’d been eyeing for your high school graduation, and she’d even given you odd jobs around Teller-Morrow because she knew you needed the money.
“He made his choice,” you said, fighting the tremble in your voice. “He knew that would hurt me, but he did it anyway.”
“And you've always known who he was,” she shot back. “A Sons’ gaze might wander, but it's your place to remind him where he belongs.”
You shook your head, fighting to keep the thoughts of Jax and that girl from your mind. You did not want to remember the way her hips were bouncing on his lap, her short skirt riding higher up beneath his grip.
“Maybe you're content with that,” you retorted, pain lacing your words, “but I'm not going to beg and fight for his love and attention. I spent enough time doing that with my father. I know where that dead end leads.”
Gemma shifted to rest her shoulder against the doorway, tipping her head back as she stared down her nose at you. Unlike every other time she’d looked at you when you’d spoken about your father, there was no warmth or sympathy in her eyes, only cold detachment.
“Then I was wrong about you,” she stated. “You're not cut out for this life or my son. Jackson needs someone strong that's gonna stand by his side through everything. He doesn’t need a feeble-minded bitch who turns tail and runs the first time something goes south.”
Her words stung as they struck you like a slap to the face, tears welling in your eyes at the sharp insult. Gemma had never spoken like this to you before, icy and harsh as if you were miles beneath her. It reminded you of the cruel things your father would say when he drank, and it made your stomach knot.
“Probably for the best that you get lost now before he gets too attached,” she finished, pushing away from the door frame. “Better he drops the dead weight holding him back and finds himself a good woman when he's ready. Someone who can handle this life. That’ll never be you, sweetheart.”
Something sour curdled in your stomach at the thought of Jax moving on in the future, looking at someone else the way he’d always looked at you. Whispering how much he loved them into their ear while they were falling asleep at night, nuzzling his nose against the back of their neck instead of yours. But disgust coursed through you as the image of that croweater grinding on his lap flashed through your mind again, his hand squeezing her ass as they sloppily made out. Whitehot fury burned through you before you drew it back, forcing yourself to disconnect from everything. You needed to get out of here, not start crying again.
“No, it won’t,” you bitterly agreed. “Because I’m not that girl.”
Storming the short distance across Jax’s room, you slipped past Gemma and out into the hallway, not surprised when she didn’t try to stop you. Apparently everything you thought you’d found here over the years had been a lie. They felt no loyalty towards you because you were never truly part of their family.
None of them had ever actually loved you in the end.
Standing outside of the bus station, you toyed with the bus ticket in your hands, curling the edges of it around your fingers. It was a one way ticket from Stockton, California to Knoxville, Tennessee, a trip which would ultimately take about three days by bus. You’d spent a good portion of your dwindling cash purchasing it, but the bus idling nearby was leaving in mere minutes. Which meant that in a matter of hours, you'd be far away from Charming and completely free of Jax, your father, and everything else that’d ever let you down.
Maybe you’d find something else on the other side of the country worth living for. Maybe you could become someone else, start over entirely where no one knew your past. Make your own life, find your own way in the world. While you still had no idea how you’d make money, or where you’d sleep once you got out to Tennessee, you knew you’d figure it out. Spending years around Jax and the Sons had taught you to become resourceful and resilient, and you did have three days on a bus to make a plan.
“You sure ‘bout all this?” Unser asked.
He scratched at the top of his balding head, cautiously eyeing the ticket in your hands like it was a live bomb that he felt obligated to diffuse. He’d repeatedly asked you if you were positive that leaving was really the best choice on the half hour drive out to Stockton, reminding you over and over that you were just a nineteen year old girl who’d be traveling alone with nothing but a backpack.
“You got any better ideas?” you questioned, quirking a brow. “Would you rather I go back to Charming and live with my father? Or have you already forgotten the hospital visit which led to me not staying there anymore?”
Unser winced, no doubt recalling the bender your father had been on which resulted in him breaking two of your fingers during a heated argument a few months back. Unser had been the one to show up on your doorstep and arrest your dad that night, but you hadn’t ultimately pressed charges. Instead, Wayne had held him in county jail just long enough for you to pack some things and settle in at the clubhouse with Jax where you finished out the rest of your senior year of high school without living in fear.
You were not going back to that.
“Well, what about your friend?” he suggested. “Or applying to college? Movin’ into a dorm or somethin’?”
“College isn't exactly cheap, Wayne,” you pointed out. “Besides, fall semester already started everywhere. College isn't an option. And I don't want to burden Zoe's family by asking them to take in someone else.” You shook your head, glancing at the bus idling behind him. “I'm leaving. It's the only thing that feels right.”
“Jax ain't gonna like it, kid,” he stated.
Your eyes narrowed as your gaze returned to Wayne, noticing how he shifted under the weight of your heated glare. You hadn't told him much about why you were leaving, but Wayne wasn't dense. He'd tiptoed around the topic of Jax on the half hour drive out here, not directly mentioning him, but that in itself made it apparent that he knew your sudden departure was related to the prince of Charming.
“Jax will find someone else to warm his bed at night,” you glowered, your chest constricting in retaliation at the thought. “He won't need to worry about me holding him back anymore.”
Unser pursed his lips, looking as if he was about to say more on the subject, but after a long pause he blew out a resigned breath, thinking better about it. Sticking a hand into his back pocket, he slid out a black leather wallet and opened it. You watched with furrowed brows as he pulled out a stack of cash before folding the thick wad of twenty dollar bills in half. He held them out to you, and you stared uncertainly down at the money without reaching for it.
“Take it,” he urged, waving the cash at you. “Please. I'd feel better knowing I wasn't sending you off with hardly anything. And if you change your mind on that bus ride, this’ll give you a way to come back here.”
Chewing the inside of your cheek you hesitated, still staring down at the few hundred dollars he was just willingly handing over to you. Maybe Jax, Gemma, the Sons, and your own father had never truly cared about you, but at least some people in Charming did. Your throat grew tight when you finally reached out, accepting the money while blinking back the sting of tears.
“Thanks,” you said softly, stuffing the money into the pocket of your shorts.
“Least I can do here,” he said with a shrug.
Your tongue slid out, nervously wetting your lips as you readjusted the strap of your backpack on your shoulder. The bus would be leaving soon and you needed to get on and find a seat before it did. But you hoped that you could trust Unser not to spill anything to Jax about where you'd run off to before you'd gotten far enough away.
“You’re uh…you won't say anything, right?” you nervously questioned him. “About me leaving? To the others?”
“Look, kid,” Unser began, one hand awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, “you know I can't stay quiet forever. Girl goes missing in Charming, especially one so young and tied up with the Sons?” He shrugged a shoulder, an apologetic gleam in his eyes. “Y’know I can't exactly keep my mouth shut on it for too long. But I can give you a few hours to get outta here before I gotta break the news.”
A small, grateful smile slipped across your lips. That was the best you knew you’d get. Sniffling hard in an attempt to shove down the tears before they could break loose, you stepped forward and threw your arms around Unser’s neck. Over the years he'd become something like an uncle to you, always looking out for you whenever he could. As he hugged you back, it fully hit you just how utterly alone you were about to become once you stepped onto that bus. There’d be no one looking out for you anymore, you’d be entirely on your own.
“Take care of yourself, sweetheart. Okay?” Unser pleaded. “Know that you can always come back if you need to, alright?”
Pulling away from him, you nodded as you wiped a few fingers beneath your eyes, capturing the moisture before it could fall. You’d cried far more than you should’ve in the past twenty-four hours, eventually you needed to stop.
“Yeah,” you lied. “I know.”
You said your final goodbyes, but as you turned and headed over to the Greyhound bus about ready to make its departure from the bus station, you knew that wasn’t true. Your time in Charming had come to an end, and you'd lose your welcome in your small hometown with the way you were about to run from Jax. Getting on that bus would be throwing a lit match onto everything, permanently burning all your bridges in Charming down.
The fact that this is heading in the direction to become a series of them later on in life, I can't wait. Though I do NOT know how it will go because my petty ass would hold this against him for the rest of my life, respectfully.
You know when Gemma doesn't like someone, she's gonna do everything she can to make sure her baby boy doesn't like them either. God, she irritates me. Not everyone lets cheating slide, Gemma!!! Especially something like that.
My skin is heated right now, that's how riled up I am. Jax, you dumb son of a bitch. You pretty, sexy, dumb motherfucker. I love you, baby, but I ain't defending your sorry ass this time. Nope.
God, I need a break. And a drink. I was so unprepared.
Summary: Your morning in bed with Jax gets interrupted by club business, and after a long day spent barely staying in control of himself, he finally gets to pick up where you and he left off, this time on the kitchen table.
Word Count: 3.2k | I do not give consent to having my work republished or posted to any other platform or profile other than my own. | Masterlist
Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), swearing, hair pulling, unprotected sex, kinda rough sex, spanking, husband jax bc i just need him okay, enjoy.
Jax had been out all day long with the club, handling business that was more annoying rather than stressful to deal with, like it usually is.
He’d missed you for the majority of the day, especially since yours and his morning got interrupted earlier.
Jax had been in the middle of getting his fill of you, starting his day off right with his head buried between your thighs, when he’d gotten a call from Chibs. Apparently there were some issues with the side business they’d been working on, and it needed to be fixed right away so the club didn’t look like they had no idea what they were doing.
The Sons had a certain reputation, and yes it needed to be upheld, but it couldn’t have waited another half an hour?
Apparently not, so Jax had to leave you before he could make you fall apart on his fingers, tongue and cock, and he had to go deal with it. It took most of the day going back and forth, which was quite irritating since it could’ve been dealt with at a much later time in his opinion, but it was still important either way.
With that being said, Jax missed you, and he was wound up really fucking tight and wanted to get back home to you and finish what you and he had started in the bedroom this morning.
He got home just after dinner, his eyes instinctively searching for you as soon as he stepped through the door. When he saw movement in the kitchen, he looked over to see you slightly bent over the table, your hip jutted out as you flipped through the cookbook his mother had let you borrow.
Jax felt his jeans tighten instantly, his cock twitching with interest as he walked into the kitchen, standing behind you as he held back a groan at what you were wearing.
A flannel, his flannel that looked massive on you, a pair of panties, and nothing else. The buttons of the flannel were done up just halfway, and he wanted nothing more than to rip it open, bend you over the table, and grab your tits as he fucked you from behind.
He stepped closer, his hands coming up to grab onto your hips, and he leaned down to kiss your cheek, “Babe,” he greeted, noticing how deep and barely-restrained his voice sounded even to his own ears.
You looked over your shoulder at him and smiled. “Hi, baby,” you said back, only letting your eyes linger on his for a few more moments before you looked away again and back down at the open book. You flipped through the pages, biting down on your lip and making Jax refrain from bending you over right then and there. “I can’t find the recipe for that chili your mom made the first time I met her. She told me it was in here, but I can’t find it and I wanted to make it for dinner tomorrow.”
Jax listened to you ramble as best as he could, but he really wasn’t paying much attention to what you were saying. His focus was very far away from some old family recipe he’d had countless times before.
One of his hands left your hip and lifted to your stomach, and he placed his palm firmly against you, pulling your body back against his. He heard the way your breath hitched, your body tensing up just slightly before relaxing again, and he smirked, leaning in and nuzzling his nose against the side of your neck. “I really don’t give a fuck about the chili right now, baby,” he murmured, dragging his teeth along the shell of your ear as his fingers started to pull at the buttons of the flannel. “I’m starvin’ for somethin’ else. Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all goddamn day.”
He pressed himself closer to you, letting you feel just how true those words are as his cock strained against the zipper of his jeans. “Oh,” you breathed, staying still as you let him undo the buttons on his shirt. “Have you?” you asked, and you were already starting to tease him as you subtly wiggled your ass back against him.
Jax groaned, cursing under his breath as he pushed his hips forward, grinding against you. “You know I have,” he muttered, “Couldn’t focus on a fuckin’ thing. Kept thinkin’ ‘bout how I left you this mornin’. Didn’t even get to make you cum. That makes me a bad fuckin’ husband.”
You whimpered softly when he tugged the flannel down your shoulders, the fabric pooling around your elbows and exposing your breasts to his dark, greedy eyes. His hands came up to palm them both, and you pressed your lips together as you shook your head, “You’re not a… bad husband, Jax,” you whispered as his thumbs brushed along your nipples. “You just have… a lot of shit you need to do every day. I don’t blame you for that.”
He grunted against your skin as he leaned in and pressed kisses along your neck and throat, one hand leaving your chest and sliding down your body. “I know you don’t, babe. ‘S why you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he rasped, slipping one hand inside your panties and covering your core with it. “But I still gotta make it up to you. Don’t like leavin’ you like that at all.”
You moaned, your eyes falling shut as your head tipped back onto his shoulder. “We did get interrupted this morning, didn’t we?” you relented, still teasingly dragging your ass back and forth along the front of his jeans.
Jax groaned at the reminder, his mouth watering at the thought of picking right back up where you and he left off. “Mm, yeah, we did. Was in the middle of eatin’ my breakfast,” he mumbled, “Was gonna make you cum so hard for me, right on my tongue. Guess I’ll just have to do it now instead.”
His hand gave your breast a firm squeeze, his other hand leaving your core and latching onto your other breast once more. He rocked his hips against your backside, feeling his cock throb inside his jeans as he dipped his head further down and kissed along your jaw.
“You have no fuckin’ idea how hot you look right now,” he muttered, turning you around to face him, his hands moving to your waist to gently shove you back against the edge of the table. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this fuckin’ body all day.” he added as he ducked his head down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking roughly.
Another moan left your mouth, and you shut your eyes as his hands moved around your body, giving your ass a rough squeeze. “What have you been thinking about?” you asked, lifting your hands up and tugging at the leather of his kutte. You tugged it away from his body, and he let it fall to the floor before his hands were back on you.
“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this. Thinkin’ ‘bout bendin’ you over and fuckin’ you so good. How wet and tight you are for me,” he grunted, “Could taste you all day, baby. Drove me fuckin’ insane.”
Your eyes opened at that, and you grabbed onto his shoulders as he grabbed onto your hip with one hand, the other one sliding beneath the thin fabric of your panties once more. “That’s what you get for leaving without making me cum,” you said, and Jax huffed out a laugh.
His fingers became coated in your wetness, and he slowly eased two of his fingers inside you, his teeth dragging along his lower lip as he watched your expression shift at the feeling. “Shit, you’re so wet for me. Been waitin’ for me, huh?” he said under his breath, watching the way you eagerly nodded.
Jax hummed, dragging his fingers along your walls before pulling them back out, and he lifted them to his mouth, cleaning them of your arousal. He watched the way your eyes flickered down to his mouth, your face flushing as he sucked on his fingers, and your grip on his shoulders tightened just slightly.
He reached down and yanked your panties down your legs, tossing them behind him before he lifted you up onto the table, spreading your thighs wide. Jax dropped to his knees before you, guiding your legs over his shoulders and pulling you close to the edge of the table. “Gonna finish what I started,” he said, hearing the way your breath hitched before he leaned in and licked between your folds, collecting your wetness like he’d been craving all day.
Your hands braced behind you on the table, your head tipping back as soon as his mouth was on you. “Jax,” you whined as he picked right back up where he’d left off this morning. “Needed you so badly.”
Jax looked up at you, and the sight had his cock throbbing even more. You were leaning back on the table, his flannel around your elbows and exposing your tits, and God, you looked like every single wet dream he’s ever fucking had.
He was starving for you, and that much was obvious from the way he buried his face in your pussy, his tongue licking and lapping at you with even more desperation than it was this morning. “Needed this too,” he muttered, finally tearing his gaze off your face. His nose bumped against your clit as he dove back in, his hands holding onto your hips to keep you in place when you started bucking against his mouth.
His tongue slid inside of you, creating a wet, sticky mess between your thighs, but that was how he liked it. He liked when you made a mess of him, too.
A sharp gasp left your lips, your hands grabbing onto his hair as you pushed against his hands, bucking against his face once again. “Jax, please,” you begged, already reduced to how he’d gotten you earlier, but this time he had no plans on stopping, and he was not allowing himself to be interrupted again.
His hands wrapped under your thighs, bringing you closer and making your fingers cling onto his hair tighter as you almost lost your balance. Jax huffed out a laugh, pulling away from you with wet lips, “It’s alright, babe. I ain’t gonna let you fall,” he mumbled deeply, the corners of his lips turning upwards. “Least not like that.”
You rolled your eyes at that, digging your heel into his upper back, trying to not so subtly pull him back in. “You’re funny,” you said under your breath, “But I don’t feel like laughing right now, so keep going.”
Jax let out a deep laugh, shaking his head even as he moved back towards you. “Bossy,” he muttered, holding onto your thighs with a firm grip.
“You married me,” you pointed out, your thighs shaking a bit as he leaned in and dragged his tongue along you once more.
He hummed, “Best decision of my life,” he said, giving you a much softer grin before he was all over you again.
His tongue dragged up and down your folds, feeling the way your thighs trembled even more at either side of his head, and then he was sucking your clit into his mouth. Your body jolted, your nails scratching along his scalp as you ripped one hand away from his head, reaching behind you to grab onto the edge of the table instead.
“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, closing your eyes again as your head fell back. Your chest pushed forward as your back arched, and Jax looked up at you through hooded eyes, his tongue moving between your clit and your opening over and over again until he got you there - right where he wanted you.
A loud, dragged out moan left your lips as you came, your legs trying to close around his head but he didn’t stop, instead working you through it as you gasped at the sensitivity. Jax lapped at your core, licking and sucking and kissing all over until you slumped back on the table, your body still tense as your stomach quivered.
“There you go, that’s it. Tastes so fuckin’ good, baby,” he murmured, turning his head and nuzzling his nose along your inner thigh before placing one final, open mouthed kiss there. He pulled back and stood up, shamelessly licking at his wet lips as he reached down and undid his belt, then unzipped his jeans.
He stepped closer to you, reaching down to grab your hand with one of his, gently pulling you back up so you were sitting. His other hand slid up your back before tangling in your hair, and he tilted your head back before leaning down and kissing you deeply, sharing your taste with you.
Just as you were starting to deepen the kiss even more, Jax pulled away, his hands moving down to your hips. He lifted you from the table, then turned you around and bent you over it, one hand on your back guiding you lower until your chest was pressed against the surface.
He pushed down his jeans and boxers, freeing his cock that nearly ached at the relief of escaping the tightness of his boxers. He grasped himself in one hand, guiding the head of his cock to rub up and down your puffy folds, and a slow, smug smirk formed on his face as you whimpered.
“Jax,” you begged, “Please.”
His smirk only grew as he leaned over you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. “It’s okay, baby,” he teased, “You don’t gotta beg me. Not tonight.”
You huffed out a breath of air at that, only to quickly inhale it back in when he pushed the first couple of inches of his cock inside you, your hands instantly moving to grab onto the edge of the table. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped as he pushed all the way in, his hips pressed right up against your ass.
“Shit,” Jax grunted, pushing the flannel up around your waist so he could grab onto your bare hips. He looked down as he slowly pulled out, watching the way your tight walls stretched around him to be able to take all of him, then he pushed back in a little faster than before. “This is what you needed, isn’t it, baby? To be fucked just like this.” he muttered harshly, fucking into you a little faster as his cock became completely coated in your wetness.
You whined, nodding all too eagerly, “Yes. Fuck… yes,”
Jax let out a short laugh, one hand moving from your hip and sliding down to grab onto your ass. “Feels so good, baby. Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he praised, rolling his hips forward and watching the way you took him with each thrust. “Fuck. I needed this too.”
You moaned loudly, your hips hitting the edge of the table every time he fucked back into you. “Oh, my God,” you whined, your upper body pressing against the cool surface of the table with every thrust of his hips.
He leaned over you, his left hand grabbing onto the edge of the table next to yours as he started to fuck you a little harder than before. His hips hit your ass over and over again, his other hand sliding into your hair and tugging your head back a bit. “So fuckin’ good… fuck,” he grunted, holding your body in place with his own as he pressed you down against the table.
A choked moan left your mouth, your sounds filling the kitchen as he fucked you exactly like how he wanted to before. The few objects still on the table shifted every time he bottomed out inside of you, the cookbook you’d been flipping through dangerously close to falling off completely, but neither of you cared. He was sure Gemma would give him shit for a few bent pages, but he didn’t give a shit about that either.
“Yes, oh, my God, yes. Fuck, don’t stop, baby,” you cried out, tightening your grip on the table.
Jax grunted, your sounds only fueling his movements and making his cock throb deep inside of you. He let go of your hair, dragging his hand down your back until he reached your ass, and he pushed the flannel up once again since it had slipped back down. He gave you a firm squeeze before giving you a sharp smack, feeling the way you clenched around him as your skin burned.
“That’s it, baby,” he muttered, grabbing onto your waist with a tight grip as he pulled you back against him now with every thrust. “C’mon, babe, squeeze that cock. Cum on my dick like I know you want to.”
You whined loudly, squeezing your eyes shut at the same time your core squeezed his cock, instantly obliging to his request. Your body started to shake, your hands trembling from where they held the table in a death grip as you came with a long, needy cry.
Jax groaned deeply, his eyes locked onto where you and he were connected as his cock became even wetter, even warmer from your release. “That’s my girl,” he rasped, slowing down just slightly as he felt his cock twitch inside you. He came only seconds later, his chest heaving as he filled you with his cum until some of it started to leak out around him. “Shit. So fuckin’ good.”
He leaned over you, covering your back with his chest as you went limp on the table, thoroughly fucked out. Jax kissed along your bare shoulder, one hand sliding under you until he reached your throat, and he turned your head, guiding your mouth into a deep kiss.
You moaned weakly against his lips, kissing him a little desperately before he pulled away, his lips as puffy and kiss swollen as yours are. He slowly pulled out of you, pressing his lips together as he watched a few beads of cum drip out along with his cock.
The sight had one corner of his mouth turning upwards as he helped you stand up straight. Your legs were still shaking as he turned your body around and pulled you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “You good?” he asked, unable to stop the teasing and smugness from seeping into his tone.
You nodded, burying your face in his shirt as your hands grabbed at his back, your body still trembling with the aftershocks. “That definitely made up for this morning,” you said once you were finally able to find your voice and speak again.
Jax let out a deep laugh, one hand cradling the back of your head as he brushed a soft kiss along your temple. “I’ll make it up to you even more tomorrow mornin’, with no interruptions,” he said, pulling his flannel back up your body so you were properly wearing it again. He pulled back with a smirk, “Told the guys no more callin’ me at nine in the mornin’ unless it’s a real emergency.”
You lifted a brow, watching as he pulled his boxers and jeans back up, but left them unzipped. “What, today wasn’t a real emergency?” you asked, taking his hand when he offered it to you.
He pulled you with him towards the bedroom, keeping his other hand planted firmly on your ass as his front pressed against your back. “Not nearly important enough to be interrupted for,” he answered, his smirk softening when you let out a laugh.
-
Dedicated to @hunnamandhoney because you mentioned in a reblog of a gif set of a shirtless Jax sitting at his kitchen table and of him wearing a flannel, and you said you wanted to be bent over that table while wearing his flannel, and it’s been in my head ever since. So. Thank you and I hope you enjoy x
Apologies for being MIA. Just went through something really hard and had no motivation, and the only form of outlet I had was this, so I guess I’m like Jax in that way loooool.
Summary: Your morning in bed with Jax gets interrupted by club business, and after a long day spent barely staying in control of himself, he finally gets to pick up where you and he left off, this time on the kitchen table.
Word Count: 3.2k | I do not give consent to having my work republished or posted to any other platform or profile other than my own. | Masterlist
Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), swearing, hair pulling, unprotected sex, kinda rough sex, spanking, husband jax bc i just need him okay, enjoy.
Jax had been out all day long with the club, handling business that was more annoying rather than stressful to deal with, like it usually is.
He’d missed you for the majority of the day, especially since yours and his morning got interrupted earlier.
Jax had been in the middle of getting his fill of you, starting his day off right with his head buried between your thighs, when he’d gotten a call from Chibs. Apparently there were some issues with the side business they’d been working on, and it needed to be fixed right away so the club didn’t look like they had no idea what they were doing.
The Sons had a certain reputation, and yes it needed to be upheld, but it couldn’t have waited another half an hour?
Apparently not, so Jax had to leave you before he could make you fall apart on his fingers, tongue and cock, and he had to go deal with it. It took most of the day going back and forth, which was quite irritating since it could’ve been dealt with at a much later time in his opinion, but it was still important either way.
With that being said, Jax missed you, and he was wound up really fucking tight and wanted to get back home to you and finish what you and he had started in the bedroom this morning.
He got home just after dinner, his eyes instinctively searching for you as soon as he stepped through the door. When he saw movement in the kitchen, he looked over to see you slightly bent over the table, your hip jutted out as you flipped through the cookbook his mother had let you borrow.
Jax felt his jeans tighten instantly, his cock twitching with interest as he walked into the kitchen, standing behind you as he held back a groan at what you were wearing.
A flannel, his flannel that looked massive on you, a pair of panties, and nothing else. The buttons of the flannel were done up just halfway, and he wanted nothing more than to rip it open, bend you over the table, and grab your tits as he fucked you from behind.
He stepped closer, his hands coming up to grab onto your hips, and he leaned down to kiss your cheek, “Babe,” he greeted, noticing how deep and barely-restrained his voice sounded even to his own ears.
You looked over your shoulder at him and smiled. “Hi, baby,” you said back, only letting your eyes linger on his for a few more moments before you looked away again and back down at the open book. You flipped through the pages, biting down on your lip and making Jax refrain from bending you over right then and there. “I can’t find the recipe for that chili your mom made the first time I met her. She told me it was in here, but I can’t find it and I wanted to make it for dinner tomorrow.”
Jax listened to you ramble as best as he could, but he really wasn’t paying much attention to what you were saying. His focus was very far away from some old family recipe he’d had countless times before.
One of his hands left your hip and lifted to your stomach, and he placed his palm firmly against you, pulling your body back against his. He heard the way your breath hitched, your body tensing up just slightly before relaxing again, and he smirked, leaning in and nuzzling his nose against the side of your neck. “I really don’t give a fuck about the chili right now, baby,” he murmured, dragging his teeth along the shell of your ear as his fingers started to pull at the buttons of the flannel. “I’m starvin’ for somethin’ else. Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all goddamn day.”
He pressed himself closer to you, letting you feel just how true those words are as his cock strained against the zipper of his jeans. “Oh,” you breathed, staying still as you let him undo the buttons on his shirt. “Have you?” you asked, and you were already starting to tease him as you subtly wiggled your ass back against him.
Jax groaned, cursing under his breath as he pushed his hips forward, grinding against you. “You know I have,” he muttered, “Couldn’t focus on a fuckin’ thing. Kept thinkin’ ‘bout how I left you this mornin’. Didn’t even get to make you cum. That makes me a bad fuckin’ husband.”
You whimpered softly when he tugged the flannel down your shoulders, the fabric pooling around your elbows and exposing your breasts to his dark, greedy eyes. His hands came up to palm them both, and you pressed your lips together as you shook your head, “You’re not a… bad husband, Jax,” you whispered as his thumbs brushed along your nipples. “You just have… a lot of shit you need to do every day. I don’t blame you for that.”
He grunted against your skin as he leaned in and pressed kisses along your neck and throat, one hand leaving your chest and sliding down your body. “I know you don’t, babe. ‘S why you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he rasped, slipping one hand inside your panties and covering your core with it. “But I still gotta make it up to you. Don’t like leavin’ you like that at all.”
You moaned, your eyes falling shut as your head tipped back onto his shoulder. “We did get interrupted this morning, didn’t we?” you relented, still teasingly dragging your ass back and forth along the front of his jeans.
Jax groaned at the reminder, his mouth watering at the thought of picking right back up where you and he left off. “Mm, yeah, we did. Was in the middle of eatin’ my breakfast,” he mumbled, “Was gonna make you cum so hard for me, right on my tongue. Guess I’ll just have to do it now instead.”
His hand gave your breast a firm squeeze, his other hand leaving your core and latching onto your other breast once more. He rocked his hips against your backside, feeling his cock throb inside his jeans as he dipped his head further down and kissed along your jaw.
“You have no fuckin’ idea how hot you look right now,” he muttered, turning you around to face him, his hands moving to your waist to gently shove you back against the edge of the table. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this fuckin’ body all day.” he added as he ducked his head down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking roughly.
Another moan left your mouth, and you shut your eyes as his hands moved around your body, giving your ass a rough squeeze. “What have you been thinking about?” you asked, lifting your hands up and tugging at the leather of his kutte. You tugged it away from his body, and he let it fall to the floor before his hands were back on you.
“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this. Thinkin’ ‘bout bendin’ you over and fuckin’ you so good. How wet and tight you are for me,” he grunted, “Could taste you all day, baby. Drove me fuckin’ insane.”
Your eyes opened at that, and you grabbed onto his shoulders as he grabbed onto your hip with one hand, the other one sliding beneath the thin fabric of your panties once more. “That’s what you get for leaving without making me cum,” you said, and Jax huffed out a laugh.
His fingers became coated in your wetness, and he slowly eased two of his fingers inside you, his teeth dragging along his lower lip as he watched your expression shift at the feeling. “Shit, you’re so wet for me. Been waitin’ for me, huh?” he said under his breath, watching the way you eagerly nodded.
Jax hummed, dragging his fingers along your walls before pulling them back out, and he lifted them to his mouth, cleaning them of your arousal. He watched the way your eyes flickered down to his mouth, your face flushing as he sucked on his fingers, and your grip on his shoulders tightened just slightly.
He reached down and yanked your panties down your legs, tossing them behind him before he lifted you up onto the table, spreading your thighs wide. Jax dropped to his knees before you, guiding your legs over his shoulders and pulling you close to the edge of the table. “Gonna finish what I started,” he said, hearing the way your breath hitched before he leaned in and licked between your folds, collecting your wetness like he’d been craving all day.
Your hands braced behind you on the table, your head tipping back as soon as his mouth was on you. “Jax,” you whined as he picked right back up where he’d left off this morning. “Needed you so badly.”
Jax looked up at you, and the sight had his cock throbbing even more. You were leaning back on the table, his flannel around your elbows and exposing your tits, and God, you looked like every single wet dream he’s ever fucking had.
He was starving for you, and that much was obvious from the way he buried his face in your pussy, his tongue licking and lapping at you with even more desperation than it was this morning. “Needed this too,” he muttered, finally tearing his gaze off your face. His nose bumped against your clit as he dove back in, his hands holding onto your hips to keep you in place when you started bucking against his mouth.
His tongue slid inside of you, creating a wet, sticky mess between your thighs, but that was how he liked it. He liked when you made a mess of him, too.
A sharp gasp left your lips, your hands grabbing onto his hair as you pushed against his hands, bucking against his face once again. “Jax, please,” you begged, already reduced to how he’d gotten you earlier, but this time he had no plans on stopping, and he was not allowing himself to be interrupted again.
His hands wrapped under your thighs, bringing you closer and making your fingers cling onto his hair tighter as you almost lost your balance. Jax huffed out a laugh, pulling away from you with wet lips, “It’s alright, babe. I ain’t gonna let you fall,” he mumbled deeply, the corners of his lips turning upwards. “Least not like that.”
You rolled your eyes at that, digging your heel into his upper back, trying to not so subtly pull him back in. “You’re funny,” you said under your breath, “But I don’t feel like laughing right now, so keep going.”
Jax let out a deep laugh, shaking his head even as he moved back towards you. “Bossy,” he muttered, holding onto your thighs with a firm grip.
“You married me,” you pointed out, your thighs shaking a bit as he leaned in and dragged his tongue along you once more.
He hummed, “Best decision of my life,” he said, giving you a much softer grin before he was all over you again.
His tongue dragged up and down your folds, feeling the way your thighs trembled even more at either side of his head, and then he was sucking your clit into his mouth. Your body jolted, your nails scratching along his scalp as you ripped one hand away from his head, reaching behind you to grab onto the edge of the table instead.
“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, closing your eyes again as your head fell back. Your chest pushed forward as your back arched, and Jax looked up at you through hooded eyes, his tongue moving between your clit and your opening over and over again until he got you there - right where he wanted you.
A loud, dragged out moan left your lips as you came, your legs trying to close around his head but he didn’t stop, instead working you through it as you gasped at the sensitivity. Jax lapped at your core, licking and sucking and kissing all over until you slumped back on the table, your body still tense as your stomach quivered.
“There you go, that’s it. Tastes so fuckin’ good, baby,” he murmured, turning his head and nuzzling his nose along your inner thigh before placing one final, open mouthed kiss there. He pulled back and stood up, shamelessly licking at his wet lips as he reached down and undid his belt, then unzipped his jeans.
He stepped closer to you, reaching down to grab your hand with one of his, gently pulling you back up so you were sitting. His other hand slid up your back before tangling in your hair, and he tilted your head back before leaning down and kissing you deeply, sharing your taste with you.
Just as you were starting to deepen the kiss even more, Jax pulled away, his hands moving down to your hips. He lifted you from the table, then turned you around and bent you over it, one hand on your back guiding you lower until your chest was pressed against the surface.
He pushed down his jeans and boxers, freeing his cock that nearly ached at the relief of escaping the tightness of his boxers. He grasped himself in one hand, guiding the head of his cock to rub up and down your puffy folds, and a slow, smug smirk formed on his face as you whimpered.
“Jax,” you begged, “Please.”
His smirk only grew as he leaned over you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. “It’s okay, baby,” he teased, “You don’t gotta beg me. Not tonight.”
You huffed out a breath of air at that, only to quickly inhale it back in when he pushed the first couple of inches of his cock inside you, your hands instantly moving to grab onto the edge of the table. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped as he pushed all the way in, his hips pressed right up against your ass.
“Shit,” Jax grunted, pushing the flannel up around your waist so he could grab onto your bare hips. He looked down as he slowly pulled out, watching the way your tight walls stretched around him to be able to take all of him, then he pushed back in a little faster than before. “This is what you needed, isn’t it, baby? To be fucked just like this.” he muttered harshly, fucking into you a little faster as his cock became completely coated in your wetness.
You whined, nodding all too eagerly, “Yes. Fuck… yes,”
Jax let out a short laugh, one hand moving from your hip and sliding down to grab onto your ass. “Feels so good, baby. Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he praised, rolling his hips forward and watching the way you took him with each thrust. “Fuck. I needed this too.”
You moaned loudly, your hips hitting the edge of the table every time he fucked back into you. “Oh, my God,” you whined, your upper body pressing against the cool surface of the table with every thrust of his hips.
He leaned over you, his left hand grabbing onto the edge of the table next to yours as he started to fuck you a little harder than before. His hips hit your ass over and over again, his other hand sliding into your hair and tugging your head back a bit. “So fuckin’ good… fuck,” he grunted, holding your body in place with his own as he pressed you down against the table.
A choked moan left your mouth, your sounds filling the kitchen as he fucked you exactly like how he wanted to before. The few objects still on the table shifted every time he bottomed out inside of you, the cookbook you’d been flipping through dangerously close to falling off completely, but neither of you cared. He was sure Gemma would give him shit for a few bent pages, but he didn’t give a shit about that either.
“Yes, oh, my God, yes. Fuck, don’t stop, baby,” you cried out, tightening your grip on the table.
Jax grunted, your sounds only fueling his movements and making his cock throb deep inside of you. He let go of your hair, dragging his hand down your back until he reached your ass, and he pushed the flannel up once again since it had slipped back down. He gave you a firm squeeze before giving you a sharp smack, feeling the way you clenched around him as your skin burned.
“That’s it, baby,” he muttered, grabbing onto your waist with a tight grip as he pulled you back against him now with every thrust. “C’mon, babe, squeeze that cock. Cum on my dick like I know you want to.”
You whined loudly, squeezing your eyes shut at the same time your core squeezed his cock, instantly obliging to his request. Your body started to shake, your hands trembling from where they held the table in a death grip as you came with a long, needy cry.
Jax groaned deeply, his eyes locked onto where you and he were connected as his cock became even wetter, even warmer from your release. “That’s my girl,” he rasped, slowing down just slightly as he felt his cock twitch inside you. He came only seconds later, his chest heaving as he filled you with his cum until some of it started to leak out around him. “Shit. So fuckin’ good.”
He leaned over you, covering your back with his chest as you went limp on the table, thoroughly fucked out. Jax kissed along your bare shoulder, one hand sliding under you until he reached your throat, and he turned your head, guiding your mouth into a deep kiss.
You moaned weakly against his lips, kissing him a little desperately before he pulled away, his lips as puffy and kiss swollen as yours are. He slowly pulled out of you, pressing his lips together as he watched a few beads of cum drip out along with his cock.
The sight had one corner of his mouth turning upwards as he helped you stand up straight. Your legs were still shaking as he turned your body around and pulled you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “You good?” he asked, unable to stop the teasing and smugness from seeping into his tone.
You nodded, burying your face in his shirt as your hands grabbed at his back, your body still trembling with the aftershocks. “That definitely made up for this morning,” you said once you were finally able to find your voice and speak again.
Jax let out a deep laugh, one hand cradling the back of your head as he brushed a soft kiss along your temple. “I’ll make it up to you even more tomorrow mornin’, with no interruptions,” he said, pulling his flannel back up your body so you were properly wearing it again. He pulled back with a smirk, “Told the guys no more callin’ me at nine in the mornin’ unless it’s a real emergency.”
You lifted a brow, watching as he pulled his boxers and jeans back up, but left them unzipped. “What, today wasn’t a real emergency?” you asked, taking his hand when he offered it to you.
He pulled you with him towards the bedroom, keeping his other hand planted firmly on your ass as his front pressed against your back. “Not nearly important enough to be interrupted for,” he answered, his smirk softening when you let out a laugh.
-
Dedicated to @hunnamandhoney because you mentioned in a reblog of a gif set of a shirtless Jax sitting at his kitchen table and of him wearing a flannel, and you said you wanted to be bent over that table while wearing his flannel, and it’s been in my head ever since. So. Thank you and I hope you enjoy x
Apologies for being MIA. Just went through something really hard and had no motivation, and the only form of outlet I had was this, so I guess I’m like Jax in that way loooool.
Summary: Your morning in bed with Jax gets interrupted by club business, and after a long day spent barely staying in control of himself, he finally gets to pick up where you and he left off, this time on the kitchen table.
Word Count: 3.2k | I do not give consent to having my work republished or posted to any other platform or profile other than my own. | Masterlist
Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), swearing, hair pulling, unprotected sex, kinda rough sex, spanking, husband jax bc i just need him okay, enjoy.
Jax had been out all day long with the club, handling business that was more annoying rather than stressful to deal with, like it usually is.
He’d missed you for the majority of the day, especially since yours and his morning got interrupted earlier.
Jax had been in the middle of getting his fill of you, starting his day off right with his head buried between your thighs, when he’d gotten a call from Chibs. Apparently there were some issues with the side business they’d been working on, and it needed to be fixed right away so the club didn’t look like they had no idea what they were doing.
The Sons had a certain reputation, and yes it needed to be upheld, but it couldn’t have waited another half an hour?
Apparently not, so Jax had to leave you before he could make you fall apart on his fingers, tongue and cock, and he had to go deal with it. It took most of the day going back and forth, which was quite irritating since it could’ve been dealt with at a much later time in his opinion, but it was still important either way.
With that being said, Jax missed you, and he was wound up really fucking tight and wanted to get back home to you and finish what you and he had started in the bedroom this morning.
He got home just after dinner, his eyes instinctively searching for you as soon as he stepped through the door. When he saw movement in the kitchen, he looked over to see you slightly bent over the table, your hip jutted out as you flipped through the cookbook his mother had let you borrow.
Jax felt his jeans tighten instantly, his cock twitching with interest as he walked into the kitchen, standing behind you as he held back a groan at what you were wearing.
A flannel, his flannel that looked massive on you, a pair of panties, and nothing else. The buttons of the flannel were done up just halfway, and he wanted nothing more than to rip it open, bend you over the table, and grab your tits as he fucked you from behind.
He stepped closer, his hands coming up to grab onto your hips, and he leaned down to kiss your cheek, “Babe,” he greeted, noticing how deep and barely-restrained his voice sounded even to his own ears.
You looked over your shoulder at him and smiled. “Hi, baby,” you said back, only letting your eyes linger on his for a few more moments before you looked away again and back down at the open book. You flipped through the pages, biting down on your lip and making Jax refrain from bending you over right then and there. “I can’t find the recipe for that chili your mom made the first time I met her. She told me it was in here, but I can’t find it and I wanted to make it for dinner tomorrow.”
Jax listened to you ramble as best as he could, but he really wasn’t paying much attention to what you were saying. His focus was very far away from some old family recipe he’d had countless times before.
One of his hands left your hip and lifted to your stomach, and he placed his palm firmly against you, pulling your body back against his. He heard the way your breath hitched, your body tensing up just slightly before relaxing again, and he smirked, leaning in and nuzzling his nose against the side of your neck. “I really don’t give a fuck about the chili right now, baby,” he murmured, dragging his teeth along the shell of your ear as his fingers started to pull at the buttons of the flannel. “I’m starvin’ for somethin’ else. Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all goddamn day.”
He pressed himself closer to you, letting you feel just how true those words are as his cock strained against the zipper of his jeans. “Oh,” you breathed, staying still as you let him undo the buttons on his shirt. “Have you?” you asked, and you were already starting to tease him as you subtly wiggled your ass back against him.
Jax groaned, cursing under his breath as he pushed his hips forward, grinding against you. “You know I have,” he muttered, “Couldn’t focus on a fuckin’ thing. Kept thinkin’ ‘bout how I left you this mornin’. Didn’t even get to make you cum. That makes me a bad fuckin’ husband.”
You whimpered softly when he tugged the flannel down your shoulders, the fabric pooling around your elbows and exposing your breasts to his dark, greedy eyes. His hands came up to palm them both, and you pressed your lips together as you shook your head, “You’re not a… bad husband, Jax,” you whispered as his thumbs brushed along your nipples. “You just have… a lot of shit you need to do every day. I don’t blame you for that.”
He grunted against your skin as he leaned in and pressed kisses along your neck and throat, one hand leaving your chest and sliding down your body. “I know you don’t, babe. ‘S why you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he rasped, slipping one hand inside your panties and covering your core with it. “But I still gotta make it up to you. Don’t like leavin’ you like that at all.”
You moaned, your eyes falling shut as your head tipped back onto his shoulder. “We did get interrupted this morning, didn’t we?” you relented, still teasingly dragging your ass back and forth along the front of his jeans.
Jax groaned at the reminder, his mouth watering at the thought of picking right back up where you and he left off. “Mm, yeah, we did. Was in the middle of eatin’ my breakfast,” he mumbled, “Was gonna make you cum so hard for me, right on my tongue. Guess I’ll just have to do it now instead.”
His hand gave your breast a firm squeeze, his other hand leaving your core and latching onto your other breast once more. He rocked his hips against your backside, feeling his cock throb inside his jeans as he dipped his head further down and kissed along your jaw.
“You have no fuckin’ idea how hot you look right now,” he muttered, turning you around to face him, his hands moving to your waist to gently shove you back against the edge of the table. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this fuckin’ body all day.” he added as he ducked his head down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking roughly.
Another moan left your mouth, and you shut your eyes as his hands moved around your body, giving your ass a rough squeeze. “What have you been thinking about?” you asked, lifting your hands up and tugging at the leather of his kutte. You tugged it away from his body, and he let it fall to the floor before his hands were back on you.
“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this. Thinkin’ ‘bout bendin’ you over and fuckin’ you so good. How wet and tight you are for me,” he grunted, “Could taste you all day, baby. Drove me fuckin’ insane.”
Your eyes opened at that, and you grabbed onto his shoulders as he grabbed onto your hip with one hand, the other one sliding beneath the thin fabric of your panties once more. “That’s what you get for leaving without making me cum,” you said, and Jax huffed out a laugh.
His fingers became coated in your wetness, and he slowly eased two of his fingers inside you, his teeth dragging along his lower lip as he watched your expression shift at the feeling. “Shit, you’re so wet for me. Been waitin’ for me, huh?” he said under his breath, watching the way you eagerly nodded.
Jax hummed, dragging his fingers along your walls before pulling them back out, and he lifted them to his mouth, cleaning them of your arousal. He watched the way your eyes flickered down to his mouth, your face flushing as he sucked on his fingers, and your grip on his shoulders tightened just slightly.
He reached down and yanked your panties down your legs, tossing them behind him before he lifted you up onto the table, spreading your thighs wide. Jax dropped to his knees before you, guiding your legs over his shoulders and pulling you close to the edge of the table. “Gonna finish what I started,” he said, hearing the way your breath hitched before he leaned in and licked between your folds, collecting your wetness like he’d been craving all day.
Your hands braced behind you on the table, your head tipping back as soon as his mouth was on you. “Jax,” you whined as he picked right back up where he’d left off this morning. “Needed you so badly.”
Jax looked up at you, and the sight had his cock throbbing even more. You were leaning back on the table, his flannel around your elbows and exposing your tits, and God, you looked like every single wet dream he’s ever fucking had.
He was starving for you, and that much was obvious from the way he buried his face in your pussy, his tongue licking and lapping at you with even more desperation than it was this morning. “Needed this too,” he muttered, finally tearing his gaze off your face. His nose bumped against your clit as he dove back in, his hands holding onto your hips to keep you in place when you started bucking against his mouth.
His tongue slid inside of you, creating a wet, sticky mess between your thighs, but that was how he liked it. He liked when you made a mess of him, too.
A sharp gasp left your lips, your hands grabbing onto his hair as you pushed against his hands, bucking against his face once again. “Jax, please,” you begged, already reduced to how he’d gotten you earlier, but this time he had no plans on stopping, and he was not allowing himself to be interrupted again.
His hands wrapped under your thighs, bringing you closer and making your fingers cling onto his hair tighter as you almost lost your balance. Jax huffed out a laugh, pulling away from you with wet lips, “It’s alright, babe. I ain’t gonna let you fall,” he mumbled deeply, the corners of his lips turning upwards. “Least not like that.”
You rolled your eyes at that, digging your heel into his upper back, trying to not so subtly pull him back in. “You’re funny,” you said under your breath, “But I don’t feel like laughing right now, so keep going.”
Jax let out a deep laugh, shaking his head even as he moved back towards you. “Bossy,” he muttered, holding onto your thighs with a firm grip.
“You married me,” you pointed out, your thighs shaking a bit as he leaned in and dragged his tongue along you once more.
He hummed, “Best decision of my life,” he said, giving you a much softer grin before he was all over you again.
His tongue dragged up and down your folds, feeling the way your thighs trembled even more at either side of his head, and then he was sucking your clit into his mouth. Your body jolted, your nails scratching along his scalp as you ripped one hand away from his head, reaching behind you to grab onto the edge of the table instead.
“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, closing your eyes again as your head fell back. Your chest pushed forward as your back arched, and Jax looked up at you through hooded eyes, his tongue moving between your clit and your opening over and over again until he got you there - right where he wanted you.
A loud, dragged out moan left your lips as you came, your legs trying to close around his head but he didn’t stop, instead working you through it as you gasped at the sensitivity. Jax lapped at your core, licking and sucking and kissing all over until you slumped back on the table, your body still tense as your stomach quivered.
“There you go, that’s it. Tastes so fuckin’ good, baby,” he murmured, turning his head and nuzzling his nose along your inner thigh before placing one final, open mouthed kiss there. He pulled back and stood up, shamelessly licking at his wet lips as he reached down and undid his belt, then unzipped his jeans.
He stepped closer to you, reaching down to grab your hand with one of his, gently pulling you back up so you were sitting. His other hand slid up your back before tangling in your hair, and he tilted your head back before leaning down and kissing you deeply, sharing your taste with you.
Just as you were starting to deepen the kiss even more, Jax pulled away, his hands moving down to your hips. He lifted you from the table, then turned you around and bent you over it, one hand on your back guiding you lower until your chest was pressed against the surface.
He pushed down his jeans and boxers, freeing his cock that nearly ached at the relief of escaping the tightness of his boxers. He grasped himself in one hand, guiding the head of his cock to rub up and down your puffy folds, and a slow, smug smirk formed on his face as you whimpered.
“Jax,” you begged, “Please.”
His smirk only grew as he leaned over you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. “It’s okay, baby,” he teased, “You don’t gotta beg me. Not tonight.”
You huffed out a breath of air at that, only to quickly inhale it back in when he pushed the first couple of inches of his cock inside you, your hands instantly moving to grab onto the edge of the table. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped as he pushed all the way in, his hips pressed right up against your ass.
“Shit,” Jax grunted, pushing the flannel up around your waist so he could grab onto your bare hips. He looked down as he slowly pulled out, watching the way your tight walls stretched around him to be able to take all of him, then he pushed back in a little faster than before. “This is what you needed, isn’t it, baby? To be fucked just like this.” he muttered harshly, fucking into you a little faster as his cock became completely coated in your wetness.
You whined, nodding all too eagerly, “Yes. Fuck… yes,”
Jax let out a short laugh, one hand moving from your hip and sliding down to grab onto your ass. “Feels so good, baby. Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he praised, rolling his hips forward and watching the way you took him with each thrust. “Fuck. I needed this too.”
You moaned loudly, your hips hitting the edge of the table every time he fucked back into you. “Oh, my God,” you whined, your upper body pressing against the cool surface of the table with every thrust of his hips.
He leaned over you, his left hand grabbing onto the edge of the table next to yours as he started to fuck you a little harder than before. His hips hit your ass over and over again, his other hand sliding into your hair and tugging your head back a bit. “So fuckin’ good… fuck,” he grunted, holding your body in place with his own as he pressed you down against the table.
A choked moan left your mouth, your sounds filling the kitchen as he fucked you exactly like how he wanted to before. The few objects still on the table shifted every time he bottomed out inside of you, the cookbook you’d been flipping through dangerously close to falling off completely, but neither of you cared. He was sure Gemma would give him shit for a few bent pages, but he didn’t give a shit about that either.
“Yes, oh, my God, yes. Fuck, don’t stop, baby,” you cried out, tightening your grip on the table.
Jax grunted, your sounds only fueling his movements and making his cock throb deep inside of you. He let go of your hair, dragging his hand down your back until he reached your ass, and he pushed the flannel up once again since it had slipped back down. He gave you a firm squeeze before giving you a sharp smack, feeling the way you clenched around him as your skin burned.
“That’s it, baby,” he muttered, grabbing onto your waist with a tight grip as he pulled you back against him now with every thrust. “C’mon, babe, squeeze that cock. Cum on my dick like I know you want to.”
You whined loudly, squeezing your eyes shut at the same time your core squeezed his cock, instantly obliging to his request. Your body started to shake, your hands trembling from where they held the table in a death grip as you came with a long, needy cry.
Jax groaned deeply, his eyes locked onto where you and he were connected as his cock became even wetter, even warmer from your release. “That’s my girl,” he rasped, slowing down just slightly as he felt his cock twitch inside you. He came only seconds later, his chest heaving as he filled you with his cum until some of it started to leak out around him. “Shit. So fuckin’ good.”
He leaned over you, covering your back with his chest as you went limp on the table, thoroughly fucked out. Jax kissed along your bare shoulder, one hand sliding under you until he reached your throat, and he turned your head, guiding your mouth into a deep kiss.
You moaned weakly against his lips, kissing him a little desperately before he pulled away, his lips as puffy and kiss swollen as yours are. He slowly pulled out of you, pressing his lips together as he watched a few beads of cum drip out along with his cock.
The sight had one corner of his mouth turning upwards as he helped you stand up straight. Your legs were still shaking as he turned your body around and pulled you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “You good?” he asked, unable to stop the teasing and smugness from seeping into his tone.
You nodded, burying your face in his shirt as your hands grabbed at his back, your body still trembling with the aftershocks. “That definitely made up for this morning,” you said once you were finally able to find your voice and speak again.
Jax let out a deep laugh, one hand cradling the back of your head as he brushed a soft kiss along your temple. “I’ll make it up to you even more tomorrow mornin’, with no interruptions,” he said, pulling his flannel back up your body so you were properly wearing it again. He pulled back with a smirk, “Told the guys no more callin’ me at nine in the mornin’ unless it’s a real emergency.”
You lifted a brow, watching as he pulled his boxers and jeans back up, but left them unzipped. “What, today wasn’t a real emergency?” you asked, taking his hand when he offered it to you.
He pulled you with him towards the bedroom, keeping his other hand planted firmly on your ass as his front pressed against your back. “Not nearly important enough to be interrupted for,” he answered, his smirk softening when you let out a laugh.
-
Dedicated to @hunnamandhoney because you mentioned in a reblog of a gif set of a shirtless Jax sitting at his kitchen table and of him wearing a flannel, and you said you wanted to be bent over that table while wearing his flannel, and it’s been in my head ever since. So. Thank you and I hope you enjoy x
Apologies for being MIA. Just went through something really hard and had no motivation, and the only form of outlet I had was this, so I guess I’m like Jax in that way loooool.
This was...so so good. I'm already in the middle of a serious heatwave right now for this week, and this just made my house suddenly ten times warmer 🥵🫠
I'm also sorry to hear you've been going through it. I'm here for you and I hope things start to look up for you, lovely 🤍🫶🏻
This is a yap session so scroll if you feel so inclined to.
As a person who reads fanfiction you are not going to catch me complaining about what it is that people are writing. I am an AVID consumer of ‘x reader’ fanfiction and l hate to see people complain about “too much smut” or “messy writing” you guys have NO RIGHT to complain about the things that people write as a HOBBY for FUN. It infuriates me to see so many people shit on authors who write smut. I’ve seen so many authors say that it’s the only way to get people to interact with what they write. Or they could just LIKE writing smut. There are so many phenomenal writers on this app who could give you exactly what you’re looking for. You guys have become too prideful. A lot of you will say “ Well I’m the consumer so l have a right to criticize what I’m consuming.” or “Well l can say something because where would they be without me?” You guys have to check yourselves. Unless an author specifies that they are open to criticism do NOT give it. It is rude and uncalled for when people work so hard. It’s the same as someone showing you their art and the first thing you say is “the lines are too crooked”. Enjoy or scroll. Don’t be an asshole.
Summary: Ever since Bucky moved out to the woods, he’d grown used to his routine. He lived comfortably and without anyone around to bother him, and he liked it that way. Then you stumbled your way into his life and changed it forever. Instead of simply helping you and sending you on your way, Bucky starts to like the way you fit right into his life, and he realizes he doesn’t mind the sudden change that came with taking you in. The longer he spends with you, the harder it is to let you go, and luckily for him, the feeling is mutual.
WC: 29.6k | Warnings: 18+, coarse language, fluff, angst, smut, toxic family environment, mentions of abuse, descriptions of injuries, mentions of starvation, running away from home, use of guns, descriptions of hunting, ex military Bucky, shy/inexperienced reader, age gap, unprotected sex, gentle sex, needy sex, use of plan b, oral (f receiving), fingering, pining, size difference, protective Bucky, possessive Bucky, big dick Bucky, beefy Bucky one would say, let me know if I missed anything. | Masterlist
It was hunting season, which didn’t mean much to Bucky since he hunts all the time. Specifically, it was deer season, but despite him being quite successful during this season throughout the five years he’s lived out here, this year was really testing him.
Either the deer were really shy this season, or there simply weren’t many around this year. He’d had very little luck over the last few days, sitting in the treestand he’d made a few miles away from his house and not seeing much movement in the forest at all.
Usually by day three he’d have lost count of how many deer that were around, but it was pushing day five and he hadn’t seen a single one.
Bucky lived, for lack of better words, out in the middle of nowhere. It was secluded, a tedious twenty five minute drive from the nearest town, and the majority of that drive was through the wooded and rocky terrain of the forest. As far as he knew, no one else lived close by, and he hadn’t heard any sounds of guns going off in the woods that would suggest someone else was hunting around the area too.
He had a feeling this was just one of those unlucky years where the deer population decided to skip over the forest he’d lived in for almost six years now. It was smart, because he’d gotten extremely lucky the last few years with deer, and had enough meat frozen to keep him fed for a long time, so for them to not be around this year was a lucky call for them.
It was unlucky as hell for Bucky, because that meant he’d have to settle for other options for food, which wasn’t the biggest deal, but still. He’d gotten used to the routine that had sort’ve fallen into his lap the year he’d packed up and moved out here.
He’d been hunched over in the stand for the majority of the afternoon, and the prime time for deer hunting had long since passed, but he didn’t have anything else to do for the remainder of the day, so he stayed a little longer.
It turned out that his patience had paid off since he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and when Bucky turned his head, he saw the slow, careful steps of a deer passing through the trees, and he moved just as slowly as he lifted his rifle, being sure to not make a single sound.
He dipped his head down and peered through the scope, noting the size and weight of the deer, and he knew he’d get a good few weeks of meat off of it to freeze, which was a better score than he thought he’d get at this point.
The deer hadn’t noticed him, its eyes slowly blinking as it remained blissfully unaware of the rifle pointed at it. It bowed down to nip at the grass scattered all over the forest ground, and Bucky took that as his cue to press down on the trigger, but before he could fire, he heard shuffling to his left, and watched as the deer perked up, clearly having heard the sound as well.
He tried to ignore it and secure his kill, but then more shuffling was heard, and when the sound of rushed footsteps, followed by the beam of the stand he was currently crouched in shaking with the force of something hitting it, Bucky flinched, his rifle firing off but missing the deer completely.
He’d been caught off guard, his balance momentarily shifting, and the deer took off running, leaving behind the sound of leaves ruffling and twigs snapping as it disappeared into the distance.
“Fucking Christ,” Bucky cursed under his breath, then moved over to the side of the stand, peering over the edge and preparing to rip into whoever had interrupted him and scared off his kill.
What he saw had him freezing in shock, his brows furrowing together as he met your wide, terrified eyes. You looked up at him with nothing but fear on your face, and your chest was heaving with uneven breaths that told him you’d been either running or walking for quite a long time, and by the looks of it, with no water.
You didn’t say anything as you braced your hand against the support of the stand, your other hand lifted in a way that looked like you were giving up a fight that wasn’t even happening.
There was no denying that you’d been out here for a while, if the dirt staining your clothes and skin was anything to go by. Your hair was messy and he could see dried leaves in it, and your cheeks were stained with sweat streaks, but it wasn’t exactly hot at the moment, so he assumed you had just been running to the point of breaking a sweat, or you had not too long ago.
Standing up a little straighter, Bucky let his gaze sweep you up and down. There was really nothing to you, your legs all scratched up thanks to your denim shorts, and your shoes were muddy and worn out. Your t-shirt was covered in dirt, and there was a rip in the side of it, a scrape visible along your ribs. But the giant bruise that took up most of your left side was a lot more noticeable than that.
There were other noticeable bruises on your body, some more faded than others, and he saw a healed scar just under your jaw on the right side of your neck. You looked like you hadn’t slept in days, and your body seemed to be running on the last of its adrenaline as you shook your head.
You looked scared, like you were horrified of him and what he might do to you. Your lips parted then trembled, like you were struggling to speak as you lifted your hand higher in a pleading gesture, but no words left your mouth as you took a weak, unsteady step forward.
“Hey,” he called out, concern lacing his tone as he lowered his rifle. Bucky was too high up to do anything about the way your legs buckled, and the way your hand slipped from its place on the beam before you stumbled forward and became completely unbalanced.
The sound of your head hitting the trunk of the tree had him wincing and instantly putting the rifle down, swinging his legs over the edge of the stand and jumping down.
His boots hit the ground with a thud, and he immediately crouched down, confusion and concern written all over his face. You were no longer conscious, your body too weak to keep going at this point, and Bucky frowned as he reached forward and brushed your hair out of your face.
He didn’t recognize you from town, though he supposed he didn’t go there much with the intent to seek out pretty girls. He only went there every once in a while for supplies and to see his family, but he had a feeling he would notice you if he’d seen you before.
You looked like a mess, your body beaten and bruised and your clothing torn and ruined to the point of almost being unwearable, and Bucky felt his heart clench in his chest.
What the fuck happened to you?
When Bucky carried you to his house, he discovered that you were extremely light in his arms, and it felt like he was carrying a few bags of groceries rather than a human who appeared to be in her mid twenties.
He didn’t know what the hell to do with you, but he wasn’t going to just leave you out there. You’d clearly already been through hell, and he refused to turn a blind eye and mind his business when it was so obvious that you needed help.
It had just started to rain when he began making his way home with you in his arms, and he had a feeling that you would’ve probably died if he’d left you out there, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let that happen.
You were cold, your skin clammy and splotchy, so the first thing Bucky did when he got home was lay you down on the couch, sacrificing the soft throw blanket that was thrown over the back of it, and draped it over you.
He lowered the strap of his rifle down his arm before setting it aside on the coffee table, then crouched down in front of the couch. You were out cold, your body limp and unresponsive as he examined you a bit closer now that you were safe inside and away from the harsh elements outside.
Your lips were dark, and he knew you were probably even colder than you felt, your body fighting to keep itself warm in the minimal clothing you were wearing. You didn’t have a bag with you, nor a phone or wallet, so he had no clue who you are or what your name is, or even where you lived.
He’d never seen you in the woods before this, and by the small silver hoops you had in your ears, it was clear you were from the nicer part of town, which helped make sense as to why he’s never seen you around before.
But that didn’t answer any of his questions, one being how the hell you ended up all the way out here.
Bucky reached out and brushed your hair out of your face, and he couldn’t deny that you were very pretty. You had a certain innocent look to you, like someone as sweet and fragile as you had no business being out in the middle of the woods, looking like you’d been to hell and back.
His eyes focused on the gash on the side of your head, and he knew it was from when your head hit the tree and what had caused you to lose consciousness. He guessed you’d been out in the woods for a while, the exhaustion in your bones obvious since you hadn’t moved at all since you passed out on the forest floor.
He stood up and made his way to the bathroom, where he grabbed the first aid kit he keeps under the sink. As he walked back into the living room, he shrugged out of his damp jacket, setting it aside on a chair as he passed by it, then he was on his knees in front of the couch once again.
The first aid kit was open on the coffee table, everything he needed messily stored inside of it. He’d been careless a few times during hunting or fishing or wood cutting, resulting in him needing to patch himself up, and he never bothered to tidy up the kit.
He huffed as he rummaged through the kit in search of peroxide, and he found it a few moments later, then grabbed a cotton pad, pouring some of the liquid onto it. The gash on your head didn’t look too bad, but he also couldn’t see much since you were bleeding. This was one of many injuries he knew was on your body, but it also appeared to be the worst and the easiest one for him to access, so it was his priority at the moment.
Bucky pressed the cotton to the wound, and the white fabric turned red quickly, the sound of the peroxide sizzling its way into your flesh barely being heard. He cringed, because he knew that would fucking hurt when you wake up, so he tried his best to limit that pain as best as he could.
After cleaning up the wound, he taped a clean cotton pad to your head that had some sort of healing gel he’d used countless times before on it, then sat back on his knees. He couldn’t see much of you, your shivering body hidden beneath the blanket and your head turned in a way that only allowed him to see half your face.
Now that he’d cleaned up your head, he had no fucking clue what to do next. Your head would probably be pounding in a few hours, so he stood up to go grab some aspirin and a glass of water, and he set them down on the coffee table.
Your blood had dried on your face, and for some reason he felt the need to clean that too, so he grabbed a wet cloth, then cleaned you up as well as he could. And then he just simply looked at you.
There was concern in his eyes, but mainly he was just confused. How did you end up here? What happened? Why were you wearing bruises and marks that seemed like you’d gotten before you ended up in the woods?
He felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him, something he had no business feeling for someone he didn’t even know, but he couldn’t help it. You were broken, bruised and in need of help, and you could’ve died had you not stumbled upon him and inadvertently forced yourself into his life.
Why had you been running? Who were you running from? Were you in danger? Was he in danger now that he’d taken you into his home and rescued you from the woods?
That should’ve had him feeling a little on edge, but as he looked at you and took in the way you already looked a little more relaxed as you slept on his couch at seven in the evening, he didn’t give a shit if he’d just accidentally put himself in danger.
There was no way, in any life, that he’d just leave you out there.
It’d been almost two hours since Bucky had taken you in when you finally woke up.
Your body moved before your eyes slowly opened, and he watched as they instantly landed on the rifle that was still on the coffee table, then shifted over to the water and aspirin, before they flickered up to him.
He was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, his arms crossed as he looked down at you, and he could see the flicker of realization in your eyes before they filled with the same fear he’d seen in them out at the hunting post.
You tried to push yourself upright, your head shaking slightly as you held up your hands in a defensive gesture. “I-”
“It’s okay,” Bucky quickly assured you, his own hands lifting in a similar way as he refrained from touching you, knowing it would just freak you out even more. Of course the first thing you see after waking up in a stranger’s house being a fucking gun would scare you. He should’ve moved it after he’d cleaned your wound. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
You squinted at that, your hand moving to your head where the makeshift bandage is, and you winced when you pressed your palm against it. “Ouch. Shit,” you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut.
Bucky stayed still, lowering his hands and bracing them on his thighs as he watched you take a few shaky breaths. “Are you okay?” he asked after a few seconds.
You glanced over at him, your expression guarded and on edge. “What happened?” you asked, slowly sitting up, making the blanket fall around your waist.
“You fell. Hit your head on a tree and passed out. I brought you to my house, cleaned you up a bit and got you warm,” Bucky answered, tilting his head as he looked at you. “That’s all I know. Might need you to fill in the rest for me.”
You pressed your lips together as you kept your hand against your head, most likely trying to will the throbbing to go away. “I fell?” you asked, closing your eyes again as you swayed slightly, even though you were still sitting on the couch.
Bucky nodded slowly, his brows furrowing together. “What happened to you?” he gently asked, “How did you… end up out here?”
You took a few more seconds to answer, then lowered your hand to your lap. “I ran away from home,” you simply answered, your voice low and your words mumbled.
Bucky sat up a bit, making you flinch, and he quickly reached out a reassuring hand. “It’s okay,” he said, giving you a small smile as he tried to look as least threatening as possible. “Why did you run away?”
You shrugged, looking so small and miserable on his couch. “I couldn’t take it anymore,” you said, and those five words somehow managed to answer a handful of his questions.
He softened his gaze, his lips turning downwards in a frown. “You have bruises on you,” he stated, watching the way you fidgeted with your hands in your lap. “They’re not all from running away, are they? You didn’t get some of them from just being out in the woods?”
You slowly shook your head, and you ending up out here was starting to make a little sense.
You’d run away from an abusive home, got lost in the woods, and had probably been out here for days before you found him, but how exactly you ended up here was still one question that hadn’t been answered.
But Bucky didn’t pry. This was a delicate situation, and even though he hadn’t been in one quite like this before, he understood that he had to be the level headed one out of the two of you, and not push you into a mental breakdown.
He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath in as he braced his elbows on his knees, moving to be at your eye level. “What’s your name?” he asked, watching the way you seemed to instantly be thrown into an inner debate with yourself. He had no idea what was going through your head, and he knew you had no reason to trust him at the moment, but he wanted you to know that he wasn’t going to hurt you. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna do anything, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you or force you to answer me. You don’t need to be scared of me.”
You swallowed harshly, blinking away tears as you lowered your gaze to the floor. “Isn’t that what every serial killer says to their victims?”
Even though you were still so on edge and uncertain, your voice still held a hint of humor, and Bucky felt a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “I wouldn’t know,”
That had your own mouth curling upwards, and even beaten and bruised and bandaged, you were still quite pretty. You looked down at the floor for a few more seconds before you gave him your name, then looked up at him again when he repeated it.
“I’m Bucky. Well, James, actually, but I’ve always gone by Bucky. Did you take anything with you? A phone or ID or… anything?” he asked, wondering how you’d managed to stay alive for as long as you did with just the clothes on your back.
You shook your head. “No. No phone or ID. I had a bag with me, my old school backpack, and I had some food in there, but I had to leave it when it started attracting… unwanted visitors,”
Bucky lifted his brows. “You mean, like… bears? Or wolves?”
“Both?” you answered, then shrugged. “I don’t know. It was dark when I had to leave it behind. I heard footsteps and growling, but I couldn’t see anything, so I got up and ran. That was… I don’t know, a day ago?”
Bucky tried to mask his surprise as best as he could, but it was extremely hard to believe that you’d gotten that close to being mauled or eaten alive just a day ago, and had somehow ended up in his part of the woods afterwards. “When did you run away?” he asked.
“Um… I don’t know. I don’t really know what day it is or how many have passed,” you said, glancing at the glass of water next to him with interest, and Bucky reached over to pick it up and hand it to you. “Four or five days ago? I think…”
“Jesus,” he muttered as you sipped on the water, and you almost finished it in one go, revealing just how dehydrated you must be. “You’ve been out there for five days? Have you slept at all? When was the last time you ate?” he fired off questions, still in shock that you were even alive right now after what he just heard.
“I slept here and there. I was too scared to sleep for long, and it was really cold at night,” you mumbled, setting the now empty glass on your lap. “The last thing I ate was a granola bar, and that was before I had to ditch the rest of the food in my bag.”
Bucky shook his head, sitting up straight as he ran his hand over his mouth. “You must be starving,” he said, and you shrugged, shyly meeting his eyes. He gestured to the glass, and you let him take it from you as he stood up and walked over to the kitchen, filling it once more.
When he came back, you took the fresh water from him with a grateful smile, sipping on it this time instead of gulping it down. “Thank you for helping me,” you murmured, looking over your shoulder at the window. It was dark out, and the temperature had dropped even more, the cool breeze coming in from the screen door. “I won’t stay long or… intrude anymore than I already have.”
Bucky furrowed his brows. “You can’t go back out there. Your head is injured, and I know other parts of you are too. It’s late and dark, and I… I can’t let you go back out there,” he said, propping one hand on his hip as he gestured at you with his other. “Not like this.”
You gave him a look that had his knees buckling, and one that made him want to do everything in his power to help you, because who the fuck would ever drive you to the point of running away and putting your life at risk?
“You don’t need to help me anymore,” you whispered, tearing up again as you gave him a tight lipped smile. “You’ve already done enough.”
Bucky took a step towards you, then crouched down in front of you so he wasn’t towering over you. “You’re not intruding. You need help. I can help you,” he said, using his softest tone of voice. “If you’ll let me.”
You were a bit more timid now as you held his gaze, then you slowly started to nod, holding onto the glass with both of your hands. “Okay,” you whispered, and Bucky gave you a small smile as he nodded towards the hallway.
“Why don’t you go clean up? You can use the shower and anything else you need in there,” he offered, taking the glass from you and setting it aside on the coffee table. “I’ll make some dinner.”
You quickly waved him off, “Oh, you don’t have to-”
“Please. Let me help you,” he cut you off, watching the way you deflated a bit, as if being offered help was something completely new to you. You nodded again, and Bucky offered you his hand. “I’ll set aside some clothes for you and get started on some food.”
You looked at his outstretched hand for a few seconds, and before he could let it fall back down to his side, you reached up and took it. “Okay,” you said again, letting him assist you to your feet. You were still a little unsteady, your body still weak from what he now knows is a lack of food and rest. He helped keep you steady for a few moments, his hands gently holding onto your arms, and when you were stable, you looked up at him. “Thank you.”
Bucky felt his heart clench again at how broken you sounded, and he had to hold off on locking his jaw as he felt a surge of anger build up inside him at the fact that someone had obviously mistreated you so horribly for you to end up here.
“C’mon,” he said, guiding you towards the bathroom. “I’ll show you where everything is.”
You’d been in the bathroom for quite a while, and dinner had been ready for some time now, but Bucky refused to rush you.
It was obvious that you didn’t trust him, at least not fully, but he could tell you were already warming up to him, and he didn’t want to backtrack in any way and risk you leaving before your body could actually rest and heal.
Bucky had set out a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt for you, but also told you where everything is in his dresser in case you needed anything else, then he let you take a shower and no doubt take in all your body had been through over the last week in the mirror.
He’d been sitting at the kitchen table for the last ten minutes, having heard the shower turn off five minutes before that, but again, the last thing he wanted to do was rush you.
While he waited, he went over his options for this unusual situation he’d found himself in.
You’d run away from home, and there was no way you’d willingly go back, and Bucky didn’t want you to go back, because he was sure the abuse would only intensify since you’d taken off. But how realistic was it for you to start over somewhere with little to nothing to your name? Bucky would drive you into town, pay for a bus ticket for you, and he’d even give you some cash so you could get by, but where would you go from there? Why was he wondering that if you weren’t really his concern?
And why did the thought of you being out there on your own with only a handful of cash and no stable home make that protective feeling from before come back in full swing?
You’re a stranger to him. Simply someone who needed help, and he’d given that to you and more. Where do you and he go from here? After he’s fed you and given you a place to rest your head for a while, what the hell happens after that?
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening, and he quickly sat up straight, his head instantly turning in the direction of the hallway.
You slowly walked into the kitchen, clad in his sweats and shirt that looked huge on you, and now that you were clean, he was able to get a better look at you.
Your arms were littered in bruises and your face was blotchy in certain spots, and even though you were a lot cleaner, your body was still, for lack of better words, a mess.
The fabric of his shirt was damp from your hair that now had no leaves in it, and you’d somehow managed to keep your bandage mostly dry, but he would still offer to change it later anyway.
Bucky gave you a warm smile as he stood up and gestured to the chair across from his. “I’ll make you a plate,” he offered, and you returned the smile as you moved to sit down. “You scared off what was planned to be on the menu tonight,” he said as he began putting grilled peppers, chicken and scrambled eggs on a plate. It was the best he could do for now, and he’d used up the last of his eggs he was saving for breakfast tomorrow, but he honestly didn’t give a shit that he’d have to go pick up some more sooner than planned. As long as you had options. “I hope this suffices.”
You perked up in the chair as he turned and set the plate down in front of you, and you fidgeted a bit as you looked down at it. “Wow,” you said quietly, and Bucky fought off a grin as he made another plate for himself.
“What, never had eggs for dinner before?” he teased as he moved back to the table and took his seat across from you. He’d never actually cooked for a girl before, or for anyone other than himself, really, so he was kind of nervous to have his culinary skills on full display right now, but he hid it as best as he could. He was pretty decent in the kitchen, as far as he could tell, but he’d also never gotten someone else’s opinion, so really, what did he know?
“No,” you answered, curling your fingers into your hands where they rested on your lap. “Well, no, and… no one’s ever cooked for me before.”
That had Bucky pausing, his hand halfway to grabbing his fork as he looked over at you. Not only had you come from a place that physically abused you, but also potentially kept food from you, or at least let you fend for yourself food-wise.
He swallowed harshly, finally picking up his fork as he looked away from you, not wanting you to see the sudden anger he felt taking over his expression. “Well… I’ve never cooked for someone before,” he said back instead of pushing for answers to the questions that had begun forming in his head. “You get to be my first customer.”
Your lips curved at that, and you looked back down at the plate. “I have to pay for this?” you asked, and there was a playful edge to your voice he was surprised to be hearing from someone in your state. It calmed the anger down inside of him.
“You get to be my first critic,” he corrected himself, then nodded down to your fork. “If you actually eat, that is.”
Your face flushed at that, and you picked up the fork quickly, a small smile on your lips. You started with the eggs first, and he tried not to watch you the whole time, but this was feeling strangely domestic, and he tried not to think about how good you looked in his house and in his shirt.
“It’s good,” you said as you chewed, your eyes flickering to meet his, and when you caught him staring, your smile only grew. “But then again, I have nothing to compare it to,” you trailed off as you swallowed, reaching for the glass of water in front of you. You brought it up to your mouth as you added, “Still, it’s very tasty.”
Bucky hummed, finally tearing his eyes away from you as he began eating as well. “I was kind of rushing,” he said, “You should see how good it is when I’m taking my time.”
You laughed quietly at that as you bit down onto a pepper and chewed slowly. “I’ll take your word for it,”
Fuck, this was really starting to feel domestic. Why was this so… comfortable? Why are you and he already talking as if you’d known each other for more than a few hours?
Bucky cleared his throat as he chewed, his brows furrowing as he nodded at the bandage taped to your temple. “How’s your head?”
You lifted your free hand and ran your fingers along the cotton, wincing slightly. “Hurts,” you answered, “I tried to not mess with it in the shower, but… yeah, it’s really sore. I have a raging headache too.”
“You might have a concussion,” he said, then nodded behind you at the coffee table in the living room. “There’s some aspirin over there you can take after dinner to help with the pain.”
You nodded at that, giving him a grateful smile. “Thank you,”
A few moments of silence passed after that, and Bucky spent most of it trying to find the right way to offer you a place to stay for the night without it sounding too forward or creepy.
He braced his elbows on the table as he leaned forward, his dinner momentarily forgotten. “I don’t… feel comfortable sending you on your way tonight. You need rest and an actual place to sleep. And your head isn’t in the best shape,” he said, watching as you stopped eating as well and looked up at him. “You can stay here tonight. Take the bed and get a decent night’s sleep. Tomorrow or… whenever you’re feeling better, I can drive you into town, get you a bus ticket or something.”
You gave him a look of surprise that you tried to suppress, but he caught it anyway. “You don’t have to do all that, really,” you said quietly, “I can just… maybe sleep here tonight, and I’ll see myself out tomorrow morning.”
Bucky let out a sigh as he shook his head. “I want to. I want to help you,” he said, “I have to go into town anyway to get some stuff. I’ll give you a drive anywhere you want to go, alright? You don’t need to be stumbling around the woods again on your own.”
Your shoulders dropped at that, like you were relieved to hear that you wouldn’t be forced to travel on foot again in an unfamiliar place. “Okay,” you agreed, poking at the eggs on your plate with your fork. “But I don’t need to sleep in your bed. I can sleep on the couch.”
Bucky felt one side of his mouth curve upwards at that, and he looked down at his own plate. “We’ll see about that,” was all he said, then the two of you went back to eating.
After dinner, you offered to clean up, but Bucky just shook his head, saying he’d do it later, then he led you to his room.
“I’ll put fresh sheets on the bed,” he offered, already starting to pull off the current ones as you quickly shook your head.
“Really, you don’t have to. It’s fine,” you insisted, but when he turned his head and gave you a look, you deflated a bit and pursed your lips. “Thank you.”
Bucky huffed out a laugh as he shook his head as well, gathering up the sheets, pillow cases and blankets into his arms. “You don’t gotta keep thanking me. I’m just doing what anyone else would,”
You gave a small, defeated laugh as he walked past you. “No, you’re not,” you said, and he realized that you must’ve been wronged countless times in the past by countless people to truly believe that what he was doing was him going above and beyond for you. He really didn’t think he was doing that much, he actually thought he wasn’t doing enough, and he wanted to do more for you, he just didn’t know how.
Bucky didn’t say anything at that, and headed down the hall to the laundry room, where he grabbed some fresh sheets.
Once he’d returned to his room, he made the bed and tidied up the clothes scattered around on the floor as you stood glued to the spot beside the closet. You were looking at his bed as you chewed on your fingernail, wincing slightly as you turned to face him. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to sleep in here? I mean, it’s your bed and you’re a tall guy. That couch out there isn’t small, but it probably won’t be very comfortable for you. I don’t mind sleeping on it,”
Bucky huffed out a laugh of disbelief. Here you are, a broken human being who’d suffered unimaginable things over the last few days, and probably the last few years, and yet you were still putting his comfort over your own. A stranger’s over your own. “I’ll be fine,” he assured you, stuffing his clothes into the laundry bin inside his closet. “I’ve slept on that couch many times now. It hasn’t done me wrong yet. Besides, after all you’ve been through, I think you could use a night on an actual bed.”
You nodded at that, scratching at your arm. “Thank y-” you cut yourself off when he lifted his brows at you, and your face flushed once again as you looked away.
Bucky felt a smile form on his face as he gestured to your head. “Let me look at that one more time before bed,”
You nodded, then moved to sit down on the edge of the bed as he walked past you to go retrieve the first aid kit from off the coffee table. He sat down in front of you on the bed, setting the kit between you and him, then got to work on slowly peeling the cotton away from your wound. It didn’t look much different from before, which was expected, but it looked cleaner, probably because you’d gotten water on it from your shower.
He replaced the bandage, neither of you speaking the whole time as you let him patch you up once again, this time with you being fully conscious. You winced when he pressed the new one against your head, but you didn’t move, fully trusting him to be as careful and as gentle as he could, and he was sure he’d never been this careful in his entire life.
“What’s the verdict, doc?” you asked a little awkwardly, like this was your way of distracting yourself from the pain. “Am I gonna live?”
He fought off a growing grin, smoothing down the cotton before pulling back. “You’ll live,” he answered, “Ninety eight percent certain of that.”
That had you fighting off a smile of your own, and you quickly looked away.
Bucky had refilled your water glass and grabbed the aspirin from off the coffee table when he’d gone to get the first aid kit, and after he was done replacing the bandage, he handed you both the water and aspirin.
He waited until you’d taken them before he stood up from the bed, putting the kit on the dresser, as well as the bottle of aspirin in case you needed more later. After that he turned to face you, and he propped his hands on his hips, pressing his lips together.
What does he say to the girl who’s about to spend the night in his bed? This wasn’t the first time a pretty girl has spent the night in his bed, though he’s usually in bed too, but he’d be spending his night on the couch instead. What was an appropriate way to end the interactions with you for the night?
“I’ll leave you alone now,” he said, holding back a cringe at his words. He wasn’t usually this way around girls. He’d been with his fair share of women, and even though he hadn’t been super close to any since moving out here, he liked to think he still knew how to talk to one. You made it hard to think though, let alone speak. “I’ll just be on the couch. If you need anything.” he added for good measure.
You nodded at that, your lips pursing to the side as you didn’t say anything.
Fuck, was this as awkward for you as it was for him?
“Goodnight,” Bucky said, giving you one last look before starting to turn around, but then you quickly stood up and reached for his arm.
He turned back to you instantly, and you didn’t say a single thing as you moved towards him and wrapped your arms around his middle. You pressed your head against his chest, and he felt the way you trembled with nerves. “Thank you,” you whispered, and he knew he’d let that one slide, because he could only imagine how much it took out of you to hug him after everything you’d been through.
Bucky slowly wrapped his arms around your much smaller body, his big hands splaying along your back. “Of course,” he said back, pressing his chin against the top of your head.
The moment ended not too long after that, with you pulling away first, and Bucky noticed the tears in your eyes but he didn’t comment on them. Instead, he gave you a tight lipped smile. “Get some rest,” he said, and you nodded again as you backed away and got into his bed, and he quickly turned and left the room, closing the door almost all the way behind him.
He lingered in the hallway for a few moments, not wanting to leave you alone just yet for some reason, before he forced himself to walk into the living room, choosing to leave the hall light on for you in case you needed to go to the bathroom, or wake him up for any reason.
Bucky naturally wakes up super early, despite him sometimes really needing a few extra hours of sleep.
Like today. He’d ended up staying up for a few hours after he’d left you in his room and got comfortable on the couch, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep.
He’d been on edge, constantly keeping one eye open and listening out for any noise coming from the bedroom. He was worried about you, not wanting you to need something but be too shy to come out and ask him for it. He’d tossed and turned all night, and even though he’d been telling the truth when he told you that he’d comfortably slept on the couch countless times before, he just couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep.
If he had to guess, he assumed he’d gotten about four hours of sleep in total before he was fully awake at six in the morning.
Bucky stayed up after that, not bothering to try and get a couple more hours of sleep and instead deciding to turn the TV on as a distraction.
He kept looking down the hall, wanting to go in and check on you, but that would probably freak you out if you were to wake up just as he was peeking in, or worse, you already being awake and seeing him poke his head in.
His eyes were a little sore from lack of sleep as he crossed his arms, his mouth opening in an unflattering yawn as he looked at the TV mounted on the wall. His head tipped back as his throat made a sound he had no control over, and just as the yawn began to fade, he heard the sound of a soft laugh to his left.
Bucky looked over immediately, seeing you standing at the entrance of the hallway, and you already looked so much better than you did yesterday.
You looked more rested, more light and happier, and the sight brought a smile to his face as he sat up, pulling the blanket off his lap and setting it aside. “Hey,” he greeted, the TV now completely forgotten about.
“Morning,” you said back, shifting on your feet.
“Morning,” Bucky repeated, then nodded towards the loveseat a few feet away. “You wanna sit?” he offered, and you nodded before making your way towards the seat and sitting down on it. You brought your knees up to your chest as Bucky ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame the messy strands he knew were sticking up from when he was asleep. “Did you, uh… sleep okay?”
You nodded again, wrapping your hands around your shins. “Yeah. I slept good,”
Bucky nodded, huffing out a breath of air. “That’s… that’s good,” he said, and he was growing more and more convinced that his natural, charming way of talking to a woman was fading by the day. “How are you feeling? How’s your head?”
You shrugged a bit, his shirt slipping down your shoulder just an inch or two. “I’m feeling… better. I’m still a little tired and sore, and my head still hurts. But I feel better,”
He smiled at that, leaning over and bracing his elbows on his knees. “That’s good,” he repeated, much softer this time. He watched as you gave him a small smile before turning your attention to the TV, and he let his eyes linger on your side profile for a little longer before he looked away. “I, uh… I can give you a ride into town if you feel up to it. I have some cash I can give you to, you know, help you get started somewhere else.”
You looked back over at him, and your expression faltered a bit as you pressed your lips together. You shifted, reaching up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear as your lips parted, but Bucky quickly spoke up before you had a chance to.
“If you’re not feeling well enough, that’s okay too,” he said, watching the way your shoulders fell a bit, and he hadn’t realized how tense you’d gotten at the thought of being alone again. “If you still need some rest and time to heal, you… can stay here. For as long as you need.”
He wasn’t sure if he was being too forward or offering too much, or simply not offering enough, but the smile was back on your face now, and that made one form on his own as well. “I don’t want to intrude. I know this,” you waved a hand around the living room, “is what you’re used to. Your normal way of living doesn’t involve looking after a girl you found in the woods,” you trailed off, hesitating briefly before you let out a shaky breath, “I’d like to stay… for a few days, maybe? If that’s okay. I won’t bother you or get in the way, and I can help out around the house if you need it. I don’t want to freeload. But… I’d like to stay. Just for a bit.”
You were rambling, as if he didn’t offer you the choice to stay in the first place. And now you were offering to do chores around his house? While sporting a nasty gash on your head? Where the hell had you come from?
“It’s okay,” he said, putting your rambling to a stop as you met his eyes. “You can stay. I don’t mind,” he leaned back on the couch, draping his arm on the back of it. “But that means we’re gonna probably be scavenging for food since I won’t be going into town today after all. And maybe we’ll see if you’re any good with a fishing rod, if you’re up for it.”
You let out a soft laugh as you nodded, “I think I can handle that,”
Bucky was standing on the dock at the lake that was a short walk from his house. It was later in the day and much warmer than it had been yesterday, but the air still had a chill to it, so he’d given you one of his jackets to wear while by the lake.
He was standing close to the edge of the dock, putting bait on the hook of his fishing rod while keeping a careful eye on you. You were standing off to the side by a tree, your arms tense at your sides as you watched him with interest he found oddly adorable.
You still looked a little tired, even though Bucky had put this off for most of the day, letting you rest some more on the couch while he did some chores around the house.
When he mentioned heading down to the lake to try his luck at fishing, you perked up at that and asked if you could tag along, and then you slid on your muddy shoes and accepted his jacket when he agreed.
Bucky wasn’t sure what he was doing. He’d lived a pretty normal life prior to taking you into his home and patching you up. He’d wake up early every day, make himself a hearty breakfast, do some house work or some yard work, then either go hunting or fishing, eat dinner, call his sister and chat with her for a while before going to bed.
He’d served in the military for a while before moving out here, and he’d received quite a large amount of money during his time he served, and he’d been getting cheques every few months that allowed him to live comfortably. He’d go into town maybe once or twice a week, stock up on things he needed, maybe stop at a bar and let loose for a bit, then go home.
His priorities had shifted drastically over the last few years. When he was still living in the city, he’d have no problem spending his evening at a bar, chatting up a pretty girl, then spending the rest of the night with her, and that was something he’d done many many times.
But as he got older and reached his early thirties, he realized random hook ups and money wasted on bars wasn’t what he wanted in life, and he wanted a change.
So he’d moved out of his apartment and relocated to where he is now, and he’d been living a much healthier and efficient lifestyle, and he hadn’t looked back since.
With that being said, it’d been a while since he’d had a woman around for as long as you’ve been, with the exception of his sister. He didn’t quite know what to do or how he could go back to normal now that he’s taken it upon himself to try and heal you and help you in any way he could.
Bucky didn’t know how long you’d be here, in his home and in his life, before you decided you needed to get a move on and try your luck on your own, but the thought of you heading back out into the world with essentially no one at your side didn’t sit well with him.
He doesn’t know you very well, but there was an obvious trust between you and him that was growing more and more. It’d been over twenty four hours since he met you, and already he’d found that, despite him being on his own for quite some time now, you kind of fit in just right here.
But that seemed crazy to think about, and way too fucking soon. Realistically, how long would it be appropriate for you to stay with him without it becoming weird? He’d found you in the woods and taken you in, which was already weird enough.
But Bucky had always wanted to help people. He was good at it, and he didn’t like the thought of someone struggling when he could so easily help out.
The whole situation was weird and unexpected and kind of overwhelming, and yet he didn’t mind the odd addition to his life - that being in the form of another person he had to look after rather than just himself.
Once the bait was securely attached to the hook, he cast it out into the water, then turned his head to look over at you as he waited for a bite. “How are you doing?” he asked, and you crossed your arms over your chest.
“I’m fine,” you answered, gesturing to the lake. “I don’t want to be in your way.”
Bucky let out a laugh, “Well, that’s really nice, but it wasn’t what I meant,” he said, watching the way you became flustered at the teasing tone in his voice. “I mean, how are you feeling? You don’t have to stay out here if you don’t want to. You can head back and rest some more if you need to.”
You shook your head slowly, giving him a grateful smile. “No, I’m alright,” you said, then gave him a small smirk, “I need to learn how to do this if I’m gonna pull my weight around here.”
He poked his inner cheek with his tongue, then nodded, “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he agreed, though he didn’t expect you to do really anything since you’d already been through enough lately. You deserved to have someone do things for you for a while, and that person was obviously Bucky.
A few minutes pass with not much else being said, and as Bucky looked out at the setting sun that was making the water look orange and pink instead of blue, you moved a little closer to the dock. “How long does this usually take?”
Bucky shrugged, keeping his eyes on the sun as it slowly moved towards the water. “Depends. Could be a few minutes, could be a few hours,” he answered. You walked a little closer until you were standing next to him, and he instinctively looked over at you.
Despite the bruises marring your skin, it still looked almost flawless in the orange glow of the sun. You looked soft, if that made any sense at all, and innocent in a way that had him questioning how anyone had ever treated you so badly in the past.
He almost commented on how beautiful you look, but quickly caught the words before they could leave his mouth, and he cleared his throat. “You wanna give it a try?”
You quickly met his gaze as your lips parted, your eyes widening a bit. “I’ll probably be terrible at it,”
Bucky shrugged as he started to reel in the line, “Well, I guess I’ll just have to teach you,”
He moved to stand behind you, then offered you the rod, which you hesitantly took. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” you said as you held it awkwardly, only further proving that you’d never gone fishing a day in your life.
Bucky laughed as he lifted his hand. “It’s okay. I can show you,” he said, then paused once he’d moved a little closer to you. “Can I… is this okay?” he asked before he pushed you too far.
He didn’t know your limits, didn’t know how you’d react if he just suddenly touched you. This was a lot different than him cleaning your wound and changing the bandage for you, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way.
You looked over your shoulder, saw how close he was, then hesitated a bit before you started to slowly nod. “Yeah. It’s fine,” you said quietly, “Gotta show me somehow, right?”
He nodded in agreement as he moved closer to you, then wrapped his arms around your frame and guided your hands into the proper position on the rod. “Just tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”
You gave a slight nod and allowed him to position your hands, then he guided your arms back a bit, the line coming with it.
“Let go of the line as soon as it passes the edge down here,” he said, knocking the edge of the dock with his boot, and he waited until you looked down and nodded before he guided your arms into a swinging motion.
You’d caught on fast, your finger releasing the line as soon as it crossed the water line, and then it was cast into the lake, reaching almost as far as his had before. “Did I… do it right?” you asked, and Bucky felt his lips curl up as he took a step away from you.
“Yeah, that was good,” he said, letting his arms drop back to his sides, and when you turned your head to look over at him, he could’ve sworn he’d seen a flicker of disappointment on your face as you glanced down at his hands, but it was gone before he could question it too much.
“How will I know if I caught anything?”
“You’ll feel something start to tug, then you’ll have to reel it in,” he said, and as if you’d predicted that very thing happening, there was a tug on the line, and you let out a gasp.
“Oh, fuck,”
Bucky couldn’t even take a second to reflect on how funny that word sounded coming from someone as seemingly innocent as you since you’d reached for his arm and tugged him to you as you pulled on the fishing rod.
He helped you reel the line in, then got to see how excited you became when he pulled on the hook and lifted it out of the water, a decent sized trout stuck to the end of it.
Your mouth opened in surprise as you held onto the end of the rod, and you looked so happy, it was hard to believe that you’d been so close to death just yesterday. “I caught a fish?” you asked, as if he wasn’t currently unhooking the proof right now.
Bucky stood up straight, holding the fish in one hand as he looked at you. “You caught a fish,” he confirmed, and couldn’t stop the grin that took over his face at the squeal you let out.
It had still been pretty early in the evening when you’d caught your first ever fish, but you and Bucky still returned to his house soon after.
You were giddy as you stood next to him in his kitchen, still wearing his oversized jacket and sweats as you watched him clean the trout, because of course you and he were having it for dinner. You were so excited that you’d managed to catch a fish on your first try, and he wanted you to be able to reap the benefits and see for yourself how good it feels to prepare and eat something you’d caught all on your own.
He’d found out himself the very first year he lived here how much better something tasted when he actually worked for it, and he wanted you to experience that as well.
You ended up getting in his way quite a bit the entire time he was making dinner, pairing the trout with fresh vegetables and rice, but he didn’t mind. Of course he was used to being alone and having no distractions as he made dinner, but you were a welcoming one.
You’d finally calmed down a bit as he began plating the food, and you took it upon yourself to set the table, with him needing to tell you where everything was in the drawers and cupboards.
“Thank you,” you said when he set a plate down in front of you, and Bucky laughed as he sat down in his seat across from you.
“For what? You’re the one who provided dinner tonight,” he pointed out, and a warm feeling filled him at the fact that this was the second dinner you and he are having together, and you were evidently a lot happier during this one.
“I just caught it,” you said, as if that was easy for someone to do on their first try. “You’re the one who cooked it.”
Bucky hummed, picking up his fork. “It was a team effort,” he decided, and you nodded in agreement.
After dinner, neither of you made any move to quickly get up from the table. You’d been in the middle of explaining how you’d almost failed Math in grade nine since you had massive crush on the teacher and couldn’t focus every time he taught something, and Bucky just let you talk, because the version of you in front of him right now was so different from the version he met and saw last night.
You seemed brighter, like the darkness he’d seen in your eyes and face yesterday had faded throughout the day, leaving behind someone who seemed far too sweet to have ever gone through any form of abuse at all.
There was a certain light in your eyes, a happiness in your voice that had him leaning closer and letting you say anything that came to mind, because your voice was soothing to him. It was beautiful, and it seemed out of place in his home that had been quiet and void of anything but his own presence for so long.
That domestic feeling he’d noticed before was coming back, and it didn’t help that you propped your elbow up on the table, and his shirt had slipped off your shoulder once again, revealing a glimpse of your skin under it.
Bucky had to tear his eyes away from you as he stood up, beginning to gather the plates and utensils as he fought off the growing heat he felt building up inside of him. You weren’t here to stay. You were merely a guest he was helping out. He had no business feeling the way he currently is.
“I can help,” you offered, beginning to stand up, and when Bucky tried to protest, you’d taken the dishes out of his hands and gave him a small grin before you moved past him and began washing them, and he had to lean back against the table for a sense of stability.
Those feelings didn’t go away. They only grew tenfold.
“It’s not about how fast you hit it. It’s about how you swing and how much force you put into it,” Bucky said as he demonstrated what he’d just finished explaining to you.
He lifted the axe above his head, keeping his eyes firmly on the log in front of him that was placed on the trunk of a tree that had fallen over way before he’d even moved here. He swung the axe down in one smooth, quick motion that had the blade hitting it dead-on, the wood easily splitting into three pieces.
You watched from your place a few feet away, his shirt rolled up with one side tied in a knot at your hip to keep it from reaching your knees. His sweats were rolled up as well, reaching just below your knees as you observed him, your head tilted curiously. “That looks really hard,” you said, and Bucky huffed out a laugh as he reached down and put the newly split wood into a pile next to the trunk.
“It’s not super easy,” he said, placing another one in its place. “But it’s not super hard either.”
You’d been here for a few days now, and your head had healed up quite nicely to the point where you could ditch the unflattering white bandage for a smaller, less obvious one. Though you still somehow managed to make the bandage look good, he didn’t tell you that.
Most of the bruises on your body had faded, leaving behind faint purple spots that would also be gone soon enough, and you’d gotten more rest in the last couple days than you had in the last couple years, or so you’ve told him.
The heat was quite noticeable today and the sleeves of his Henley were rolled up to his elbows, and he took note of the way your eyes kept lingering on his forearms every so often, but he didn’t comment on it.
He’d be a liar if he were to say he hadn’t been looking at you in the way you’d been looking at him more than a few times now.
Just as Bucky began lining up the axe again, you took a step towards him. “Can I try?”
He paused, the axe lifted above his head, and without thinking much about it, he lowered it and nodded. “Sure,” he said, gesturing for you to come stand where he is.
You and he had grown rather close in the short time you’ve been here, so he didn’t feel like he was going too far when he wrapped his arms around you after handing you the axe.
He helped guide you into a few practice swings, his front pressed quite close to your back, but you weren’t tense like you had been the first night you were here. You almost welcomed it now, and you didn’t shy away from him. That was progress, and he was really fucking proud of you.
Once he thought you’d had a good handle on it, he stepped back to give you some room. “Just stay still and put some force into the swing,” he instructed, and you nodded, squinting at the log for a moment before swinging the axe down. It didn’t break the log, but got stuck in it, and you looked over at Bucky for help. He laughed under his breath and reached over, pulling the blade out of the log before stepping back again, propping his hands on his hips. “It’s okay. Try again. Aim for that same spot.”
You let out a deep breath and nodded, then swung again. The axe got stuck in the log once more, and you huffed. “I’m terrible at this,” you said, letting go of the axe, leaving it stuck in the log.
Bucky laughed again, moving past you to retrieve it as you stood off to the side. “It’s alright. It’s not easy for someone just trying it out for the first time,”
“Yeah, but I caught a fish the first time I went fishing,” you said, and he scoffed.
“Oh, so that made you think you’d be good at every new thing you try for the first time?”
“I was hopeful,” you said back, and he shook his head. But he could feel you looking at him as he positioned his hands on the handle of the axe, and before he swung, he looked over at you, noticing the frown on your face. “What? What’s wrong?”
You shrugged, looking down at your shoes that weren’t as muddy as they were before since he’d taken it upon himself to clean them for you. “I feel useless just standing here,” you confessed. “You’ve done so much for me. I want to help as much as I can.”
Bucky lowered the axe, then looked around as he tried to think of something you could do that didn’t take a whole lot of effort since your body was still healing. “Why don’t you stack what I split?” he suggested, nodding towards the already stacked wood pile against the side of his house a few feet away. “That way I don’t have to do it after.”
You smiled at that and nodded, “Okay,” you said, then bent down to retrieve a couple pieces of wood he’d just split before heading towards the pile, and Bucky let his eyes linger on your backside before he lifted the axe again and swung, splitting the log you’d failed twice at with ease.
Later that night, it’d cooled down and since he’d had the windows open all day, it was kind of cold in his house.
Bucky had lit a fire in the living room, the fireplace lighting up the room and making shadows flicker all over the walls. You were sitting on a blanket on the floor, your back pressed against the side of the couch as you watched him, a small smile seeming to have a permanent place on your face.
You were wearing one of his hoodies, his wardrobe having become yours as well since there was no saving your old clothes. He’d tried to get the mud stains out of your shorts and debated on whether or not it was worth trying to sew your shirt, but it was a hopeless cause. And Bucky rather liked the way you looked in his clothes, almost as much as you seemed to like wearing them.
The orange glow from the fire made you look like something that’d fallen straight out of heaven and landed directly in his path, inserting yourself into his life without a second thought about it. And yet you fit right in.
You’d only been here for almost a week, and yet Bucky had already become used to having you around. Every time he cooked, you cleaned up, and every time he busied himself with work around the house, you were right there, offering your assistance and taking it upon yourself to help in any way you could.
You and he sit together for every meal, and you end up staying at the table well after you’ve finished eating and talking for hours, and he’s made you laugh so many times now, he’d gotten used to how it sounded in his usually quiet house.
It felt like you’d known each other for a lot longer than you had. You’d fallen asleep on the couch yesterday while you and he watched TV, your head falling to his shoulder as your soft breaths fanned across his cheek.
And, obviously, Bucky didn’t move a single muscle the entire time you slept, earning him a sore arm that was well worth it.
You and he ended up messing around by the lake yesterday, splashing at each other, which resulted in both of you becoming completely soaked but also not giving a fuck about the uncomfortable walk back home in wet clothes. The smiles on both your faces never faded once.
He rather liked the little bubble you and he had been living in for the past week, and he didn’t want to think about what it would be like when you inevitably had to go. His life would return to normal, but what would that feel like when he’d already gotten so used to having you in his space and in his life?
You and he had pretty much gone through all the food he had in his cupboards, and while he had a pretty nicely stocked garden around the back of his house, eating just peppers and tomatoes and onions wasn’t sufficient.
That meant he would have to drive out into town tomorrow to get some groceries and other things he needed, and that meant you’d probably be taking him up on that offer to drive to the bus stop.
Bucky sat next to you on the blanket, lifting one leg and planting his foot firmly on the ground as he forced himself to not look at you. The hue from the fire made you look achingly pretty, but that wasn’t saying much since he’d found you pretty in every type of lighting.
A comfortable silence settled over the two of you, with both you and Bucky watching the fire flicker and create harsh shadows all around his dark living room.
He knew he was a little tense, because he had to bring up the trip to town he was planning, and that would bring up the topic of you tagging along and getting a bus ticket.
You shifted next to him, and he had a feeling you could tell something was on his mind, but you didn’t push him to tell you. You’d been as patient with him as he’d been with you, and Bucky was growing more and more aware of the fact that if you were to leave town tomorrow, he’d really fucking miss you.
Even though it would mean you’re starting a new chapter in your life somewhere nicer than where you had been before, and you’d be happier, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to be in that chapter with you.
Maybe you and he would be able to stay in touch, though it wasn’t likely.
Bucky swallowed harshly, looking down at the small space between your thigh and his. “I’m, uh… heading into town tomorrow. You’ve managed to empty out everything I had in my kitchen,” he started, trying to keep the mood light, and it worked as you let out a soft laugh. He lifted his gaze to you, and he found you already looking at him. “Have you thought more about maybe getting a bus ticket? Just… getting away from everything that happened?”
He held back a wince when he asked that, because the thought of you being all alone again after this made his heart clench in his chest. The thought of him being alone again was even worse.
You pressed your lips together and looked away, bringing your knees up to your chest. “Yeah, I’ve… thought about it,” you confessed quietly, and Bucky’s heart clenched again.
Because as much as he liked having you here, you’d been thinking about leaving him behind and disappearing. And you weren’t selfish to think that or want it, but he sure was for wanting you to stay.
Fuck. He wants you to stay.
He cleared his throat harshly, tearing his eyes away from you. “So you, uh… accepting that drive to the bus stop?”
You looked over at him at that, but he didn’t look at you in return. He could see the way you deflated a bit out of the corner of his eye. “If you’re still offering it,” you answered softly, and Bucky wanted to take that offer back so badly.
“I am,” he said instead, shifting a bit on the blanket. “We can leave tomorrow morning after breakfast. If I can find any food to make for breakfast, that is.”
That had you huffing out a breathy laugh, and he couldn’t stop the way his head turned to look at you. He couldn’t help it. He liked the way you looked when you laughed.
You turned your head and met his eyes, and your expression softened. “Thank you, Bucky,” you whispered, then slowly, hesitantly, you reached down and placed your hand over his where it was on the ground between you. “For… for everything. You… saved me. Took me in and you made me feel like I’m not just… a punching bag. So thank you. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for that.”
Bucky clenched his jaw, because he felt it starting to tremble a bit, and you’d trusted him to be the strong one up until this point. He didn’t want to let you down. “I already told you,” he said just as quietly. He turned his hand over and laced his fingers with yours, giving them a soft squeeze as his eyes held your gaze. “You don’t have to thank me. I couldn’t just… leave you out there. I couldn’t. I knew you’d been through hell and I couldn’t add to it. I couldn’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”
You smiled at that, but your eyes started to water, and you started to turn your head when his other hand instantly lifted up. His fingers cradled your jaw, halting your movement and making your breath get caught in your throat.
“Is that… is this okay?” he trailed off, guiding your gaze back to his, and he watched the way your eyes darted down to his mouth as you nodded slowly. “Words, sweetheart.”
You inhaled at the name he hadn’t used until right now, and then you leaned a little closer. “Yes. It’s okay,”
Bucky grinned softly at that, his thumb stroking along your bottom lip as he leaned in as well. “I can stop,” he said, meaning it with everything in him.
But you shook your head, and before he could remind you to use your words again, you spoke up, “I don’t want you to stop,”
And that had him leaning all the way in until his lips brushed along yours in the softest, most gentle kiss he’s ever had. You kissed him back, smiling against his lips and making him smile right back, his hand moving to cradle your jaw.
It ended all too soon, but it was still already high on the list of the most intimate moments Bucky has ever experienced in his life, and that was bad.
Because you were leaving tomorrow, and he wouldn’t get to experience that again.
There was a heavy feeling weighing down Bucky’s chest as he sat with you in his truck that was parked on the side of the street.
A few feet behind the truck was one of the bus stops around town, and in approximately four minutes, a bus would come and take you out of his life just as quickly as you fell into it. Literally.
His elbow was propped up on the window frame, his fingers covering his mouth as he looked at the street with a bitterness he couldn’t remember feeling for quite some time now.
You were sitting in the passenger seat, wearing an old pair of jeans that didn’t fit him anymore since he’d gained quite a bit of muscle since he started living on the outskirts of town, and one of his flannels. At your feet was one of the many bags he had lying around his house, and in it were a couple of his shirts and sweats and jeans, as well as a couple snacks and water and the extra toothbrush you’d been using at his house. There was also a stack of cash he’d slipped in without you noticing, because you refused to take his money when he offered it to you back at the house.
You felt guilty for taking his clothes, but Bucky honestly didn’t care about that at all. As long as you had something to get started with, he didn’t care how many shirts he’d need to replace in the future.
The truck was off, not even the sound of the radio able to fill the silence that filled the cab. There was tension in the air, but it wasn’t angry or uncomfortable or heated. It was more sad than anything else, because even though you hadn’t been in his life for long, this was still a hard goodbye.
Bucky had grown attached to you. He’d taken on the role as your protector, and he wanted to keep that role for much longer. He had, like you told him last night, saved your life, so he was feeling protective over you, and the thought of wishing you well then sending you on your way made him feel like he was throwing you out to the wolves.
He shifted in his seat, glancing over at you. You were sitting comically still, the bus ticket he’d bought you sitting on your lap, ignored as if you didn’t want to hold it in your hands or even look at it. “You sure you’re… well enough to go off on your own?” he asked, more than ready to take you right back to his place. “It’s okay if you’re not. You won’t be intruding or anything like that. You don’t even have to stay with me if you don’t want to. I can give you some money and you can stay at a hotel for a bit. I just… don’t want you pushing yourself into something if you’re not ready for it.”
You looked over at him, forcing yourself to smile. “I’m ready,” you said, and you sounded truthful, and yet that didn’t help soothe the ache he felt in his chest. “I don’t want to take up anymore of your time. You’ve been amazing, Bucky, and I truly meant it when I said you saved me. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to pay you back.”
Bucky frowned and shook his head, “Sweetheart-” he started, but the bus rounded the corner and began slowing down, and his time with you was up.
You gave him a small smile as you grabbed the bag and opened the door, hopping out of his truck with a lot more grace than you’d moved with before. He’d healed you. And you healed him too, in a way.
He’d been content by himself before, willing to spend the rest of his life alone in the woods and preparing meals for one and sleeping by himself in the big bed in his room.
But you’d opened a part of him up, and he no longer saw himself being alone forever. He saw himself settling down, living his life with someone by his side. And he wanted that someone to be you so fucking badly.
His heart physically ached as he watched you stand on the side walk and close the passenger side door. “Bye, Bucky,” you said quietly, and there were tears in your eyes that matched the ones he felt forming in his.
You turned and started walking towards the bus stop, your grip so tight on the straps of the bag he could see your hands starting to shake.
Bucky stayed in the truck, not trusting himself to step out and walk with you to the bus stop. He was afraid you’d turn to hug him like you had done the first night you spent at his house, and he wouldn’t be able to let go of you.
So he just watched as you walked towards the bus shelter, then stopped just as the bus pulled up to the stop. He watched with a heavy heart, his knuckles pressed to his mouth as he suppressed the tremble he felt in his lips.
But when the doors of the bus opened, you didn’t get on. Your back was turned to him, so he couldn’t see your face, but he could see how tense you were as you stayed completely still on the sidewalk.
Before he could realize what he was doing, Bucky tore off his seatbelt and opened the door, stepping out onto the street without even checking to see if any cars were coming. He rounded the truck and got onto the sidewalk, moving towards you and stopping just a few feet away.
You hadn’t turned around to face him yet, but you did turn your head when the bus driver let out a huff. “Are you on or off, Miss?” he asked impatiently. You didn’t answer him, and the man let out another annoyed sound. “Ma’am, are you staying or getting on?”
That hit Bucky hard, because he wanted you to stay. Maybe it wasn’t realistic, and maybe it was way too soon, but he didn’t fucking care. He didn’t want you to go.
You turned your head even more until you were looking at him, and when your eyes met his, your shoulders dropped, the tension leaving your body instantly. You turned to face him fully, your grip on the bag loosening, “Stay,” you said quietly, “I want to stay.”
That had Bucky closing the remaining distance between you and him, and you met him halfway, dropping the bag in your hurry to get to him. Your body collided with his just as the bus pulled away from the curb, and Bucky cradled the back of your head with one hand, his other arm wrapping tightly around your middle.
He pulled your body flush against his, and your arms banded around his shoulders as you leaned up and connected your mouth to his. He lifted you up just slightly so you could kiss him a little better, and he deepened it instantly. This was even better than the one you and he shared on his living room floor last night, and he had no doubt that he’d just become obsessed with you.
Bucky couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out of his lips when he pulled away for air, “You want to stay?” he breathed, his hands cupping either side of your face as he pressed his forehead to yours. “With me?”
You nodded slowly, keeping your arms locked around his shoulders. “Yes, I do. Can I?”
Bucky let out a soft groan, his lips covering yours once again. “Yeah. Fuck yeah, you can stay,” he muttered against your mouth, and you broke the kiss as you laughed. You laughed even more when he pressed a series of fast kisses to your cheek before he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, taking you with him as he walked the few steps to retrieve your discarded bag, then he guided you back to his truck.
He opened the passenger door for you, helped you inside, leaned in and pressed one last kiss to your lips before pulling back and shutting the door, tossing the bag into the backseat as he did so.
“First stop, the store so we can stock up on food,” he said when he got back into the driver’s seat. “Then I’ll take you back to my place.”
“Then I’ll help you put all the groceries away,” you added, and Bucky couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried.
This was fucking crazy, but as he looked over at you, sitting in his passenger seat and looking so much happier now than you did before now that you’re staying, he didn’t give a single fuck about how crazy this was.
Bucky stocked up on things even more than he normally does, his counters littered with grocery bags that were filled with food and other things he was running low on.
He didn’t want to go back to town for a while now, though he would have to sooner rather than later because he planned on buying you some better clothing options - ones that actually fit you, but this was just fine for now.
Bucky had just finished bringing in the last three bags, and he set them down onto the table as he looked over at you. His flannel was tied around your waist now, his white shirt hanging loosely off your body as you placed the eggs and milk into the fridge.
You must’ve felt him staring, because you leaned against the counter beside the fridge after you closed it, a teasing smile on your lips. “You should think about investing in livestock,” you suggest, crossing your arms. “It would save you a fortune on eggs if you were to have your own chickens in the backyard.”
Bucky laughed, slowly starting to close the distance between you and him. “I live in the middle of nowhere, sweetheart,” he said, “I don’t have a backyard.”
You pursed your lips, suddenly becoming a little fidgety as he stopped right in front of you and lifted his hand. But instead of touching you like he knew you were expecting, he reached into the bag behind you on the counter, pulling out the bread. “That might be true,” you said, a lot less confidently than before, and Bucky smirked a bit. “But my point still stands.”
He hummed, “Which was?”
“That you’d save a fortune on… on eggs,” you said, your eyes flickering down to his mouth for a few seconds.
Bucky had a lazy smile on his lips as he turned a bit and opened the breadbox that was next to the sink, putting the two loaves he’d bought inside before closing it again. “I appreciate your concern. It’s quite sweet you’re worried I’ll break the bank on eggs each month,” he said, and you flushed, leaning further back against the counter. “But it’s not needed, sweetheart. I think I made sure I wouldn’t be stressed over whether or not I could afford eggs every month before I moved all the way out here.”
You pressed your lips together, reaching behind you to hold onto the edge of the counter, as if him towering over you like this was making you unsteady, but you didn’t look uncomfortable in the slightest, so he didn’t move away. “Yeah, I guess that sounds pretty logical,” you mumbled, and Bucky’s smirk softened, his hand lifting up again, but this time to cradle your jaw.
The way you leaned into his touch immediately, like you trusted him so much to never hurt you, like you’d grown accustomed to it, made Bucky feel a little feral, and he closed the gap between yours and his mouth before he could voice that to you.
You kissed him back quickly, your fingers tightening on the counter for a brief moment before you reached up and curled your fingers into his jacket, pulling him closer.
Despite you and he only doing this twice before, the first time being only last night, you and he had already found an easy rhythm. He was slowly memorizing the way your lips feel against his, and as he deepened the kiss, he was starting to memorize your taste as well.
The way you were kissing him told him that you were trying to memorize his taste and the feel of his lips too. You’d been so shy, so timid and closed off for days, but you were letting him in now. You trusted him, and somehow that made him feel better than anything else ever had.
Bucky’s hands were on your waist, gripping you still so gently as he pulled away from your lips, his breathing having already picked up drastically. “Is this okay?” he asked, his lips brushing along yours with each word.
As much as you seemed to be completely comfortable and relaxed with him now, he didn’t want to accidentally get caught up and touch you in a way that brings you right back to the very thing you’d run away from. He knew any touch could take you back there, reset your progress, and drive you away from him since he’d reminded you of that dark place.
But then you nodded your head, the tip of your nose gently bumping against his each time it passed by. “Yes,” you breathed, and then you were reaching down and grabbing onto his wrists, slowly pushing his hands further down.
His palms smoothed over your ass, then slid lower and grabbed onto the backs of your thighs, and he lifted you up, setting you down on the counter. Your breath hitched as he did so, your hands coming up to grab onto his shoulders while his grabbed onto your waist.
He kissed you again, this time a little deeper than before as he ran his tongue along the seam of your lips, and you all too eagerly parted them. He stepped between your thighs, his hips pushing them apart as he pressed closer to you, one hand sliding up into your hair.
Bucky had, without a doubt, become addicted to kissing you. Even just this felt so much better than anything else he’d done with a woman before you. There was something about you being so shy on the outside, nervous and fidgety when simply talking to him, but so eager and needy when it came to him kissing and touching you that turned him all the way on.
You had a dirty side to you despite your innocent persona, and he wanted to discover every single other side you might have.
But he could feel himself starting to throb, his jeans growing just a bit tighter, and he broke the kiss with a sigh. He pressed his lips to the band aid on your temple, his eyes closing briefly as he tried to get ahold of himself. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he muttered against your skin, and you let out a soft laugh at that.
You didn’t initiate another kiss after that, thankfully, because Bucky wasn’t sure if he’d be able to will his dick to not get hard, or harder. It’d been some time since he’d been with a woman, and even then he knew you were definitely the sexiest one he’s seen.
And while you and he were no longer kissing, you still wanted to be close as you wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your face against his chest. Bucky wrapped his own arms around you, pulling you against him and burying his face in your hair.
As much as you are sexy, you are also so fucking sweet.
It’d been a few days since you decided you wanted to stay, and while you and Bucky probably should’ve had a talk about where to go from that, you simply hadn’t.
Because even though you were new to each other’s lives, you fit right in, and you’d become each other’s new normals.
It was hot today, and instead of sweating all day doing things around the house, Bucky had pushed aside the house and yard chores, opting to spend the afternoon by the lake instead.
He’d given you a pair of boxers and a shirt to wear, the two acting as a makeshift swimming set since he still hadn’t taken you out to town to get you some clothes of your own.
Tomorrow, he’d do that.
Right now, he liked seeing the damp fabric of his shirt stick to your body.
You were standing in the lake with him, the water up to the middle of your thighs while it was only up to his knees. He didn’t know how long you and he had been out here, but the sun was just starting to set, the heat not nearly as bad as it had been before.
The water felt nice, and it cooled you both down tremendously. You and Bucky were both soaked, your clothes sticking to your bodies as you simply let the world pass by.
You’d begun collecting a bunch of rocks that were at the bottom of the lake. You’d set them aside on the dock, and there was a growing pile of… pretty normal looking rocks starting to form. But you found them pretty, so Bucky didn’t judge you for it.
Bucky left you to do that, bending down and grabbing at rocks you’d felt along the sand with your feet, and turned around to watch the sun as it began slowly lowering down towards the waterline.
As he took a step forward, he felt his foot brush against something sharp, and he winced, pulling back before he fully stepped on whatever it was. He looked down and through the ripples of the water, he saw part of what looked like a beer bottle sticking out of the sand.
He grunted and reached into the water to carefully grab it, then looked around the area for a few moments in case there were other pieces nearby. When he couldn’t find any, he moved back towards the dock, shaking his head, “Be careful, sweetheart. There might be glass around where you are. I almost cut my-” but the words died on his tongue when he looked over at you after setting the piece of glass on the dock.
Bucky shouldn’t be looking. His eyes shouldn’t be lingering where they currently are, but they’d dropped down there without his permission, and he was having a hard time looking away.
His throat went dry and he stuttered a bit as he tried to finish what he’d been saying, but it was no use.
It was bad enough that you looked unbelievably hot in his clothes, but the air had gotten cooler, and the water was naturally cold. He knew you couldn’t help the way your body reacts to the cold, more specifically, the way a certain part of your body reacts to it.
His shirt clung to you, wet and heavy, and he could see the peaks of your breasts pressing against the fabric, and the sight was really doing something to him.
You furrowed your brows, giving him a look of confusion as you stayed still, and you either didn’t know about the way your nipples were straining against his shirt, or you didn’t think it was a big deal. And it wasn’t, really. That was a natural and normal thing and yet… it had Bucky swallowing harshly as he started to move a little closer to you.
“You almost what?” you asked, your arms hanging loosely by your sides. When he didn’t answer, you shifted a bit, letting out a soft laugh. “What?” you asked again, then followed his gaze to your chest, and you pressed your lips together tightly. “Oh. Shit. Sorry, I didn’t realize I- the water’s cold and I’m wearing wet clothes and the air is kinda chilly.”
You were rambling now as Bucky stopped right in front of you, and the fact that you thought you needed to give excuses for your own body and its reactions had that protective feeling taking over him.
When you went to cross your arms, he reached out and wrapped his hand around your wrist, stopping you. “Don’t,” he said, his voice rough from the growing arousal he felt building up inside of him. “Don’t be sorry. And don’t be embarrassed. You don’t have to be either of those things. Not with me.”
You looked up at him and swallowed quickly, and he could feel the goosebumps that had formed on your skin - ones he wasn’t sure were just from the cold water and air. “Bucky,” you said, and he dipped his head down and kissed you before you could get another word out.
His hand released your wrist as he wrapped his arms around you, his fingers tangling in your wet hair as he deepened the kiss right from the start, and you moaned into his mouth as you melted against him. Your arms wound around his shoulders, and you leaned up on the tips of your toes, trying to get as close to him as possible.
Bucky’s hands slid down and grabbed your ass, lifting you slightly so you weren’t straining yourself as much, and you moaned against his mouth again, making his cock twitch in his shorts. “Fuck. Let me take you home,” he grunted against your mouth, his hands greedily bunching up the fabric of his shirt that hung off your body. “Please. Can I?”
You let out a needy sound, your fingers tangling in his damp hair as you nodded, whispering a soft, “Please,” against his lips.
And that was all Bucky needed to hear before started to walk you backwards towards the shore, and he was so caught up in the moment, he forgot to keep an eye out for any other pieces of that bottle. Thankfully, you and he made it out of the water with no incidents or injuries, and he kept one arm around your waist, keeping your body against his as you walked the short distance back to his house.
The front door swung open, the force of it hitting the wall making a few pictures rattle before he shut it loudly behind him. His hands were on your hips, gripping tightly as he pulled you against his body, his lips finding yours once again in a deep kiss.
Your hands slid up his arms, your nails skimming along his skin and making him feel feral. He licked into your mouth as he guided you backwards towards the hall, and you clung onto him a little tighter, fully trusting him to get you to his room without letting you back into anything.
When you and he entered his room, Bucky’s hands slid down the backs of your thighs, and he lifted you up, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist. He didn’t care that both you and he were still wet and your clothes were soaked as he walked you over to the bed and laid you down on it, his hips settling between your thighs.
You leaned back on the pillows as he pulled away from your mouth, his hands reaching down to pull off his shirt, and he dropped the wet fabric to the floor before leaning down towards you.
One of your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling his lips to yours as your other hand splayed along his abs, and he felt you grin against his mouth. “You’re so big,” you mumbled against his mouth.
Bucky smirked against your lips, his biceps instinctively flexing at that as he pressed his hips to yours. “Am I?” he questioned, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice as he ran his nose along the curve of your jaw. “Maybe you’re just really small.”
You shook your head at that, your hands wrapping around his biceps, but they couldn’t wrap all the way around them. “No,” you murmured, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. “The guys I’ve been with before, they weren’t nearly as big as you. You’re so much broader and wider and… bigger.”
Bucky’s smirk grew at that, and he was surprised he didn’t feel that jealous at you mentioning you being with other guys, because you just told him that he’s bigger than all of them. That made him feel superior, and he wanted to erase those guys from your memory and replace them with just him.
“Yeah?” he hummed, giving a slow, experimental roll of his hips against yours. When you let out a soft moan, he did it again, pressing his growing hard-on against you. “Seems like you’ve been with some scrawny dudes then, huh?”
You blushed at that, your teeth digging into your lip as you shook your head. “Maybe,” you whispered, “Or maybe you’re just fucking huge, Bucky.”
He felt his cock twitch at that, and he groaned as he buried his face in your neck. “You have no right to make swearing sound that fucking hot,” he muttered against your skin, and you let out a laugh as you tipped your head back on the pillow. “You just look so sweet and innocent. Doesn’t seem like this sweet mouth is capable of saying things like that.” he murmured, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw, and his thumb brushed along your lower lip.
You hummed, turning your head and nipping softly at the shell of his ear. “I think you’d be surprised at some of the things that come out of my mouth,”
Bucky perked up at your words and he lifted his head, meeting your eyes with a smug grin on his face. “Oh yeah?” he rasped, leaning in and pressing kisses along your cheek. “My sweet girl’s got a dirty side to her?”
You shrugged, reaching down to guide his hands to the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. “Guess you’ll just have to find out,”
Bucky groaned, and he kissed you harshly as he bunched up the fabric of his shirt and lifted it up your body, breaking the kiss to rid you of it entirely. He pulled back and looked down at you, feeling his desire spike at the sight of your bare breasts and the full view of your nipples. “Fuck,” he grunted, shaking his head as he moved down a bit. He kissed along the tops of your breasts, gently sucking at your skin as he grabbed onto your hips. “I don’t believe you. You’re far too fucking sweet.”
You bit down on your lip, your eyes locked onto his every move as you shifted under him, your hands sliding up his shoulders and into his hair. “Bucky,” you whimpered, and the sound of you saying his name like that had him bucking his hips against yours.
He dipped his head down even lower. “You look sweet. You sound sweet,” he mumbled against your skin as his lips brushed along your nipple. “You taste sweet,” You let out a weak moan at that, and he smirked against your skin once more. “Think my sweet girl is incapable of being dirty. But I’ll get you there. I’ll make you mine in every way.”
You moaned louder, your back arching a bit as you tried to push your chest closer to his face, just as greedy for him as he is for you.
“You want that?” he asked, his voice deeper than before as his big hands came up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing along your nipples.
“Yes,” you gasped, writhing under him. “Please, Bucky. Please.”
As pretty as you sounded when you begged, Bucky didn’t want to make you wait any longer. He wrapped his mouth around your nipple, gently sucking it into his mouth. He grunted, his eyes closing as he sucked on the peak, his tongue running along the bud as you let out a moan.
His other hand continued to roll your other one, tugging gently as your head fell back on the pillow, your own eyes fluttering shut. When he switched to your other nipple, you whimpered, pushing your chest up against him more firmly. “You’re so responsive,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses all over your breasts as his hands slid down your body. “You gonna let me touch you down here?” he asked, running his finger along the waistline of his boxers.
You pressed your lips together as you opened your eyes, your gaze instantly meeting his. “Yes,” you answered softly, “Please.”
Bucky grunted, kissing his way down your body. “Listen to you. You’re so fucking sweet,” he muttered, his fingers hooking into the damp fabric. He slowly pulled it down your thighs, then your legs, then let it fall to the floor to join the other shedded clothing. He leaned in close, his hands spreading your thighs apart as he settled in between them. Before he did anything else, he looked up at you, his eyes focused while his mouth watered with need to taste you. “You let me know if I need to stop, okay? If I’m doing anything that makes you uncomfortable or if you don’t feel good, you stop me, yeah?”
Your eyes widened at that, as if you’d never had someone say anything of the sort to you before, and you nodded slowly. “Yeah. I will. Promise,”
Bucky smiled, small and genuine, before he let himself look at the most private, and in his eyes, one of the most beautiful parts of you. He leaned in close, his lips dragging along your inner thigh before the tip of his nose brushed against your clit, and you jolted at just that. “Sensitive, hm?” he teased softly.
“Been awhile,” you breathed, lifting your hips as you looked down at him with a pleading expression on your face.
Bucky smiled up at you, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, “I’ll make you so spoiled, baby.”
Your breath hitched at that, and he finally allowed himself to taste the part of you he’d been dying to taste for a shamefully long time. He ran his tongue along your folds, collecting the wetness that had gathered there on the muscle while also leaving behind some of his own.
A deep, pleased grunt came from the back of his throat, and just from that first taste alone, he was hooked.
Bucky grabbed onto your thighs with gentle hands and guided your legs over his shoulders, then buried his face in your pussy. He basked in the string of moans you let out, your body shifting while you tried to push yourself closer to him.
He pinned your hips down, his thumbs running along the bones as he slid his tongue along your seam yet again, then dipped it inside. “Goddamn, sweetheart,” he grunted, breathing you in as his fingers curled around your waist. “Taste so fucking good, baby. Could stay down here for the rest of the night.”
You whimpered, already greedy for him as you shook your head. “No,” you moaned, “Want you to fuck me, Bucky.”
He let out a pleased hum, purposely bumping his nose against your clit. “And I will, baby,” he promised, “But I need my fill of you first. I want to make you feel so good, sweetheart. Make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”
You squirmed at that, your body heating up as your hands fisted the sheets at either side of your hips. “You already do that. You’ve been doing that since the night I met you,”
Bucky felt his heart clench, and he gave your hips a gentle squeeze. “I want to keep doing it,” he said, sliding his hands up your body until they were covering your breasts. “If you’ll let me.”
“Yes,” you moaned, nodding quickly afterwards. “I will. I want you, Bucky. I only want you.”
He grinned, turning his head and giving your inner thigh a chaste kiss before he slid his tongue between your folds again then wrapped his lips around your clit. He gently sucked it into his mouth and he could practically feel the way your nerves throbbed against his tongue. “That feel good, baby?” he asked when he briefly pulled away and watched as you nodded again, just as fast as before.
“So good,” you moaned, “Keep going. Please.”
Bucky had a feeling he’d never deny you of anything, especially when you begged him like that. He was already so down bad for you, he was certain he’d do anything you wanted, and right now you wanted his mouth back on your pussy.
His fingers dug into your hips, pinning you down to the bed as he buried his face in you, his eyes shutting as he drank you in. Your taste, your scent, the way you sounded when he slipped his tongue inside of you.
Your hips tried to lift off the bed, but he held them down, easily overpowering you in a way he knew you enjoyed rather than felt threatened by. You only shared a little bit of your past with him, short stories here and there that gave him a glimpse into the way you were forced to live before. You didn’t have a choice, but now you do, and he wants you to always know that.
A soft, needy sound left your lips, and it went straight to his cock. Bucky refrained from thrusting into his bed, opting to hope that he’d get his relief later after he’s made you cum on his tongue.
Your hands slid down into his hair, and your fingers tangled in the strands as you moaned for him. The feeling of your nails gently scratching along his scalp felt unbelievably good after not feeling it for so long. You mentioned it being a while for you since you’d last done this, and it had been quite a while for him too.
When he returned his mouth to your clit and sucked on it, you jolted in his hold, your fingers pulling on his hair. “Fuck,” you moaned, looking down at him with worried eyes. “Is that okay? Did I hurt you?”
You’d suffered unimaginable pain, so it made sense that you were cautious when potentially inflicting pain onto someone else, but in all honesty, Bucky didn’t think you’d ever be able to hurt him. At least not like that. Your hands felt like heaven, and he was greedy to feel them all the time.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. More than okay,” he promised, removing one hand from your hip and sliding his fingers along your folds, collecting your wetness. “You didn’t hurt me. You can do whatever you want to me, okay?”
You pressed your lips tightly together at that, looking down at him at the same time he lifted his gaze to you, and your fingers ran along the length of his cheek as you gave him a look that told him everything you didn’t say. “Okay,” you whispered, your brows furrowing when he slowly pushed two fingers into you.
The tight, wet walls of your cunt stretched around his fingers, only further proving that it had definitely been a while since someone touched you. That or you were just tighter than normal. Either way, Bucky was more than willing to get you prepared and to make sure he didn’t hurt you in any way.
You gasped when he pushed his fingers in all the way, your tight walls clinging to him as you let your eyes flutter shut.
Bucky kept his eyes on you as he slowly worked his fingers in and out of you, trying to read your every expression. “You like that?” he asked, his voice a lot deeper than before as his own desire built more and more. He was unbelievably turned on, and the sounds you were making for him weren’t helping his case at all, and yet it would be even worse if you were to stop making them.
You nodded slowly, going silent with your words as you gently scraped your nails along his scalp. And while he liked to hear you confirm how you’re feeling with words, you’d been incredibly vocal about it since the very beginning, so he didn’t feel like he was overstepping this time.
His mouth returned to your clit, his tongue gently flicking over the bud a few times before he wrapped his lips around it once again. Your body jolted, your fingers tightening in his hair as you let out soft sounds and whimpers that only fueled his desire for you.
When his teeth grazed your clit, you gasped, your hands tugging at his hair seemingly out of instinct. He could feel how you were tightening even more around his fingers, your moans becoming louder and more consistent. “You’re close,” he murmured, not a question but simply an observation as he thrust his fingers into you a little faster than before.
“Mhmm,” you hummed, nodding quickly as you arched your back and bucked your hips, trying to get impossibly closer to him. “Please… please.”
Fuck, you sounded so pretty.
Bucky worked his fingers in and out of you, his tongue running over the pulsing, sensitive bud above where his fingers are. “Want to feel you cum for me,” he rasped, his other hand sliding up your body until it reached your breast, and he covered the soft mound with his palm. “Want to make you feel so good, sweetheart.”
A sharper, more desperate sound tumbled out of your mouth at that, and you were starting to shake, your legs beginning to tremble at either side of his head. Your back arched even more as your cunt clenched around his fingers, sucking them in deeper as he felt you grow warmer and wetter. “Fuck,”
“That’s it, baby,” Bucky praised, keeping the pace of his fingers for a few more moments before he pulled them out, only to replace them with his tongue. He licked you all over, cleaning up your mess while leaving behind one of his own, and he only relented when you cried out and jerked away from his mouth, your fingers scratching at his head as he worked you to near over stimulation.
He pulled back, sitting up on his knees and bringing his hand up to his lips. He sucked his wet fingers into his mouth, cleaning them of your wetness with a deep, satisfied and shameless groan, all while looking at you like you were the single most hottest thing he’d ever seen. You definitely were.
You writhed on the bed, and he wanted to burn the image of you like this into his head, because you looked undeniably sexy and sated but also needy and desperate.
When his hands moved to your thighs, your own came to cover them as your chest rose and fell unevenly, your eyes hooded and your bottom lip puffy from how hard you’d bitten on it.
Bucky smiled down at you, his hands running up and down your smooth skin that was now void of bruises, and only had faint scratches that were almost fully healed. “Anyone ever tell you how fucking beautiful you are?”
You blushed at that, writhing more as you wrapped your hands around his wrists and tried to bring him closer. “Not very often,” you mumbled, and Bucky shook his head.
“Too bad for them,” he muttered, spreading your thighs once more and guiding your legs to wrap around his waist as he settled his hips between them once again. “‘Cause you’re fucking gorgeous, sweetheart. Every single fucking part of you.”
He leaned in and kissed you after that, not letting you say anything in return as he shared your taste with you. His hips rolled forward, the rough material of his shorts rubbing against your bare, sensitive core and making you whine into his mouth. “Bucky. I need you,” you breathed, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck. “I want to feel you. Want to make you feel good now.”
Bucky hummed against your mouth, kissing you deeply again. “Sweet girl,” he mumbled in between kisses. He placed a few more before pulling back. “Trust me when I say that what I just did to you made me feel good too. Never wanted to see someone cum so badly before in my life.”
You huffed out a gasp at that, your legs locking tighter around his waist as you pulled him closer. “Bucky,”
He smirked softly, pulling back just enough to be able to reach in between yours and his body. “Alright, baby,” he murmured, unzipping and pushing down his shorts and boxers. His cock sprang free, hard and thick and long, already slick at the tip with pre-cum.
Bucky hadn’t been this painfully hard in a long time, to the point where even the pressure of his own hand stung a bit before it faded to relief. He saw the way your head lifted to look down at him, and his smirk grew when he saw the way your stomach muscles fluttered a bit. “Oh… shit,” you breathed, your hands coming up to wrap around his biceps.
He kept one hand around his cock, giving himself a slow, almost teasing stroke as his other hand grabbed your hip, his thumb rubbing gentle circles onto your skin. “What’s the matter?” he murmured, having a feeling he already knew exactly what you were thinking.
You confirmed it when you whispered, “You’re… really big,” in a voice that held both need and obvious shock.
“Yeah?” Bucky cooed softly, his hand raising to your face, and he tucked some of your messy hair behind your ear. “You don’t think it’ll fit?”
You shook your head, your grip on his arms tightening. “No, I really don’t,”
Bucky guided his cock to your pussy, rubbing its length along your folds. “But you’re so wet for me, baby,” he said, his voice holding a hint of teasing as he watched himself become coated in your slick. “Bet I could just slide right in and you’d just take me.”
Your body shuddered at either his words or his actions, or possibly both, before you looked up at his face. “Okay. Just be slow, please?” you asked, as if he’d rush you into anything after you’ve already told him it’d been a while since the last time you had sex.
“Of course,” he murmured, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
“Do you… have a condom?” you asked, making him wince, his lips turning into a frown against your skin.
He pulled back and groaned, shutting his eyes tightly, “No. Fuck,” he grunted, pulling back even more. “I haven’t really been with a lot of women while living here, so I never bothered to have those around. Really wish I did now though.”
You gave him a small smile as you cradled his face in your hands, your thumbs rubbing along his stubbled cheeks. “It’s okay,”
Bucky sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. We kinda rushed into this without thinking of that, huh?” he muttered, “I can get you off with my mouth and fingers again, and then I can… jerk off or something. I didn’t think I’d be having sex anytime soon, sweetheart. I’m sorry I wasn’t prepared for this.”
You let out a quiet laugh as you shook your head in return, guiding his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. “Bucky, it’s okay,” you said again, pulling him back to you so he was flush against your body once again. “I don’t… I’m okay with not using a condom tonight, if you are. You said you wanted to take me into town to get some stuff at some point, maybe we can go tomorrow and get, like, Plan B or something? And condoms.”
Bucky felt his shoulders drop at that, shamelessly feeling relieved that, despite the absolute lack of protection between you and him, he was still allowed to fuck you. He braced himself on one hand beside your head, his other one trailing down your body. “You got it all figured out, huh?” he teased, watching the way you squirmed a bit under him.
“I want to feel you,” you said simply, shrugging after, “I want you to fuck me.”
And fuck did he want that too. It sounded so good coming from your mouth, and he had a feeling you wanted it nearly as much as he did, which was an ungodly amount.
“Yeah?” he said lowly, reaching down to grasp his cock again, and he guided himself to your entrance but didn’t push in yet. “Good. ‘Cause I want to fuck you too.”
You whined at that, bucking your hips against his as you wrapped your legs around his waist, as if you were trying to push him in yourself. “Please, Bucky,” you begged, tugging him into a kiss, and he was done for.
He slowly pushed the tip of his cock past your folds, sinking the first few inches inside you and feeling the way your walls already fluttered around him. “Fuck,” he grunted into your mouth, sliding his hand up to your hip and holding onto you tightly. His other hand fisted the pillow beside your head, his jaw clenching as he held back from thrusting all the way inside you.
You were tight. Really fucking tight, and it felt impossible to push any further without hurting you. Your cunt was gripping him like a second skin, clinging onto him as tightly as he was clinging onto you, and he broke the kiss to bump his forehead against yours.
“You… you gotta tell me if I hurt you, okay?” he said, sounding a little desperate as he twisted the pillow between his fingers. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. I don’t wanna… fuck, I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”
Your hands were gripping his shoulders tightly, your body tense under his as you squeezed your eyes shut. “You’re not hurting me, Bucky,” you breathed, knees digging into his hips as he stayed still. “You’re just… big. Really big.”
Bucky smirked softly, turning his head and pressing a kiss to your temple. “You need a minute?”
Shaking your head, you slid one hand around to his back, pressing on it gently. “No. You can keep going,”
He nodded, burying his face in your neck as he pushed in deeper, going all the way until his hips were against yours, and his cock was buried all the way inside of you. He stilled once again, letting out a deep, strangled groan against your skin as he felt you tighten around him, your hand sliding up his back and into his hair.
“Fuck,” he muttered, slowly pulling his hips back just a bit before pushing forward again, his eyes closing at the feeling. “God, you feel so fucking good.”
You moaned at his words, then again when pulled his hips back and repeated the motion, your head falling back on the pillow. “So do you,” came your quiet reply, your fingers tangling in his hair.
After a few moments, he found a deep, steady rhythm, one that had him pulling nearly all the way out before sliding back in again to the hilt. Each thrust allowed him to see how tight you were, your walls stretching around him every time he pulled back. His cock was covered in your slick, making every slide back in easier than the last.
Bucky’s fingers dug into the soft skin of your hip, his deep groans lost to your neck as he kept his face buried there. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to physically stop himself from coming way too soon if he were to pull back and watch you - the sounds you were making already being too much to begin with.
He kept his pace slower than he’s used to. Usually he has no problem with a quick fuck with a girl that left him and her satisfied and straining himself just enough to fall asleep afterwards.
But he wanted to savor this with you, even though you’d made it clear that you wanted to do this many more times in the future, as did he.
His hips rolled against yours, knocking gently against your own with every thrust. Your moans were going directly into his ear, each one making him push a little harder every time he pulled back.
Your hands grasped at his face, pulling his head away from your shoulder. “Bucky,” you moaned, and he grunted instantly in response. “Look at me.”
He shook his head, his cheek pressing against yours as his hand finally released the pillow and grabbed onto your other hip. “I can’t,” he rasped, his eyes falling shut as he fucked into you a little faster. “You feel too fucking good, sweetheart. Too perfect. I can’t-”
“Please,” you begged, your heels digging into his lower back and trying to pull him impossibly closer despite him being as close as he could physically be. “Please, Bucky, look at me.”
And he couldn’t deny you.
He pulled back, his eyes opening and meeting yours. The way you were looking at him was the exact reason he refused to look at you before. You were looking at him like you trusted him more than anyone else in the whole world, like you were willingly giving him your heart and letting him do whatever he wanted with it.
Your brows were pushed nearly all the way together, your eyes were hooded and glazed over, and your lips were curved upwards in a soft, lazy smile.
The way you were looking at him made him feel unlike anything he’d ever felt in his entire life, and he knew right then and there that he had fallen in love with you. He didn’t care that it was fast, and he had no idea when he’d fallen in love with you, but somewhere along taking you in, healing your wounds, and becoming your safe place, he’d fallen in love with you.
Bucky dropped his forehead to yours, his breath gently fanning along your lips as he rocked into you quicker, his hand sliding around you to your backside. “I need you to cum for me, baby,” he breathed, his hand covering one side of your ass as he pulled you against him with every thrust. “Need to feel you cum for me, sweetheart. Want to make you fall apart again.”
You moaned at that, pulling his chest down against yours so he could feel the way your breasts bounced softly every time he bottomed out inside of you. “Don’t stop, Bucky,” you murmured, keeping one hand tangled tightly in his hair while your other one raked down his back, your nails barely dragging along his skin.
He leaned in and kissed you deeply, swallowing each and every moan you let out for him like the greedy man he’d become for you. His teeth bumped against yours as he started to fuck you a little faster and a little harder, his hand squeezing your ass while the other one slid up your back and tangled in your hair. “Cum for me,” he grunted against your mouth, the sound of the bed beginning to creak alongside yours and his moans. “C’mon, sweetheart, let go for me. I want to feel you cum all over my cock.”
You gasped into his mouth, your nails digging into his skin as he felt your cunt clench tightly around him. “Fuck,” you moaned against his mouth before detaching your own from it. Your eyes squeezed shut, your body tensing up in the way it did before when you came on his mouth and fingers, and only a few seconds later he felt the way your walls became slicker, warmer and tighter, squeezing and sucking him in deeper.
Bucky grunted, keeping the same pace as he watched your every move and reaction, wanting to memorize the way you look right now and keep the sight locked away for the rest of his life. He held off as long as he could until you were whining and writhing, then he was there too.
You insinuated before that you were okay with him coming inside you, and he’d planned on asking you again before he did it, but the only thought on his mind was how perfect and wet and tight you are, and any rational thought left his mind as he buried himself inside you one last time before he came.
He filled you up, his hips jerking a little out of his control as he dropped his forehead back to yours, deep, tired groans leaving his mouth. His chest heaved unevenly against yours as he stilled, feeling the excess beads of cum leak from the tip of his cock as your walls fluttered around him.
You looked like you were in a daze under him, your lips kiss swollen, your cheeks flushed, and your body covered in a light layer of sweat. He could only assume he looked similar to the way you do right now.
Your arms locked around his shoulders, your legs staying around his waist as you pulled him down onto you, his body completely covering yours as you kissed him again, a lot less deeper than before but just as needy.
Neither of you said a word for a long time after that. You stayed cuddled in each other’s arms, kissing each other’s mouths and bodies as you both came down.
It wasn’t until what felt like an hour later when he finally pulled back and almost fully detached himself from you when he asked if you were okay, and if he had hurt you at all while being caught up in the moment.
But you’d simply shook your head, pulled him close again, and then fell asleep with your head on his chest.
And after that, his bed became his bed again, and it also became yours.
It was late in the morning since you and Bucky had both become quite worn out after the intense night you’d both had, you ended up sleeping in longer than either of you thought you would.
He had no idea what time it was. All he could think about was you, more specifically, the way you felt around him.
After last night, he’d become addicted to you like he knew he would. You’d completely fucking ruined him, and now he was sure he’d never be able to get into this very bed without thinking of the first time he fucked you on it.
You were on your side, your fingers laced loosely with his as he filled you with his cock over and over again from behind. You told him you were a bit sore, so he was being as gentle as he could right now, his hips rolling slowly against your ass.
His arm was wrapped around your middle, holding your body flush against his. He buried his face in your hair, breathing you in as your cunt swallowed him over and over again.
While the sex had been quite passionate last night and nothing short of amazing, this time it was much slower, much lazier and less desperate. He was still just as fucked up on you now as he’d been last night, but he felt more assured that this was it for him, that he’d get to do this with you for a long time. Last night gave him all the reassurance he needed.
He squeezed your fingers between his, turning his head and pressing kisses all along your bare shoulder, trailing them up to the scar just under your jaw. It’d been a long time since he’d woken up with a woman in his arms and an ache on his chest from where your head had been resting all night, and he hadn’t realized just how much he’d wanted to wake up just like that for so long now.
Bucky had been by himself for so long, purposely distancing himself from too much interaction with people he wasn’t close to, he’d denied himself the privilege of allowing someone into his life to change it for the better. He’d never allowed himself to find his person, never gave anyone a chance.
Until you fell over your own two feet and stumbled head first into his life, and it didn’t get any more literal than that.
But he has you now. He wants you, and he wants to wake up with you like this every day now.
He wanted to watch as you slowly woke up, see first hand how beautiful you look first thing in the morning after fully relaxing all night. He wanted to share his bed with you every night, share his house with you every day, and become as important to you in your life as you’d become to his.
He wanted to start and end each day with you, feel the way you squeezed him so tight whenever he’s buried inside of you, watch how you become even prettier each time you fall apart for him, and he wanted to watch you blossom into a happier, confident and more carefree version of yourself that was so unlike the one he’d met what felt like months ago.
Because even though he’d fallen in love with that version of you too, he was head over heels for the one currently shaking in his arms and coming on his cock.
You buried your face in his arm as your body trembled against his, and Bucky wasn’t far behind you as he filled you up just like how he did last night.
He huffed out a laugh when you turned in his arms and cuddled up against his warm chest, and he pulled you close as he caught his breath. “I think we need a shower first,” he said, propping his chin on the top of your head. “Then I’ll take you to town and we’ll get you some new clothes and whatever else you need.”
You hummed, placing your hands flat against his chest. “And condoms?” you teased, making him laugh again.
“Yes, and condoms,”
It took you and Bucky another two hours to pull yourselves together, detach yourselves from one another, get ready and go into town.
He didn’t really know where to take you since he’d never gone out shopping with a woman solely in mind, but he did know that the part of town with all the shops attached together along the street was a good place to start.
A pharmacy was across the street from where he parked his truck, and the first store he saw on the right side of the street was a clothing store, so he guided you into that one.
“I don’t need much,” you quickly said as you and he walked through the doors, one of his arms wrapped around your waist as he let you lead. “Just, like… maybe a new bra? The one I’m wearing might rip before we even make it home. And maybe a couple pairs of underwear? And a couple shirts, and a pair of jeans.”
Bucky held back his laugh as he looked down at you with a lifted brow. You were wearing his jeans that were held up by a belt he had to poke a new hole into since the tightest one still didn’t keep the jeans up on your hips, and they were baggy at the bottom. You were also wearing one of his shirts and a jacket, both of which looked huge on you since none of his clothing would ever fit you, and yet you thought you just needed a single pair of jeans and some shirts?
“I think you need a bit more than that, sweetheart,” Bucky said, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. “You can pick out some outfits you like and some jackets too, so you can have options.”
You winced, shaking your head as you stopped just in front of a table stacked with different sized jeans. “I don’t want to spend all your money,”
Bucky actually did laugh at that, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, right on your healing wound that no longer needed a band aid on it. “We’ve been over this. I won’t be breaking the bank from buying eggs every month, and I won’t break it by buying you more than one pair of jeans either,”
“That’s different. Eggs are food and you need food-”
“And you need clothes to wear that don’t make you trip every time you walk. Though I do find you very hot in my clothes,” he said, smirking when he saw you shrink a bit at his words. “I can afford to buy you things you need too, like clothes and hair products that don’t smell like pine and whiskey and… whatever else you might need.”
You bit down on your lip, looking down at the various different shades of blue jeans in front of you. Your hand reached out and ran along ones that were close to the same shade you were wearing right now, but in your actual size, then you looked up at him. “Okay,” you relented, giving him a sheepish smile. “Thank you.”
Bucky smiled back, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips before pulling back and nodding towards the back of the store where the shoes were. “Pick out some new sneakers and boots too,”
After that, you became less shy and appeared to be feeling less guilty about having him spend money on you, even though he assured you that he had more than enough to cover anything you might need.
You’d picked out three pairs of jeans, a couple shorts, eight shirts, five sets of pyjamas, a new jacket, sneakers and boots, and you had to look away when the total came up on the register, but Bucky simply swiped his card before taking your hand and the two bags and pulling you along.
You looked at the various choices of underwear, but you felt a little self conscious for some reason, and he offered letting you go into the store just up the street that was full of just bras and underwear by yourself with his card so you could get an update on your size and pick out some stuff without him hovering, and you agreed.
Just before you left the store, you stopped when you saw the display for the jewellery. There were rings varying from engagement rings to ones you’d wear around the house, some bracelets and some necklaces, and you paused when you caught sight of a silver necklace with a charm of a tree on it.
Before you could look at it for too long, you tried to pull away and tug him with you towards the exit, but Bucky stayed still, tugging you back to him. “You can look at these, sweetheart, it’s fine,” he said gently, guiding you back over to the display case.
You gave him a grateful smile as you stepped towards it again, standing just in front of it. “Just a look,” you agreed, your eyes going back to that same necklace with the tree charm. You smiled a bit bigger as he came up to stand behind you, wrapping one arm around your middle as he leaned down and rested his chin on your shoulder. “This is pretty. Reminds me of your place since it’s surrounded by trees.”
Bucky hummed in agreement, his hand splaying along your lower stomach. “That’s true. It is pretty too,” he said, “Maybe you should add some accessories to all these new outfits you got-”
But before he could finish his offer, you turned your head and tensed up in his hold, your body going rigid against his. He turned his head instantly, looking in the direction you were before you pulled away and grabbed his hand. “We should go get that Plan B,” you said, surprising him with the sudden change of subject, but he didn’t resist as you pulled him with you towards the exit. “The sooner you use it, the more effective it is, right?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Bucky said back, looking over his shoulder in another attempt to see what had set you off like that, but he only saw the backside of an older woman further in the store, then he couldn’t see anything as the door closed behind him. He turned to you, noticing the way you didn’t meet his eyes as you looked across the street at the pharmacy. He frowned as he hesitantly took your hand in his, and you thankfully didn’t pull away, instead lacing your fingers with his. “Everything okay?”
That made you look over at him, and your worried expression softened just a bit as you nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yes,” you answered, “Just realized we had sex twice in the last twelve hours, and I don’t know if that will impact the pill at all. And as much as I strongly believe you’d make some really cute kids, being a mother right now is not high on my list of priorities.”
Bucky laughed at that and nodded in agreement, guiding you with him as he walked across the street once it was safe to do so. “Yeah, as much as I want to be a dad someday, I’m also not in a rush,” he said, pulling open the door to the pharmacy and holding it open for you.
After buying both a Plan B pill and a twenty four pack box of condoms, Bucky took the pharmacy bag from you and led you back across the street where his truck is. “You can head to that store down there and pick out some stuff,” he said, opening the backseat door and putting the bags inside. He turned to you and handed you his card, giving you a smug smile. “Get whatever you need. Maybe something pretty for me too,” he added, loving the way you got all flustered whenever he said things like that to you despite him finding out for himself that you have a dirty side to you as well. “You can just tap it, but if it doesn’t work, the code is 1977.”
You pressed your lips together at that, taking the card from him, “I can’t believe you trust me with that. What if I were to run off with your card and steal all your money?”
Bucky shrugged, shutting the truck door and locking it afterwards. “Guess I’ll just have to give all the stuff in my backseat to the next girl who gets lost in the woods and scares away my dinner,” he said back, and you glared up at him before grabbing his shirt and pulling him down into a firm kiss.
“I’ll be back soon,” you said against his mouth, and he grinned, kissing you again.
“Take your time,” he said back, “I’m in no rush.”
He watched as you turned and made your way down the street, and he waited until you entered the store before pushing himself away from where he was leaning against his truck, and he walked back into the store you and he were in only ten minutes ago.
He forgot about the woman or whatever you’d seen that made you leave the store so quickly before, his eyes locked onto the display case with the necklace you were eyeing inside it.
Bucky stopped an employee as she was walking by and asked if he could see the necklace, and she all too happily unlocked the side of it and pulled it out for him. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around town, James,” the woman said, and he looked up at her when she placed the necklace on top of the case.
He kind of recognized her from when he lived closer to town, and he was sure he’d talked to her a couple times at one point if she knew his name. “Oh, yeah,” he said, reaching for the dainty silver chain and picking it up. “I don’t go shopping very often, especially not around here, no offense,” he added, but she just waved him off. “Just needed to grab some stuff for my… girlfriend.” he finished, unsure if he should be calling you that since you and he hadn’t actually talked about what you are yet.
“Yeah, I saw you with her when you first came in. She’s really pretty, seems sweet too,” she smiled, looking down at the necklace in his palm.
“She’s so fucking sweet,” Bucky agreed, forgetting to use his manners for a second as he gave her an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry, I meant… she’s way too sweet for me. But I think I’ll keep her around anyway.”
The woman laughed and waved him off again, then nodded at the necklace. “Well this is a great way to ensure she’ll stick around,” she teased, “It’s a beautiful necklace.”
Bucky nodded in agreement, dangling the chain from his fingers as he looked at it for a few more seconds. “I’m gonna surprise her with it,” he said, setting it down as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet.
“Perfect,” the woman said, reaching back into the case and pulling out the box the necklace had been placed in before. Once it was secured in the box, she nodded for him to follow her to the register. “She’s one lucky girl you got there, James.” she added as she took the cash he’d handed to her.
Bucky smiled at that, sliding the box into his jacket pocket. “Pretty sure I’m the lucky one,” he said back, giving her a kind nod before telling her to keep the change as he left the store to go back to his truck and wait for you.
You were in the bedroom, changing into one of the new outfits you’d got today while Bucky was in the kitchen, sipping on the coffee he’d picked up on the way home.
He stripped himself of his jacket, draping it over the back of one of the chairs as he opened the fridge and looked inside to see what he felt like making for dinner. The windows were open, letting the chilled evening air fill the space of the living room and kitchen and create a comfortable temperature throughout the house.
Just as Bucky took a step towards the open fridge to pull out the chicken he decided he wanted to cook, the sound of the bedroom door opening made him pause, and he looked over at the hallway just as you stepped out.
You were wearing a pair of your new jeans that were a baby blue shade and fit you perfectly, and a white fitted top, and on your feet were the new pair of sneakers you’d picked out that were pristine and clean compared to your old, dirty ones.
The outfit was simple, and yet to Bucky you looked hot, especially when he let himself think about what was hiding under those clothes. He let the fridge door close as he stepped away from it, letting out a low whistle as he moved towards you. “Damn,” he said, making you laugh as you met him halfway. “You look good, sweetheart. Real fucking good.”
You smiled up at him, draping your arms around his shoulders at the same time his own wrapped around your waist, and he pulled your body against his. Before you could say anything, he leaned down and kissed you, making you sigh against his lips as you kissed him back.
Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled back just a bit, smiling against his mouth, “Just wait until you see what I picked out when you weren’t with me,” you said against his lips.
Bucky groaned, already prepared to forget all about dinner and just take you to bed now, but just as he grabbed your hips and turned you so he could walk you right back down that hallway and into the bedroom, the sound of the front door opening made him stop.
“Oh,” he heard the sound of his sister’s voice, and he groaned against your mouth again, pulling away from you. He looked over and watched as she shut the door behind her, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well. This is a surprise. Hello.”
You pulled back even more, looking over at her with wide eyes. “Hi,” you said, giving her a kind but confused smile before looking up at Bucky.
He gave you a tight smile, dropping his arms to his sides. “That’s Becca, my sister,” he told you, and you looked over at her again with a bigger smile.
“Oh,” you breathed, “I didn’t know Bucky had a sister. Hi.”
Becca laughed, looking between you and Bucky with equally confused eyes. “Hi,” she said back, “That’s okay. I didn’t know he had a girlfriend either.”
Bucky winced, closing his eyes as you let out a sound of shock. “No, we’re… well, I guess we kind of are? Maybe? Probably?” you said, looking over at him again for help, and Bucky just propped his hands on his hips.
“You staying for dinner, Becs?” he asked, “I’m making chicken parm.”
Becca lit up at that, and she shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it aside onto the couch. “Oh, well, I couldn’t say no to that,” she said, striding over to you. “It gives me time to get to know your kind of, maybe girlfriend.”
She wrapped her hand around your wrist, and Bucky instantly noticed the way you jumped a bit at the contact. He’d been the only person to touch you since you ran away from home, so to have someone you didn’t know grab you like that was probably very alarming for you, even if Becca’s intentions were nothing but good.
Bucky stepped forward, gently pulling your arm free and guiding you over to the couch. “Here, sweetheart, why don’t you sit with Becca and talk while I get started on dinner?” he said quickly, looking over his shoulder and noticing that the confused expression was once again on his sister’s face.
“Okay,” you agreed slowly, sitting down on the couch he’d put you on that very first night. You looked up at him, and you must’ve been able to see the concern in his eyes, because you gave his hand a soft squeeze. “You’ll let me know if I can help?” you asked, and Bucky smiled and nodded.
“Of course,” he said, leaning down and kissing the side of your head. He turned back to Becca, then wrapped his arms around her in a hug, finally properly greeting her as he muttered, “She’s been through a lot. I’ll tell you later, okay?”
Becca nodded, not understanding fully but agreeing anyway as she returned the hug before pulling away and walking over to you. He watched her sit down next to you, and he smiled at the way you already seemed to have calmed back down and were smiling at his sister again.
He let himself watch for a few more seconds before he walked back over to the fridge to get started on dinner, the sound of you laughing at something Becca said filling the space that had been quiet for far too long.
“Sorry for interrupting earlier,” Becca said as she leaned back in the chair, her plate empty like yours and Bucky’s were. “If I had known my brother finally landed himself a girl, I would’ve knocked or something. I usually come by twice a month since Bucky grows the best tasting tomatoes ever, and I steal them from him.”
You smiled at her as Bucky scratched the back of his head, but the smug grin on his face told you both that he wasn’t embarrassed at the interruption at all. “It’s okay,” you said, wiping your hands on a piece of paper towel. “I’m really happy you came over. I was curious when I’d get to meet Bucky’s family.”
Becca perked up at that, looking over at him. “Is that so? Well, Buck, you need to bring her over to mom’s place and let her experience how good her cooking is,” she said, her gaze returning to you. “Our mother is a natural cook, and she’s probably one of the best cooks in the world, if I do say so myself.”
You smiled at that, nodding, “I’d love to meet her one day,” you said, and Bucky felt his heart clench in his chest. He wanted to take you to meet his mother, too, which is something he never thought he’d do with anyone any time soon.
He began gathering the dishes, but you quickly stood up and waved him off. “Bucky, leave it. I’ll clean up,” you said, but he shook his head.
“It’s alright, baby, I-”
“Bucky, you cooked, let me clean, okay?” you cut him off, making him pause, and he heard the snort from Becca at the interaction before he set his plate back down.
“Alright. Fine,” he said, stepping away from the table.
“Thank you,” you said, already beginning to gather the plates and utensils. “Go give your sister your tomatoes and talk for a bit. I’ll clean up the kitchen.”
Bucky smiled at that, trying to not show his sister how gone he already was for you as he gestured for her to get up. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, reaching for his jacket and pulling it over his shoulders. Becca gave him a teasing look, then cackled as he gently shoved her towards the door, but he stopped when he was close to you. He leaned in and kissed your cheek, watching how you instantly smiled. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
You smiled bigger, then shooed him away.
Outside, Bucky caught up with Becca, who was already rounding the house to his garden. He wasn’t sure how to start the conversation he knew he was about to have with her, so he just said the first thing that was on his mind, “Thank you for being so nice to her,”
Becca shrugged, bending down in front of the tomato plants. “She’s a nice girl herself,” she said, beginning to pick at the ripe ones.
“Yeah, she is,” Bucky agreed, moving to kneel down next to her.
“She must be special if you’re giving her things like that necklace you have in that jacket pocket,” she said casually, and Bucky paused.
He looked down at his jacket, then back at her with narrowed eyes. “How did you-” but the look she gave him had him shutting up, because of course she somehow managed to snoop around in his things. She had been sitting on the chair he’d draped this jacket over, and he had no doubt she’d managed a peak at it while he’d been distracted by you. “Yeah. She is special,” he said, and she nodded, “How much did she tell you? About what happened?”
Becca shrugged, handing him the tomatoes before she started picking at the other plant. “Not too much. She just said that my brother helped her out of a really dark place and saved her, and how she wants to be able to spend the rest of her life making up for it,”
Bucky’s heart skipped at that, and he suddenly felt the urge to turn around, go back inside and take you into his arms. He blew out a soft breath, nodding, “Yeah, that’s part of it. She ran away from home, an abusive home, and she would’ve died if she didn’t find me that day. I took her home and let her stay until she felt like she was ready to be on her own again, but…”
Becca paused and looked up at him, “But you fell in love with her already, didn’t you?” she said, not a single trace of judgement or pity in her tone. Bucky nodded slowly, and she tilted her head. “And you didn’t want her to go, because you didn’t want to be alone again.”
Bucky sighed, rubbing at his face. “Is that selfish?”
“She stayed, didn’t she?” Becca shrugged, “You didn’t force her to stay here, did you?”
“No,” he quickly answered, “Of course not. I was prepared to watch her walk right back out of my life if that was what she wanted to do, but… she wanted to stay.”
Becca stood up, making Bucky look up at her from his knelt position. “Then I see nothing selfish about that,” she said, and somehow those words made him feel ten times better about everything, because he had been worried he’d been keeping you from living your life, giving you a place to live in the middle of nowhere when you could be somewhere more lively.
But you wanted to be here. With him.
Bucky stood up too, giving her a small smile. “Thanks, Becs,”
She smiled back, beginning to walk back to her car so she could put the tomatoes in the basket she has in her backseat. As they passed by the kitchen window, Bucky looked over and watched you as you washed the dishes, looking relaxed and comfortable and safe inside his home.
Becca nudged his arm with her elbow, making him tear his eyes off you. “I know she said you saved her, and quite literally at that,” she started, a genuine smile taking over her face. “But I’m pretty sure she saved you too. From a lonely life here all by yourself, with only your hand to keep you company.”
Bucky scoffed out a laugh at that, nudging her right back. “You’re the worst,” he said, but he knew the first part of her statement was true. He believes you saved him just as much as he saved you.
“You love me,” she said, opening her car door and grabbing the basket. “I’ll get outta your hair soon so you two can get back to mauling each other.”
The sound of loud knocking at twelve in the morning woke both you and Bucky up, your body jumping against his under the sheets.
It had been just over two weeks since that trip into town, and you and Bucky had been living in pure bliss. He’d ordered you a phone he planned to pick up in town soon, and you’d started to look for jobs on his laptop he rarely used, and you both discussed getting new forms of ID for you since you’d left all of your previous when you ran away.
On your nightstand was the necklace with the tree charm he’d bought you two weeks ago, and had given you a week ago, and you only take it off when you go to sleep. The reaction he’d gotten when he gave it to you was priceless, and you started crying right then and there, and when you told him that no one had ever gotten you anything before, he almost started crying too.
You and he had only gone to bed an hour ago before the knocking had woken you up, and Bucky let out a groan as he kept one arm around your waist and rolled onto his side a bit, reaching for his phone. “Who the hell knocks on someone’s door at…” he squinted at the harsh brightness from his phone screen. “Twelve eighteen in the morning?” he grunted, setting his phone aside again.
But you were already half asleep again, cuddling up against his side. You were wearing one of his shirts and a pair of panties to bed, the new sets of pyjamas in the dresser drawer being used as lounge wear instead of your sleep attire - something he secretly loved since he’d been very vocal about how good you look in his clothes right from the very start.
“Ignore it,” you muttered, nuzzling your face against his chest. “They’ll probably go away soon.”
Bucky grunted, too tired to care at that point as well as he leaned back on the pillow. He was almost back to sleep when the sound of knocking jolted you both awake once again, and he cursed under his breath. “Stay here, sweetheart,” he muttered, sitting up in the bed and pushing the sheets off his body.
You hummed, propping your head on your palm as you looked up at him with tired eyes, and Bucky wanted to quickly find out what the person at his door wanted so you and he could go back to sleep.
He pulled on a pair of sweats, deciding that answering the door in just his boxers was probably not the best idea, before pulling open the bedroom door and making his way through the house.
Whoever is at his door started knocking more consistently, and rather obnoxiously, and Bucky gritted his teeth. He forced himself to calm down as he peered through the window next to the door, pulling the curtain back to see who it was.
It was a man he’d never seen before, and a woman who looked kind of familiar, but Bucky couldn’t place her anywhere specific. He wasn’t even sure if he’s ever seen her, but something about her was familiar, he just didn’t know what it was.
He let go of the curtain and stepped back, unlocking the door and pulling it open with a neutral expression on his face. “Yeah?” he asked, bracing one hand on the door frame while keeping his other one on the door knob in case he needed to slam it in their faces really quickly. “Can I help you?”
The man lowered his hand, his eyes widening a bit in surprise as if he was expecting a much warmer greeting from someone who’d just been woken up at midnight. “Uh, yeah. I hope you can,” he said, moving to stand back beside the woman. “We’re looking for our daughter. She ran away from home a few weeks ago, and we can’t find her anywhere.”
The woman piped up with a fake sadness in her voice that was almost comical if Bucky hadn’t instantly picked up on what the man just said. “We’ve looked everywhere, and she still hasn’t turned up. We’re just worried sick about her,”
Bucky straightened up at that, his eyes flickering between the two before he shrugged causally and shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen her,” he said, and the man narrowed his eyes.
“You don’t even know what she looks like,” he pointed out, and Bucky narrowed his eyes right back, then realized that if these were in fact your parents, he might be coming off a little too protective and guarded for them to believe him when he says he hasn’t seen you.
“That’s true,” Bucky said, softening his gaze as he lowered his shoulders he didn’t realize had raised almost to his ears. “But I haven’t had anyone come by in months. Just my sister, so again, I don’t think I’ve seen her.”
The woman lifted a photo up and all but shoved it in his face, making Bucky reel back a bit. “This is her. It’s a little old, maybe two or three years ago, but it’s the best one we have of her,” she said, and Bucky held back a grunt as he took his hand off the door frame and plucked the photo from her.
This was the best photo they have of you? Just one glance at the picture, Bucky could tell it definitely is you, but definitely isn’t from two or three years ago. You looked like a teenager in this photo, not twenty three or twenty four like you’d be if it were from two or three years ago.
It looked like an old yearbook photo, maybe from your second year of high school. What pissed him off even more though, was the obvious black eye you had in the photo. It was faded a bit, like maybe you’d gotten it just a few days before the picture was taken, but still. The proof that you’d been putting up with this for years was staring right back at him with younger features, and even more innocent eyes.
The photo was old, not only in regards to your age, but also physically. The edges were worn and the picture itself was dirty, like it had been sitting in an untouched drawer for years before someone picked it up again. It was given the same treatment you’d been given.
Bucky pursed his lips instead of locking his jaw, and he handed the photo back to the woman. “Yeah, no, sorry. I haven’t seen her,” he said, beginning to close the door when the sound of the floorboard in his hallway creaked, and Bucky stepped in the line of sight of the hall just as your dad tried to peer over his shoulder at the sound.
He flared his nose, his shoulders lifting slightly. “Does someone else live with you?” he asked, “Maybe they’ve seen her-”
“No,” Bucky said, standing firm when your dad tried to take a step into his house, and he found it very easy to lie to these people, especially after everything he knew they did to you. “No one else is here. That was just my cat, who will try to escape the longer I keep this door open. So, if you’ll excuse me.”
Your dad tensed up even more, visibly growing angrier by the minute, but so was Bucky. Before either of them could say anything else, your mom stepped in. “Of course,” she said, pulling on your dad’s arm to tug him away. “Thank you for your time. We’re sorry for coming by so late. Have a good night.”
Bucky didn’t say anything. He simply stayed where he was and watched them get into their car, and he waited until the tail lights had disappeared beyond the trees before he shut and locked the door.
When he turned, he saw you peeking your head out of the doorway of the bedroom, and you looked just as terrified as you did the day he met you. Bucky quickly walked over to you and tried to pull you into his arms, but you placed your hands on his chest, keeping a sliver of distance between you and him.
“That was- they were- my… my-” you stuttered, clearly having heard that whole interaction.
“Shh, hey. I know. I know, sweetheart,” he said, his hands gently grasping your upper arms. “It’s okay. They’re gone, okay? They don’t know that you’re here, I promise. They’re gone.”
You were shaking as you nodded your head, and you finally let him pull you into his arms, your face pressing up against his chest. You melted against him, and he felt the warm wetness of your tears against his skin, making him hold you a bit tighter. “I saw her,” you whispered, clinging onto him. “My mom. At the store a couple weeks ago when we went into town to get some clothes and the-the Plan B. I saw her, right before we left.”
Bucky tensed up at that, because that was where he knew your mom from. He’d only been able to catch a glimpse of her while you tugged him out of the store, but it was enough for him to remember what she looked like, and how scared you’d suddenly become that day. “Jesus, baby,” he muttered, cradling the back of your head with one hand as his other ran up and down your back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
You cried quietly, shrugging. “I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want to bring attention to myself or risk her seeing me and taking me back there and-”
“Okay, it’s okay,” Bucky cut you off gently, turning his head and kissing your temple. He could feel the way you were starting to get worked up, and that was the last thing he wanted right now, for you to be back in that place mentally. “It’s okay. You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re not gonna go back there, okay? You’re home, baby. Here with me. You’re safe.”
You looked up at him with wet eyes, and he had to hold himself back from going after your parents and giving them both the same treatment they’d given you. “Okay,” you whispered, then wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding onto him tightly.
Bucky picked you up and carried you back to bed, and he cuddled under the covers with you once more, letting you lay half of your body on top of his. He hoped you could feel the protective way he held you, and hoped you knew it was his way of telling you that he meant every word he said.
You are home now, here with him. He’d never let anyone hurt you or take you back to that horrible place you’d come from. He’d never let you go through that kind of pain ever again, and he’d never let your parents near you ever again.
A week had passed since that night your parents came by, and it was still unsettling how they managed to stumble upon the very house you were now living in, even though Bucky had told them he’d never seen you.
You’d come very close to being found by them that night, and you’d been a little on edge ever since, so Bucky suggested postponing the trip to town to get you a new phone and to get new copies of your ID, because it was obvious your parents had been snooping around the area in search of you.
It was nice out, the last few weeks with good weather dwindling down before the fall chill took over and it became Winter.
You were sitting under the canopy attached to the front of his house, your legs pulled up as you sat on the swinging seat he’d built with his best friend the second year he was up here after realizing he needed more places to sit on outside in case he had company.
Open on your lap was a book, one of the many ones he had tucked away on the shelf in his living room he shamefully hadn’t touched in a very long time. It was okay though, because you’d become quite fond of the collection, and you were putting it to way better use than he ever had.
He was cleaning up the area around the front of his house, putting things away to prepare for the harsher weather that would be coming his way in the following weeks. He was currently making sure he was stocked up on firewood so he’d be able to keep the house warm, and he was in the middle of chopping up what remained of a tree that had fallen over during the last bad storm when he heard the sound of tires on the dirt path that led to his house.
Bucky paused, briefly wondering if he forgot that his sister was coming by again, but then he saw the same car your parents were in that night a week ago, and he stood up straight. “Sweetheart,” he called out to you, keeping his eyes on the car as it came closer to the house, still partially hidden by the trees. “Go inside for a minute, okay?”
He heard the way you put your foot down to stop the chair from swinging. “What? Why?” you asked, but then he heard your sharp intake of breath, and you quickly got up and headed inside, closing the heavy door behind you.
Bucky rolled his shoulders just as the car drove up and stopped beside his truck, and this time he didn’t even try to be nice. “I told you, I haven’t seen your daughter,” he said to your dad when he got out of the car, your mother following his lead afterwards.
Your dad flashed him a so obviously fake smile as he strode over to him, but paused abruptly when he saw the axe Bucky was still holding in his hand. It didn’t scare him away fully though as he nodded towards the house. “I thought you said no one else lived with you?” he asked, and Bucky froze for a second, worried that they’d actually been able to see you before he quickly told you to go inside.
But then he saw how your dad nodded towards the swinging chair that was still swaying as if someone had just been sitting on it and had gotten up in a hurry. Bucky sighed deeply, before shrugging, “Must be the wind,” he said, “It’s pretty strong out here.”
Your dad’s smile faltered, and he took another small step forward. “And that book?” he asked, nodding towards the copy of Wuthering Heights you’d been reading before abandoning your spot on the swing to retreat inside. “I’m sorry, but you don’t seem like the type to read that kind of book.”
He was trying to get him to admit to having seen you, and possibly to hiding you inside, but Bucky was done at this point. Your parents had a lot of nerve to, not only treat you like shit, but to come onto his property twice and try to snoop around as if they had any right at all to do so.
“I’m sorry too,” Bucky said, keeping his grip loose on the handle of the axe as he took a few steps of his own. “That you think you have any business coming onto another man’s property and sticking your noses into other people’s shit. You must think you’re royalty or something if you think you can do whatever the fuck you want, say whatever you want, when you’re on my land.”
Your mom visibly shrunk at that, and she stepped away instantly as your dad swallowed nervously. “Well-well, I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear. I was just-”
“Accusing me of something? Trying to stick your nose in my business?” Bucky cut him off, coming to stand only a few feet away from your dad. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, man. Clearly no one has ever taught your old ass a lesson, huh? That you can’t just walk up to people and talk out of your ass and not expect to have it handed to you in return.”
Your dad took a staggering step back, his eyes wide as he pushed your mother around the front of the car towards the passenger side door. “You’re crazy. All I did was come by to ask-”
“You know exactly what you came by to do,” Bucky said, getting right up in your dad’s face. “It won’t work here. Now get the fuck off my property before I make you regret ever coming here in the first place.”
Your dad looked terrified, and Bucky held back a laugh at the sight as he watched him quickly turn around and pull open the door. “You’re fucking insane,” he spat, getting into the car. “I know my daughter is in there. I know it. But you can have that little brat. You hear me?” he yelled, looking towards the house again. “He can have you! Because we don’t want your spoiled ass anymore! You’re gonna wish you never left, because no one else will ever want to put up with you or want you! Good luck with that little-”
The sound of the blade of the axe hitting the left headlight of the car shut him up, and your dad scrambled to start the car just as Bucky swung the axe back and took out the other headlight.
“You’re insane!” your dad scoffed, backing the car up rather carelessly and nearly hitting a tree.
“I’m glad you figured that out,” Bucky called back, watching the way the car sped down the dirt path and disappeared beyond the trees again.
He turned, planning to go find you in the house and promise you that they were gone for good, but then he saw you standing next to the swing, a small smile on your relieved face.
Bucky dropped the axe instantly, meeting you halfway when you started to walk quickly towards him. He picked you up and held you against his body as your legs wrapped around his waist, and he kissed you back as soon as your lips touched his. “I can’t believe you did that to my dad’s car,” you said against his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair. “He’s spent more money on that thing than on anything else.”
He grunted against your lips as he held you tight, his forehead pressing against yours. “I was gonna do a lot worse,” he said, walking over to the swing and sitting down on it, making you sit on his lap. “They’re not gonna hurt you anymore. I promise you that. I have you now. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you ever again.”
You were in a much better mood this time than you were the night your parents swung by at midnight, and he was so happy you hadn’t slipped back into that mindset they’d put you in before. You didn’t look scared or worried or anxious, but happy. Genuinely happy and relieved. “I know,” you whispered, cupping his face in your soft hands. “I love you, Bucky.” you said, and he felt his heart spike at that, and the biggest smile formed on his face.
“I love you,” he said back instantly, watching as an equally big smile formed on your face. “Damn it, I wanted to say it first.”
You laughed, pulling him into another kiss. “You did everything for me, and you saved my life,” you said against his mouth, “It’s only fair that I got to say it first.”
Bucky scoffed, shaking his head, “There’s nothing fair about that, but I’ll let you have it anyway,” he said, and you smiled even bigger before pulling him closer and kissing him once again.
I have returned with a stupidly long fic. I hope you enjoyed it.🧡
Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 6.2k [Jax Fic Masterlist]
Warning/tags: 18+; angst, drunk rough sex, choking & spanking, suicidal!Reader, excessive alcohol use, depression, hopeful ending if you squint??
Summary: Losing your job days after receiving an eviction notice was the tipping point. With nothing left, you step into a party at the Sons' clubhouse uninvited hoping for a night that you won't wake up from.
a/n: This may or may not be triggering, please use your own discretion, though I feel like the humor and sex balance out the situation a little? Feedback (reblogs/comments/likes) is always appreciated!
Tipping the glass in your hand back against your lips, the whiskey burned as it passed over your tongue before blazing a fiery trail down your throat. Normally you preferred sipping on a glass of wine to unwind from a rough day, but tonight you swallowed the liquor down without flinching. Because tonight wasn't a normal night, and you weren’t just having a rough day.
None of it mattered anymore–not your sobriety, not your safety, and certainly not your sad, miserable existence. You'd slipped into a Sons’ party at their clubhouse with the express intention of drinking yourself into oblivion just to forget the job you'd lost earlier today and the eviction notice you'd found taped to your door four days ago. With nothing left to keep holding onto and no foreseeable way to pay your bills, you’d thrown years of caution and keeping your distance from the Sons straight out of the window when you’d walked right into their clubhouse. If the universe wanted to keep pulling at all your loose threads, then you'd shamelessly unravel until there was nothing left to undo.
Lowering the glass back onto the bartop already rimmed in the markings of previous parties, your blurry vision grew fuzzy as you stared at the amber liquid dwindling in the bottom of your glass. It was the third one you'd had in the hour that you’d been here, and you were certainly feeling its effects. But you were only just getting started.
Despite being too broke to afford alcohol yourself tonight, you'd quickly learned that if you flirted with the young guy behind the Sons’ small, outdated bar, he kept pouring you drinks without questioning your presence here. Because while you knew you weren't supposed to be here, he apparently wasn't aware of that fact. Or he’d been willing to overlook it for the possibility of getting laid.
Everyone in Charming knew that you didn't just walk into the Sons of Anarchy’s clubhouse without an invitation. It didn't matter who you were, outlaw motorcycle clubs were notoriously private, and their clubhouses were their safe havens. Uninvited visitors generally weren’t welcomed with open arms, but you'd invaded their space anyway for the possibility of free alcohol and a chance to forget for a little while. If that earned you trouble, you'd welcome it. Maybe a fist to the face or being thrown out on your ass would cut through the endless nothing that seemed to be swallowing you from the inside out lately.
“Might wanna slow down there, beautiful.”
Gaze slowly sliding up from the almost finished third glass in front of you, you attempted to focus on the dark haired guy standing behind the bar. Even in your increasing inebriation, you didn't find him the slightest bit attractive. But you still forced a smile onto your face, one that felt too heavy to maintain.
“Am I not s'posed to be drinkin’ at a party?” you faintly slurred back. “‘Cause it seems like everyone's drinkin’ here.”
Left hand releasing your grip on the glass, you sloppily waved it carelessly at the crowd of people behind you. The clubhouse was booming with life, laughter, and loud music. A smokey haze lingered in the air from all the cigarettes and joints that were being smoked inside, and while it stung your eyes a bit, it seemed to perfectly match the haze already clouding your brain.
“You're not lookin’ like you're having much fun though,” he countered dubiously.
The hand you'd waved behind yourself swung forward, landing exaggeratedly against your chest, just above the exposed cleavage of your shirt. You'd picked the sluttiest outfit you could find in your closet tonight for the occasion of no longer giving a fuck, but somehow it still wasn't as revealing as what the other girls here were dressed in.
“I'm having plenty of fun,” you assured him, drunkenly dragging out the syllables as you tried to speak coherently. “I gotta drink in my hand and you for company, right?”
The flirtatious lie rolled off your tongue and lit up his face immediately. Apparently you'd said the right thing to get him to stop probing, and you'd started wondering just how far you'd be willing to take things to keep that from happening tonight. Would you need to suck his dick in a bathroom in exchange for him to keep pouring you drinks and not asking questions? You supposed after another couple of whiskeys you probably wouldn't even fucking care if you did.
Maybe I should apply to work at their porn studio. Might need to start sucking cock just to pay rent for a new place.
A bitter laugh fell past your lips at the depressing thought, and the guy behind the bar's brows drew together in confusion. Of course he was confused because you hadn't said any of that aloud. You probably looked like some drunk idiot laughing to yourself, which only made you laugh a little harder. But you doubted coming off as crazy would make him turn you down after how much he'd been hitting on you for the past hour.
“What's so funny, darlin’?”
The laugh died on your lips as you stared at the guy behind the bar, your head gradually tipping to the side in bewilderment. His mouth hadn't moved yet somehow he'd just spoken. How was that even possible? Or were you already that affected by the whiskey? But then it slowly dawned on you that the guy behind the bar was looking just to your left, and you realized someone else had spoken just before you heard their deep voice again.
“Is it the fact that you aren't supposed to be here, yet you're getting wasted on my whiskey that’s got you laughin’?” the disembodied voice asked.
Blinking slowly three times, you stared at the guy behind the bar as you steadily came to the realization that you'd finally been caught. The guy who'd been serving you quickly turned and hurried off to the other end of the bar, leaving you to fend for yourself.
Definitely not sucking your dick now, asshole.
Placing both of your hands flat along the sticky bar counter, you carefully spun to the side on your stool, swaying faintly at the movement. You came unexpectedly face to face with Jax Teller, the Sons’ president, and it took you so off guard that your brain instantly went blank at the sight of him. You'd only seen him occasionally around Charming, usually on the back of his bike and moving far too fast for you to see much, but now that he was leaning against the edge of the bar barely a foot away from you, you could clearly see him. And he was someone you would be willing to fuck for some free drinks.
He had the prettiest shade of blue eyes that you’d ever seen, like the rolling waves of the ocean glistening in the afternoon sun. His long blonde hair was perfectly slicked back, and his facial scruff was just neatly trimmed enough to add to that edge which radiated off of him. Jax was thick and broad beneath the black leather kutte and the white t-shirt he had on, and in that moment, you completely understood why he managed to fuck as many girls as he did.
“Why?” you countered, arching a brow back at him. “You gonna tell me I need to suck your dick in exchange for it?”
Jax’s plush lips parted slightly in surprise, clearly not expecting that response to his question and imposing presence. One blonde brow slowly ascended questioningly upwards onto his forehead as he leaned further onto his forearm resting against the bar.
“What?” he asked.
“Your precious whiskey,” you explained, gesturing your head towards your glass. The movement caused the room to temporarily spin, but you carried on. “Not supposed to be drinkin’ it, right?” you said, words still slurring together. “So do I gotta commit a felony for you? Fuck you in a backroom or somethin’ for it?”
The corner of his lips twitched faintly upwards before his tongue deliberately rolled out between them. Mesmerized by the flick of pink briefly wetting his lips, you stared at his mouth while his entire demeanor shifted. It was subtle, but even you’d noticed how his posture had relaxed and his stern expression had eased.
“You ain’t gotta filter on you, do ya, darlin’?” he mused. Jutting his chin at your drink on the bar, he asked, “How many of those have you had?”
Picking up the glass of whiskey in question, you brought it to your lips and tipped it back. A small smile crept itself across Jax’s lips as he watched you down the rest of the liquor in two deep swallows. As you set the empty glass back onto the bar, you licked the bitter residue from your lips before answering him.
“That made three,” you said. “But I wouldn’t mind a fourth. Or maybe the whole bottle.”
His smile faltered at your last comment, and his pretty blue eyes–of which there occasionally seemed to be more than two–narrowed suspiciously back at you. The noise of the party continued to fill in the silence that sunk between you both, a boisterous laugh breaking out above the sound of pool balls clattering a few feet away.
“You good?” he asked.
“Huh?”
Jax reached a ringed hand out and grabbed your empty glass from beside you on the bar before lifting it up in front of your face. Your attention focused on his muscular forearm instead of the glass, eyes tracing over the ink of his tattoo. The urge to lick it crossed your mind and you barely refrained from acting on impulse.
“Three of these in an hour?” he questioned. “You’re barely stringin’ sentences together and you look ‘bout ready to fall off that stool. I don’t think you need more, I think you need some water and to go home, sweetheart. This ain’t the place for you.”
The concern on his face was so unexpected that a laugh bubbled straight out of your throat. Clumsily reaching out, you managed to snatch the glass from his hand, ignoring the look of shock that washed across his face at the bold gesture. Your other hand raised before you firmly pointed a finger in his face, only mere inches from his nose.
“Don’t tell me what I need, pretty boy,” you disagreed, wagging your finger at him. “And don’t pretend to care ‘bout my well-being. You don’t give a fuck ‘bout it.”
A frown settled on his lips as he pushed off the bar, one hand smoothly swatting yours out of his face. He took a step closer, his presence impossible to ignore as he leaned forward and got directly in your face. The heavy scent of cigarette smoke, leather, and gasoline rolled off of him, and the fan of his warm breath along your lips had your eyelids fluttering. He might’ve been getting annoyed, but you were getting aroused.
“Watch it, darlin’,” he warned in a low rumble. “It’s not smart to be sticking fingers in my goddamn face like that. I’m bein’ nice right now.”
Leaning further towards him, you held his piercing stare with your own as best as you could while swaying along the bar stool. What the fuck did you have to lose at this point? If he wanted to shoot you in the middle of this party with the gun no doubt hidden in his kutte, then at least you wouldn’t have to wake up tomorrow worrying about where the fuck you’d be sleeping in a couple weeks. That’d be a weight off your shoulders.
“Then don’t,” you challenged.
He blinked back at you, and a small crease slowly formed between his brows. His blue eyes dipped down towards your lips, and you became very aware of how close his were to yours. You were barely resisting the urge to smash your mouth onto his now. Maybe he’d let you, maybe he’d slap you. Maybe you’d have been content with either outcome.
“A’ight,” he finally conceded.
He straightened back up, which put an unfortunate amount of distance between you both, something you weren’t particularly thrilled about. You could’ve used sex to help shut your brain off, and drunken sex probably wouldn’t have hurt your situation tonight. Why not live a little and fuck the Sons’ president? You’d always heard the hype about his bedroom skills, now you were curious to see them for yourself.
“The fuck is goin’ on with you, huh?” Jax demanded. Crossing his thick arms over his chest, he fixed you with a pointed stare. “Clearly somethin’ is, darlin’. No one is stupid enough to come in here acting like this, especially not to my fuckin’ face.”
“I’m gettin’ evicted and I just lost my job,” you slurred back. Raising the empty whiskey glass in your hand, you shook it irritably in the space between you both. “Can’t exactly afford the alcohol poisoning on my own. So, care to help a girl out?”
The tension in his shoulders eased marginally at your explanation as his attention dropped to the glass you were shaking in the air. The corners of his lips dipped downwards before his gaze returned to your face. “So you’re havin’ a bad night, that it?” he asked.
A humorless laugh slipped out of you as you shook your head, swiveling back towards the bar on your stool and setting the glass down in front of yourself. “It’s not a bad night,” you corrected him, “it’s a bad everything. I’d be thrilled for the rest of that bottle or a car rollin’ over me. I’m not exactly feelin’ picky.”
“So you think talkin’ shit at our clubhouse and drinkin’ our booze is the answer?” Jax shot back. “‘Cause it ain’t.”
Glancing sidelong at him standing next to you, you frowned at the probing way he was watching you and the chastising tone of his voice. This was not what you’d come out here for. He was making you think and feel and you wanted neither of those two things tonight. You wanted to be completely numb–whatever made you feel as close to dead inside as possible.
“I don’t needa Son to therapize me,” you shot back, still slurring your words. “I just wanna get shitfaced and shut off my fuckin’ brain. Stop pretendin’ to give a shit. You're not known for caring, you're known for fucking.”
His eyes narrowed at your bluntness–all four of them. “Who said I can’t do both, huh?” he argued. “Maybe the shit you’re sayin’ sounds concerning, but maybe I’m not above takin’ you in the back and fuckin’ some sense into you, either.”
Falling quiet at the harsh way he’d snapped back, your fuzzy mind began repeating the words ‘fucking some sense into you’ over and over. Arousal rippled through you like a slow wave rising up from the base of your spine before engulfing you in its heat. With one hand, you slowly nudged the empty whiskey glass along the bartop towards him, and his gaze briefly drifted down, watching it slide over to him.
Tipping your head at the empty glass, you ignored the way he swam in your vision. “Pour me another,” you ordered him, “and you can try as hard as you want.”
Jax had poured you two more shots before you'd lost the ability to keep your hands to yourself. With the alcohol and your attraction burning inside of you like gasoline and a lit match, you'd grabbed a fistful of his perfectly styled blonde hair while you’d been at the bar and yanked him towards you, crashing your lips onto his and effectively shutting him and his “compassion” up.
Somehow you'd stumbled through the clubhouse party shortly after you’d shoved your tongue into his mouth, letting Jax guide you around the people and the twists and turns that you couldn't fully remember before you'd ended up in some sort of bedroom. He’d barely shut the door before your hands drunkenly fumbled to remove his clothes, your eyes not quite seeing straight. Jax had been far more deft at peeling you out of all your layers, getting you naked so quickly that you hadn’t been aware of it at first.
Somewhere through the cloud of alcohol swirling in your mind, you vaguely remembered his teeth sharply tugging on your nipples and biting at your shoulders, and you could somewhat recall the way he'd plunged two thick fingers deep inside of you while you’d been backed up against a wall. But unfortunately the copious amounts of whiskey in the short span of time had already made that part of your evening rather blurry and indecipherable.
Though you were very present now. Or as present as you could be while being quite so under the influence.
At some point Jax had thrown you down onto the mess of sheets along his bed without any warning. The soft impact of the mattress hitting your stomach had left you slightly breathless, and you hadn’t quite recovered before you’d felt Jax climbing over the back of you. His bare, broad chest pressed you deeper into the bed as he ducked his head beside your ear, his hot breath intoxicating as it grazed over the side of your face.
“You wanna stop thinkin’, huh?” Jax rasped. “Need it so rough you can't hear those stupid fuckin’ thoughts of yours?”
One of his hands came into view beside your head, fingers curled into a fist that pushed into the mattress as he held himself over the back of you. You could feel the weight of his cock resting between your ass–hard and heavy–but the slow glide of a calloused hand slipping around your throat quickly stole your attention along with your breath.
His fingers tightened around the sides of your neck, the rough pads digging into the sensitive skin before he quickly jerked your head backwards and towards him with his firm grip. The pressure of his fingers closed off just a fraction of your airflow, causing your vision to tinge white as the wall in front of you blurred out of focus. The rings on his fingers were a cold contrast to the heat of his palm soaking into your flesh, and you went slack beneath him on the bed almost immediately.
“This what you wanted?” he asked, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
You could squeeze harder. End it all now.
A strangled ‘mmph’ was the only assent you could muster in response, his fingers still partially blocking your airflow. But the muddled state of your mind was addicting, and the shifting of his naked body behind you only increased the dizzying sensation tingling in your brain with all of the whiskey. He could’ve done anything to you right now and you’d have allowed it, even taking your breath permanently.
So completely out of it as you lay slack beneath him, you hadn’t realized what he’d been doing until he pressed the thick head of his cock against your entrance. There was no hesitation that followed. With both of his muscular thighs bracketing yours between them, he rutted his hips firmly forward into your ass and slid his cock entirely inside of you. A gasping, garbled noise flung itself out between your lips as Jax continued to hold your head back with the single hand wrapped around your neck.
“Fuck, that’s it, that’s it,” he groaned.
Eyes falling shut at his gravely voice beside your ear and the faint tickle of his beard along your shoulder, a soft moan came strangled from your throat. He was large enough that the stretch of him filled your pussy with an unfamiliar yet delicious sting that you could feel throbbing all the way in the back of your skull. Trapped beneath him on the bed, you shifted your hips along the mattress, weakly pushing back against him in a desperate attempt for him to do more than press his nearly full weight into you.
“This what you need?”
His question came punctuated when he drew himself back until he’d almost slipped out before brutally slamming forward, his hips ramming right into the swell of your ass with an obscene sound. The resulting pleasure burn shot through you like a bolt of lightning straight up your spine and you groaned in response. Spurred on by the noise, Jax quickly set a rough rhythm that had your body molding itself into the mattress beneath him. He still hadn’t loosened the grip around your throat, and bright spots of colors began to bloom across your closed eyelids as the world around you felt like it was quite literally melting away.
Make it all disappear.
“Needed a rough fuck to fix your fuckin’ head?” he panted beside your ear. “That what you’re lookin’ for, darlin’?”
“Ha–harder,” you gasped out.
A sharp grunt met your words, but Jax didn’t hesitate to comply. The hand he’d been pressing into the bed to steady himself over the back of you landed on your shoulder, and suddenly all of his weight was bearing down on you. His chest against your back crushed your own chest into the mattress beneath you, and you grew even more lightheaded as your neck relaxed into the hand around your throat.
Jax pounded relentlessly into you from behind, his cock diving deeper and deeper until you swore you could feel him in your stomach. Your entire body burned with nothing but pleasure, your skin nearly buzzing with it as his sweat slicked body moved along the back of yours. Dizzy with overstimulation, you could feel each pull of his abdominal muscles along the back of you with every one of his savage thrusts.
“Like it filthy then?” he asked, growing breathless. “Want me to fuck this little pussy hard?”
With your eyes still closed and your mind more than half gone, you’d entirely succumbed to Jax. Nothing else existed in this moment, not any of your problems and not any of your pain, just the dangerous draw of completely losing yourself in him. You wanted to drown in this moment, to let your approaching climax sweep you away into nothing.
“Need you to fuck me raw,” you breathlessly begged.
The request sounded nearly as strangled as you felt, and Jax temporarily hesitated behind you when he caught it. A low, animalistic growl rumbled in his chest, and you felt it vibrate through your own body beneath him, stirring all the way to the tips of your fingers curled around the messy sheets. Humming faintly in approval, your pussy tightened around his cock where it sat temporarily stalled inside of you.
You swore you’d only blinked your eyes open before he’d moved. One second you’d been lying flat on your stomach with him over the top of you, a hand around your throat as he fucked you, and the next, Jax had your ass in the air. His hand was now shoving the back of your neck down into the bed with such force that you doubted you could’ve moved if you’d wanted to, your cheek smashed into the dark brown sheets. His other hand held both of your wrists locked at an angle behind your back that created a sharp pull in your shoulders.
It seemed as if you’d unlocked something inside of Jax with your request, because his self-restraint had suddenly vanished. Two sharp, stinging smacks came down hard on your ass, the noise cracking through the room. When Jax had restarted his pace, he fucked into you with a savageness you hadn’t anticipated. His cock repeatedly slammed into a spot so deep inside that your breath caught in the back of your throat as drool spilled out of your lips, wetting the bed beside you.
You could feel your release steadily building with each rough, unsteady thrust of him from behind. Eyes partially rolling back behind closed eyelids, a slow, satisfied grin slipped onto your lips. Jax continued to grunt and snarl behind you like a wild animal, the rough sheets scratching against the side of your face. Maybe he wouldn’t strangle you here in his bed and fully silence your thoughts completely tonight, but for now you’d settle for the close second of bliss as he ruthlessly used you.
Tugging on his discarded shirt from the night before over his head, a sharp pain throbbed between Jax’s temples. He hadn’t drank nearly as much he could have last night, but the nearly two hours of sex with you afterwards hadn’t exactly helped matters. As he slid his shirt down over his chest, he studied the handful of bright red scratch marks and the few bitemarks that now adorned his skin. The corner of his lips drew up in a faint, pleased grin before his eyes drifted back towards his bed.
His empty bed. You’d passed out in it at some point when he’d needed a break to take a piss, and when he’d stepped back into his room from the bathroom, you were curled up naked on top of his sheets entirely done for. He’d tucked you beneath the blankets before joining you, not having the heart to kick you out of his room like he would’ve done to any of the other girls considering how rough your night already seemed. But somehow when he’d woken this morning, you’d already disappeared. With how much whiskey you’d downed last night, Jax was surprised you’d even managed to wake up before him.
Stepping over towards his nightstand, Jax swiped the pack of cigarettes and his lighter from atop it. Guilt steadily pooled in the pit of his stomach as he glanced once more at where you’d slept beside him last night. Had he been too rough with you and that’s why you’d ducked out? He admittedly hadn’t meant to be quite that intense and take things so far, but you’d seemed to be enjoying yourself and encouraging him to be rougher and rougher with you.Truthfully, no girl had ever asked him to ‘fuck them raw’ before, and the memory of your hoarse voice begging for it even now set his blood on fire.
With a shake of his head, Jax tried to shove the memories of last night from his mind. He didn’t need to get hard thinking about his time in bed with you, he needed a fucking smoke. You were probably fine. You might’ve woken up in the middle of the night and come to your senses, realizing a girl like you didn’t belong in a place like this lying beside a man like him. At least he’d tried to show you his version of compassion last night–as much as Jax knew how to give it to a sad woman that he barely knew.
Heading out of his room and down the hall, Jax could hear a few of the other guys already waking up in the main room of the clubhouse. Painful groans mingled with low chatter as Jax stepped out of the hallway, his eyes squinting at the harsh sunlight pouring in through the windows. Heads turned in his direction and Jax nodded in greeting, slipping a cigarette out of the pack in his hand.
“Sounded like you had a good night, Jackie boy,” Chibs stated from a couch.
Jax slid the unlit cigarette between his lips as they twisted into a sly grin. You hadn’t exactly been the quietest while he’d been fucking you all night. He’d even got you screaming a few times.
“Looks like you had a good night, too,” Bobby said gruffly, half-heartedly gesturing a tired hand at Jax’s neck from his seat at the bar. “Fuck a vampire? ‘Cause it looks like she was searchin’ for an artery.”
“You’re just jealous you don’t meet anyone half as fun, old man,” Jax shot back around the cigarette between his lips.
“Seemed like a wild one,” Chibs agreed, leaning back on the couch. “Never seen the girl in here before, but she had some balls with the way I heard her talkin’ to you at the bar, Jackie.”
Jax chuckled softly as he flipped his lighter open, bringing the flame up towards the tip of his cigarette while recalling your boldness. You’d certainly lost your filter, or maybe you never had one to begin with. But the door to the clubhouse swung open before he could light his cigarette, and a distraught prospect stepped inside as the flame of his lighter hovered before him. The prospect waved a sharp hand towards one of the windows that overlooked the street, and the terrified look in his eyes had Jax flipping his lighter shut and removing the unlit cigarette from between his lips, pressing it firmly between two of his fingers as he tipped his head to the side.
“What is it?” Jax asked.
“There’s a–a body on the street?” the prospect stammered.
The second the words left his mouth, every Son averted their attention straight to the window to look. Taking a few steps forward and peering through the glass, Jax squinted at the bright mid-morning sunlight that worsened the throbbing in his head. He could just make out a dark form lying halfway in the street. His eyes narrowed further before he recognized the dark tank top and the faded denim shorts, and then the color drained from his face. His pulse slowed to a near stop as your drunken voice entered his mind.
“I’d be thrilled for the rest of that bottle or a car rollin’ over me.”
Jax’s stomach gave a sharp lurch before his head snapped over his shoulder, his eyes fixing on the prospect. “So you just left her in the goddamn street?” he demanded, fury in his eyes. “Did you even check her for a fuckin’ pulse?”
“I mean I didn’t think–I wasn’t sure she–”
Tossing the unlit cigarette carelessly across the room, Jax purposefully strode through the clubhouse without wasting another second on the stupid prospect. Fear climbed itself up his chest, ensnaring his heart as it continued unsteadily pounding inside of him.
He’d thought you were just being overdramatic when you’d said all those things last night about not wanting to wake up, even if some small part of him still screamed in alarm at your words. He’d assumed you were just some girl having a real shit go of things lately and looking to blow off steam, but as he pushed open the door to the clubhouse and hurried through the parking lot with the others following behind, his stomach dropped straight to the ground.
He'd been so fucking wrong.
A good ten feet from where you lay in the street sat a shattered bottle of Buffalo Trace Whiskey, the glass shards scattered across the pavement and glinting in the morning sunlight. Carefully stepping around it, Jax tried to swallow the thick lump forming in the back of his throat. You must’ve woken sometime in the middle of the night and thrown on your clothes after leaving his bed. You’d probably stumbled through the passed out bodies littering the clubhouse and stolen that bottle from behind the bar before coming out here and chugging it.
It was definitely you laying halfway in the middle of the street. Two large crows were circling your feet, one of them pecking at your shoes where the heel had snapped off it. You laid half-curled on your side with your back towards him, and Jax’s heart shattered into as many pieces as that bottle of whiskey behind him as he continued to approach your lifeless form. He shouted at the birds until they flew off to perch on a building across the street, watching and waiting nearby. Their presence didn't ease his increasing fear that maybe you weren’t arlight.
When he finally reached you, Jax genuinely could not determine whether you were alive or not. Your chest didn’t seem to be visibly rising and falling as if you were breathing, and you were laying near a puddle of dried vomit not even a foot from your face. Splatters of it were dried on your shirt and shorts, staining your clothes in sick. He carefully crouched down beside you, his nose scrunching at the repugnant scent of warm vomit in the air as he scanned over you. That unwelcome, churning increased in his gut when he saw a handful of scrapes and cuts along your hands and legs, injuries you’d probably sustained from when you’d blacked out and fallen on the pavement.
“She okay?” Bobby called out.
The other Sons who’d woken early despite their own hangovers gradually neared the curb, all of them craning their necks in concern to get a look at the possible dead body in front of their compound. Slowly reaching out a hand, Jax gently placed two fingers along your neck and searched for a pulse. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he found it, the softest, trembling beating beneath his fingers. Exhaling heavily in relief, Jax glanced up at his brothers who’d gathered along the side of the road, each of them eyeing your unconscious form on the ground with unease.
“Yeah,” Jax croaked out, surprised at the sound of his own voice. “She’s still got a pulse.”
Focusing back down at where you lay in the street, Jax brushed a few fingers lightly along your cheek in an attempt to rouse you as he called your name. Except you didn’t react to his touch or his voice, still lying unconscious in the middle of the street. That guilt from earlier rose up inside of himself, curling around his heart as his fingers trailed down the side of your neck and towards the bitemarks he’d left on your shoulder. He should’ve known it wasn’t sex and booze you needed, and he shouldn’t have used you like he had last night. Not when you were quite this bad.
“What’d you do’, darlin’?” he murmured. “Shouldn’t be fuckin’ doin’ this to yourself.”
With a heavy sigh, Jax slipped one arm beneath your knees while wrapping his other arm around your shoulders. Carefully lifting you up from off the street, he cradled you against his chest, refusing to leave you just lying in the middle of the road. You hung limp in his hold, your neck slung back at a jarring angle across his arm as one hand slid off your stomach and dangled helplessly towards the ground. You looked nothing like the girl he’d met last night, the one who’d had a sharp tongue and a wicked smile that set his heart racing. While he might not have really known you, he’d started to like you in the short time he’d spent with you, and you were far too young to be throwing your life away like this.
“Looks like alcohol poisoning,” Tig pointed out, scanning over your limp body in Jax’s arms. “Should probably get her to the hospital. Gotta feelin’ a cold shower ain’t gonna cut it for her.”
“I’ll call her an ambulance," Bobby offered.
Bobby began to pull his cell phone out of his pocket, but Jax looked over at him, quickly catching his eyes and shaking his head. You’d told him last night that you’d lost your job and were getting evicted from your apartment, he figured the last thing you needed was a massive ambulance bill on top of the hospital bill. That'd probably just land you right back in this state–or worse.
“I’ll drive her myself,” Jax said. “Gonna borrow the van and bring her in. Make sure she’s good.”
Ignoring the curious looks the others sent him, Jax carried you through the parking lot and towards one of the black vans parked in front of Teller-Morrow. He knew this was unlike him. At most, Jax probably would’ve called an ambulance and tasked one of the prospects to sit with a girl who’d drank far too much, so a personal ride to the hospital seemed rather out of character. But he couldn’t leave you with someone else, it didn’t feel like an option. Especially not with how vulnerable you looked hanging motionless in his arms.
Carrying you across the lot and towards the black van parked in front of the garage, Jax’s gaze kept drifting down to where you lay seemingly lifeless against his chest. A frown sunk onto his lips at the limp way you dangled in his arms and the blank expression on your face. For some unexplainable reason, he felt like you’d somehow become his responsibility after only a few hours of your company. And yet he felt like he’d failed you last night, getting you drunker and fucking you like an asshole instead of seeing that you’d needed help.
“You’re gonna be fine, darlin’,” he assured you, carefully readjusting you in his grip as he neared the back of the van. “This ain’t the end for you, a’ight? You got more shit ahead of you. Probably picket fences and all that, yeah? I’m not gonna let you duck out early ‘cause of some bullshit. You got that, wild girl? You ain’t fuckin’ done yet.”
I love him, especially in this fic. He was so caring and so sweet and so sexy, all my favorite things. And the angst and smut!!! Bella, you delivered again!!
Pairing: Jax Teller x Female!Reader
Word Count: 3.9k
Summary: Everyone still sees you as somebody else’s. Jax doesn’t. One ride home is enough to make you wonder what you could have if you weren’t.
Warnings: SMUT! 18+ only please, minors DNI!! canon-divergent, explicit sexual content, sexual fantasy (brief mention of p in v sex, light dirty talk), brief mention of drinking, forbidden attraction, infidelity-adjacent themes (no physical cheating)—this list is not exhaustive. individual triggers vary. you acknowledge responsibility for the media you choose to consume.
A/N: here's the next part in the If He Could one-shot fantasy series. this time we’re in reader’s POV !!! does she share Jax’s fantasy enthusiasm?? *wiggles eyebrows* (I bet she does) all feedback (comments, reblogs, likes) is very much appreciated & encouraged!!✨🩷
Nicky’s old lady.
God, you were so tired of hearing that.
It followed you around like it was your actual name sometimes, tossed out casually by people who thought it covered everything. Like years of showing up, helping, and quietly carrying your share of the weight could be reduced to who you came in with.
The clubhouse had thinned out, though a few guys were still around. A half-hearted game of pool dragged on in the back, the jukebox humming beneath it all instead of drowning everything out. It should’ve felt calmer than it did.
You sat at the bar with a beer going warm in your hand, chewing lightly on the inside of your cheek while you let the clubhouse noise roll over you, trying not to let it get under your skin, trying not to think about how much harder it had become to wear that label now that Nicky was gone and you were still the one here.
There was a time when it felt a lot like safety. You were younger then, in over your head and trapped in the kind of trouble that left little room for pride. Nicky found you at the right moment and offered you a way out when few others would have. A life safer than the one you’d been living.
For a while, being Nicky’s old lady felt a whole lot better than being nobody’s anything.
Gemma took one look at you and decided you would either toughen up or be swallowed whole. So, she taught you how to stand your ground, make yourself useful, and survive men like these without ever seeming fragile. In the years that followed, you built another kind of armor—beauty, confidence, and the quiet assurance of knowing exactly what you brought into a room. Between the clubhouse, the business, and everything in between, this life had taken root in you.
And over time, you became damn good at it.
You accepted the life for what it was, learning how to read a room, when to stay quiet, when to step in, and how to stay steady when things got ugly. You kept the coffee hot, patched up cuts, knew which bottle belonged to whom, who got mean when drunk, and who was all bark with no bite.
Nicky may have been why you came, but he wasn’t the only reason you stayed. Somewhere along the way, the club stopped feeling like his world and started feeling like yours.
Which was why hearing “Nicky’s old lady” grated worse now than it used to.
Because it wasn’t wrong. It just wasn’t the whole truth.
You took another sip of your beer and scanned the room. A couple of crow-eaters still lingered by the couch, waiting for a prospect to notice them. You rolled your eyes and looked away, more weary than judgmental. Everything seemed ordinary, but you still felt restless in your own skin.
When the clubhouse door swung open, your eyes lifted on instinct. The reaction was immediate, a small swoop in your stomach, and sure enough, your eyes landed right on Jax.
That had been happening more often lately, which was its own problem. You’d always noticed Jax—anyone with eyes would. He’d been around long enough, and close enough to your life, that ignoring him was never really an option. But lately, noticing him felt different, harder to dismiss, like something quiet and long-buried finally decided to make itself known.
He stepped inside with that easy stride of his, kutte open over a hoodie, white sneakers dragging lightly over the floorboards as he pushed the door shut behind him. A black hat sat low over shorter blond hair, the cut making his face look a little rougher, his beard neater, his jaw more defined. His storm-blue eyes swept the room in one quick, automatic pass before landing on you. The exchange between you was subtle enough that no one else would have noticed—a slight lift of his chin and a polite smile from you. Even so, it felt like more.
By the time Jax got across the room, you’d nearly talked yourself out of whatever you thought had passed between you.
He leaned one forearm against the bar beside you and tipped his head toward the beer in your hand. “A clubhouse beer? You hate those.”
You laughed softly, lifted the bottle slightly, and made a face at it. “Yeah, well. It’s been a long fucking day helping Gem with all the Taste of Charming shit.”
“Yeah?” he huffed. “Heard she’s had you runnin’ around.”
“She had all of us running around.” You tilted the bottle back and finished it, giving him a look over the rim that said he had no idea. Your eyes drifted toward the hallway and the back room, irritation tightening quietly in your chest. “I was supposed to catch a ride home with Ari, but Ari is nowhere to be found.”
Jax looked around too, following your line of sight.
A soft snort slipped out as you rolled your eyes. “She’s probably getting bent over something with Chibs right behind her.”
Jax let out a quick, warm laugh—head dropping for a second before he looked back at you, the smile still there, curving a little crooked at his mouth and softening the usual firmness of it. His lips parted just enough on the tail end of it, and for one stupid second, your eyes caught there before you made them move. The sight of it coaxed a smile out of you too—despite how tired you were—easing some of the anxiousness in your chest.
His eyes moved over you a little more closely. “You been alright, sweetheart?”
The usual answer almost came out on autopilot. Fine. Managing. But the truth slipped free before you could stop it.
“Better than I thought I’d be.”
The empty bottle turned slowly against the bar beneath your fingers, your eyes dropping to it for a beat before lifting back to him. Hiding behind the usual bullshit got a whole lot harder with Jax looking at you that way. He didn’t say anything, just held your gaze with something earnest and almost comforting in his expression.
“It’s weird.” Your head tipped slightly, attention wandering past him for a moment. “Some days I feel guilty because I’m not falling apart the way everybody probably thinks I should be. Some days him being gone feels a hell of a lot easier than I want to admit.” A swallow caught in your throat. “And some days I’m just tired of being seen the same way all the time.”
His expression made your stomach turn over. Not pity. Not judgment. Understanding.
Which somehow felt worse.
You exhaled a small breath that almost passed for a laugh. “Well. That was probably more honest than you were askin’ for.”
Jax’s mouth softened a little. “Doesn’t make me think less of you.” He kept his eyes on yours as he added, his voice gentler now, “Maybe it’s easier because you’ve been doin’ the hard part alone for a while now.”
Your throat tightened, and you hated that it did.
Looking down, you shook your head once, more to buy yourself a moment than anything else. “Anyone ever tell you you’re annoyingly perceptive?”
It should’ve sounded more teasing than it did.
That drew a low chuckle out of him, his lips pressing together like he was holding back a bigger smile. “Blessin’ and a curse, darlin’.”
It would’ve been really easy to stay in that moment a second too long and make it into something more than it was. The air had shifted just enough to make you keenly aware of where he stood, the way he looked at you, and how quickly the rest of the room faded with his attention settled on you.
It’s not like the attraction had come out of nowhere. It’d been there a long time, in small, easy-to-dismiss ways. The way he looked in a white tee, the warmth of his hugs, the rough drag in his voice when he said your name. He’d always gotten to you. You just hadn’t let yourself sit with it long enough to call it anything.
Now it was harder not to. Being around Jax started doing things to your body before your mind had the chance to catch up. Something slow climbing up your chest, a stammer in your pulse—a restless pull in your stomach that only got worse the longer he stood there looking at you.
It was ridiculous how quickly he could get you there without touching you at all, and maybe that was the most dangerous part. The rush of it felt good, intoxicating enough to make staying right where you were feel like a worse idea by the minute.
You pulled back before it got any more obvious. Pushing off the barstool, you reached for your bag and slung it over your shoulder, giving yourself something to do besides sit there under his stare. “I should probably go,” you said, trying for casual. “I’m exhausted.”
Your eyes drifted toward the hallway, irritation flickering again. “I’ll have one of the prospects give me a lift home.”
“What? No.” Jax straightened a little. “I’ll take you.”
A small shake of your head was all you gave him, doing your best to keep your expression even. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.” His eyes stayed on yours. “But I want to.”
The words were matter-of-fact, but there was something too quick in the way he said them. His mouth tugged at one corner; your pulse fluttered before he added, a touch more casual, “Long as you don’t mind the bike.”
Your body reacted again, immediate and shameless. The thought of wrapping yourself around Jax on the back of his bike, close enough to feel him under your hands with that low vibration working between your legs, turned you on so fast it almost pissed you off. You kept your face as still as you could manage, teeth catching lightly on your bottom lip.
“No,” you murmured. “I don’t mind the bike at all.”
Outside, the sky over the lot was still holding onto the last of the light, soft pink and faded orange near the horizon while the rest of it cooled into that dusty blue-purple the valley got right before dark. The air had a little bite to it compared to inside, but it did nothing for the heat already moving under your skin. The parking lot was mostly empty, washed in weak yellow light, a few bikes still lined up in crooked rows. Jax led you over to his without saying much, holding out the spare helmet once you got there. Your fingers brushed his when you took it, your pulse giving that same stupid little flutter all over again.
The helmet strap clicked into place under your chin while you watched Jax swing one long leg over the seat. He held it steady beneath him with an ease that made it obvious how natural this was for him—both feet planted, one hand dropping to the bars, his shoulders shifting beneath the kutte as he got comfortable.
After a moment spent watching, aroused by how good he looked doing something so simple, you took a breath and stepped in close to climb on, one hand braced on his shoulder, the other catching lightly at his side for balance. It was practical, just a way to steady yourself, but it still gave you too much—the flex of muscle beneath leather and cotton, and the simple, unfair fact of how sturdy he felt.
You knew exactly how to do this. How to settle into the seat, how to fit yourself behind him, how to move with the machine before it even started. And once you were there, close behind Jax with your knees bracketing his hips, it hit you all over again how much you had missed it. The bike. The power under you. The way it woke your whole body up.
Jax reached for the handlebars, and you were instantly, stupidly aware of all of him—the width of his back, the heavy shape of him in front of you, the play of muscle in his forearms as his hands settled into place, and exactly how little space there really was between your bodies now.
The bike rumbled to life between your legs, low and deep and rough enough to knock a breath out of you. Your arms went around his waist on instinct, palms flattening over his stomach, and the second you touched him, you felt the smallest tension move through him.
Your mouth went dry. Beneath your hands, he was all warmth and solid muscle, enough to send your mind somewhere filthy before you could stop it. The faint scent of soap lingered on his skin, mixed with leather and smoke now that you were this close. Your thoughts came in flashes. What he’d feel like over you. What those shoulders would look like above you. What exactly those hands would do if they weren’t busy keeping the bike steady.
You leaned close, your mouth near his ear. “Take the long way home.”
Jax turned his head just enough for you to catch the slow, satisfied curve of his mouth, a smirk he didn’t even try to hide before he rolled the throttle.
Wind rushed over your skin, cool and sharp, but your body stayed hot. The engine’s steady vibration settled deep, every shift of the bike pressing you tighter to him, every turn dragging your body against his in a way that stopped feeling innocent almost immediately.
It all felt too good too fast.
Your hands stayed spread over his stomach, and the longer you held on, the more your thoughts slipped. Beneath your palms, the flex of him every time he moved made it impossible not to think about how easy dominance seemed to come to him.
You started to wonder what that same dominance would feel like in bed.
What he’d be like if he ever stopped holding himself back around you. Not sweet. Not soft. Would he take his time just to make you beg for him. Would he pin you down with that same certainty he rode with, already knowing you’d take whatever he gave you.
The next curve pressed you flush to his back, a gasp catching in your throat as your thighs hugged in tighter and your chest pressed more firmly against him. You should’ve adjusted, given yourself some space, but you stayed where you were, feeling all of him through layers that suddenly didn’t feel like enough.
Your mind went straight to his hands on your thighs, guiding them apart, his mouth at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you moan. That gravelly voice of his in your ear, telling you exactly what he wanted, but holding back just long enough to make you ask for it first.
You shifted once on the seat and the vibration hit lower that way, dirty enough to make you suck in a sharp breath. Relief shot through you before shame could. Suddenly you were very, very aware of the fact that if this ride lasted much longer, you were going to be in real trouble.
Because if this had been anybody else, you would not be thinking about what Jax Teller would feel like buried inside your pussy. You would not have been picturing the set of his jaw while he fucked you or wondering if he’d finally lose that control when you came around his cock.
Your cheek rested briefly against his shoulder, the edge of town sliding by in a blur of streetlights and dark storefronts, and more than anything, you wanted to know what he’d do if you stopped being good.
Just once. Just to see what happened if you pressed your mouth to his neck, if you let your hands wander lower. If you told him to pull over and dragged the quiet, dangerous restraint right out of him with your own hands.
The thought hit you so hard it made you hold him tighter. Jax had to feel the way your arms cinched around him, the way your body kept melting into his with every mile. Maybe he thought it was the ride. Maybe he knew better.
By the time the edge of town had disappeared behind you and home was only a few turns away, your body was wound tight with restless energy. Your thoughts had turned fully indecent and you weren’t even trying to stop them anymore.
Imagining him gripping your chin and making you look at him, that focused intensity in his eyes never wavering. His voice low and rough in your ear, telling you how good you were for him, how wet and tight you felt. Just the thought of hearing those words in his voice sent a thrill straight through you.
And more than anything, you hated knowing you were going to have to let him go.
He pulled up in front of your place too soon.
The engine dropped into a low idle before he killed it, and the sudden quiet made everything feel louder somehow. Your breathing. Your heartbeat. The fact that your arms were still wrapped around his waist like they hadn’t spent the whole ride getting you into trouble.
You let go slowly, hands sliding from his stomach, and the loss of contact felt immediate. Annoying, really.
Using his shoulder for balance, you swung your leg over and climbed off. The ground felt strangely unsteady after the ride, your pulse still humming beneath your skin as you adjusted the strap of your bag and took a step back.
When you slipped the helmet off and handed it back, his fingers brushed yours. Barely anything, but it still felt electric. Neither of you moved right away. You just stood there with the last of the evening fading around you, the bike ticking softly as it cooled, silence stretching between you. The way he was looking at you made it hard to be the one who broke it.
“Thanks for the ride,” you murmured.
Jax nodded once, the helmet hanging loose from his hand. “Anytime.”
Instead of letting you go, he swung off the bike and came around to your side, walking with you across the short stretch of driveway to the porch. He stayed close enough that you could still feel the warmth of him beside you, and by the time you reached the steps, the ride might have been over, but your body had not gotten the message.
Keys in hand, you turned toward him, meaning to say goodnight and end it there, but something in his face stopped you. He looked more serious now, more settled in whatever he was about to say.
“Ya know,” he began, his voice softer than before, “I see all the ways you help the club. With my mom. Down at the shop. All of it.”
Your eyes lifted to his, surprise flickering there. “Jax, you don’t have to—”
“Yeah,” he cut in quietly. “I do.”
Something in the way he said it made your heart clench, because he’d clearly been paying attention for a while now. He shifted his weight, one hand resting near the railing, his eyes still on you in that calm way that somehow felt more dangerous than if he’d done something reckless.
“A lot of people still see the old version,” he went on. “Somebody tied to a patch. That kinda thing.” His mouth tightened slightly before he added, “But that’s not all you are. Hasn’t been for a long time.”
You just looked at him, your stomach dropping and flipping all at once.
Maybe because you hadn’t expected it. Maybe because it was the exact thing that had been sitting under your skin all night, the thing you never said out loud because it sounded petty when it wasn’t. It was personal. It was years of being folded into somebody else’s name after giving pieces of yourself to a life that had long since become your own.
Jax glanced toward the door, then back at you. “You’ve been holdin’ more together than most people know.” His gaze dipped briefly, the toe of his white sneaker scuffing against the worn porch step, and when he looked up again, his eyes were as blue and sincere as you’d ever seen them. “I’m real grateful for you, darlin’.”
A flush crept up your neck again, softer this time. Not embarrassment. Something more tender than that. Too close to relief.
“I do what I’m supposed to,” you managed, your voice catching more than you wanted it to. “Same as everyone else.”
He gave the slightest shake of his head. “Nah, it’s more than that.”
With your bag hanging from your shoulder and the last of the ride still humming in your body, you stood there and let his words settle into places you’d kept shut for a long time.
Exhaling a breath, you ducked your head and tried for a smile, because this man was absolutely wrecking you. “You always this good at saying exactly the thing you shouldn’t?”
A small, sincere smile touched his mouth. “Only when I mean it.”
Your gaze dropped to his lips before you could stop it. It was quick, but not so quick that it went unnoticed, and when you looked back up, something in his expression had changed.
“You should get inside,” he told you, his words quieter this time.
“Yeah,” you answered, though your feet didn’t seem interested in listening.
Jax moved in just enough to make your pulse stumble. His left hand found your upper arm, warm through the fabric, and the touch alone was enough to set every nerve in your body on fire before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek.
It should’ve felt innocent, but he didn’t rush it. His mouth lingered long enough for the touch of it to settle into your skin, the soft scrape of his beard brushing lightly against your cheek, and when he pulled back, the air between you felt even thinner than before.
“Goodnight.”
The words stuck slightly on the way out. “Goodnight, Jax.”
This time you made yourself walk to the door. You could still feel the ghost of his mouth on your skin and hear his voice in your head—none of which should have been enough to do this to you.
What you should’ve felt was guilt. You’d just spent the whole ride wrapped around another man, thinking things you had no business thinking, looking at Jax like maybe you wanted him to know. You should’ve hated yourself for that.
That realization slid through you, settling somewhere ugly and honest.
You didn’t feel guilty enough. Not for the way your body had come alive the second you climbed on behind him. Not for the thoughts you’d had with your arms around his waist and your mouth near his ear.
If anything, standing there with him under the dull porch light only made one thing clear: you wanted to know what might happen if you weren’t “Nicky’s Old Lady.”
And when you looked back once before going inside, Jax was still there, watching you like the night had left something unfinished between you.
Please, can they just bang already? Need a hot, dirty and guilt-free night with these two asap, because the sexual tension is driving me up the wall, and that's not even mentioning the obvious way Jax cares deeply for her underneath all that tension. Phew. Just phew. What a good read. ❤️
Summary: Jax has been so busy with the club lately, you feel like you hardly see your husband at all. When he comes home and barely says a word to you, the stress both of you had been feeling comes out in the form of a nasty fight that leaves you both sleeping alone. But, despite the harsh words you exchanged with each other, neither of you liked being too far away, especially in your own home.
Word Count: 4.3k | I do not give consent to having my work republished or posted to any other platform or profile other than my own. | Masterlist
Warnings: angst, mega angst with a small bit of fluff, swearing, arguments, fighting, unresolved argument, jax is hella rude, reader kinda is too, mentions of dv, insinuations of dv (not with jax and reader), implications of hitting your partner, slight sexist remarks, that may be all.
The fight was stupid. Aren’t they all?
This one really was. At least it started out stupid, but only grew into a more serious fight the longer it went on.
Jax had come home close to midnight, a tired, grumpy man who’d spent his day dealing with club business - most of which he hadn’t yet told you about despite one of his vows being to do just that, to keep you in the loop as best as he could.
You’re his wife, after all. You deserved that, at least.
He’d stripped out of his clothes, leaving a trail leading all the way to the bathroom, and that was only after he greeted you with a simple, chaste kiss to your cheek without saying a single word.
That in itself made you a little annoyed, because after not hearing from him for most of the day, and after waiting for him to come home all night, that was all you got? Well, that and a now messy hallway.
You bit your tongue as you followed the discarded clothing trail, picking up each one and wondering how bad of a day he had to justify needlessly making the house a mess, especially after you spent a good few hours cleaning it earlier, but you doubt he noticed that with how quickly he disappeared into the bathroom as soon as he stepped through the door.
After you picked up his jeans, shirt and boxers, you lifted your gaze and looked at Jax through the foggy glass of the shower, your eyes narrowing at how tense he looked. “Long day?” you asked, and he just grunted, shaking his head and barely acknowledging you.
“Yeah,” was all he said, and you lifted a brow, debating on whether or not to push him further, but you weren’t cruel. He obviously dealt with some serious shit today, if the red stain you saw on his jeans was anything to go by, and wanted to have a shower in peace.
So you left the bathroom and entered the bedroom, stuffing his clothes into the laundry bin and making a mental note to do them as soon as you wake up tomorrow in hopes to get that stain out for him - not that he’d really care anyway. Another stain would just take its place soon enough.
You went back into the living room, where you had been patiently waiting for him to come home, and sat back down on the couch. You picked up the book you’d been reading and had set down when you heard him come home, only to receive that vague greeting from Jax before he left you alone again.
It was less than ten minutes later when the shower turned off, and only a few more minutes passed before you heard footsteps leading up to the living room, and when you lifted your gaze from the book and met Jax’s tired eyes, you felt your heart clench in your chest.
He was dressed for bed, wearing just his sweats, and he looked exhausted, both physically and mentally, and you wanted to help him in any way he’d let you, because you’d both been each other’s safe spaces since you started dating, and you’d like to think that was still very much true now that you’ve been married for just over a year.
But instead of giving you an explanation, or a proper greeting, or a gruff apology for his sad excuse of one, he gave you a tight lipped smile he didn’t even try to make reach his eyes. “‘M goin’ to bed,” he said, and you squinted your eyes at him, making him pause when he already started to turn away and head back down the hall. “What?”
You narrowed your eyes at that. Yes, he was allowed to have bad days, he’s the President of a fucking motorcycle club that gets put through the ringer damn near every day, and you’d never try to invalidate that, but to have him be so short with you and so distant wasn’t appreciated in the slightest.
Your shoulders lifted in a sarcastic shrug, “Oh, hey, babe. How was your day? Mine was good, thank you so much for asking,” you said, sarcasm dripping from every word. You just couldn’t help yourself. “That’s usually how a normal husband greets his wife, you know.”
Leaving his clothes on the floor was one thing, but pretty much ignoring you was something else, and especially since this wasn’t the first time he’s come home this week in a bad mood and essentially ignored you in your own home.
Jax let his shoulders drop, he let out a deep huff, “Don’t start,” he muttered, running a hand over his damp hair, and that only made you even more annoyed.
You set the book aside, having not really read much of it anyway, and sat up a bit. “Don’t start?” you echoed, narrowing your eyes, “I’m way past that. What happened to your eye?” you asked, the beginning of a black eye that was obviously forming on the left side of his face something you’d noticed while he was in the shower, but didn’t say anything about.
Jax propped his hands on his hips, his head tilting to the side in a way that told you he was already done with the conversation. It was a look you’d seen him give countless times to others, and he’d given it to you a handful of times as well, but everyone else didn’t get the same treatment that you did. You weren’t just anyone else, you’re his wife. “It’s nothin’,”
“It doesn’t look like nothing-”
“It’s just club shit,” he cut you off, effectively making you briefly shut up. “You know how it is.”
You pressed your lips together, your arms coming up to cross over your chest. “Yeah, I do know how it is,” you agreed, trying to reel your temper back in, because as much as he was pissing you off at the moment, you didn’t want to start a fight he obviously didn’t have the energy to have right now. “But I also know that you once promised to never keep things from me. Club shit included.”
Jax went silent at that, and you watched the way his jaw locked, a muscle in his cheek twitching slightly. He waited a few breaths, no doubt trying to calm himself down too, before he softened his expression just a tiny bit. “Babe, I promise, it’s nothin’ for you to worry ‘bout right now, alright?” he said, seeming to hope that would be enough for now. “I’ll tell you all about it soon.”
But it wasn’t enough, because lately you’d been feeling detached from him, and like he was keeping things from you, and you didn’t like that. At all. “No, it’s not alright,” you said, standing up from the couch, and his eyes lifted with your movement. “Jax, you barely said a word to me when you got home, you left your clothes all over the floor, and instead of sitting down and talking to me about it, you just told me you were going to bed. I feel like we don’t talk anymore.”
Jax exhaled harshly through his nose, and he broke eye contact with you as he shook his head. “Look, I’ve had a long fuckin’ day, alright? I told you that,” he said, his voice raising a bit as his eyes met yours again. “I don’t feel like sittin’ down and talkin’ about it, okay? Is that alright with you?”
Your eyes hardened at that, but so did his, and you’d come to a clear stand off, despite you simply wanting him to communicate with you a bit better. But that was asking too much of him, apparently. “Fine. Whatever,” you said, letting your shoulders drop even though your whole body was tense now. “Goodnight then.”
Jax let out a short huff, and he gave you a look you’d seen too many times to count at this point. “You mad at me now?”
Yes, you were, but he clearly just wanted to go to bed and forget about today, and who were you to stop him? “No, Jax,” you answered, crossing your arms. He gave you another look, this one almost comically unimpressed as he mirrored your stance, his own arms coming up to cross over his chest. “Fine. Yeah, I am kinda mad at you.”
Jax huffed and shook his head, muttering something under his breath you weren’t able to catch. “So I deal with bullshit all day with the club, and then when I come home and try to leave all that shit behind me, I have to deal with my wife too?”
You squinted at that, his choice of words adding to the anger you felt burning inside of you. “You don’t have to deal with me, Jax. And I don’t think that’s a very fair thing to say to me,”
“But jumpin’ on my back as soon as I get home is fair to me?” he shot back, stepping around the half wall separating the hallway and the living room. “I expected you to be the one person who wouldn’t fuckin’ push me when I’ve already had a rough day.”
“And how am I supposed to know that? That you’ve had a rough day?” you asked, ignoring the sting you felt at the way he was so dismissive of you right now, like you were just another person to him instead of his partner.
“The lack of greetin’ wasn’t obvious enough?”
You flared your nose at that, and this wasn’t going the way you wanted it to at all. Starting a fight was the last thing you liked doing with Jax, but you also didn’t see this de-escalating anytime soon. “You’re acting like an ass right now, Jax,” you said, ignoring his question you had a feeling he wasn’t expecting you to answer anyway.
Your choice of words had his brows raising, and his head tilting back a bit. “I’m actin’ like an ass,” he repeated, stating it rather than questioning it. “You ain’t in no position to be sayin’ that to me, babe.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re actin’ like one of those needy chicks that hang around the clubhouse instead of my wife,” he grunted, his face lacking any resemblance of the softer side of him that always seemed to be around when he was with you.
Hearing him reduce you to a needy chick, someone who just hangs around to get laid by one of the Sons, had your jaw clenching angrily. “You’re calling me a fucking crow eater? Are you fucking serious? Why?” you scoffed, “Because I just wanted my husband to look at me for more than five seconds and to have an actual conversation with me?”
“Because you keep fuckin’ pushin’ it when you know it’s just makin’ shit worse,” he said back, as if that justified his words. “You ain’t a crow eater, but you are my old lady, and when I need a fuckin’ minute to myself when I get home, you give it to me.”
A humorless laugh left your lips. “Oh, I give it to you? Is that what I’m supposed to do? We’ve been over that, Jax. You don’t get to boss me around like one of the Sons,” you said, “And how am I supposed to give you something you never asked for? Do you want me to read your mind? So I know you need a sec to yourself instead of taking it out on me as soon as you get home?”
“I didn’t want to take it out on you,” he said, and his voice raised even more. He was clearly getting as worked up as you are. “I tried to not fuckin’ take it out on you. But you just had to go and start somethin’, huh?”
“Don’t pin it all on me, Jax. That’s not fucking fair,” you glared at him, “You can’t just expect me to be all happy and understanding when you come home and fucking ignore me, especially since you’ve been doing it all week. How is that fair to me?”
“This life ain’t supposed to be fuckin’ fair, babe,” he scoffed, his biceps flexing as he crossed his arms more firmly over his chest, and any other night you’d be all over that, but you’d gotten so mad so quickly, you couldn’t even take a second to appreciate just how hot your husband is.
You rolled your eyes and turned away, opting to just stop looking at him since the anger in his eyes wasn’t helping you calm down at all. How is he mad at you right now? When he was the one at fault here? “Don’t give me that,” you shook your head, “That’s bullshit. You can’t blame it on the life all the time, Jax. You were given many chances to leave, and to make shit better. It doesn’t get better, and you just have to deal with it and let me in, not push me away when it gets hard.”
“I’m not pushin’ you away. I’m tryin’ to not bring this shit home with me, but clearly that ain’t workin’,” he muttered, running his hand over his mouth. “And I ain’t blamin’ it on the life either. Things get hard sometimes, like right now. I’m dealin’ with a lot of shit with the club, and I don’t need you breathin’ down my neck about it as soon as I get home.”
“Me just wanting to talk to you counts as me breathing down your neck, now?” you asked, understanding the point he was trying to make about as much as he was understanding yours. Not at all. “What’s next, I have to ask you for permission to touch you in case you had a bad day and decide to take it out on me instead?”
“Jesus Christ,” he nearly yelled, his eyes darting around the room as if he was looking for a chance to escape, as if simply hashing something out with you was such a big thing to ask of him. “That’s not what this is and you know it. You don’t have to ask permission to do shit with me, alright?”
“But I’m supposed to be able to tell when you want space, then give it to you after you already made me feel like shit for caring?”
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit-”
“Well, you did. You made me feel like some idiot who needs to get permission from you to be able to talk to you, let alone touch you,” you cut him off, “And you make me feel like I’m some afterthought, that I’m just here for you to come home to. I’m your wife, Jax, I’m supposed to be the person you come to with this kind of shit, not brush off and ignore so you can bottle it up on your own.”
“You are the person I come to with this kinda shit-”
“It doesn’t seem like it. You’d rather barely say a word to me when you come home, then go back out the next day and do it all over again-”
“‘Cause you make it fuckin’ impossible to get a word in without you flyin’ off the fuckin’ handle,” he cut you off this time, and his voice was a lot louder than before. He moved to stand in front of you, towering over you and making you regret ever opening your mouth. But there was no going back now. “I don’t need to deal with you and your fuckin’ insecurities when I’ve got enough shit goin’ on, alright?”
You narrowed your eyes, your gaze as cold as his is. “My insecurities?”
“Yeah. What the fuck are you even complainin’ about, huh? What, I didn’t greet you properly when I got home, so that means you get to be on my case for the rest of the night? To bring up shit that doesn’t even fuckin’ matter?” he was in your face now, angrier than he’s ever been with you, and you actually shrunk back a bit.
“You’re out of line, Jax,” you tried to reel him back in, but you feared he was already too fired up, and you’d pushed him to his breaking point.
“You’re the one puttin’ me outta fuckin’ line!” he yelled, and you flinched at both the loudness of his voice, and the way he raised his hand to brush his hair out of his face. He caught your flinch, and instead of instantly calming down, it only seemed to irritate him even more. “You thought I was gonna hit you?”
And maybe you should’ve assured him that, no, you didn’t think that, and you’d never think he’d ever put his hands on you like that, but you were still so mad, you didn’t have much control over what you were saying right now. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you did,” you said instead, even though it would definitely surprise you if Jax were to ever destroy your relationship beyond repair by hitting you. “The way you guys treat your old ladies, the way you treat women in general. I’ve seen the aftermath of an argument between your mom and Clay. It’s not pretty.”
You knew that would hit him hard. There was nothing he hated more than to be compared to Clay, and the fact that you insinuated him possibly hurting you in the way Clay had hurt his mom was pretty low. Even you knew that. It would cut deep for him to hear that you might actually believe he’d be capable of doing that to you, even though you didn’t believe that at all, but you were just so upset with him, you wanted him to feel the way you were feeling.
Jax scoffed and shook his head, taking a few steps away from you. “You’re unbelievable,” he said under his breath. “I ain’t Clay. I’d never put my goddamn hands on you like that. Ever. You should fuckin’ know that.”
And you do know that, but you didn’t say that.
Instead you turned away and sat down on the edge of the couch, feeling the way the tension in the room became less angry, but remained just as heavy. The argument seemed to be over, with neither of you wanting to continue it after that.
“I’m gonna stay out here tonight,” you said, your voice rough from holding back tears. You looked down at the floor as you curled in on yourself. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I don’t want to see you right now.”
A humorless laugh left Jax’s lips, and he turned away, heading down the hallway towards the bedroom as he muttered, “I don’t wanna see you either,”
That was by far the worst argument you and Jax had ever had. That was the most heated you’d gotten with each other, to the point of getting into each other’s faces and letting your mouths spew words without letting your brains think of the consequences for it after.
You and Jax were both stubborn, and he was more hot-headed now that he’s the President of SAMCRO, and the longer you’re with him, the more unwilling you are to be treated like the other old ladies you’d met. It was definitely a clash, but you and Jax are usually able to make it work. You and he are usually able to talk things through before they get to a point where everything just explodes and you end up angry with each other.
In the years you’ve been together, there have only been a handful of times where you and he couldn’t reach an agreement, or you couldn’t get each other to see your point of views on things, and even then, they weren’t as bad as tonight was.
You felt your eyes sting, and you quickly reached over to flick the light off before curling into a ball on the couch. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it definitely wasn’t as soft as yours and Jax’s bed, and you almost wished you’d told him to sleep on the couch instead.
But you ignored the flat pillow that was more for decoration than to be used as an actual place to rest your head, and you pulled the throw blanket up to your chin, leaving most of your lower half uncovered.
This was the first time you and Jax willingly chose to not sleep in the same bed. Of course there were times where he ended up crashing at the clubhouse and you had to sleep alone in the bed, and there were times where you’d fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home, but he’d always bring you to bed with him, because you didn’t like not sleeping next to each other.
And even though you meant it when you said you didn’t want to see him, it didn’t change the fact that your heart was hurting, and even though it was because of him, you still wanted to be with him in your room, not out here by yourself.
But you were still so upset, and you were stubborn and bitter and didn’t feel like getting up and putting your differences aside so you could both get a decent enough sleep tonight.
With your luck, it would just start round two, and you weren’t in the mood to deal with that at all.
So you got as comfortable as you could, and tried to ignore that Jax was sleeping by himself in the bed you’d been sharing with him for the last two years.
It took you what felt like hours to finally calm down enough to go to sleep, but it wasn’t peaceful. You were barely asleep, just unconscious enough to chase away the tiredness from the fight and leave you feeling slightly more rested, but it still wasn’t a good sleep.
You weren’t sure what time it was or how long you’d been out here, but you were able to faintly hear the sound of the bedroom door opening, and the sound of a few footsteps. Even with your eyes closed, you could see the brightness slip into the darkness behind your eyes as the hall light turned on, but you didn’t fully wake up until a few moments later.
The sound of more footsteps barely registered in your mind, and you were almost completely back to sleep when you felt the blanket you’d been using slowly lift off of you, and then felt a familiar hand slide under your back.
You almost thought you were dreaming, because of course Jax would be in your dreams, but then you felt your body being lifted up, and you opened your eyes. You squinted at the harsh light coming from the hall and turned your head, burying your face in Jax’s chest as he slid his arm under your legs, keeping his other one wrapped around your back.
“Sorry,” he muttered, using his shoulder to flick the light switch off when he walked past it, and you just groaned as he carried you the short distance to the bedroom.
You knew he was taking you to bed, and even though you were still quite pissed at him, you didn’t try to get out of his hold, nor did you tell him to stop and put you down.
He left the bedroom door open as he walked around the bed, and he gently set you down on your side of it. The sheets and comforter were already pulled back, and you melted against your cool, much comfier pillow as Jax pulled the covers up over you.
You instantly cuddled under them, your eyes falling shut as he rounded the bed again and got in on his side next to you. You kept your back to him as he slid under the covers and moved closer to you, and you instinctively leaned back against him.
“I’m still mad at you,” you mumbled as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back against his chest.
A much softer laugh than all the sarcastic and humorless ones from before came out of his mouth at that, and he laced his fingers with yours under the sheets. “Yeah, I’m still mad at you too,” he said back, and you tried to fight off a smile as he buried his face in your hair.
You thought that would be the end of it, that he just brought you to bed since he didn’t want you to sleep apart unless you absolutely needed to, and you were still very much not on good terms right now, but the soft sigh you felt against the back of your neck had you refraining from falling asleep just yet.
“What happened before,” he started, his voice low and much more gentle than it had been earlier in the living room. “It got outta hand. We both said some shit, but it ain’t gonna break us, alright? We just needed to cool off for a bit.”
You held his hand a little tighter, because despite all the things he’d said to you during the fight, that was what impacted you the most. “No. It won’t break us,” you agreed, and you felt the way his lips curled up just slightly against your skin.
“That’s my girl,” he mumbled, and you fought off another grin, knowing that you and he would need to actually talk things out properly in the morning, but for now, you were more than content to fall asleep in his arms like you had many times before, and you held onto the hope that tomorrow’s conversation would be much more efficient that the one from a couple hours ago.
I love how the fight starts small, but it’s really about everything underneath (isn't that how it always goes?). him being messy and the shitty greeting are annoying, but what hurts is her feeling shut out when she just wants him to let her in. 😭
and Jax being exhausted and defensive, ugh! I know he’s trying not to bring the club home but does anyway. 😔 that “I'm not Clay” moment hurt SO bad because you can feel how far they both pushed it.
but him coming back for her?? carrying her to bed while they’re still mad?? MY HEART! 🥹
I love how you wrapped it up with the “it won’t break us” line. such a soft little exhale after all that tension and angst. bravo babe!! 💓
Thank you so so much!! I’m so happy you enjoyed this 💖
I wanted to have it build more and more until they were just saying things to say it, but not actually mean it. They just wanted to push each other and try to get each other to see their points of views, but they totally went about it wrong.
That comparison to Clay definitely stung, but that was her version of his comment about her being just a chick who hangs around the clubhouse. Both of them really felt that 😩
And I just love the thought of Jax being pissed but not to the point of not wanting to hold his wife while he sleeps. That pulls at my heart strings so much.
Fun fact; I named this fic before I even started writing it, because I knew I wanted to have that line in there somewhere and have it be the one thing that lets them know that, yeah, that was bad, but they still have each other. 🥹🫠
Hi, will there be anything added to your Ray and William masterlist for Charlie Hunnam?
Hi!
I have multiple Will fics that are in the works, two of which are fully written but sitting in my tabs unedited (I hateee editing), so there will be much more added for him!
For Ray, I have a part 2 in mind for the fic I have posted for him, and I have a bunch of ideas for other ones too, so it's safe to say that more will be added for him as well.
And of course, I don't see myself growing tired of writing for Jax anytime soon, so a lot more will be out for him, including one today...
I also have a fic for his character Jay... but I'm not sure if I'll post it since I don't know if a lot of people have seen that movie (it's why he's in the masterlist picture collage).
Summary: Jax has been so busy with the club lately, you feel like you hardly see your husband at all. When he comes home and barely says a word to you, the stress both of you had been feeling comes out in the form of a nasty fight that leaves you both sleeping alone. But, despite the harsh words you exchanged with each other, neither of you liked being too far away, especially in your own home.
Word Count: 4.3k | I do not give consent to having my work republished or posted to any other platform or profile other than my own. | Masterlist
Warnings: angst, mega angst with a small bit of fluff, swearing, arguments, fighting, unresolved argument, jax is hella rude, reader kinda is too, mentions of dv, insinuations of dv (not with jax and reader), implications of hitting your partner, slight sexist remarks, that may be all.
The fight was stupid. Aren’t they all?
This one really was. At least it started out stupid, but only grew into a more serious fight the longer it went on.
Jax had come home close to midnight, a tired, grumpy man who’d spent his day dealing with club business - most of which he hadn’t yet told you about despite one of his vows being to do just that, to keep you in the loop as best as he could.
You’re his wife, after all. You deserved that, at least.
He’d stripped out of his clothes, leaving a trail leading all the way to the bathroom, and that was only after he greeted you with a simple, chaste kiss to your cheek without saying a single word.
That in itself made you a little annoyed, because after not hearing from him for most of the day, and after waiting for him to come home all night, that was all you got? Well, that and a now messy hallway.
You bit your tongue as you followed the discarded clothing trail, picking up each one and wondering how bad of a day he had to justify needlessly making the house a mess, especially after you spent a good few hours cleaning it earlier, but you doubt he noticed that with how quickly he disappeared into the bathroom as soon as he stepped through the door.
After you picked up his jeans, shirt and boxers, you lifted your gaze and looked at Jax through the foggy glass of the shower, your eyes narrowing at how tense he looked. “Long day?” you asked, and he just grunted, shaking his head and barely acknowledging you.
“Yeah,” was all he said, and you lifted a brow, debating on whether or not to push him further, but you weren’t cruel. He obviously dealt with some serious shit today, if the red stain you saw on his jeans was anything to go by, and wanted to have a shower in peace.
So you left the bathroom and entered the bedroom, stuffing his clothes into the laundry bin and making a mental note to do them as soon as you wake up tomorrow in hopes to get that stain out for him - not that he’d really care anyway. Another stain would just take its place soon enough.
You went back into the living room, where you had been patiently waiting for him to come home, and sat back down on the couch. You picked up the book you’d been reading and had set down when you heard him come home, only to receive that vague greeting from Jax before he left you alone again.
It was less than ten minutes later when the shower turned off, and only a few more minutes passed before you heard footsteps leading up to the living room, and when you lifted your gaze from the book and met Jax’s tired eyes, you felt your heart clench in your chest.
He was dressed for bed, wearing just his sweats, and he looked exhausted, both physically and mentally, and you wanted to help him in any way he’d let you, because you’d both been each other’s safe spaces since you started dating, and you’d like to think that was still very much true now that you’ve been married for just over a year.
But instead of giving you an explanation, or a proper greeting, or a gruff apology for his sad excuse of one, he gave you a tight lipped smile he didn’t even try to make reach his eyes. “‘M goin’ to bed,” he said, and you squinted your eyes at him, making him pause when he already started to turn away and head back down the hall. “What?”
You narrowed your eyes at that. Yes, he was allowed to have bad days, he’s the President of a fucking motorcycle club that gets put through the ringer damn near every day, and you’d never try to invalidate that, but to have him be so short with you and so distant wasn’t appreciated in the slightest.
Your shoulders lifted in a sarcastic shrug, “Oh, hey, babe. How was your day? Mine was good, thank you so much for asking,” you said, sarcasm dripping from every word. You just couldn’t help yourself. “That’s usually how a normal husband greets his wife, you know.”
Leaving his clothes on the floor was one thing, but pretty much ignoring you was something else, and especially since this wasn’t the first time he’s come home this week in a bad mood and essentially ignored you in your own home.
Jax let his shoulders drop, he let out a deep huff, “Don’t start,” he muttered, running a hand over his damp hair, and that only made you even more annoyed.
You set the book aside, having not really read much of it anyway, and sat up a bit. “Don’t start?” you echoed, narrowing your eyes, “I’m way past that. What happened to your eye?” you asked, the beginning of a black eye that was obviously forming on the left side of his face something you’d noticed while he was in the shower, but didn’t say anything about.
Jax propped his hands on his hips, his head tilting to the side in a way that told you he was already done with the conversation. It was a look you’d seen him give countless times to others, and he’d given it to you a handful of times as well, but everyone else didn’t get the same treatment that you did. You weren’t just anyone else, you’re his wife. “It’s nothin’,”
“It doesn’t look like nothing-”
“It’s just club shit,” he cut you off, effectively making you briefly shut up. “You know how it is.”
You pressed your lips together, your arms coming up to cross over your chest. “Yeah, I do know how it is,” you agreed, trying to reel your temper back in, because as much as he was pissing you off at the moment, you didn’t want to start a fight he obviously didn’t have the energy to have right now. “But I also know that you once promised to never keep things from me. Club shit included.”
Jax went silent at that, and you watched the way his jaw locked, a muscle in his cheek twitching slightly. He waited a few breaths, no doubt trying to calm himself down too, before he softened his expression just a tiny bit. “Babe, I promise, it’s nothin’ for you to worry ‘bout right now, alright?” he said, seeming to hope that would be enough for now. “I’ll tell you all about it soon.”
But it wasn’t enough, because lately you’d been feeling detached from him, and like he was keeping things from you, and you didn’t like that. At all. “No, it’s not alright,” you said, standing up from the couch, and his eyes lifted with your movement. “Jax, you barely said a word to me when you got home, you left your clothes all over the floor, and instead of sitting down and talking to me about it, you just told me you were going to bed. I feel like we don’t talk anymore.”
Jax exhaled harshly through his nose, and he broke eye contact with you as he shook his head. “Look, I’ve had a long fuckin’ day, alright? I told you that,” he said, his voice raising a bit as his eyes met yours again. “I don’t feel like sittin’ down and talkin’ about it, okay? Is that alright with you?”
Your eyes hardened at that, but so did his, and you’d come to a clear stand off, despite you simply wanting him to communicate with you a bit better. But that was asking too much of him, apparently. “Fine. Whatever,” you said, letting your shoulders drop even though your whole body was tense now. “Goodnight then.”
Jax let out a short huff, and he gave you a look you’d seen too many times to count at this point. “You mad at me now?”
Yes, you were, but he clearly just wanted to go to bed and forget about today, and who were you to stop him? “No, Jax,” you answered, crossing your arms. He gave you another look, this one almost comically unimpressed as he mirrored your stance, his own arms coming up to cross over his chest. “Fine. Yeah, I am kinda mad at you.”
Jax huffed and shook his head, muttering something under his breath you weren’t able to catch. “So I deal with bullshit all day with the club, and then when I come home and try to leave all that shit behind me, I have to deal with my wife too?”
You squinted at that, his choice of words adding to the anger you felt burning inside of you. “You don’t have to deal with me, Jax. And I don’t think that’s a very fair thing to say to me,”
“But jumpin’ on my back as soon as I get home is fair to me?” he shot back, stepping around the half wall separating the hallway and the living room. “I expected you to be the one person who wouldn’t fuckin’ push me when I’ve already had a rough day.”
“And how am I supposed to know that? That you’ve had a rough day?” you asked, ignoring the sting you felt at the way he was so dismissive of you right now, like you were just another person to him instead of his partner.
“The lack of greetin’ wasn’t obvious enough?”
You flared your nose at that, and this wasn’t going the way you wanted it to at all. Starting a fight was the last thing you liked doing with Jax, but you also didn’t see this de-escalating anytime soon. “You’re acting like an ass right now, Jax,” you said, ignoring his question you had a feeling he wasn’t expecting you to answer anyway.
Your choice of words had his brows raising, and his head tilting back a bit. “I’m actin’ like an ass,” he repeated, stating it rather than questioning it. “You ain’t in no position to be sayin’ that to me, babe.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re actin’ like one of those needy chicks that hang around the clubhouse instead of my wife,” he grunted, his face lacking any resemblance of the softer side of him that always seemed to be around when he was with you.
Hearing him reduce you to a needy chick, someone who just hangs around to get laid by one of the Sons, had your jaw clenching angrily. “You’re calling me a fucking crow eater? Are you fucking serious? Why?” you scoffed, “Because I just wanted my husband to look at me for more than five seconds and to have an actual conversation with me?”
“Because you keep fuckin’ pushin’ it when you know it’s just makin’ shit worse,” he said back, as if that justified his words. “You ain’t a crow eater, but you are my old lady, and when I need a fuckin’ minute to myself when I get home, you give it to me.”
A humorless laugh left your lips. “Oh, I give it to you? Is that what I’m supposed to do? We’ve been over that, Jax. You don’t get to boss me around like one of the Sons,” you said, “And how am I supposed to give you something you never asked for? Do you want me to read your mind? So I know you need a sec to yourself instead of taking it out on me as soon as you get home?”
“I didn’t want to take it out on you,” he said, and his voice raised even more. He was clearly getting as worked up as you are. “I tried to not fuckin’ take it out on you. But you just had to go and start somethin’, huh?”
“Don’t pin it all on me, Jax. That’s not fucking fair,” you glared at him, “You can’t just expect me to be all happy and understanding when you come home and fucking ignore me, especially since you’ve been doing it all week. How is that fair to me?”
“This life ain’t supposed to be fuckin’ fair, babe,” he scoffed, his biceps flexing as he crossed his arms more firmly over his chest, and any other night you’d be all over that, but you’d gotten so mad so quickly, you couldn’t even take a second to appreciate just how hot your husband is.
You rolled your eyes and turned away, opting to just stop looking at him since the anger in his eyes wasn’t helping you calm down at all. How is he mad at you right now? When he was the one at fault here? “Don’t give me that,” you shook your head, “That’s bullshit. You can’t blame it on the life all the time, Jax. You were given many chances to leave, and to make shit better. It doesn’t get better, and you just have to deal with it and let me in, not push me away when it gets hard.”
“I’m not pushin’ you away. I’m tryin’ to not bring this shit home with me, but clearly that ain’t workin’,” he muttered, running his hand over his mouth. “And I ain’t blamin’ it on the life either. Things get hard sometimes, like right now. I’m dealin’ with a lot of shit with the club, and I don’t need you breathin’ down my neck about it as soon as I get home.”
“Me just wanting to talk to you counts as me breathing down your neck, now?” you asked, understanding the point he was trying to make about as much as he was understanding yours. Not at all. “What’s next, I have to ask you for permission to touch you in case you had a bad day and decide to take it out on me instead?”
“Jesus Christ,” he nearly yelled, his eyes darting around the room as if he was looking for a chance to escape, as if simply hashing something out with you was such a big thing to ask of him. “That’s not what this is and you know it. You don’t have to ask permission to do shit with me, alright?”
“But I’m supposed to be able to tell when you want space, then give it to you after you already made me feel like shit for caring?”
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit-”
“Well, you did. You made me feel like some idiot who needs to get permission from you to be able to talk to you, let alone touch you,” you cut him off, “And you make me feel like I’m some afterthought, that I’m just here for you to come home to. I’m your wife, Jax, I’m supposed to be the person you come to with this kind of shit, not brush off and ignore so you can bottle it up on your own.”
“You are the person I come to with this kinda shit-”
“It doesn’t seem like it. You’d rather barely say a word to me when you come home, then go back out the next day and do it all over again-”
“‘Cause you make it fuckin’ impossible to get a word in without you flyin’ off the fuckin’ handle,” he cut you off this time, and his voice was a lot louder than before. He moved to stand in front of you, towering over you and making you regret ever opening your mouth. But there was no going back now. “I don’t need to deal with you and your fuckin’ insecurities when I’ve got enough shit goin’ on, alright?”
You narrowed your eyes, your gaze as cold as his is. “My insecurities?”
“Yeah. What the fuck are you even complainin’ about, huh? What, I didn’t greet you properly when I got home, so that means you get to be on my case for the rest of the night? To bring up shit that doesn’t even fuckin’ matter?” he was in your face now, angrier than he’s ever been with you, and you actually shrunk back a bit.
“You’re out of line, Jax,” you tried to reel him back in, but you feared he was already too fired up, and you’d pushed him to his breaking point.
“You’re the one puttin’ me outta fuckin’ line!” he yelled, and you flinched at both the loudness of his voice, and the way he raised his hand to brush his hair out of his face. He caught your flinch, and instead of instantly calming down, it only seemed to irritate him even more. “You thought I was gonna hit you?”
And maybe you should’ve assured him that, no, you didn’t think that, and you’d never think he’d ever put his hands on you like that, but you were still so mad, you didn’t have much control over what you were saying right now. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you did,” you said instead, even though it would definitely surprise you if Jax were to ever destroy your relationship beyond repair by hitting you. “The way you guys treat your old ladies, the way you treat women in general. I’ve seen the aftermath of an argument between your mom and Clay. It’s not pretty.”
You knew that would hit him hard. There was nothing he hated more than to be compared to Clay, and the fact that you insinuated him possibly hurting you in the way Clay had hurt his mom was pretty low. Even you knew that. It would cut deep for him to hear that you might actually believe he’d be capable of doing that to you, even though you didn’t believe that at all, but you were just so upset with him, you wanted him to feel the way you were feeling.
Jax scoffed and shook his head, taking a few steps away from you. “You’re unbelievable,” he said under his breath. “I ain’t Clay. I’d never put my goddamn hands on you like that. Ever. You should fuckin’ know that.”
And you do know that, but you didn’t say that.
Instead you turned away and sat down on the edge of the couch, feeling the way the tension in the room became less angry, but remained just as heavy. The argument seemed to be over, with neither of you wanting to continue it after that.
“I’m gonna stay out here tonight,” you said, your voice rough from holding back tears. You looked down at the floor as you curled in on yourself. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I don’t want to see you right now.”
A humorless laugh left Jax’s lips, and he turned away, heading down the hallway towards the bedroom as he muttered, “I don’t wanna see you either,”
That was by far the worst argument you and Jax had ever had. That was the most heated you’d gotten with each other, to the point of getting into each other’s faces and letting your mouths spew words without letting your brains think of the consequences for it after.
You and Jax were both stubborn, and he was more hot-headed now that he’s the President of SAMCRO, and the longer you’re with him, the more unwilling you are to be treated like the other old ladies you’d met. It was definitely a clash, but you and Jax are usually able to make it work. You and he are usually able to talk things through before they get to a point where everything just explodes and you end up angry with each other.
In the years you’ve been together, there have only been a handful of times where you and he couldn’t reach an agreement, or you couldn’t get each other to see your point of views on things, and even then, they weren’t as bad as tonight was.
You felt your eyes sting, and you quickly reached over to flick the light off before curling into a ball on the couch. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it definitely wasn’t as soft as yours and Jax’s bed, and you almost wished you’d told him to sleep on the couch instead.
But you ignored the flat pillow that was more for decoration than to be used as an actual place to rest your head, and you pulled the throw blanket up to your chin, leaving most of your lower half uncovered.
This was the first time you and Jax willingly chose to not sleep in the same bed. Of course there were times where he ended up crashing at the clubhouse and you had to sleep alone in the bed, and there were times where you’d fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home, but he’d always bring you to bed with him, because you didn’t like not sleeping next to each other.
And even though you meant it when you said you didn’t want to see him, it didn’t change the fact that your heart was hurting, and even though it was because of him, you still wanted to be with him in your room, not out here by yourself.
But you were still so upset, and you were stubborn and bitter and didn’t feel like getting up and putting your differences aside so you could both get a decent enough sleep tonight.
With your luck, it would just start round two, and you weren’t in the mood to deal with that at all.
So you got as comfortable as you could, and tried to ignore that Jax was sleeping by himself in the bed you’d been sharing with him for the last two years.
It took you what felt like hours to finally calm down enough to go to sleep, but it wasn’t peaceful. You were barely asleep, just unconscious enough to chase away the tiredness from the fight and leave you feeling slightly more rested, but it still wasn’t a good sleep.
You weren’t sure what time it was or how long you’d been out here, but you were able to faintly hear the sound of the bedroom door opening, and the sound of a few footsteps. Even with your eyes closed, you could see the brightness slip into the darkness behind your eyes as the hall light turned on, but you didn’t fully wake up until a few moments later.
The sound of more footsteps barely registered in your mind, and you were almost completely back to sleep when you felt the blanket you’d been using slowly lift off of you, and then felt a familiar hand slide under your back.
You almost thought you were dreaming, because of course Jax would be in your dreams, but then you felt your body being lifted up, and you opened your eyes. You squinted at the harsh light coming from the hall and turned your head, burying your face in Jax’s chest as he slid his arm under your legs, keeping his other one wrapped around your back.
“Sorry,” he muttered, using his shoulder to flick the light switch off when he walked past it, and you just groaned as he carried you the short distance to the bedroom.
You knew he was taking you to bed, and even though you were still quite pissed at him, you didn’t try to get out of his hold, nor did you tell him to stop and put you down.
He left the bedroom door open as he walked around the bed, and he gently set you down on your side of it. The sheets and comforter were already pulled back, and you melted against your cool, much comfier pillow as Jax pulled the covers up over you.
You instantly cuddled under them, your eyes falling shut as he rounded the bed again and got in on his side next to you. You kept your back to him as he slid under the covers and moved closer to you, and you instinctively leaned back against him.
“I’m still mad at you,” you mumbled as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back against his chest.
A much softer laugh than all the sarcastic and humorless ones from before came out of his mouth at that, and he laced his fingers with yours under the sheets. “Yeah, I’m still mad at you too,” he said back, and you tried to fight off a smile as he buried his face in your hair.
You thought that would be the end of it, that he just brought you to bed since he didn’t want you to sleep apart unless you absolutely needed to, and you were still very much not on good terms right now, but the soft sigh you felt against the back of your neck had you refraining from falling asleep just yet.
“What happened before,” he started, his voice low and much more gentle than it had been earlier in the living room. “It got outta hand. We both said some shit, but it ain’t gonna break us, alright? We just needed to cool off for a bit.”
You held his hand a little tighter, because despite all the things he’d said to you during the fight, that was what impacted you the most. “No. It won’t break us,” you agreed, and you felt the way his lips curled up just slightly against your skin.
“That’s my girl,” he mumbled, and you fought off another grin, knowing that you and he would need to actually talk things out properly in the morning, but for now, you were more than content to fall asleep in his arms like you had many times before, and you held onto the hope that tomorrow’s conversation would be much more efficient that the one from a couple hours ago.
This was such a real argument. The nerve of him to refer to her as a crow eater, (which I can totally see him saying tbh, unfortunately) but not actually mean it since he obviously cares and loves her so deeply. So Jax coded. Ugh, yes. Just yes.
I really tried to make it seem as genuine and realistic as I could. It kept building and building until they both just snapped and had no control over what they said.
Him calling her a crow eater… oh, boy. The nerve indeed. And yes, that man loves her but is just so bad at showing it sometimes. But we love him anyway. 💖
Summary: Jax has been so busy with the club lately, you feel like you hardly see your husband at all. When he comes home and barely says a word to you, the stress both of you had been feeling comes out in the form of a nasty fight that leaves you both sleeping alone. But, despite the harsh words you exchanged with each other, neither of you liked being too far away, especially in your own home.
Word Count: 4.3k | I do not give consent to having my work republished or posted to any other platform or profile other than my own. | Masterlist
Warnings: angst, mega angst with a small bit of fluff, swearing, arguments, fighting, unresolved argument, jax is hella rude, reader kinda is too, mentions of dv, insinuations of dv (not with jax and reader), implications of hitting your partner, slight sexist remarks, that may be all.
The fight was stupid. Aren’t they all?
This one really was. At least it started out stupid, but only grew into a more serious fight the longer it went on.
Jax had come home close to midnight, a tired, grumpy man who’d spent his day dealing with club business - most of which he hadn’t yet told you about despite one of his vows being to do just that, to keep you in the loop as best as he could.
You’re his wife, after all. You deserved that, at least.
He’d stripped out of his clothes, leaving a trail leading all the way to the bathroom, and that was only after he greeted you with a simple, chaste kiss to your cheek without saying a single word.
That in itself made you a little annoyed, because after not hearing from him for most of the day, and after waiting for him to come home all night, that was all you got? Well, that and a now messy hallway.
You bit your tongue as you followed the discarded clothing trail, picking up each one and wondering how bad of a day he had to justify needlessly making the house a mess, especially after you spent a good few hours cleaning it earlier, but you doubt he noticed that with how quickly he disappeared into the bathroom as soon as he stepped through the door.
After you picked up his jeans, shirt and boxers, you lifted your gaze and looked at Jax through the foggy glass of the shower, your eyes narrowing at how tense he looked. “Long day?” you asked, and he just grunted, shaking his head and barely acknowledging you.
“Yeah,” was all he said, and you lifted a brow, debating on whether or not to push him further, but you weren’t cruel. He obviously dealt with some serious shit today, if the red stain you saw on his jeans was anything to go by, and wanted to have a shower in peace.
So you left the bathroom and entered the bedroom, stuffing his clothes into the laundry bin and making a mental note to do them as soon as you wake up tomorrow in hopes to get that stain out for him - not that he’d really care anyway. Another stain would just take its place soon enough.
You went back into the living room, where you had been patiently waiting for him to come home, and sat back down on the couch. You picked up the book you’d been reading and had set down when you heard him come home, only to receive that vague greeting from Jax before he left you alone again.
It was less than ten minutes later when the shower turned off, and only a few more minutes passed before you heard footsteps leading up to the living room, and when you lifted your gaze from the book and met Jax’s tired eyes, you felt your heart clench in your chest.
He was dressed for bed, wearing just his sweats, and he looked exhausted, both physically and mentally, and you wanted to help him in any way he’d let you, because you’d both been each other’s safe spaces since you started dating, and you’d like to think that was still very much true now that you’ve been married for just over a year.
But instead of giving you an explanation, or a proper greeting, or a gruff apology for his sad excuse of one, he gave you a tight lipped smile he didn’t even try to make reach his eyes. “‘M goin’ to bed,” he said, and you squinted your eyes at him, making him pause when he already started to turn away and head back down the hall. “What?”
You narrowed your eyes at that. Yes, he was allowed to have bad days, he’s the President of a fucking motorcycle club that gets put through the ringer damn near every day, and you’d never try to invalidate that, but to have him be so short with you and so distant wasn’t appreciated in the slightest.
Your shoulders lifted in a sarcastic shrug, “Oh, hey, babe. How was your day? Mine was good, thank you so much for asking,” you said, sarcasm dripping from every word. You just couldn’t help yourself. “That’s usually how a normal husband greets his wife, you know.”
Leaving his clothes on the floor was one thing, but pretty much ignoring you was something else, and especially since this wasn’t the first time he’s come home this week in a bad mood and essentially ignored you in your own home.
Jax let his shoulders drop, he let out a deep huff, “Don’t start,” he muttered, running a hand over his damp hair, and that only made you even more annoyed.
You set the book aside, having not really read much of it anyway, and sat up a bit. “Don’t start?” you echoed, narrowing your eyes, “I’m way past that. What happened to your eye?” you asked, the beginning of a black eye that was obviously forming on the left side of his face something you’d noticed while he was in the shower, but didn’t say anything about.
Jax propped his hands on his hips, his head tilting to the side in a way that told you he was already done with the conversation. It was a look you’d seen him give countless times to others, and he’d given it to you a handful of times as well, but everyone else didn’t get the same treatment that you did. You weren’t just anyone else, you’re his wife. “It’s nothin’,”
“It doesn’t look like nothing-”
“It’s just club shit,” he cut you off, effectively making you briefly shut up. “You know how it is.”
You pressed your lips together, your arms coming up to cross over your chest. “Yeah, I do know how it is,” you agreed, trying to reel your temper back in, because as much as he was pissing you off at the moment, you didn’t want to start a fight he obviously didn’t have the energy to have right now. “But I also know that you once promised to never keep things from me. Club shit included.”
Jax went silent at that, and you watched the way his jaw locked, a muscle in his cheek twitching slightly. He waited a few breaths, no doubt trying to calm himself down too, before he softened his expression just a tiny bit. “Babe, I promise, it’s nothin’ for you to worry ‘bout right now, alright?” he said, seeming to hope that would be enough for now. “I’ll tell you all about it soon.”
But it wasn’t enough, because lately you’d been feeling detached from him, and like he was keeping things from you, and you didn’t like that. At all. “No, it’s not alright,” you said, standing up from the couch, and his eyes lifted with your movement. “Jax, you barely said a word to me when you got home, you left your clothes all over the floor, and instead of sitting down and talking to me about it, you just told me you were going to bed. I feel like we don’t talk anymore.”
Jax exhaled harshly through his nose, and he broke eye contact with you as he shook his head. “Look, I’ve had a long fuckin’ day, alright? I told you that,” he said, his voice raising a bit as his eyes met yours again. “I don’t feel like sittin’ down and talkin’ about it, okay? Is that alright with you?”
Your eyes hardened at that, but so did his, and you’d come to a clear stand off, despite you simply wanting him to communicate with you a bit better. But that was asking too much of him, apparently. “Fine. Whatever,” you said, letting your shoulders drop even though your whole body was tense now. “Goodnight then.”
Jax let out a short huff, and he gave you a look you’d seen too many times to count at this point. “You mad at me now?”
Yes, you were, but he clearly just wanted to go to bed and forget about today, and who were you to stop him? “No, Jax,” you answered, crossing your arms. He gave you another look, this one almost comically unimpressed as he mirrored your stance, his own arms coming up to cross over his chest. “Fine. Yeah, I am kinda mad at you.”
Jax huffed and shook his head, muttering something under his breath you weren’t able to catch. “So I deal with bullshit all day with the club, and then when I come home and try to leave all that shit behind me, I have to deal with my wife too?”
You squinted at that, his choice of words adding to the anger you felt burning inside of you. “You don’t have to deal with me, Jax. And I don’t think that’s a very fair thing to say to me,”
“But jumpin’ on my back as soon as I get home is fair to me?” he shot back, stepping around the half wall separating the hallway and the living room. “I expected you to be the one person who wouldn’t fuckin’ push me when I’ve already had a rough day.”
“And how am I supposed to know that? That you’ve had a rough day?” you asked, ignoring the sting you felt at the way he was so dismissive of you right now, like you were just another person to him instead of his partner.
“The lack of greetin’ wasn’t obvious enough?”
You flared your nose at that, and this wasn’t going the way you wanted it to at all. Starting a fight was the last thing you liked doing with Jax, but you also didn’t see this de-escalating anytime soon. “You’re acting like an ass right now, Jax,” you said, ignoring his question you had a feeling he wasn’t expecting you to answer anyway.
Your choice of words had his brows raising, and his head tilting back a bit. “I’m actin’ like an ass,” he repeated, stating it rather than questioning it. “You ain’t in no position to be sayin’ that to me, babe.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re actin’ like one of those needy chicks that hang around the clubhouse instead of my wife,” he grunted, his face lacking any resemblance of the softer side of him that always seemed to be around when he was with you.
Hearing him reduce you to a needy chick, someone who just hangs around to get laid by one of the Sons, had your jaw clenching angrily. “You’re calling me a fucking crow eater? Are you fucking serious? Why?” you scoffed, “Because I just wanted my husband to look at me for more than five seconds and to have an actual conversation with me?”
“Because you keep fuckin’ pushin’ it when you know it’s just makin’ shit worse,” he said back, as if that justified his words. “You ain’t a crow eater, but you are my old lady, and when I need a fuckin’ minute to myself when I get home, you give it to me.”
A humorless laugh left your lips. “Oh, I give it to you? Is that what I’m supposed to do? We’ve been over that, Jax. You don’t get to boss me around like one of the Sons,” you said, “And how am I supposed to give you something you never asked for? Do you want me to read your mind? So I know you need a sec to yourself instead of taking it out on me as soon as you get home?”
“I didn’t want to take it out on you,” he said, and his voice raised even more. He was clearly getting as worked up as you are. “I tried to not fuckin’ take it out on you. But you just had to go and start somethin’, huh?”
“Don’t pin it all on me, Jax. That’s not fucking fair,” you glared at him, “You can’t just expect me to be all happy and understanding when you come home and fucking ignore me, especially since you’ve been doing it all week. How is that fair to me?”
“This life ain’t supposed to be fuckin’ fair, babe,” he scoffed, his biceps flexing as he crossed his arms more firmly over his chest, and any other night you’d be all over that, but you’d gotten so mad so quickly, you couldn’t even take a second to appreciate just how hot your husband is.
You rolled your eyes and turned away, opting to just stop looking at him since the anger in his eyes wasn’t helping you calm down at all. How is he mad at you right now? When he was the one at fault here? “Don’t give me that,” you shook your head, “That’s bullshit. You can’t blame it on the life all the time, Jax. You were given many chances to leave, and to make shit better. It doesn’t get better, and you just have to deal with it and let me in, not push me away when it gets hard.”
“I’m not pushin’ you away. I’m tryin’ to not bring this shit home with me, but clearly that ain’t workin’,” he muttered, running his hand over his mouth. “And I ain’t blamin’ it on the life either. Things get hard sometimes, like right now. I’m dealin’ with a lot of shit with the club, and I don’t need you breathin’ down my neck about it as soon as I get home.”
“Me just wanting to talk to you counts as me breathing down your neck, now?” you asked, understanding the point he was trying to make about as much as he was understanding yours. Not at all. “What’s next, I have to ask you for permission to touch you in case you had a bad day and decide to take it out on me instead?”
“Jesus Christ,” he nearly yelled, his eyes darting around the room as if he was looking for a chance to escape, as if simply hashing something out with you was such a big thing to ask of him. “That’s not what this is and you know it. You don’t have to ask permission to do shit with me, alright?”
“But I’m supposed to be able to tell when you want space, then give it to you after you already made me feel like shit for caring?”
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit-”
“Well, you did. You made me feel like some idiot who needs to get permission from you to be able to talk to you, let alone touch you,” you cut him off, “And you make me feel like I’m some afterthought, that I’m just here for you to come home to. I’m your wife, Jax, I’m supposed to be the person you come to with this kind of shit, not brush off and ignore so you can bottle it up on your own.”
“You are the person I come to with this kinda shit-”
“It doesn’t seem like it. You’d rather barely say a word to me when you come home, then go back out the next day and do it all over again-”
“‘Cause you make it fuckin’ impossible to get a word in without you flyin’ off the fuckin’ handle,” he cut you off this time, and his voice was a lot louder than before. He moved to stand in front of you, towering over you and making you regret ever opening your mouth. But there was no going back now. “I don’t need to deal with you and your fuckin’ insecurities when I’ve got enough shit goin’ on, alright?”
You narrowed your eyes, your gaze as cold as his is. “My insecurities?”
“Yeah. What the fuck are you even complainin’ about, huh? What, I didn’t greet you properly when I got home, so that means you get to be on my case for the rest of the night? To bring up shit that doesn’t even fuckin’ matter?” he was in your face now, angrier than he’s ever been with you, and you actually shrunk back a bit.
“You’re out of line, Jax,” you tried to reel him back in, but you feared he was already too fired up, and you’d pushed him to his breaking point.
“You’re the one puttin’ me outta fuckin’ line!” he yelled, and you flinched at both the loudness of his voice, and the way he raised his hand to brush his hair out of his face. He caught your flinch, and instead of instantly calming down, it only seemed to irritate him even more. “You thought I was gonna hit you?”
And maybe you should’ve assured him that, no, you didn’t think that, and you’d never think he’d ever put his hands on you like that, but you were still so mad, you didn’t have much control over what you were saying right now. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you did,” you said instead, even though it would definitely surprise you if Jax were to ever destroy your relationship beyond repair by hitting you. “The way you guys treat your old ladies, the way you treat women in general. I’ve seen the aftermath of an argument between your mom and Clay. It’s not pretty.”
You knew that would hit him hard. There was nothing he hated more than to be compared to Clay, and the fact that you insinuated him possibly hurting you in the way Clay had hurt his mom was pretty low. Even you knew that. It would cut deep for him to hear that you might actually believe he’d be capable of doing that to you, even though you didn’t believe that at all, but you were just so upset with him, you wanted him to feel the way you were feeling.
Jax scoffed and shook his head, taking a few steps away from you. “You’re unbelievable,” he said under his breath. “I ain’t Clay. I’d never put my goddamn hands on you like that. Ever. You should fuckin’ know that.”
And you do know that, but you didn’t say that.
Instead you turned away and sat down on the edge of the couch, feeling the way the tension in the room became less angry, but remained just as heavy. The argument seemed to be over, with neither of you wanting to continue it after that.
“I’m gonna stay out here tonight,” you said, your voice rough from holding back tears. You looked down at the floor as you curled in on yourself. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I don’t want to see you right now.”
A humorless laugh left Jax’s lips, and he turned away, heading down the hallway towards the bedroom as he muttered, “I don’t wanna see you either,”
That was by far the worst argument you and Jax had ever had. That was the most heated you’d gotten with each other, to the point of getting into each other’s faces and letting your mouths spew words without letting your brains think of the consequences for it after.
You and Jax were both stubborn, and he was more hot-headed now that he’s the President of SAMCRO, and the longer you’re with him, the more unwilling you are to be treated like the other old ladies you’d met. It was definitely a clash, but you and Jax are usually able to make it work. You and he are usually able to talk things through before they get to a point where everything just explodes and you end up angry with each other.
In the years you’ve been together, there have only been a handful of times where you and he couldn’t reach an agreement, or you couldn’t get each other to see your point of views on things, and even then, they weren’t as bad as tonight was.
You felt your eyes sting, and you quickly reached over to flick the light off before curling into a ball on the couch. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it definitely wasn’t as soft as yours and Jax’s bed, and you almost wished you’d told him to sleep on the couch instead.
But you ignored the flat pillow that was more for decoration than to be used as an actual place to rest your head, and you pulled the throw blanket up to your chin, leaving most of your lower half uncovered.
This was the first time you and Jax willingly chose to not sleep in the same bed. Of course there were times where he ended up crashing at the clubhouse and you had to sleep alone in the bed, and there were times where you’d fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home, but he’d always bring you to bed with him, because you didn’t like not sleeping next to each other.
And even though you meant it when you said you didn’t want to see him, it didn’t change the fact that your heart was hurting, and even though it was because of him, you still wanted to be with him in your room, not out here by yourself.
But you were still so upset, and you were stubborn and bitter and didn’t feel like getting up and putting your differences aside so you could both get a decent enough sleep tonight.
With your luck, it would just start round two, and you weren’t in the mood to deal with that at all.
So you got as comfortable as you could, and tried to ignore that Jax was sleeping by himself in the bed you’d been sharing with him for the last two years.
It took you what felt like hours to finally calm down enough to go to sleep, but it wasn’t peaceful. You were barely asleep, just unconscious enough to chase away the tiredness from the fight and leave you feeling slightly more rested, but it still wasn’t a good sleep.
You weren’t sure what time it was or how long you’d been out here, but you were able to faintly hear the sound of the bedroom door opening, and the sound of a few footsteps. Even with your eyes closed, you could see the brightness slip into the darkness behind your eyes as the hall light turned on, but you didn’t fully wake up until a few moments later.
The sound of more footsteps barely registered in your mind, and you were almost completely back to sleep when you felt the blanket you’d been using slowly lift off of you, and then felt a familiar hand slide under your back.
You almost thought you were dreaming, because of course Jax would be in your dreams, but then you felt your body being lifted up, and you opened your eyes. You squinted at the harsh light coming from the hall and turned your head, burying your face in Jax’s chest as he slid his arm under your legs, keeping his other one wrapped around your back.
“Sorry,” he muttered, using his shoulder to flick the light switch off when he walked past it, and you just groaned as he carried you the short distance to the bedroom.
You knew he was taking you to bed, and even though you were still quite pissed at him, you didn’t try to get out of his hold, nor did you tell him to stop and put you down.
He left the bedroom door open as he walked around the bed, and he gently set you down on your side of it. The sheets and comforter were already pulled back, and you melted against your cool, much comfier pillow as Jax pulled the covers up over you.
You instantly cuddled under them, your eyes falling shut as he rounded the bed again and got in on his side next to you. You kept your back to him as he slid under the covers and moved closer to you, and you instinctively leaned back against him.
“I’m still mad at you,” you mumbled as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back against his chest.
A much softer laugh than all the sarcastic and humorless ones from before came out of his mouth at that, and he laced his fingers with yours under the sheets. “Yeah, I’m still mad at you too,” he said back, and you tried to fight off a smile as he buried his face in your hair.
You thought that would be the end of it, that he just brought you to bed since he didn’t want you to sleep apart unless you absolutely needed to, and you were still very much not on good terms right now, but the soft sigh you felt against the back of your neck had you refraining from falling asleep just yet.
“What happened before,” he started, his voice low and much more gentle than it had been earlier in the living room. “It got outta hand. We both said some shit, but it ain’t gonna break us, alright? We just needed to cool off for a bit.”
You held his hand a little tighter, because despite all the things he’d said to you during the fight, that was what impacted you the most. “No. It won’t break us,” you agreed, and you felt the way his lips curled up just slightly against your skin.
“That’s my girl,” he mumbled, and you fought off another grin, knowing that you and he would need to actually talk things out properly in the morning, but for now, you were more than content to fall asleep in his arms like you had many times before, and you held onto the hope that tomorrow’s conversation would be much more efficient that the one from a couple hours ago.
Ohhhh the angst in this was absolutely delicious!! Today is clearly the day to be pissed at Jax apparently 😂
“You’re actin’ like one of those needy chicks that hang around the clubhouse instead of my wife,” he grunted, his face lacking any resemblance of the softer side of him that always seemed to be around when he was with you.
Now that would have set me off. Jax has absolutely no idea how to effectively communicate. A simple "today was rough, I just need to go to bed" would have sufficed. Come on, man! Use your big boy words!
But I love that he came out and carried her to the bed and they had a little sweet moment after where the tension broke. Though not cool for willingly let his wife take the couch in the first place.
I fear this man never knew or learned how to properly talk to people, let alone his wife. And that crow eater line… oh I made myself mad with that one 😅 Had to take a sec after lol.
And I agree, good on him for being the first one to try to break that tension (after being vile, let’s be honest), but his ass should’ve been the one sleeping on that couch 🙂↕️
Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.6k [Jax Fic Masterlist]
Warnings/tags: 18+; angst, drunk!Jax, exes fighting, no happy ending
Summary: It's been over two weeks since you broke up with Jax, yet he's made it an irritating habit to call you drunk in the middle of the night.
a/n: I was craving some angst, and I really wanted someone to call Jax on his shit. So this happened. All feedback (reblogs/comments/likes) is always appreciated!
The sound of your ringtone abruptly pulled you straight back to consciousness, dragging you unwillingly out of a deep sleep. Disoriented and confused as you hastily woke, you blinked your eyes open only to be met with darkness instead of the usual faint morning light that greeted you. Through the groggy, sluggishness of your mind, you soon pieced together the fact that the sun hadn’t risen yet because it was still the middle of the night.
But that hadn’t stopped someone from calling you, the melodic chimes of your ringtone continuing to fill the darkness around you. The disruption came from behind on your nightstand, the noise loud in the otherwise stillness. With an aggravated groan, you frustratedly flopped onto your back and glared up at the ceiling.
“Goddammit, you fucking asshole,” you cursed under your breath.
You didn't need to check the screen of your phone to know whose name would be displayed across it. This wasn't the first time he'd called you in the middle of the night in the past couple of weeks since you’d broken things off with him, and he’d been shitfaced each time he had called. You thought you’d made yourself pretty damn clear when you'd chewed him out and embarrassed him in front of the other Sons that afternoon in front of the clubhouse, but still he refused to listen to you. He kept dismissing each time you’d told him that you were done with him and his bullshit.
Thirty seconds dragged maddeningly past before the call finally went to your voicemail and the cheerful noise of your ringtone suddenly ceased filling your room. As blissful silence enveloped you like a soothing blanket, your eyelids gradually closed and your body sunk comfortably back into your mattress. Generally when you ignored his calls, he’d just leave a message–which you promptly deleted in the morning without bothering to listen to–but it was still irritating that he kept interrupting your nights.
Just as you felt yourself starting to relax and drift off towards sleep again, your phone’s ringtone trilled through your bedroom once more. Eyes snapping back open, you turned your head along your pillow and glared at your phone on the nightstand. Across the bright display you saw the name ‘Jax Teller’ taunting you, and you grit your teeth together in frustration. He didn’t usually call you twice back to back, and while a part of you felt a flicker of concern that maybe something was wrong, you reminded yourself that he wasn’t yours to worry about anymore. He didn’t deserve to occupy space in your mind, and it didn’t matter what was going on with him and his club.
Eventually your phone quieted for the second time as his call was once more sent to voicemail, and the screen of your phone grew dark. Holding your breath for a few seconds, you stared at your phone and willed it to remain quiet, hoping that Jax would take the hint and leave you alone already. But the screen lit up again, and Jax’s name once more appeared along it as your ringtone began to echo around your bedroom.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you growled.
Pushing yourself upright in bed, the sheets slid down and pooled along your lap. With your back resting against your headboard, you reached out and yanked the charging cord out of your phone with more force than necessary. Angrily swiping your finger across the screen, you felt your irritation reaching its breaking point. Clearly, ignoring him wasn’t going to work tonight.
“It’s nearly two thirty in the fucking morning,” you snapped into your phone. “The fuck do you think you’re doing calling me right now? I told you to fuck off, Jax. So fuck off.”
A heavy sigh came through the speaker, the sound somehow filled with so much pain that your stomach lurched without warning at the weight of it. You tried to ignore the tender ache in your chest, preferring to focus on your anger at him instead. It wasn’t like you’d wanted to end things with Jax right as you’d started falling for him, but you’d learned the hard way that everyone had been right about the Sons’ president. You should have walked away that first time he asked for your number when you’d taken your car in for an oil change, but that stupid fucking smile of his had been enough to hook you.
“‘M sorry,” he slurred, the evidence of alcohol in his speech. “I know ‘t’s late. Just haven’t heard from you in weeks.”
“Because we broke up,” you stated icily. “Which means I don’t want to talk to you, Jackson. We’re done.”
“C’mon, it was justa fight,” he countered. “You barely lemme explain–”
“Because I don’t fucking need to hear whatever bullshit you think is going to explain your behavior, Jax,” you shot back. “There isn’t an excuse that you could make for any of it that's going to make me feel any better.”
“‘S'not true,” he stubbornly disagreed.
Fingers gripping your phone tighter in your hand, you resisted the urge to bang your head backwards into the headboard behind you out of sheer frustration. You’d given him chance after chance for months to prove he was worth your time–four months to be exact. You’d ignored the earlier red flags, you’d tried to ignore the culture that permeated through his club with how they treated women, and you’d tried to ignore all the things everyone said around Charming about him. You had tried to get to know Jax on your own terms, giving him the benefit of the doubt over and over.
Yet he'd still disappointed you.
“Baby–”
“No,” you cut him off. The anger burning within you had you fully alert now, the haziness of sleep melting away. “Don’t fucking ‘baby’ me, asshole. You agreed to a relationship. You agreed to being exclusive. But did that ever stop you from letting the fucking girls hang all over you at the clubhouse? Groping at you and flirting with you while you just fucking stood there with your smug little smile? Even when I was standing right there?”
“I never wanted them,” Jax argued, a hint of his own anger mixing in with his inebriation. “I fuckin’ told you that. Repeatedly.”
“Yeah?” you retorted. “Well maybe you should’ve been telling the half naked girls throwing themselves at you that instead. Maybe you shouldn’t have always been winking at them and encouraging it. Maybe that would’ve worked better to prove your point, Jax. Seems like a pretty straightforward solution right there.”
On the other end of the line, you heard Jax suck in a breath, but you already knew what he was going to say before he said it. You'd heard it countless times before, so you didn’t give him the chance to speak. You furiously barreled over him while glaring through the dark at the picture hanging innocently on your wall across the room.
“And don’t even give me that shit about having a reputation to maintain, Jax,” you continued bitterly. “I don't care that you're some MC president, that shit doesn't slide with me. I tried to ignore it, I tried to view it from your side, but there’s only so much of that bullshit a self-respecting woman is willing to endure.”
“What?” he snapped.
“You fucking heard me,” you fumed into your phone. “What would you have done if I was out drinking and letting men hit on me like that, huh? Letting them touch me while I just winked and smiled and flirted back?”
Jax audibly scoffed over the line, his irritation steadily increasing. Good. Maybe you’d piss him off enough that he’d finally leave you alone, and you were determined to ignore the sharp stinging sensation in your chest at that thought, not wanting to delve into what it meant. You’d cried over him enough after that first week, he didn’t deserve more of your tears.
“I’d’ve beaten the shit outta any guy who touched you, darlin’,” he answered, his words still heavily slurring together. “No one fucks with my girl.”
A bitter laugh tumbled past your lips as you shook your head at his answer. What a predictable reply from the Sons’ president, and it was infuriating how he couldn’t acknowledge the disparity within it.
“What a damn double standard that is,” you shot back. “So you can flirt and let those girls put their hands all over you, but god forbid a man pay me a compliment.”
“Look, darlin’, I get you’re pissed ‘bout the thing with Ima,” Jax continued, blatantly ignoring the truth you’d just thrust on him, “but ‘t’s nothin’ to be jealous over.”
“Jealous?” you hissed into the phone, eyebrows incredulously rising up onto your forehead. “I’m not jealous, dumbass. You disrespected me. It was bad enough you let that annoying tramp onto the back of your bike for a ride to the clubhouse in the first place considering how much trouble she’s blatantly been causing, but you let her kiss you, Jax. On the fucking mouth. In front of everyone.”
“It was a peck!” he roared over the line. “You fuckin’ overreacted ‘bout it, too!”
Your last bit of control snapped, especially since he’d woken you up after two in the morning with another one of his stupid phone calls. You had work in the morning, you didn’t want to be dealing with this right now. An agitated growl rumbled deep in the back of your throat as you sat seething on your bed and glaring at the peaceful landscape painting across the room.
He was always so damn stubborn. You doubted that he would ever even realize just how much he’d fucked up in that moment, which hurt in its own way. Because in his mind, he’d done nothing wrong throughout the entire relationship since he’d never slept with anyone else. But you weren’t one of the girls that hung around the Sons for fun, you weren’t like any of them just looking for a good time. You’d told him that you wanted something real and serious, and you’d given him the chance he’d asked for before he completely ruined the entire thing with his need to let the girls at the club stroke his ego when you should’ve been more than enough for him.
“This is why I ended shit,” you said, a quiet, dangerous calm in your words. “You’re immature. Your head is buried so goddamn far up your ass that you can’t even see the truth when it’s in front of you, Jackson Teller. You were in a relationship with me, meaning the other girls shouldn’t have been treating you like you were open for business, and you certainly shouldn't have let them. And it damn well meant that none of them should be kissing you. Because eventually just a peck becomes just a blow job, right?”
“No, ‘s'not what I–”
“You don't respect boundaries,” you continued, talking right over him. “That isn’t how a healthy fucking relationship works. Not with me. I told you months ago I expect exclusivity, but apparently we don't define that the same way. So we are not compatible, and you need to stop calling me.”
A sharp, unexpected bang reverberated down the hall and through your house before the same noise echoed through the phone pressed to your ear. You jolted on your bed at the sound, startled by someone banging on your front door at this hour.
“Don't say that,” Jax demanded in your ear. “I care ‘bout you, darlin’.”
It took you a second, your mind still focused on the noise at your door and not exactly on what he’d said, but it soon clicked in your brain why you'd heard the banging twice. Eyes narrowing suspiciously at your bedroom doorway, you realized that tonight Jax hadn't just drunk dialed you, he'd showed up at your front door, too.
“Please tell me you aren't banging on my door in the middle of the night,” you retorted.
“S'what if I am?” he countered.
Lowering the phone to your lap, your fingers squeezed the device in your increasing frustration, your head tipping back as you inhaled an irritated breath through your nose. No wonder why he’d called you so many times back to back–because he was just outside. Drunk and absolutely infuriating in his audacity thinking that he could get you to step outside and talk to him. Expelling the breath sharply between your lips, you raised the phone back to your ear and caught the last bit of what he was drunkenly saying.
“...just for a few minutes. I miss you. Just lemme say somethin’, a’ight?”
“No,” you firmly answered.
The sharp slam of his fist hitting your front door echoed down your hallway while simultaneously coming through your phone. A scowl settled onto your face, your eyes stinging from how tired you were. It was not the time for one of his moody tantrums.
“Turn around and walk your drunk ass back down my steps and back to the clubhouse,” you ordered him. “I’m not opening the door for you, Jax. When I hang up in a second, I’m turning my damn phone on silent. If you continue banging on my door, I’m calling Roosevelt to come throw you in county for the night. Understood?”
“Baby, don’t–”
“Get. Lost.”
He’d started saying something else, but you pulled the phone away from your ear and smashed your finger on the key to hang up the call. True to your word, you put your phone on silent immediately afterwards, not risking having him call you back and keeping you awake. But if he did keep banging on your door, you absolutely would call the police department and let them deal with his intoxicated ass.
You were done with him.
But as you tossed your phone back onto the nightstand and slid down beneath your sheets, you didn’t hear anymore banging on your front door. You thought you heard a disgruntled voice outside, but as you rolled back over and closed your eyes, snuggling underneath your blanket, you ignored it. Just like you ignored that throbbing ache in your chest that he’d reawoken with his drunken call tonight.
Because Jax was not good for you and he never would be. There was no changing his nature, no matter how tragic that'd been to accept.
You’d woken the next morning to your alarm and a faint headache growing between your temples. Throwing off the sheets, you'd rushed to get ready for work, going through your usual morning routine of showering and chugging down a cup of coffee. By the time you were slipping on your shoes by the front door, you were exhausted from yet another interrupted night of sleep.
Thankfully you hadn’t heard anything else from Jax last night, and you assumed that meant he'd done what you said and walked his ass back to the clubhouse. You only lived a few blocks from it, so you weren’t exactly concerned about him getting lost or hit by a car while ambling down the sidewalk in the early morning. And as you often reminded yourself, he wasn't yours to worry about anymore.
Grabbing your keys from off the hook by the door, you opened it and prepared to head out to work for the day. But as you'd swung open the screen door, you nearly screamed at the sight of a body laying just outside on your porch. The scare was short-lived when you quickly realized who it was though, and you caught yourself before you'd actually let out a shriek.
Standing there with your mouth hanging open in disbelief, you stared down at Jax where he lay propped up against the wall of your house and beside your front door. He was lucky you hadn’t hit him with the screen door when you’d swung it open, though judging by the state of him, you doubted he’d have noticed and reacted if you had. He looked as if he’d just stubbornly passed out there early this morning, too wasted to have done what you told him to and walked back to the clubhouse.
Finally closing your mouth, it twisted into a frown as you examined his appearance. Jax’s head was slumped to the side over one shoulder, his neck twisted at an uncomfortable angle as he lay half upright against the wall. His eyes were closed, but an angry purple bruise had bloomed around the left one. His usually groomed and styled blonde hair was sticking up in varying places and no longer slicked neatly back, the greasy strands hanging around his face. Glancing further down, you noticed that he’d passed out still clutching his phone in his hand. That’s when you saw just how battered and bloody his knuckles were, as if he'd recently gotten into a fight with someone.
He looked like an absolute wreck laying there, and he reeked of whiskey. A slight breeze blew past where you stood on the front porch, and the strong scent caused your nose to wrinkle instinctively at the sharp tang of it. For the briefest moment you wondered what had led him to drink quite this much last night. Was it the breakup that had caused him to overdo it? Or was it problems and stress related to running the club?
Shaking your head roughly, you abruptly shoved that thought aside. The answer didn’t matter. Jax wasn't yours to deal with anymore. You did not care about why he'd gotten so shitfaced last night.
Turning around, you finished fully closing the front door and stuck your key into the lock, twisting it and locking up your house before carefully shutting the screen door behind yourself. Attention returning to Jax, a tired sigh blew past your lips before you bent at the waist and leaned forward, snatching his phone from his slack grip. He didn't even twitch as you took it, and you rolled your eyes at his unconscious form while straightening back up.
Flipping open his phone, you scrolled through his contacts list before finding the name you were searching for. You hit the button to dial their number and held the phone to your ear as it rang, staring down at Jax who was still entirely unaware of your presence.
“Stupid, stubborn asshole,” you muttered.
Resisting the urge to kick the sole of his Nike with your foot, you listened to the phone ring a couple of times before the call was finally answered. You weren’t surprised at how tired the Scotsman sounded on the other end considering how early in the morning you'd called. And if Jax was this wasted, you assumed the others had also been up late getting drunk last night.
“Jackie boy?” Chibs greeted, slurring thickly like he'd just woken. “Somethin’ the matter? ‘S’barely seven.”
“It’s not Jax,” you flatly replied. “Your president is passed out on my front porch. I need to go to work, but if he’s still there when I get back for lunch, he’s going to be the sheriff’s problem. So I suggest you send someone to collect him before the police do.”
Not waiting for Chibs to respond, you hung up the call and snapped Jax’s flip phone shut. With a careless flick of your wrist, you tossed it down at Jax, watching as it bounced off his chest with a soft thunk before it fell into his lap.
Your lips pressed together as you stood there, taking in how pathetic he looked all bruised and stinking of alcohol. This wasn't the man you'd met months ago at Teller-Morrow Automotive, the one who'd charmed you and left you tongue tied. He looked nothing like the cocky, arrogant bad boy who did whatever he wanted damn the consequences.
“I told you to get lost,” you chastised. “But you can't even listen to that, can you, Jax Teller?”
Jax didn't answer–not that you expected him to. With his head still hanging limp at that awkward angle over his shoulder, you knew he’d be feeling the poor choice to pass out on your porch for the rest of the day.
“You're a mess, you know that?” you continued, aware that he couldn’t hear a single thing you said. “You're throwing your whole life away and it's such a shame to watch. If you'd just stop letting that damn club control you, you might actually be able to listen to that heart I know you've got buried inside of you. But you're too busy always trying to drown it out with booze instead.”
You'd seen glimpses of the man he could be in the time you'd been with him. It was why you'd stayed for as long as you had, because you’d seen a warmth hidden behind that guarded exterior and you'd wanted to see more of it. But he hadn’t given you much more of himself, always too concerned with being the man he claimed he was expected to be as the Sons' president instead of just being Jax Teller.
“And it's not my problem,” you whispered to yourself.
With a defeated sigh, you turned and stepped down the stairs of your front porch, leaving Jax laying unconscious and propped up beside your door. While you made your way to where your car sat parked in the driveway, you caught the distinct rumble of a motorcycle roaring to life through the early morning from just a few blocks away. A telltale sign that Chibs at least had the good sense to listen to you.
Pairing: Raymond Smith x f!Reader
Word Count: 6k
Summary: Ray starts your birthday with his full attention, only for you to realize he has been planning far more than you expected.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! explicit sexual content, minors DNI; reader is described as having hair, established relationship, unprotected p in v sex - be responsible!, praise, romance, emotional intimacy, soft feels
A/N: another trip around the sun!🥳 today is my birthday, so naturally I had to write something completely self-indulgent and make it everyone else’s problem. this one is soft, filthy, romantic, and entirely built around the kind of birthday morning I personally think we all deserve. Raymond Smith, the man that you are.🥰✨All feedback (reblogs, comments, likes) is much appreciated and encouraged!!✨ Enjoy babes! 🩷
The first thing you felt was Ray’s mouth against your shoulder.
A press of lips to sleep-soft skin, the slight scrape of his beard as he lingered, just enough to make your body notice before your mind had fully caught up. You stirred beneath him, drifting somewhere between sleep and waking, still slow to understand anything beyond the weight of his hand at your waist and his mouth moving lazily along your neck.
A shiver went through you, starting right where his mouth touched and traveled outward, raising tiny bumps along your arms. Ray felt it. You knew he did in the way his hand settled more firmly at your waist, by the brief pause of his lips against your skin, as if that small betrayal of your body had pleased him more than any answer you could have given.
The room was still dim; the kind of grey-blue morning light that came before the city had fully woken. Too early for your birthday. Too early for anything that required being conscious, really, unless it involved staying exactly where you were, tangled in expensive sheets with Ray’s mouth at your neck.
“Mmm,” you breathed in protest, eyes still closed.
“I know,” he murmured against your shoulder. “Too early.”
His voice was lower than usual, softened at the edges in a way only you ever got to hear. No careful composure standing between him and the world. Just Ray, solid and bare behind you, his palm smoothing over your hip after what must have been a while spent awake, deciding that if he had to pull you from sleep before a civilized hour, he was going to make it worth waking for.
You smiled faintly into the pillow. “Is it?”
“For you?” His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Tragically.”
The sensation made you squirm before you could stop yourself, your chin tucking toward your shoulder as a tiny giggle slipped out of you, breathy and still half-asleep. Ray’s arm held you close, keeping you tucked against him while his mouth followed the movement, kissing along the side of your neck where he knew you were sensitive.
“So why are you waking me up?”
“Because we have somewhere to be.”
That should have made you suspicious. It would have, if his mouth hadn’t moved lower again, pulling a shallow breath from you while every other thought scattered before you could hold onto it.
“Somewhere can wait,” you mumbled.
Ray’s breath touched your neck, and you felt the faint curve of his mouth against your skin. “Not indefinitely.”
He kissed the spot where your pulse had quickened, trailing back toward your jaw as though he had all the time in the world, despite whatever plans he was keeping from you. His hand moved from your waist to your hip and back again, a steady, reassuring touch that made you relax against him.
“You sound like a man with plans.”
“I am a man with plans.”
“On my birthday?”
“For your birthday.”
You meant to open your eyes at that, but his touch, so gentle and deliberate, distracted you before you could. Ray had never been careless with you, not with his hands, not with his affection, not with the pieces of himself he gave so gradually—so carefully—that you sometimes forgot how much he had already handed over.
His fingers traced over of your stomach, lower now, possessive without being demanding. His mouth found the side of your throat again, lingering there while he drew you closer, your back fitting against his broad chest. The sound he made rumbled through him and into you, barely heard but impossible to miss. Your body answered before you were awake enough to pretend otherwise, hips shifting into the cradle of his palm as a sleepy little sound slipped from your throat.
Your eyes finally opened, though the world stayed small for one last breath, held between Ray’s hand on your body, his mouth at your skin, and the solid shape of him behind you. Slowly, your gaze drifted toward the nightstand, landing on the fresh bouquet waiting there in a simple glass vase.
Your favorite flowers, full and lovely without feeling staged, arranged with smaller blooms in colors you loved. The stems were gathered with a satin ribbon tied neatly around the middle, simple and exact in a way that felt unmistakably like him. He hadn’t chosen the biggest arrangement or the most expensive, only the right one.
His lips brushed your shoulder again, his voice low and close enough to send a swoop through your belly.
“Happy birthday, darling.”
The words settled over you, not an announcement so much as a touch all their own. You blinked at the bouquet, at the ribbon around the stems, at the exact colors he had chosen, and your chest gave a helpless little squeeze before you could stop it.
“Oh,” you whispered.
Ray’s hand stilled against your stomach.
You turned your head enough to look at him. His eyes were already on you, blue and unguarded without his glasses, clearer in the morning light as he watched for your reaction with the satisfaction of a man who had been looking forward to this moment far more than he would ever admit aloud.
“You got my favorite flowers.”
“Of course.”
The answer was so simple that it caught somewhere beneath your ribs. He said it so easily, remembering the shape of your joy as though it required no effort at all, because to Ray, there had never been any other option but to know you that well.
You blinked, emotion rising before you could stop it, and Ray’s expression shifted immediately. His hand came up to your face, knuckles brushing gently along your cheek.
“No tears yet,” he said softly. “It’s barely begun.”
“Yet?”
His mouth curved, pleased in the private way that made your chest ache. “You’ll need to pace yourself.”
You huffed a small laugh, but he caught it with his mouth before it could fully leave you, his lips gentle at first before turning firmer when you angled into him in an effort to get closer. The faint scrape of his beard brushed over your mouth as his tongue slid against yours, coaxing you open with that same careful intent he brought to everything else. The kiss deepened naturally, familiar and devastating all at once.
Your hands found him beneath the sheets, sliding over his shoulders, his chest, anywhere you could reach as he drew you in and settled over you. Bare skin met bare skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your palm, the weight of him enough to make the rest of the room fall away.
He kissed you like he could feel every little place you gave in to him, the surrender of your mouth, the lift of your hips, the gasp you tried to swallow when his tongue moved deeper.
Ray had woken you with his mouth on your skin, with flowers waiting on the nightstand, and now he seemed intent on making this the first real gift of the day too, the thorough pleasure of being loved until there was nothing left in your head but him.
You sighed against his mouth as the hard length of him pressed between your thighs, and Ray drew back only enough to see you, close enough that his breath still touched your lips. His hair was mussed from your fingers, his eyes gone a shade deeper now, the blue sharpened by want as he looked over your face.
You could feel how badly he wanted you, the thick press of him against your slick skin, restrained only because he knew you liked the slow ruin of it all.
His palm pressed into your leg as he eased it higher over his hip, opening you to him more. Ray noticed the eager tilt of your hips, the way you opened wider around him, the involuntary pull of your breath when he dragged the blunt head of his cock through the needy wet of you.
He didn’t rush to give you what you wanted. Instead, he slid through your cunt with maddening control, brushing over your clit just enough to make your body tense beneath him before easing back, drawing the want out until it bloomed deep and aching.
Your fingers tightened in his hair, your mouth parting beneath his when the next pass stole the air from your lungs. Ray kissed you through it, lips plush, tongue coaxing, the faint shape of his smile brushing yours when your hips lifted to chase him.
He knew. And that was the infuriating part. He knew exactly what he was doing to you—from the tremor in your legss and the way your breath thinned when he teased the head of his cock against your entrance without pushing in. His hand settled at your hip, keeping you close as he gave you just enough pressure to make your body flutter around nothing, pulling back before you could take him.
“Ray,” you whined, half warning, half plea.
His mouth brushed the corner of yours, pleased and far too satisfied. “I know.”
His eyes stayed on your face while he teased you, the last of his composure held together by sheer will and the pleasure he took in watching yours unravel.
“You’re impatient this morning,” he noted, voice low against your mouth.
“You woke me up,” you protested, your bottom lip pushing out in a sleepy pout.
“I did.”
“So do something about it.”
That pulled a rough sound from him, more want than amusement. His fingers pressed into your hip as he kissed you again, stealing the rest of your complaint while he settled against your entrance.
Your pout vanished into a trembling exhale as he finally sank into you, and Ray stayed close enough to take the sound into his mouth. He watched you through it, eyes fixed on your face as your lips parted and your lashes fluttered as your body adjusted around him. He took his time, almost cruel in his patience, making sure you felt every inch of him.
“Christ,” he groaned, the word barely making it out.
Your legs locked around his hips as he pressed deeper, taking his time until he was fully inside you. His eyes shut while he steadied himself, the polished control he carried so easily everywhere else thinning to almost nothing at the wet, heated feel of you around him.
You shifted just enough to take him deeper, and his whole body went taut. Another rough sound caught in his throat, his mouth brushing yours without quite kissing you. He had teased you for so long, made you needy for him, but now that he had you, now that he was buried inside you and fighting himself for patience, the waiting was ruining him too.
Your hands slid over his back, feeling the flex of muscle beneath your touch as he finally rolled his hips into you with enough purpose to sink you deeper into the sheets and pull a broken sound from your throat.
Ray did it again, finding a rhythm that narrowed the world to his body over yours and the delicious drag of his cock inside you. His chest pressed to yours, his mouth moved from your lips to your cheek, your jaw, your throat, kissing wherever he could reach as his composure started to fray.
You felt everything he gave—his weight over you, the flex of his hips and all the rough little sounds he made whenever you clenched around him. Each thrust reached deep enough to scatter whatever thoughts you had left, and when your nails dragged down his back, his pace faltering briefly before he caught himself.
“Sweetheart,” he breathed against your neck.
Your hips titled to meet him, and the change in angle made your mouth fall open, pleasure flashing brightly behind your eyes. Ray felt you tighten around him, felt the tremor move through you, your nails pressing into his back as you tried desperately to keep him right there.
His grip shifted lower on your thigh, guiding you into him while he did it again.
“There?” he asked, though the look on his face said he already knew.
You nodded, too far gone to make it graceful, begging him not to move away from that spot.
Ray pressed into you deeper this time, his control thinning with every sound he drew out of you. He’d always known how to make restraint feel filthy, how to make patience its own kind of indulgence.
His touch moved down your side, over the dip of your waist and the curve of your hip, fingers pressing there to pull you into the next thrust. His eyes stayed on you, hunger cutting through the last of his composure as your body drew around him again.
“Darling,” he groaned against your throat. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
The praise went through you in a swirling rush, your cunt closing around him hard enough to pull the air from his chest. Ray’s hand flexed at your hip, his composure catching on a rough sound before his mouth found yours again, hungry and less careful than before.
“That’s it,” he breathed against your lips. “You take me so well.”
You turned your face into him, overwhelmed by the gentleness as much as the pleasure. Him inside you, the scrape of his beard along your skin, the devotion in the way he kept looking at you. It was too much and not enough, your body aching for more even as he gave you everything.
Ray shifted just enough to make you whimper, his hips still working into you as he slipped between your bodies and found your clit. Your back arched at the first touch, a sharp cry catching in your throat before his mouth covered yours, swallowing it down like he wanted to keep it for himself.
“That’s where you need me, isn’t it?”
All you could manage was another frantic nod, fingers curling at the back of his neck as the room filled with the sounds of your pleasure.
He moved with steady purpose, thumb circling your clit while he drove into you with the same focused restraint that had been ruining you all morning. Pleasure gathered heavy and insistent, swelling with every thrust. You held his gaze as long as you could, watching his composure slip in small, beautiful increments, until he angled his hips just right, pressing deeper, dragging against the spot that made your whole body seize beneath him.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, voice strained. “Come for me.”
The words pushed you right to the edge, your nails digging into his back as your body wound around him. For one desperate second, you hovered there, caught on the drag of his cock inside you, the steady pressure of his thumb, the sound of him losing control above you, and then it broke.
It hit you in a full-body rush, clamping around him as pleasure tore through you in waves. You cried out his name, and Ray groaned into your skin, his pace stuttering before he caught himself and gave you more, pushing you through it while your cunt fluttered around him.
You felt him start to slip, jaw clenched near your cheek, his control fraying with every pulse of your body around his. His mouth stayed on your skin, rough kisses pressed wherever he could reach, less careful with each one.
His hips drove deeper, rougher now, chasing what he had held back too long. A guttural groan dragged from his chest as he buried his face against your neck, body crowding yours with a need that felt almost frantic after so much restraint.
You were still shaking when his hand locked at your thigh, pulling you into him through one thrust, then the next, before he held himself as deep as your body would take him. His body went rigid over yours, shoulders tense beneath your hands, mouth open against your throat as he came with a broken sound. You felt him pulse inside you, the hot spill of his release filling your cunt as his hips pressed in with one last helpless grind, like even that deep, he still needed more.
“Fuck,” he breathed, your name following after, wrecked.
The sensation made you whimper, still too sensitive, still clenching around him in little aftershocks that dragged a rough sound from his chest. Ray’s mouth moved against your skin, not quite a kiss, more like he needed somewhere to put the force of it while his body shuddered once above yours.
He stayed buried inside you, his body covering yours as both of you came down in the gray morning light. Your fingers traced weakly over the back of his neck, feeling the damp heat of his skin, the uneven rise and fall of his breath. Ray pressed a kiss to your shoulder, lips lingering warm on your skin, because he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave you yet.
“Happy birthday,” he murmured against your skin, voice satisfied and ruined.
You laughed weakly, still trying to come back to yourself. “You’re very pleased with yourself.”
Ray’s eyes flicked to yours, gentled by something private. “No.”
“No?”
His thumb brushed over your cheek, his gaze moving over your face with the kind of attention that made you feel seen down to the smallest, most hidden parts of yourself. “I’m pleased I got to have you like that.”
Your heart did something stupid in your chest.
Before you could answer, he kissed you, lingering just long enough to ruin whatever clever thing you might have said. Eventually, he slipped from the bed and disappeared, returning a few moments later to get you cleaned up with the same tender care he gave everything that involved you.
When he left the room again, you heard movement beyond the bedroom, then the low clink of ceramic. He came back shortly with a fresh cup of coffee in your favorite mug, steam curling above the rim as he crossed the room in nothing but lounge trousers, his glasses back on now, the only real sign that the day had started when neither of you had quite left the bed.
You looked at the cup, then at him.
Ray settled beside you, body angled toward yours against the pillows, close enough that his fingers trailed absently over the ends of your hair while you drank your coffee and admired the bouquet again, bright and fresh against the rumpled mess of the room, your favorite flowers arranged with such precise care that it almost hurt to look at them.
You took a sip, the coffee rich and perfect on your tongue, exactly how you liked it. It settled something in you even as the rest of you remained a little undone from the way he had woken you. Ray’s fingers moved through your hair with an absent affection. Even after having you, even after coaxing every sleepy sound out of you, he still seemed to need some small point of contact.
Your gaze drifted lazily across the room, over the bouquet on the nightstand, to the clothes you had discarded the night before in your rush to get your hands on him. The memory tugged a smirk from you before your attention moved on, landing near the bedroom door, where both of your suitcases stood neatly against the wall.
The smirk faded into suspicion as you took another sip of coffee, because dignity felt important in the face of whatever he had clearly already done. With as much nonchalance as you could manage while sitting naked beneath the sheets after being loved senseless before breakfast, you lowered the mug.
“Ray?”
Beside you, his fingers paused in your hair for half a second.
“Darling?”
“Why is our luggage out?”
Ray remained relaxed against the pillows, his face calm in a way that only made you more suspicious. His fingers resumed their path through your hair, the touch so easy and affectionate you almost thought he could soothe the question right out of you.
“Oh,” he said, with the careful casualness of a man who had been waiting for this exact moment. “That’s part of your birthday surprise. I did tell you we had somewhere to be.”
Surprise flickered through you, cutting through the last haze of the morning. “I thought we were just going to brunch?”
“We are.”
You turned your head slowly and stared at him.
Ray finally glanced at you, and there it was, that infuriating little shift at the corner of his mouth. Just enough to tell you he had been waiting all morning for you to notice and enjoying himself far too much now that you had.
“Why do you sound like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like brunch has logistics.”
His expression softened, though the amusement stayed tucked in his eyes. “It does, in this case.”
“Raymond.”
He looked entirely too fond of you for a man currently refusing to explain the suitcases by the door.
You sat up a little straighter, the sheet shifting around your chest as you held your coffee with both hands. “What did you do?”
Ray reached over and took the mug from you before answering, setting it safely on the bedside table. Leaning in, he placed a kiss to your cheek before settling back against the pillows.
That made your suspicion deepen.
“Oh, absolutely not,” you protested. “You only take things out of my hands when you think I’m about to drop them.”
“I’ve known you long enough to know better.”
You gave him a look. “Long enough to know I need an explanation.”
He shifted toward you, one knee bending on the mattress as his hand found yours, his thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles, not to distract you this time, but to steady you before he gave you the truth.
“You once told me you wanted to have brunch on the Amalfi Coast.”
Your lips parted, but nothing came out. For a moment, the words just sat there between you, too lovely and impossible to make sense of.
Ray kept his eyes on you, voice soft and even, almost too gentle for the way your heart had suddenly started to beat.
“More specifically, you wanted a giant waffle with whipped cream and fresh strawberries,” he continued. “Mimosas. Blue water. Lemon trees. The sort of view that makes you feel insufferable for getting to sit in it.”
You blinked at him, still trying to make the words fit together. “I said that ages ago.”
“You did.”
“I was kidding.”
“No,” he said, thumb moving over the back of your hand. “You were wishing.”
You could only stare at him, trying to absorb the fact that he had taken one silly, impossible thing you said offhand, turning it into reality.
“Ray,” you breathed out, and something in his face changed at the sound of it.
“The bags are packed. The plane is ready. There will be a car here soon, and another waiting when we land.”
He lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, holding your gaze over them. “You don’t have to think about a single thing today unless you want to.”
The words barely made it past the emotion in your throat. “You’re taking me to Italy today?”
“For brunch,” he answered, pleased enough with himself not to bother hiding it. “Among other things.”
A shaky laugh slipped out of you, full of wonder. “You are unbelievable.”
“I suppose I’ve been called worse.”
“Raymond.”
His fingers curled around yours, steadying without crowding, already there to meet the emotion gathering in your chest before it could overwhelm you.
“I wanted you to have it.”
You looked down at your joined hands because his face was suddenly too much. The life he had already given you, and now this, all of it gathered in your chest so quickly you barely had time to swallow it down.
When you looked up again, Ray was watching you with a tenderness that made your heart swell.
His thumb brushed beneath your eye before the tear could fall, his expression changing the second he caught it. Leaning in, he kissed the damp place his thumb had touched. “I wondered when this might happen.”
You gave a watery laugh, catching his wrist as tears gathered again. “Don’t.”
“I’m not making light of it.” His voice lost every trace of amusement, his mouth lingering close to your cheek. “Not when it matters this much.”
You looked at him, helpless beneath the weight of it all. The suitcases by the door, the flowers, the coffee, the certainty of him sitting beside you like flying you to Italy for brunch was simply a thing that happened when he loved someone.
“I just…” You shook your head, overwhelmed all over again. “I don’t know what to do with this.”
All you could do was look at him, your chest too full for anything else.
“I hear the things you wish for before you decide they’re too much.” His gaze held yours, calm and devastating. “They all matter to me.”
You had to swallow before you could say his name. “Ray.”
“I love you,” he said, as simple as it was ruinous. “And I have no interest in letting you spend your life pretending you don’t want things just because you’ve learned not to ask for them.”
That hit way too deep for you to even answer.
He kissed your forehead, lingering there. “So yes, darling. When you want something, even if it’s fleeting, I’m going to notice.” He stayed close, mouth still touching your skin as he spoke. “And when I can, I’m going to give it to you.”
That was the part that undid you most. Not the money, the planning, or the impossible ease with which Ray seemed to make entire countries available to him. It was the fact that he listened so closely. That he knew the difference between a throwaway joke and a want you never expected anyone to take seriously.
You tucked your face into the side of his neck, pressing closer as your eyes filled all over again. “This is extravagant.”
His hand moved over your back, steady and affectionate. “I prefer efficient.”
You pulled back enough to look at him. “You are not calling a surprise trip to Italy efficient.”
“It has been arranged with very little inconvenience to you.” He adjusted his glasses at the frame, the gesture so composed it nearly made the whole thing worse, though you could still hear the smile in his voice. “That does seem to qualify.”
The restrained amusement in his face nearly made you cry all over again. It was such a Ray answer, precise and dry and entirely too calm for a man who had just announced he was flying you across Europe for waffles.
Your gaze slid toward the luggage again. “When did you even pack?”
“This morning.”
“You packed my suitcase this morning?”
“I did.”
“Ray.”
“You have options.”
“That is not what I’m worried about.”
“I know what you like.”
You gave him a look, though the smile already tugging at your mouth made it difficult to look truly accusing. “You know what I like, or you know what you like seeing me in?”
His eyes moved over your face with open appreciation. “Both.”
The answer was too honest to be smug, too tender to be anything but devastating.
You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile wider. “And what if I wanted to pack something else?”
“We’ll buy it there.”
“That is not a normal solution.”
“No,” he agreed, “but it is a solution.”
You laughed for real this time, the sound loosening the heaviness in your chest. Ray’s expression changed with visible satisfaction, that unmistakable pleasure he took in making you laugh, in watching the emotion ease out of you until it became something lighter.
He slid his fingers through your hair once more, then let his hand rest at the back of your neck. “We need to leave in an hour.”
“An hour?!” You looked down at yourself before giving him a pointed look. “I’m naked.”
“I had noticed.”
“Ray!” you chided, trying to sound scandalized and failing completely.
“I’m only saying it has not escaped my attention.”
You swatted his chest, but he caught your hand and kissed your palm before letting it go.
“You have time,” he said. “Shower. Dress. Panic a little, if you must.”
“I’m not panicking.”
His eyes flicked briefly to the luggage and back to you.
“I’m processing,” you corrected before he could say anything.
“Of course.”
“Don’t of course me.”
His mouth did that barely-there thing again, amusement tucked into one corner, trying to behave and failing only because he adored you too much.
You looked at him for a long second before reaching for your coffee. Ray handed it to you before you even had to lean, and the ease of that small gesture made your heart squeeze, almost as much as everything else he had done.
You took a sip, watching him over the rim of your mug. “You really planned a whole trip around waffles?”
“And mimosas,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “And the view.”
“Oh.” Your smile turned almost whimsical as the thought of it settled over you. “The insufferable one?”
“The very one.”
There was something about the way he said it that made the whole thing ache again. Not because of the plane or the coast waiting across the water, but because he had listened. He had remembered. He had taken one passing wish from your mouth and built a birthday gift around it, not because he needed to prove he could, but because loving you had made him want to.
You set the mug down carefully and moved into his lap.
Ray accepted you without hesitation, hands finding your hips as you settled over him beneath the loose tangle of sheets. His head tipped back against the headboard, eyes lifting to yours, and for a moment neither of you said anything. The bouquet breathed sweetness into the room, the morning sitting pale and still around you, his hands steady at your waist even before he drew you closer.
“You’re meant to be getting ready,” he reminded you.
“I know.”
“And yet.”
“And yet,” you echoed, sliding your arms around his shoulders.
His hands moved up your sides, thumbs brushing your ribs. “Have I overwhelmed you?”
The question was gentle enough to make your heart somersault.
“A little,” you admitted, touching his face before concern could settle in. “In the good way. The way where I don’t know what to do with all of it yet.”
Ray’s hands settled more firmly around you. “You don’t have to do anything with it.”
“I do.”
“No.” He kissed you once, soft and brief. “You only have to let me give it to you.”
Your eyes held his before you dipped your lips to his, kissing him long enough that his hands drew you closer at the waist. When you pulled back, the emotion was still there, sitting high in your chest, but excitement had started breaking through it now, giddy and impossible to contain as the reality of what he had done finally sank in.
You took his face in both hands before he could retreat into all that careful composure, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as the coarse edge of his beard scratched softly against your palms. You looked at him like there was no possible way to love him more and still, somehow, you did.
“You extraordinary, gorgeous man,” you said, kissing him again, quick and happy this time, your smile ruining the shape of it before you could help yourself. “I love you. God, Ray, I love you so much it’s ridiculous.”
His smile came slowly before it broke wide enough to change his whole face. The corner of his mouth lifted, his beard shifting with it, blue eyes creasing at the edges as he looked up at you with helpless fondness. He looked almost bashful, pleased in a way he couldn’t hide.
And that only made it worse.
“Thank you. For all of it,” you told him, kissing him again because you couldn’t seem to stop. “For listening. For remembering. For being completely insane in the most romantic way possible. For making my life feel this beautiful.”
His thumb brushed along your side. “You haven’t seen all of it yet.”
Your exhale came out a little dazed. “There’s more?”
“It’s your birthday.”
You rested your forehead against his, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face even with all that emotion still caught behind your ribs. “One hour?”
He nodded, and your eyes fluttered shut for a second as you let yourself picture it: blue water, sunlight, drinks by the coast, Ray across from you in sunglasses, calm as anything, pretending this was a reasonable way to spend a morning simply because you had once wished for it.
When you opened your eyes, he was watching you.
“You’re doing that thing.” Your voice came out quieter than you meant it to.
“What thing?”
“Looking at me like that.”
His gaze held yours, unguarded and fond. “I like watching you receive things.”
Your breath caught a little, and he must have seen it, because his hand came up to touch your cheek.
“You spend a great deal of time convincing yourself you don’t need much,” he continued. “I don’t care for it.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“No,” he agreed. “Because I love you.”
The simplicity of it stole the teasing right off your tongue.
Ray kissed you before the moment could turn too heavy, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. You melted into him for one breath, then two, before he pulled back with visible restraint.
“Shower,” he reminded you, though he didn’t sound especially pleased about it.
You pouted. “You’re sending me away?”
“I’m ensuring we make the flight.”
“You’re very committed to these waffles.”
He chuckled. “I’m committed to you having the exact birthday I promised myself I’d give you.”
You pointed at him, blinking quickly. “You have got to stop saying things like that.”
“I’ll try.”
“You won’t.”
“No,” he replied, kissing your fingertip. “I won’t.”
You climbed off his lap and out of bed reluctantly, Ray’s eyes following you across the room with enough interest to make you feel it down your spine. There was nothing subtle about the look on his face, no polite appreciation, no easy restraint. Just his dark, intent focus moving over you until he blinked hard, once, and again, reminding himself there was somewhere else to be. You made it halfway across the bedroom before glancing back, very aware that if you stood there naked for a minute longer, neither of you was making that flight.
“Ray.”
“Hm?” His brows lifted, innocent in a way that didn’t suit him at all.
“Stop looking at me like that. We have logistics.”
That got a real laugh out of him, fuller than you expected, and you were still smiling when you stepped into the en suite.
Behind you, the bed shifted, followed by the sound of him moving through the room, already turning the morning back toward the plan ahead. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, flushed, thoroughly loved, and still not entirely convinced you’d heard him right.
Your birthday had barely begun, yet somehow Ray had already made it feel like the kind of day you would remember for the rest of your life.
Hi, will there be anything added to your Ray and William masterlist for Charlie Hunnam?
Hi!
I have multiple Will fics that are in the works, two of which are fully written but sitting in my tabs unedited (I hateee editing), so there will be much more added for him!
For Ray, I have a part 2 in mind for the fic I have posted for him, and I have a bunch of ideas for other ones too, so it's safe to say that more will be added for him as well.
And of course, I don't see myself growing tired of writing for Jax anytime soon, so a lot more will be out for him, including one today...
I also have a fic for his character Jay... but I'm not sure if I'll post it since I don't know if a lot of people have seen that movie (it's why he's in the masterlist picture collage).
Summary: After seven months apart, Jax is finally back home from prison, and even though you and he would never get that time back, he was determined to make you forget all about it.
Word Count: 2.8k | I do not give consent to having my work republished or posted to any other platform or profile other than my own.
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, swearing, first jax fic, lets gooo.
Jax had been in prison for the last seven months.
Seven fucking months. Seven months away from you. His person. His whole entire world wrapped up into one, way too good of a person.
He’d got caught up doing some shady shit and had been put away for seven months of his life, and while he knew there would always be a chance of this happening, it could not have happened at a worse time.
Jax had this whole thing planned out before he got locked up, where he’d take you out, get down on one knee and propose to you. He’d ask you to be his forever. And he was certain he knew your answer would be an immediate yes, but he never got to find out for sure since he got arrested before he could follow through with his plans. He had to put them on hold for over half a fucking year.
So he had Opie hide the ring before telling you what was going on, and it was only a day later when you were forcing yourself into the police station and demanding to see him.
That was seven months ago.
He’s out now, and you, of course, waited for him. You picked him up and took him home, and he couldn’t keep his hands off you now if he tried. He’d been deprived of you for far too long, and you were the one and only thing he’d been craving for the last half a year.
Sure, you visited him, but he wasn’t allowed to touch you without having a guard bark in his ear about the strict rules he was required to follow if he wanted to get out of that place. He wasn’t allowed to kiss you, and he certainly wasn’t allowed to fuck you. He needed his fix of you, and he couldn’t get enough of you now that he’s back.
Jax missed you more than anything in the world, and he made a promise to himself that he’d try his fucking hardest to never go back to prison, because he never wanted to spend that long away from you ever again. He’d get a longer sentence if he were to get arrested again, and that just did not work for him.
Those seven months were a waste of his goddamn life, and he was determined to make it up to you and show you how appreciative he is that you waited for him - not that he had a doubt you wouldn’t. He was confident in his relationship with you, and he was certain he knew how deep your feelings for him ran, otherwise he wouldn’t be planning to be with you for the rest of his life.
He’s in the house he had only been sharing with you for two months before he got locked up, laying on his own bed in his own home, and you’re in his arms. He’d been missing having you in his arms like this, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to let you go again after this.
“Missed you,” he mumbled against your lips. He hadn’t been able to keep his mouth off yours for more than a few seconds since returning home. He wanted to have an hour-long shower and wash away the last seven months of his life, but he physically couldn’t separate himself from you right now. “Fuck, baby, I fuckin’ missed you.”
His hands were all over you, groping your hips, your ass, your breasts, anywhere they could reach. He was starving for you, and luckily you seemed to be feeling the same way he is.
You moaned against his mouth, kissing him back with as much need and passion he poured into it as you tangled your legs with his. “I missed you,” you said back, kissing him a bit harder as you draped your arms around his neck. His lips were already kiss swollen and puffy, as were yours. “So much.”
Your hands slid up the back of his neck, and he felt the way your fingers tried to instinctively tangle in his hair like they normally do, but he’d buzzed off his hair in prison, leaving him with short, prickly strands instead.
“I can’t believe you cut your hair,” you whispered, sticking your lip out in a pout as you held onto his shoulders instead. “What am I supposed to grab onto during sex now?”
Jax let out a deep laugh at your pout, his big hands coming up to frame your face as he looked down at you. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he murmured, his thumbs running along your lower lip, and his eyes followed the movement. “I’ve got plenty of other places you can grab onto.”
He leaned in and kissed you again, his hands sliding back down your body as he deepened the kiss. He’d almost forgotten how good you tasted, how perfect you felt against his body.
“I meant what I said,” he rasped against your mouth, his lips pulling only centimeters away from yours. “I fuckin’ missed you, more than anything.”
You moaned at his words, your body heating up in a flame that had been steadily burning since the minute you met. Even with all the time you spent away from each other, that flame was still lit, and it was burning fucking hot. “I know, baby,” you mumbled, pulling him on top of you as you rolled onto your back. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. “I missed you too. So fucking much.”
Leaning up, you kissed him again, your lips meshing together as your tongue slid into his mouth and brushed against his own.
“Did you think about me every day in there? Did you think about all the things you’d do to me once you got out?” you asked in between messy kisses, and Jax tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth.
“Every. Fuckin’. Day,” he answered, pressing a firm kiss to your lips after every word, savoring your taste and your scent and everything you are. He settled between your thighs like he belonged there, his hands fisting the sheets at either side of your head. “Had to jerk off every time I had a shower. Thought about bending you over every surface in this house. Fuckin’ you on the couch, the counter, in the shower. Surprised I made it all the way home without makin’ you pull over.”
You laughed at that, your head tipping back on the bed as you pressed your thighs against his hips, your attempt at relieving some of the ache that was building between your legs. “Jax,” you whined, “You’re making me wet. Seven months without you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever been through.”
Jax’s eyes were hooded as he looked down at you, taking in your puffy lips, the smears of spit on your chin and above your mouth. You looked fucking stunning just like this, needy and desperate for him in the same way he was for you. “Good. ‘Cause I’m rock hard for you already, baby. Haven’t been this turned on in… shit, I can’t even fuckin’ remember how long,”
His hands tugged at the hem of your shirt until it was up and off your body, and he tossed it aside without a care. He immediately began groping your bare breasts, his thumbs and index fingers teasing your nipples until they hardened under his touch, and you were still so responsive for him. His cock twitched in his jeans.
“You have no idea how many times I fantasized about these perfect tits,” he grunted, leaning down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples.
You whined softly, pushing up against his mouth. “Yeah? You missed my tits, baby?” you purred, running your hand over the prickly hairs on his head. “Tell me what you fantasized about. I wanna know everything you imagined when you touched yourself.”
Jax hummed around your nipple before pulling away with a groan. “Missed ‘em so much,” he muttered, switching to your other nipple as his big hands covered your soft mounds. “I thought about doing exactly this, baby. Thought about eating your pretty pussy until you came all over me. About fuckin’ you in every room of this house.”
His hand slowly slid down your stomach to the waistline of your jeans, and he popped the button open before dragging the zipper down. He slipped his hand inside your panties, feeling just how soaked you were for him, and he groaned against your breast.
You whimpered, your own hands sliding down his body until you were tugging weakly at his shirt. “Fuck, I want that so badly,” you moaned, pulling his shirt up and off his body, letting it join your own on the floor. “You can eat me out later, I promise. But I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me. I’ve been aching for you.”
As you ran your hands along his bare skin, your fingers skimming along his tattoos, he heard the sharp inhale you took as you felt the newly developed muscle beneath his skin. He was fit before, but he’d been really pushing himself hard while in prison, and he used exercising as an outlet. The results were evident in every hard plane and defined muscle that had become more visible on his body.
You certainly seemed to appreciate the extra hours he’d been putting into working out since there was fuck else to do there other than miss you every minute. Seeing the effect his more defined body had on you, he was glad for the extra muscle.
When you reached down and unzipped his jeans, he helped you get them, as well as his boxers, off his body, then he pulled your own jeans off as well, along with your panties. “Fuck, baby, you don’t know how badly I’ve needed you. I’ve been dreaming of this tight little pussy for months,” he rasped as he settled back on top of you, his hips slotted between your thighs. His cock brushed along your folds, and he practically melted against you as he pushed forward just a bit.
His forehead dropped to yours, his fingers twisting in the sheets at either side of your head as he pushed forward more until he was halfway inside you. You felt tighter, and he guessed that came with not having anyone inside you for over half a goddamn year.
Still, his hand could never compare to the feeling of you, all of you, around him. Nothing ever would.
“So fuckin’ tight,” he muttered, pushing all the way inside you with a deep grunt.
Your eyes squeezed shut for a few seconds before you slowly opened them again, a crease forming on your forehead as you adjusted to having him back inside you after so long. “Fuck, Jax,” you moaned, arching your back as he bottomed out inside you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer as you ran your fingers over his prickly hair again. “I missed this. Missed your cock. Missed you.”
He set a hard, deep pace once he felt you clench around him, his hips rocking against yours with every deep thrust. He missed this. Missed fucking his girl in the comfort of his own bed, in his own house. He’d definitely taken this for granted before, because the fact that he’d gone so long without feeling you was fucking insane for him to process now that he was deep within your core.
“Missed this too, baby. Missed feeling your sweet pussy squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” he panted, “Nothing feels as good as you, darlin’. Fuckin’ nothing.”
He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, giving him better access to you and allowing him to sink even deeper inside you. One of his hands slipped between your bodies to rub quick circles on your clit, your choked whine sounding like music to his ears after going so damn long without hearing it.
“You’re mine, baby,” he murmured, his voice more possessive than it’s ever been. His time away had been a real test for you and him, and it was one you’d both passed with flying colors. He hadn’t thought about anyone but you, and you hadn’t been with anyone but him since the night you met. “This pussy belongs to me. You belong to me, darlin’.”
He watched your eyes roll back into your head, your head falling back as your hands desperately tried to grab onto his hair. Clearly they couldn’t, so you settled on gripping the back of his neck, your nails digging into his skin. “Oh, my fucking God, Jax,” you moaned, your eyes hooded as a fucked out expression formed on your pretty face. “I’m yours. All yours, baby. And you’re mine.”
Jax leaned down and kissed you deeply, your moans being lost to the back of his throat as his hand tangled in your hair. He angled your head so he could have perfect access to your addictive mouth, his tongue meeting yours in a messy embrace. “Fuck yeah, I’m yours,” he confirmed against your mouth, his other hand digging into the soft skin of your thigh as he kept your leg perched over his shoulder.
You sounded so pretty, looked so wrecked and ruined as he fucked you into the bed. He was making up for the lost time - the waste of time that was stolen from you and him. He was making sure you went right back to being his greedy, spoiled girl he was forced to leave behind.
The pressure was building up inside him, the need to just let go increasing with every passing second. He wanted to make this last, to savor every second of being reunited with your perfect and gorgeous body, but it’d been too long. He was too worked up, had been too deprived of you, and he was too desperate to fill you up again.
“Cum for me, baby,” he mumbled, forcing his lips away from yours as he fucked you a little harder, his fingers moving faster on your clit. “Wanna feel this sweet pussy cream all over my cock. Give it to me, darlin’.”
Your sounds were becoming hoarse, the creaking of the bed becoming more obnoxious and loud. Your hands slid down his back, your fingers running along his tattoos and leaving goosebumps in their wake, then gripped his ass. You squeezed it firmly, your back arching off the bed. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. You feel so good, baby. I missed you so fucking much,”
You were impossibly tight around him, your body arched into his like it belonged there, your nails adding the sting he’d always craved since his first time with you.
A few seconds later, you were there, crying out for him as you came hard, creaming all over him like he told you to. Your body trembled in his arms, his skin burning from where your nails were nearly breaking through the layers, and you felt absolutely fucking perfect.
“Fuck yes, cum on my cock just like that,” he groaned, burying his face against your neck as he let himself go too. He filled you up, his dick twitching inside you as he let out deep grunts against your skin. It felt endless, his body practically crushing yours against the bed as he finally filled up every inch of you again.
And you took it. All of it. All of him.
When he finally stilled on top of you, he was breathing heavily and unevenly, his breath harsh against your skin.
“Jesus, baby, I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life,” he laughed, pressing a series of softer kisses to your neck and jaw and your lips. “I missed you so goddamn much, darlin’. I’m never leavin’ you again.”
You smiled up at him, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist as if you never wanted to let him go. “Mmm, you better not,” you mumbled, draping your arms loosely around his neck. “I can’t live without you, Jax. I can’t do this again.”
Jax wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against his body as he rolled onto his side. “I know, baby. I can’t either,” he murmured, running his fingers through your messy hair. “It was pure hell, being without you. I don’t want to put us through that ever again. I love you so fuckin’ much.”
A lazier smile formed on your lips as you tangled your legs with his. “I love you,” you said back, your voice barely above a whisper as he shifted his hips a bit, finally pulling out of you with a wince. “So much. I’ll never stop. I’ll never get over you.”
He smiled back at you, feeling like the weight he’d been carrying since he got locked up was finally off his shoulders.
He was finally back home, where he belonged.
You were finally back in his arms, where you belonged.
Omgoodness this was the hottest read ever!!! 😍❤️🔥 I've been looking everywhere for a good smutty Jax fic that's close to his character. You did it! New fave. Can't wait to read more. Thabk you for sharing. 💜
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