Broiderie's Brain @broiderie - Tumblr Blog

Just a Friend? Bullshit

Welcome to near 12k of pure self indulgence of SAMCRO fluff and smut. I've been in the trenches of lack of motivation so when I started this and it just kept going I wasn't about to stop. Please enjoy loves. ❤️

Pairings: Reader x Jax, Reader x Chibs, Reader x Tig

Warnings! Smut, fluff, drinking, drug use mentioned, vnp sex, blow jobs, cum eating, pna sex, spit roasting, dirty talk, foursome, finger licking good

Link to AO3-> HERE

You are already feeling overwhelmed by the stink of sweat and alcohol, loud music echoes around you, making your eardrums throb each time the bass shakes the building. Your hands are sweaty, and you are terrified that you’re going to drop your glass at any second. You should have known that coming here would be a terrible idea, but once Louise got an idea in her head, no one could change her mind.

So, like a good best friend, you sighed and got ready with her, fixing your hair and applying makeup to the best of your abilities. Louise let you borrow some of her clothes, skimpy little shorts and a sweater crop top that showed off too much of your soft stomach for you to be comfortable. A pair of cute black booties completed the outfit. You felt out of place with so much skin on display.

Lousie had run into a pair of bikers the other night at the bar, and they had invited the two of you to a party at their clubhouse. You had already been cautious about them being bikers, and that feeling only got worse when you realized that it was SAMCRO she had run into.

You’d lived in Charming your entire life, had even gone to school with Jax Teller and Ope Winston. They’d been several grades ahead of you, but you remember them always getting into something, always in trouble. SAMCRO was bad news, and you really didn’t want to get mixed in with them, but you weren’t about to let Louise get into some kind of trouble without you there to get her out of it.

But she was already gone, swept up in the chaotic mess that was SAMCRO. You stood off to the side near the pool tables, teeth digging into your painted lips as you desperately searched the crowd for your best friend.

“Ya look lost there, sweetheart.”

You jump at the sudden voice and turn, sloshing your drink over the rim. You cringe at the sticky mess it leaves on your fingers. The man who’d spoken looks like any other biker, dressed in dark jeans and a grey button-up, scuffed boots, and the ever-present leather kutte over his shirt. His eyes are blue, and his black hair is curly. The patch on his vest reads Redwood Original.

You grimace and lick the sticky mixed drink from your fingers without thinking, giving a one-shoulder shrug.

“You could say that,” You admit, “I’m here for my friend.”

The biker laughs, his eyes growing dark and interested at the sight of this tiny girl with curves for days licking her hand like a pretty little kitty. What luck.

“Yeah?” he drawls and shifts his weight, taking a half step closer to her. He breathes her in, mouth watering at the scent of her light perfume and something that’s her. He always did love a natural woman.

“Where’s she at now?”

You stall at the question and wipe your spit-cleaned hands on the creamy sweater you wear, shrugging again and tossing your hand out at the crowd of people drinking and laughing.

“In there somewhere,” You say and then frown, “I hope anyway. She was my ride here.”

The biker barks a laugh and gives you a crooked grin, “Well, since it looks like your friend has ditched you, why don’t you come hang out with me and mine?”

He gives you a once-over, shameless, “Unless you’d rather stand around like a loser.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out past your lips at his tease, and you find yourself smiling at the biker, accepting his offer.

“Don’t wanna be the loser, now do I?” you tease right back.

He laughs again and drapes an arm around your back, his fingers snagging the loops of your shorts as he begins to lead you deeper into the clubhouse. You flush and try not to let his presence affect you so much, but it’s difficult to say the least. It has been way too long since the last time a man had paid you any attention.

“Tig,” the biker introduces as he walks, “Your turn, kitten.”

Kitten?

You swallow down the noise you want to make at the nickname and introduce yourself. The table he leads you to is full of men. At the head sits a younger blonde, and you recognize Jax instantly. An older man with scarred cheeks sits on his right. You immediately feel like a rabbit in a den of wolves the second they catch sight of you standing beside Tig.

“What’s this?” The older man drawls, and you can hear his Scottish accent over the loud drawl of music, “A wee lass, Tiggy?”

Any feelings of safety go right out the door when Tig gently pushes you forward and sits down before snagging your hip and tugging you down to his lap. You grunt, and your spine locks up, eyes wide as you look between the men.

“Mhm,” Tig drawls, and you suck in a sharp breath when his hand lands on your thigh. It’s warm and big and sweaty. You feel heat bloom in your cheeks when he uses his hold to drag you back, your ass meeting his crotch, “A lost little kitten. Her friend left her, so I offered her our company.”

You look back up when you hear a familiar, raspy chuckle. Jax is watching you with those blue eyes you remember meeting back in high school. Him, a senior, and you, a freshman. Jax had been on his way to the office, his cheek bruised from a fight. You can’t help but wonder if he remembers you.

“How generous,” The Scot drawls and tips his head at you, “Call me, Chibs, love. The broody one is Jax.”

“I know,” You say and curse yourself when you get a round of raised brows. You clear your throat and gesture at Jax, “I went to high school with you. I was a freshman when you were a senior.”

Jax smirks then and shifts from his careless sprawl to something more calculated. He leans forward, head tilting to the side, and rests his right ankle on the opposite knee.

“Looks like we got a little high school reunion going on, Chibs,” He murmurs, and a round of laughter rumbles around the table, “Hate to say that I don’t remember you though, sweetheart.”

You shrug, unbothered, “I didn’t expect you to. We didn’t exactly run in the same circles.”

Chibs looks you up and down, his scars stretching along his cheeks as he drags his tongue over his bottom lip. “So why’d you come here, then?”

“Yeah, Kitten,” Tig drawls behind you, and you feel him adjust his weight, his thighs spreading to better support your added weight, “Why?”

You swallow and fight down the urge to squirm under their combined gazes. Christ, this was awful.

“I guess some of your members met my friend yesterday and invited us to the party. I didn’t want her to come alone, but then she disappeared the second we got here, so..”

You trail off and shrug, chewing your bottom lip, a nervous habit that you’ve not been able to break. You know that you shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t a place for a girl who once cried because she spilled a bowl of ice cream on her cat.

“Like I said,” Tig rumbles, and your eyes flick to his hand when it flexes along your thigh, “Lost.”

“You’re scaring the lass,” Chibs drawls and stands suddenly. You watch him round the table and pluck your watered-down mixed drink from your hands, “Let’s get ye a proper drink.”

“So,” Jax says and catches your attention again, “What have you been up to since High School? Got kids, boyfriend? End up going to college?”

You blink at him, surprised that he was even interested in anything that you’ve been doing. You thank Chibs when he passes by with a fresh glass, glancing down at the amber liquid and taking a careful sip. You grimace when the whiskey burns down and settles warm in your stomach. You’d always preferred fruity drinks, but you weren’t about to complain.

“Uhm, College,” You begin and shift on Tig’s lap. You are short enough, and he is big enough, that you can cross your ankles and swing them back and forth. You’ve no idea that the longer you sit there, so fucking adorable to these hardened men, you are creating a very big problem for yourself.

Because you see, these men didn’t get soft things in their lives, so when they did. Well, they stopped understanding the concept of letting go.

They listen to you chat; the sound of your voice, soft and a little airy, makes them relax back into their chairs. They take turns asking you questions, anything to keep you talking. You don’t even notice your glass emptying, having grown so comfortable in their company. It isn’t until you yawn and check your phone that you frown.

“Damn,” You mutter and tuck your phone back in your shorts, “I should head home. It’s late, and all I’ve done is talk your ear off.”

Tig’s hand tightens on your thigh when his brain registers your words. He shifts under you, his free arm winding around your waist to keep you from getting up from his lap. Tig noses at your hair, breathing you in again.

“No need to rush off, kitten,” He murmurs and shares a look over the table with his brothers, “Stay a while, have a couple more drinks.”

Chibs is already rising to refill your glass, dark eyes locking with yours over the table when he leans forward to grab the bottle of whiskey and pour before you can protest. Your cheeks go pink, and you are swiftly reminded that these men aren’t the kind old men who come looking for directions at your job. No, these were hardened, dangerous people who were most likely criminals. You lick your lips and debate with yourself.

You could do what you usually did and refuse the drink, take a cab home, and text Louise in the morning to make sure she survived. Or, you could accept the drink and stay.

Maybe if you hadn’t been drinking for the past couple of hours, you would have made the right choice. Instead, you sit back, allowing Tig to take your weight and bring the glass to your lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip.

“...I guess I can stay a little longer,” You murmur and seal your fate with those few words.

Tig grins against your hair and presses a featherlight kiss there before leaning back in his seat and taking you with him.

“That’s a good girl,” He rasps behind you, and you flush at the praise, lips twisting into a tiny, pleased smile. Their attention was addictive, and you could easily see yourself falling into them if you weren’t careful.

Who knew that rough bikers with bad pasts were your kryptonite?

One drink turns into two and then a third. By then, you are feeling the liquor more than you might at home. The party is in full swing still, and the SAMCRO men have yet to let you go. You had watched other women, ones wearing less than you, slide into the dark corner only for Jax or Chibs to dismiss them casually, their focus on whatever you were talking about. You blushed and stuttered out each time, not used to anyone giving you their attention like they were.

“There you are!”

You blink at the voice and look, giving Louise a shy smile when she happens to spot you. She stops at the edge of the table, a pout on her pretty lips as she looks at your seating arrangements.

“Hey, Louise,” You greet. You are genuinely glad to see her. Trouble followed her like a bad stink.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” She bites out, and you jerk, eyes going wide at the heat in her voice. Your hands clench around your glass, and you feel Tig tense under you.

“And here you are, being a fucking slut.”

“Whoa now,” Jax drawls and sits up from his lazy slouch, blue eyes narrowing in on your friend, “We’ve been keeping her company. You’re the one who left her the second you two got in.”

Louise sets her jaw and crosses her arms tight over her chest. You loved her, but she was the type of girl who couldn’t stand not to be the center of attention. You could feel the jealousy pouring off her from across the table.

“So? She’s a big girl,” Louise snaps back, and you flinch at the glare she sends her way, “I thought you were better than this. You’re supposed to be the innocent one.”

Your jaw clenches and your frown, lip wobbling, “I’ve just been sitting here, Louise.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, cocking her hip, “Yeah, right. Why would men like them want your attention?”

“Oi,” Chibs barks, and his expression is dark when you cut your eyes over at him, “I think tha’s enough, girly.”

“He’s right,” Jax says and cocks his head, jerking his chin back across the room, “She doesn’t need you right now, so go on back over there and hang off the prospect’s arm.”

Louise’s face goes bright red, and you wince when she stomps her foot like a literal child before rounding back on you and pointing a manicured nail in your direction.

“Fine. Find your own ride back home,” She spits and turns on her heel, marching back into the crowds.

You watch her go, dumbfounded and hurt by her bad attitude. You suddenly feel very small, and your teeth dig into your bottom lip, your shoulders hunching in embarrassment.

Tig shares a look over the table with the other men. Your change in demeanor is obvious after your friend's departure, and it makes them burn with annoyance. Not at you, but at Louise for dragging you down.

“Don’t listen to her, Kitten,” Tig murmurs in your ear. He is close enough that you feel his breath, warm and smelling like whiskey, on the back of your neck.

“She’s a jealous thing,” Jax comments and leans back in his seat, relaxing again now that the corner had been restored to order once more.

You clear your throat and lean more of your weight into Tig, his broad chest warm and comforting, “Yeah. She’s always been like this. Can’t stand not being the center of the world.”

“Why are you friends with her?” Jax asks, and Chibs grunts, also curious.

Tig tightens his grip around your waist, his biceps flexing against your stomach. You can feel the muscle twitch against your tummy where your cropped shirt rides up. You swallow hard and tug at your shirt, but your messing just makes it worse.

“I, uhm,” You begin and shrug, “I dunno. I’ve been friends with her since first grade, so not being her friend doesn’t sound right.”

The men make low sounds of understanding. Before Ope passed, he had been Jax’s best friend since elementary school, so he could understand your situation with Louise. But that didn’t give her the right to talk to such a sweet thing as you as she had, though.

“Shouldn’t be friends with someone like that, baby girl,” Jax comments idly and watches as Tig shifts under you, tucking you into his chest like he is trying to hide you away from the world. Chibs sends him a look, and the blonde just smirks back.

Your lips draw into a little pout, and you take a pull from your glass to hide your displeasure at his comment.

“Jackie Boy’s right, pet,” Chibs drawls, and you look at him over your glass. He shifts in his seat, thick legs spreading out as he balances a bottle of whiskey on his thigh. The VP had stopped using a glass about an hour ago. His accent had only gotten thicker the longer the night went on.

“Don’t need wee cunts draggin’ ye down with them.”

Your cheeks burn, and you open your mouth to defend your friend, only for Jax to beat you to the punch.

“Mhm,” he grunts and rolls his shoulders, “She talk to you like that often?”

You nibble your lower lip. You shouldn’t answer. You feel like a bad friend from what little you’ve said about Louise so far. Still, you find yourself shrugging.

“Only when she drinks,” you say and then frown heavier, “Which is… a lot.”

“See,” Tig rumbles behind you. His lips brush your ear with every word, making heat bloom with each time his voice rasps, “That’s borderline abuse, kitten. You shouldn’t deal with that.”

He shifts and lifts a hand to cup your jaw, gently guiding you to turn and look up at him through your lashes. Tig has a very hard time controlling himself at the sight of those pretty eyes looking at him like that. All it would take is a little nudge, and he could kiss you.

But not yet.

“How about we be your friends instead?” Tig drawls and his lips curl into a soft smirk, his thumb smoothing along your jaw, keeping your attention on him.

“We’d treat you much better than she does, baby.”

You make a low sound in the back of your throat, eyes going wide and glassy. Tig says friends, but you feel like it’s far more than that with how the three of them keep looking at you. Like all things with these men, you know that any choice you make with them will probably be a bad one, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when you want this something fierce.

“I-,” You clear your throat and look between them, nodding along, “I would like that. To be friends.”

Chibs laughs, low and rough, and Jax echoes the sound, his blue eyes darken into something stormy, and he drags his tongue over his teeth.

“Yeah, baby girl,” He drawls, and the three of them share a look over your head, “Friends.”

---------

Louise moved out of the apartment after that night. She had been pissed after Tig had dropped you off a day after the party. She’d yelled and screamed, furious and jealous that boring you had somehow gotten the attention of three very handsome men. You had tried to explain that it wasn’t like that. That you were just friends with the bikers, and Louise refused to believe you.

The three of them had been nothing but courteous to you while you’d stayed at the clubhouse on the TM lot, going so far as to let you borrow some of their clothes and let you sleep in Chibs’ room since his was the cleanest. Tig had bought you breakfast, and they had entertained you with wild stories and memories. It had been the most fun you’d had in a very long time.

Only for your good mood to be flushed down the drain the moment you stepped into the apartment you shared with Louise. She was still pissed, still seething over the fact that you had stayed at Teller-Marrow instead of coming home with her that night. You had stood there, dumbfounded and struck as she laid into you, face red and voice pitched loud enough that Tig had heard it from outside on the sidewalk.

Louise had tried to demand that you pack your things, but you’d been quick to remind her that you were the main provider between the two of them. You constantly covered for her half of the bills, her half of the food. And maybe that had been hanging over your head because you suddenly find yourself snarling right back at her.

If anyone was packing their bags, it was going to be her.

You’d grabbed a bag and a couple of changes of clothes after that. You didn’t want to be around the apartment while Lousie packed her things. Your room had been locked, so it wasn’t like she could take anything if she was feeling truly petty.

Tig had caught you after fleeing the building, snagging you by the arm, his grip tight but not enough to actually hurt you. He’d toss himself into oncoming traffic if he ever happened to do something that fucking stupid.

“Hey, hey,” He steps in front of you, big hands on your shoulders, steadying you, “What’s goin’ on, baby. Talk to me.”

You sniff and wipe your face, unaware that you had even started crying, “Louise is what’s going on. She’s still pissed at me.”

Tig’s jaw sets in frustration, and he gently tugs you closer, one hand splaying across your back. He leads you back to his bike and carefully manhandles you back on, his hands shifting to bracket your hips and keep you steady.

“Don’t listen to her, kitten,” Tig murmurs and cups your face, smoothing his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “She’s just jealous. You don’t need her anymore, got me?”

“I kicked her out,” You rasp and let out a slightly hysterical wet laugh, “I can’t believe I did that.”

Tig shares your laugh and shifts his weight, lips curling into a smirk at your breathy admission, “Yeah? That’s great, baby. Way to hold your own.”

And it was a good thing. Because if you hadn’t, then he was, and that wouldn’t have been a very pretty sight to see. So instead of marching into your apartment and tossing Louise’s shit off the balcony, Tig sets his spare helmet on your head and buckles it under your chin, blue eyes meeting your own when he hooks a finger under the strap and gently tilts your head back.

“You can stay at the clubhouse with us while she moves out,” Tig murmurs and searches your face, blue eyes catching yours again, “The guys won’t mind having you around.”

You drag your teeth over your bottom lip, uncertain, but wanting, “ I dunno. I don’t want to impose.”

Tig scoffs and rolls his eyes, lips tugging up in a grin that’s all teeth, “Baby, you wouldn’t be imposing. Besides, we’re friends. And friends let friends help, right?”

You can’t help but laugh, your eyes squinting at the corners as you give a reluctant nod. Tig had you there.

“Yeah,” You murmur and wipe your face again, your laugh softening, “Yeah, we’re friends.”

And that’s how you ended up back at the clubhouse, your bag of clothes tucked away in Chibs’ room, and your ass parked on a stool at the bar. The clubhouse was a lot nicer without dozens of bikers and croweaters crowding the place, and you could feel yourself really start to relax. The glass of bourbon certainly helped, and so did the three men who lingered around you.

Jax and Tig stood on either side of you while Chibs manned the bar, the three of them listening as you recounted your reunion with Louise earlier that day. You sigh heavily when you finish and then sip from your glass, lips tugging up into a grimace.

“Well,” Chibs breaks the silence, “Ye’ll have a quiet apartment when ye go back home, lass. Tha’ sounds like a win to me.”

You huff a laugh and nod along. Chibs wasn’t wrong about that, and it felt pretty freeing to admit. It would just be one more thing you would have to get used to.

Though you really should have known that being just friends with a bunch of rough, possessive bikers wasn’t going to last very long. Not when you would be here, in the clubhouse with them for the next couple of days. Where they would have unrestricted access to your attention while you weren’t at work.

Things started off innocently enough at first. A lingering hand here, a whispered word there. You’d come home from your little office job, wearing a blouse that made your tits look perfect and a little pincle skirt that they wanted to see around your hips instead. Jax would pass you a glass, his fingers brushing yours and his free hand settling on your hip, gently leading you to sit on the couch with him.

Chibs would be there in front of you, sitting on the table, reaching down to tug off your heels and dig his fingers into the tense muscles of your ankle and calf. Tig would loom behind you, big hands working a stubborn knot out of your shoulders.

And you let them. You didn’t say a word of protest as these dangerous men doted on you after a long day dealing with corporate assholes.

One would think that their behavior would change after you went back home to your apartment, but that wouldn’t be the case at all. If anything, they got worse.

At first, as the weeks progressed, you’d get a text from one of them. Short and to the point while you were at the office.

You’d stare at the message from Jax, debating whether you had the energy to deal with your friends after a long day, before messaging him back.

< Bring your own booze this time.>

You’d arrive at your apartment building to the sight of at least two bikes in your extra parking spot each time, and if one wasn’t present, then they surely would be before dinner was served. Things felt far more intimate inside your apartment, three pairs of sturdy boots, and three kuttes hung up by your door. Standing in your kitchen, watching the men bicker over the TV remote in the living room, everything feels a lot more than just friends.

But that was just wishful thinking on your part.

You busy yourself with turning the oven off and then carefully removing the pan from within. Jax takes his chance then, shuffling into the kitchen and sliding in behind you, big hands settling on your hips after you set the pan down on the counter. He snickers when you jump, meeting your scowl with a smirk of his own when you turn to glare up at him.

“Easy, baby,” He rumbles. He digs his fingers into the meat of your hips, his thumbs dragging along your lower back, “Just me.”

You huff at him, lips quirking up as you roll your eyes at his touchy behavior. You can smell the whiskey on his breath. They always got more handsy after a couple of drinks.

“What are you doing, Jax?” You question while you check the bottoms of the rolls, making sure that none of them are too burned. His hands flex, and you tense when his thumbs drag dangerously close to the top of your sweatpants, sliding just under the elastic. You feel your cheeks grow warm, and you almost drop the next roll you pick up.

“Takin’ care of you,” Jax rasps behind you, and his thumbs sweep lower this time, his nails dragging into the skin just above your ass, “You’ve had a long day, and then you come home and take care of our dumbasses.”

You lick your lips and shrug, pretending that you don’t feel like you’re about to explode from his touch alone, “It’s just dinner. You know I like to cook.”

“Still,” Jax murmurs and gently tugs you into him, your back meeting his chest. He dips down, dragging his nose along the shell of your ear and up, breathing you in, “Ain’t gotta do all this for us, mama.”

You feel heat explode in your face and in your stomach. That was new, and you definitely liked it. A shiver wracks up your spine, and you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes going heavy with sudden arousal that you’re having trouble shoving down.

The three of them catch your reaction, and Jax grins behind you. He pulls you back again, pressing a kiss just behind your ear, “Go sit. Let us deal with the rest.”

“Aye,” Chibs drawls, and he is suddenly there, reaching across the counter bar and curling his fingers along your jaw, gently lifting your head so you could face him. He smooths his thumb over your lower lip, pressing down just so with his nail.

“Dinner is done, so sit a spell, ma. Let us take care of you.”

You find yourself sitting at the dining table with a plate of food in front of you and your brain feeling just a little fuzzy. The boys are acting like that hadn’t just purred filth in your ear moments before. You blink and eat your dinner, watching them laugh and cut up like children until their plates have been cleared. Before you can take them like you usually would, Jax and Tig are already up, taking over your sink while Chibs slides into your space and tugs you back to the living room.

A bottle of wine and a slim-stemmed glass wait on the table, and Chibs lowers you to the couch before cracking open the bottle and pouring you a healthy glass of the red. You take it and sip, watching him over the rim as he turns the TV down and settles beside you on the couch.

The atmosphere feels different, charged. Still comfortable and easy, but there is a lingering feeling of more that lurks in the room.

“Sweetheart,” Jax begins once the dishes have been done and everyone has found a seat in the living room. You feel yourself tense, not liking the tone of his voice. Jax sits in front of you, pushing the bottle of wine down the table, “We need to talk.”

Your heart immediately lodges in your throat, and every worst-case scenario you can imagine runs through your mind. Your hands tighten around your glass, and you have to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth physically. Your voice is a soft croak.

“..Okay…”

“Ain’t anything bad, Kitten,” Tig says from where he lounges in your armchair, socked feet kicked up on the coffee table, “So don’t freak out.”

You give a little wheezing laugh and nod, doing your level best not to do exactly what he said not to do and freak out.

“We just wanna talk to you, propose something,” Jax continues and clasps his hands together, his thumbs rubbing over scarred knuckles. He watches you closely, blue eyes raking over your sweatpants and t-shirt, looking adorable and rumpled like usual.

“Listen,” Chibs chimes in from beside you, and his hand finds your thigh, squeezing the flesh there, thumb digging into the meat, “We’ve done some soul searchin’, love, and we’ve all agreed that we want to be more than friends with you.”

You feel your mind go a bit blank at his words, each one bouncing around your skull like a ping pong ball. You blink and look between the three of them, brow furrowing.

“What?”

Tig huffs from his seat and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, “Look, Kitten. We wanna share you, in every way that your little brain can think of.”

He meets your eyes, his own dark with arousal and need, “Do you want that?”

“Tig,” Jax bites out and sends the other man a glare, “We said we’d give it to her slow, not toss her in the fuckin’ ocean.”

Tig shrugs, impatient and unrepentant, “She can handle it.”

You could definitely not handle it. You feel like you’re in a daze, mind fuzzy and full of their words as you sit there and listen to Jax and Tig bicker. These men wanted you. They wanted you in the way that you wanted them.

Was it crazy? Absolutely. But you had learned a lot by being friends with these men, and one of those things was living life by the edge. They lived by their own rules and conduct, and didn’t care about social norms.

Maybe you shouldn’t either.

“Lass?”

Chibs’ voice breaks through your spiraling thoughts, and you turn to give him your full attention. He smiles at you, a tiny thing that makes the scars on his cheeks stretch across his face, “Ain’t gotta decide anything right now.”

But despite his assurances, you did want to choose right now. You were tired of pretending that what you felt for these men didn’t exist when it damn well did.

So, you throw caution to the wind and say fuck it.

Chibs grunts when their kitten suddenly snaps a hand out and grabs his kutte, tugging him forward and kissing him like it was going out of style. He immediately falls into the kiss, lips tugging up in a smug smirk when he hears twin groans of want coming from his brothers.

He cups your cheek with one hand, the other curling around your waist and tugging until you sit in his lap. He adjusts so that your knees sit on either side of his hips, effectively straddling him. His hand grips your hip, and a low groan escapes his throat when you grind down without thinking. Chibs tightens his grip, moving you how he wants and hissing through his teeth when he feels your heat through the layers you both wear.

“Ah ah,” You hear Jax tut, and then there was a hand threading through your hair, his fingers tangled in the thick strands as he leads your head back. Jax stands, looming over you with a smirk, while Chibs leans in, his beard scraping along your throat, where he presses open-mouthed kisses along your flesh.

“Share, VP,” Jax rumbles and leans down, his lips brushing against your own, his eyes locked with yours, “There’s enough of her to go around.”

Jax kisses you then, rough and needy, his tongue sliding into your mouth to explore you with a low groan of pleasure. It’s sloppy and wet, but fucking perfect.

Not to be left out, Tig stands and shoves Jax out of the way, leaving you a panting mess with kiss-swollen lips and flushed cheeks before he closes the distance to claim your waiting mouth for himself.

Kissing Tig comes with a lot more teeth. His tongue is hot and heavy in your mouth, demanding all of your attention as it curls around your own slick muscle and sucks. The action makes you whine, eyes rolling with pleasure before it’s suddenly taken away again, only to be replaced with another set of lips that leave you desperate for oxygen.

“Tha’s it, lass,” Chibs purrs in your ear. His accent curls around each word, and you feel slick start to bloom in your core, leaking down to soak into your panties.

“Ye look divine, sat ‘ere in my lap, our hands on you.”

Tig chuckles, the sound low and rough, and noses against the side of your head, eyes locked on the way Jax licks into your mouth like you were the best-tasting thing left on this planet. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glassy with lust as you squirm on Chibs’ lap, surrounded by the three of them. He wants to see more, wants to see how well you could take all three of them. To see you worked open, pleasure painting your face until you couldn’t remember anything but their names.

But not yet. Not when this thing between the three of you was so new.

Chibs is the one to put a stop to the mess of kisses and wandering hands. He shoves Jax and Tig away, giving you the chance to take a much-needed breath as you lean back and settle against his chest. He holds you close, his hands smoothing up and down your sides as you calm down.

Tig pouts but sits down beside you, leaning back on the cushions as you run a hand through your hair and take a couple of deep breaths. Jax watches you closely, blue eyes sharp.

“You okay, babygirl?”

You nod. Your brain still feels a little fuzzy, but you’re pretty sure that’s from lack of oxygen and not feeling stunned.

“‘M okay,” you rasp and laugh softly, “More than okay.”

“See,” Tig crows and snags one of your hands, lifting it up to press his lips against your knuckles with a grin, “I knew she could take it.”

Jax rolls his eyes and sits back, though his eyes never leave your face, “Never said she couldn’t, brother. Just didn’t want to chance scaring you away.”

You huff a soft laugh and shake your head at them. Your other hand is snagged by Jax, and he tangles your fingers with his own, “I don’t think you guys could ever scare me.”

Chibs hums behind you, his dark eyes soft as he leans in to kiss the back of your skull, lingering there to breathe you in, “We don’t ever want to scare you, sweet girl.”

Jax cuts in then, and any butterfly feelings you were having in that moment sober up at the look on his face. You swallow hard and meet his eyes, knowing that whatever he was about to say is important.

“You know we aren’t good men,” He begins, and you nod even though it wasn’t a question. Jax licks his lips, looking appeased when you do so, “We aren’t nice men, sweetheart. This isn’t a happy hold hands and go watch a movie relationship.”

You nod along then. You’d understood that the night Louise had dragged you to the clubhouse.

“Good,” Jax intones softly, “Because we don’t want to scare you, baby, but sometimes we have to do scary things. You understand that?”

You swallow hard at that. You weren’t ignorant about SAMCRO. You’ve lived in Charming your entire life after all. But you also knew that while they were dangerous, no one in the club ever went out of their way to hurt anyone in the town they lived in. That would be an insult to what they stood for.

“Yeah,” You say and meet his eyes, steeling yourself at the intensity you see there, “I understand.”

Jax searches your face, the other two doing the same, looking for any kind of doubt you might have over your choice. He smirks when he finds none there and lifts the hand he holds to press a kiss to your knuckles, lingering there with a heavy look in his eyes.

“Glad we understand each other then, sweetheart,” Jax murmurs and then leans in, his lips pressing against your brow, “We’ll make sure you don’t regret this.”

------

Having three different boyfriends was a lot of work. Surprisingly, they were easier to deal with when they were all together. They balanced each other out, leaving you there to bask and enjoy their presence with ease. But there were days when you’d only see one of them at a time, and their greed knew no bounds.

After receiving a key to your apartment, there would be days when you would come home, and Jax would be lounging on your couch, white shoes by the door, and his shirt tossed in the recliner while he stretched out on the couch. You’d smile and pet his blonde hair, gently tugging until he woke up.

“Sorry,” He’d say and give you that weary smile Jax wore when he felt the world closing in around him, “Needed somewhere quiet.”

You’d just smile and shrug, not bothered that he had used your apartment as a safe space, “Go back to sleep. I’ll make you some tea.”

Jax would grumble and drag you down to the couch instead, wrapping his arms around your waist and smooshing your face in his chest, his face buried in your hair as he breathed you in. He’d roll the two of you, slotting his body over yours as he pressed greedy kisses to your cheeks and throat, his lips finally meeting your own when you whined at him to stop teasing.

Other times, it would be Chibs. He liked to swing by the office you worked at for your lunch, always bringing by your favorite but never the same thing too many days in a row. Your coworkers would coo and caw, whispering loudly about you dating an older man, and…wait.

Didn’t they see you with someone else just the other day?

But you don’t pay them any mind, too busy greeting Chibs and pressing a kiss to his scarred cheek when he offers you a to-go cup of your favorite tea.

“Yer lucky I like ye, lass,” He’d grumble, but you could hear the smile in his voice, “Hard to drive a bike with a flimsy cup in hand.”

“You don’t have to keep bringing me lunch,” You point out one evening, and Chibs scoffs, giving you a glare.

“Like hell, lass,” He rasps and reaches out, thumbing away a crumb that had lingered on the corner of your mouth, “Ye’d miss me too much.”

And then there was Tig.

Tig, who liked to call you in the morning, his voice slurring over the speaker as music blasts in the background and someone else starts yelling.

“Hey, babycakes,” Tig would slur, and you would sigh, already getting out of bed and putting your house shoes on, “Think you could come save your poor boyfriend?”

You’d show up at the bar, and Tig would drag you in for a sloppy kiss with too many teeth and tongue, leaving your lips swollen before promptly passing out in the passenger seat of your car. You’d roll your eyes and drag him inside, setting a bottle of water and some painkillers on the table for him to take in the morning.

Tig would drag himself up and drape across your shoulders, pressing soft kisses to the back of your head, his voice rough with a hangover.

“Always takin’ such good care of me, mama.”

It was something new with them almost every day. They would surprise you with something, whether it be good or bad. And if it were bad? Well, they knew how to go all out.

The first time their way of life had affected you, you had nearly ended everything that night. You’d been fast asleep on the couch, having dozed off during a movie on the rare night that you were without one of your boys.

The loud pounding of your front door jerked you awake, making you tumble off the couch and to the floor. Before you could try and figure out what the hell was going on, you’d heard Jax through the door.

“Baby, come on,” He’d snarled and smacked his hand on the door, “Open up, baby, we need your help.”

You’d scrambled to open the door, terrified and with your heart in your throat. Jax and Chibs came stumbling in, Tig limp between the two of them. Blood soaked their clothes, and you could feel your hands start to shake when they carefully laid him out on your couch.

“Towels,” Jax barked, and you jumped when he snapped his fingers at you. Chibs had already dropped and was tugging Tig’s jeans.

“Sweetheart,” Jax snarled, “Towels. Now.”

Your feet were moving before you could consciously think to move. You drag out every towel in your hallway closet and shove them at Jax and Chibs. Your stomach turns at the smell of iron, and you can’t look at how red everything was.

“Snap out of it, baby,” Jax barked, and you jerked your head up to face him. His brow was furrowed, his face pale and strained. “We need you with us.”

“Bowl of water, love,” Chibs grunted then and jerked his chin in the direction of the kitchen, “On to it, lass.”

You’d toiled at the edges after that, fetching whatever they needed to stabilize Tig until their doctor could make it to your apartment. You stand beside Tig when they are done, carefully avoiding looking too close at the blood-soaked towel wrapped around his upper thigh.

“Hey.”

You blink, glancing down at Tig when his raspy voice meets your ears. He lifts a hand and cups your cheek, wincing when it makes his leg twitch, “Don’t cry, baby. I’ll be right as rain.”

You sniff and wipe at your face. You hadn’t even realized that you’d started to cry until he pointed it out. He grins up at you, but the sight of blood in his teeth and his pain-filled eyes does little to make you feel better.

“What happened?” You ask and look away from Tig to the other two, eyes raking down their bodies, searching for wounds or blood that isn’t from Tig.

“Not for you to worry about, Kitten,” Jax had immediately said and fished out a cigarette, lighting up as he began to pace the living room. Chibs settled by Tig, keeping the towel tight around the other man’s thigh as he watched Jax smoke like a chimney.

“What?” You demanded and narrowed your eyes. Your voice went sharp, and your jaw set stubbornly, “Tig’s bleeding out on my couch and you’re going to tell me not to worry about it?”

You flinch at the look that Jax sends you, but you don’t apologize or take anything back. You couldn’t not over this.

“Yeah,” Jax drawls and stops in front of you, looming, “I expect you to be a good girl and not ask any fucking questions.”

You swallow hard at his harsh tone and frown. Your hands clench at your sides, and you feel an unfamiliar well of anger begin to burn in your chest.

“You don’t get to say that when something like this-,” you gesture at Tig and your ruined couch, “Is going on. I won’t be kept in the dark.”

Jax glares at you, taking a step forward, making you tilt your head back to stare up at him as he chain smokes like a train, “Watch your tone, girl.”

Before either of you could start arguing, your front door burst open, and you were forced to move when a dark-haired woman with a medical bag strode in and began to ask questions. You grit your teeth and fall to the wayside, watching as Chibs explains that Tig had been shot in the thigh and that your apartment was closer than the clubhouse.

Jax snags your arm, and you find yourself dragged into the kitchen, away from the gruesome sight of one of your boyfriends getting a bullet dug out of the meat of his leg. Jax presses you against the fridge, making sure that he has your full attention.

“Listen to me, baby,” he rumbles and grabs your jaw, fingers digging in just enough to make your nose crinkle in discomfort, “You don’t know shit because not knowing keeps your ass safe.”

You glare up at him, lips pursed in frustration, “That’s not fair. I don’t want to be kept in the dark, Jax.”

The blonde sighs heavily and scrubs a hand through his hair, fingers gripping for half a second before he lets his hand fall back to his side, “We can’t do that. It ain’t safe for you.”

You feel true anger swell up in your chest. You wouldn’t do this thing with them half-assed. You would be in all the way or not at all. Even the thought of something happening to one of them and being uninformed about it makes your stomach hurt.

“I don’t want secrets between us,” You say tightly, your voice is loud enough that the ones in the living room could hear you, “You’ll be open with me about everything, or I don’t want to be a part of this.”

You force yourself to meet his startled expression. It was obvious that Jax hadn’t expected you to go that far right off the bat, but you are firm in your choice. You cross your arms tightly, eyes swelling with tears that you sniff back.

“I can’t handle secrets, Jax.”

The silence that settles over the room is only interrupted by the pained wheezing from Tig while their doc stitches his thigh back up. Jax stares at you, his jaw set, before he shoots a look at Chibs, who’d been listening in the entire time. They share a silent conversation before Tig groans dramatically and tosses a hand over his eyes.

“Jus’ fuckin’ tell ‘er,” He slurs, voice rough from blood loss and the shit show that had happened that night, “Ain’t losin’ my fuckin’ kitten over somethin’ stupid.”

You and Jax stare each other down for a full minute after Tig’s outburst, neither of you willing to back down until Chibs sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Just tell ‘er, Jackie Boy. This won’t be the first time somethin’ like this will happen.”

You shoot a thankful look at Chibs and then focus back on Jax, who looks like he is seconds away from blowing his top at having his men turn on him. He chews his lips and then closes his eyes, nostrils flaring before he opens his eyes and meets your own.

“I sent Tig and Juice for a little recon into Niner territory. They’ve been moving product through our parts, and I wanted to know what it was. They got caught, and Tig got shot in the thigh before they could get out.”

You don’t necessarily feel better knowing what happened, but you do feel better, more settled, now that there wasn’t anything being kept from you. You lick your lips and peek at Tig, who catches your eye and winks at you like he wasn’t bleeding out on your couch.

“So what are you gonna do about it?” You find yourself asking. There is an odd detachment to your voice. You understand that you are asking a dangerous question, but seeing one of your lovers hurt as this pisses you off now that you’ve gotten over the fear.

“Retaliation,” Chibs drawls from where he leans in the doorway of the kitchen now. He smokes his own cigarette, the cherry burning bright red as he takes a pull, “Ain’t lettin’ them get away with somethin’ like this.”

You nod slowly and prop yourself up on the counter. Your eyes slide back over to Tig, and your stomach rolls at the sight of the red towels that have been tossed around him. He is pale, gaunt-looking, and you hate that there isn’t really a way you can help him right now.

Jax, even if it was like pulling teeth with him, kept you more in the loop after that. SAMCRO had their retaliation a week later, and a party was thrown in honor of stealing the rival gangs’ product. The clubhouse blasted with loud music, and you were swiftly reminded of your first night here. It didn’t feel like nearly half a year had already passed by then.

You take up the role of Tig Watcher, which wasn’t a very hard job when the man didn’t feel like leaving your side. The two of you took up one of the couches in the common room, your feet tucked under your body, while you sipped from a glass of whiskey, and Tig used your lap as a pillow. Your free hand had made a home in his curly hair, absentmindedly petting him while you listened in on Jax’s conversation with Chibs and Happy.

Only for a frown to grace your lips when an unfamiliar woman decided to step into their space. Your eyes narrow at the sight, watching the other woman lean into Chibs. Tig follows your line of sight and laughs, blue eyes squinting in amusement.

“Uh oh,” He drawled and pinched your thigh with a snarky grin, “Someone is jealous.”

“She’s new,” You comment instead of admitting that you are indeed jealous, “Everyone knows that we’re together.”

“Not her,” Tig murmurs and shifts with a wince, rolling so that he faces the crowds of drinking bikers and hangers-on, “You gonna do something about that?”

You tap a manicured nail against the glass you hold, jaw setting in growing annoyance. The longer she hangs off your boyfriend, the tighter your chest begins to feel. Finally, you huff and tap Tig on the shoulder, gesturing for him to rise, “...yes.”

It didn’t happen often, but the boys weren’t shy in giving or receiving affection from you. Every now and then, you had to get possessive. Because your boys are flirts, and would stand there and just let another woman hang off of them if you didn’t step in. You still aren’t sure if they do that on purpose or not.

Tig giggles like the schoolgirl he is and flops back down on the couch, stretching like a house cat as he watches you lope across the floor, “Go get ‘em, Tiger!”

You ignore Tig and slide into Chibs’ space, leaning into his arm as you steal his beer and take a sip, grabbing his attention as you did so, “Tiggy needed you, love.”

Chibs glances down at you, brow cocking up as he looks from you to Tig, who is still grinning like a cat who got the cream. He then cut his eyes at the woman whom he just now really noticed, and a smirk curled his lips when he understood what was happening.

“Aye, does he now, love?” Chibs drawls and gives you his full attention, his back to the woman standing half a step too close. “He looks fine ta me.”

You roll your eyes at him, though your little act is already starting to break when your lips twitch with amusement. Jax steps in seconds later, a big hand setting firm on your lower back. You see the newbie huff and puff like an ornery hen and have to bite back a smirk. Thankfully, Happy is an actual saint and snags her attention, grumbling as he guides the poor woman away.

“What's going on here?” Jax drawls curiously, blonde brow cocked as he looks between you and Chibs.

“I think our wee lass is jealous,” the Scot murmurs, accent full of humor as he smirks over your head at Jax.

“Oh?” The president says, and his hand slips from your lower back to your hip, where he gently shoves you into his brother's chest. You grunt, but Chibs just grins and sets his beer away so that he can grip your waist with both hands and loom over you. “That right, baby?”

You pout at both of them, but then break immediately, cheeks going pink as you laugh, unrepentant.

“Maybe just a little,” you say and tug at the zipper of Chibs’ kutte, fixing the leather over his shoulders, “Can't have anyone thinking that they've got some kinda chance.”

They both snicker at you before Chibs shifts and catches your chin in a scarred hand, tilting your face up so that he can kiss you gently, “We’re yers, ye possessive beastie.”

You sigh into the kiss and drag him into another right after he stops calling you names, licking into his mouth while Jax crowds in from behind with a low sound of pleasured interest. His hands slide down your back to cup your ass through your jeans, and you feel the blonde grin against your hair when he squeezes his hands, massaging the thick globes of your cheeks.

“Oi,” Tig grouches from his spot on the couch when he sees the three of you tangled up in the corner, “Injured one over here. I demand attention.”

You laugh as you break your kiss with Chibs, and you hear the other two scoff, their hands staying right where they were.

“You’ve had her all night, Tig,” Jax called back, and then bends, his lips finding the smooth arch of your neck. Your eyes flutter with pleasure, and Chibs hums, one hand inching up the front of your shirt to splay his hand over your soft stomach. He slides it up. Fingers ghosting just under the curve of your breast, nails picking at your bra.

“Aye,” Chibs drawls and snags your lips in a quick kiss again, “Learn ta share, brother.”

-----

Your favorite days, however, are the ones where the four of you can just…be.

It’s the weekend, and the boys have taken over your apartment like usual. The atmosphere is heavy in a lax, slow way. It was hot outside, and none of you felt like venturing out just to be soaked with sweat within the first couple of minutes. Tig and Chibs shared the couch, both nursing beers and watching some fake crime show that you listened to them commentate on with half an ear.

You sat with Jax in the recliner, dressed in a pair of lounge shorts and one of their shirts that had SAMCRO stamped across the back of it like a brand. His arm was wrapped around your waist, your face tucked under his chin while he scrolled his phone with his free hand, eyes heavy-lidded as he watched you and his brothers. It wasn’t often that they were able to indulge like this, and Jax wanted to make sure that it stayed that way for as long as possible.

He feels you shift in his lap and immediately makes room for whatever you were doing, watching you with soft blue eyes. Jax knew that his relationship with you was the exact opposite of traditional, but the four of you made it work, and that was all he cared about.

“Tired, baby?” He asks, voice low so as not to bother the others. He watches you shake your head and shift again, your legs sliding to bracket his hips as you face him. The blonde is interested very quickly, his hands landing on your hips and squeezing. He gently tugs you forward and then kisses you, the embrace soft and sweet, but not short of passion.

One hand smooths up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he angles you to deepen the kiss, his tongue dipping past your lips to stroke your own, slick muscles twining together in a wet dance of spit. You shift, sitting up on your knees so that you can bury your hands in Jax’s hair, fingers tight in the blonde strands.

His other hand cups between your thighs, and he groans at the heat he finds waiting for him there. Jax’s lips curl into a grin when he presses further, fingers sliding under your baggy shorts to stroke over slick-soaked panties. You huff into the kiss, brow furrowing as you sigh at the exploratory touch.

“Oh,” Tig rumbles from the couch, “Chibs, look. A show just for us.”

They watch your face contort in pleasure, teeth digging into your lower lip when you break the kiss to groan. Jax’s fingers had wiggled past the barrier of your underwear, stroking folds sticky with arousal. He circles your entrance, a rough laugh escaping his throat when his teasing makes you leak all over his hand.

“Fuckin’ soaked already,” He rumbles and smirks at the other two, extracting his hand so that they can see shiny, slick stringing between his fingers. Jax brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them in his mouth, tongue swirling to clean them off as he meets your eyes.

“Taste better every time, doll.”

You make a rough sound when Jax suddenly moves. His forearms slide under your thighs, and he stands, lifting you with him as he turns and lopes to your bedroom. He kicks the door open, and you grunt when he tosses you on the bed. Tig and Chibs have already appeared, their eyes dark with growing arousal as you stare up at the three of them.

“Been a couple of weeks since we all three had you, kitten,” Tig murmurs and slinks forward, one hand sliding into your hair and gripping tight, “You want that again?”

A low whine escapes your throat at the harsh treatment, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. He tugs your head back, angling your chin up to look at him while he smirks down at you, “Stuff all those pretty holes you have.”

A ragged breath left one of the others, and when you look past Tig, Chibs looks near feral, his eyes blown with lust and memories of the last time they had you like that. He lopes forward, His thumb sweeping over your bottom lip when Tig tugs your hair to angle you at the other man.

“Looked like a god damn temptation,” Chibs rasps, “You leaked us for days, lass.”

“And she will again,” Jax says as he appears on the other side. You feel like a rabbit surrounded by a pack of vicious wolves, all ready and salivating for just one bite.

“Ain’t that right, mama?”

Sex with all three of them is always a filthy, filthy series of events. Hands everywhere, your focus on who is who absolutely destroyed, and so much fucking pleasure that it teases on the edge of pain. You lie over Jax, brow sweaty and hands clenched in the sheets as he grinds up into you, cock thick and dragging over sensitive nerves that make stars flash behind your eyelids. A mix of drool and precum drips from your lips, cheeks hallowed and lips stretched taut around the cock in your mouth.

“Tha’s it, lass,” Chibs rumbles and hisses when you swallow around him. His hand tightens in your hair, holding you still as he shoves forward, cock bruising the back of your throat. You gag, tears welling and streaming down your cheeks to mix with the mess that’s already there.

Behind you, Tig’s eyes are locked on the way your ass takes his lube-slicked fingers as he works you open. He drops forward, pressing wet kisses to your spine, grinning when you whine and arch under him. His fingers scissor and circle, dragging over velvety walls as he preps you.

“Gotta open you up good, ma,” Tig purrs filth in your ears, lips dragging over your flesh with every word, “You know how big I am.”

You make a muffled whine, eyes rolling when Jax suddenly snaps his hips up and forces Tig’s fingers to slide deeper inside of you. You clench, shuddering and quaking between the three of them as they use you for their own pleasure.

Tig eventually eases off and then shifts, taking his cock in hand and dragging it over your lube-soaked hole with a grin. The sounds in the room are like music to his ears, and Tig relishes the muffled moan you make when he nudges forward and slides the tip inside.

“Fuck,” Jax hisses, and his head falls back, brow furrowed as the added pressure makes your cunt squelch and tighten around his dick, “Feels like fucking heaven, baby.”

Chibs locks onto the way Tig begins to work his way inside, his mouth watering when he watches your body stretch to accommodate the biggest of the three of them.

“Tha’ feel good, sweet girl?” He purrs above you and slows his snapping pace into slow rolls of his hips, choking you with his prick, “Arse stretched around Tiggy’s cock?”

You garble around his cock, drool falling in great globs from your chin, hitting Jax in the chest where he lies under you. He laughs and scoops the mess up in his fingers before pressing it back up and smearing it around your lips, swollen and tight around Chibs.

“Don’t waste, baby,” He coos meanly, “You know better than that, Ma.”

You are gone, fucked dumb, and raw between the three of them. Your thoughts circle around nothing but the feel of them, each moving, using you. It was degrading and demeaning, but it was the best fucking feeling in the world to be stuck between the three of them.

“Gettin’ close, love,” Chibs warned you, voice tight as that edge grew closer and closer. His hips stuttered when your throat worked him, and he cut his eyes down at Jax, “Where do ye want it, Prez?”

Jax grunts, face red and glistening with sweat, hips a steady rhythm as he fucks you, cunt sucking him in over and over. He laughs when the question registers, lips curling into a smirk.

“Paint that pretty face, Chibs,” he rasps and hisses when his words cause your pussy to leak even more, gummy walls dragging him closer to the edge, “We can help clean her up afterwards.”

“Fuck,” Tig snarls, and your entire body jars with his next thrusts, balls smacking the thick fat of your ass, “Not fucking fair. You know I love cleaning her up.”

Jax snickers, a ragged sound cutting through the laughter when your nails dig into the muscles of his arms. He smirks up at you, meeting watery eyes that didn’t hold a fucking thought.

“Fucking animal,” Chibs growls above you and grits his teeth. He tightens his grip on your hair, holding you firm while his free hand fists his cock tightly, brow furrowing as he curses and slides free of your mouth.

Hot spurts of cum splash you in the face, landing across your forehead and over the bridge of your nose. More hits your cheek and then your lips, sliding down to pool in your mouth. You swallow the load and then lick your lips, eyes clenched shut as you search for more. Chibs laughs and scoops up his spend, feeding it to you bit by bit, watching as your pretty tongue licks it up like it’s the best tasting thing in the world.

“Chibs,” Tig whines from behind, and the Scot takes pity on the other man, fingers dragging through the mess of cum and drool before pressing the sticky mess against his lips. Tig groans and laps it up, cock twitching where it’s buried in your ass.

The sight makes Jax swear, hands clenching around your hips as that tension snaps and he comes with a low snarl of your name on his lips. You whine at the feel of his cum filling your cunt, walls quivering and cunt pulsing as you clench and cream around his dick, body shuddering as you come for the umpteenth time that evening. You breathe heavy, eyes still clenched shut, and mouth full of cum. You sag down, brow pressing against Jax’s chest while Tig whines and ruts into you from behind.

Tig grunts around Chibs’ fingers as he comes, drool sliding past his lips to splatter across your back, his hips stuttering as he empties himself inside of you. Chibs wipes his hand on the sheets, and the hand in your hair softens, petting you instead of restraining.

“You okay, love?” He rumbles and cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb just under your eye.

“...Can’t see,” You rasp, voice wrecked from taking his cock, “Please clean me.”

Jax laughs softly and shoves at Tig with his food, “Come on, man. You’re crushing us.”

Tig groans and reluctantly extracts himself, whining again when he pulls out. His hand grasps your cheek and spreads you open, and Tig watches his spend leak sluggishly from your puckered hole. Below that, the mess from Jax stubbornly clings to puffy folds, and Tig grins as he swipes his fingers through both, gathering the sticky mess on his fingers before he shoves it in your mouth.

You hum and curl your tongue around his fingers, cleaning his digits without a thought, body still loose and pliant between the three of them. Tig backs off after that, sliding off the bed to escape to the bathroom and gather a couple of damp rags.

Chibs helps you rise from Jax, big hands steady on your body when Tig comes back to clean you up. You hiss against Jax’s chest when the lukewarm water meets your cunt, body recouping after the thrashing the boys left you with.

“You did so good for us, baby,” Jax coos in your ear and cups your cheek, leaning up to press his lips to your brow, lingering there for a long moment, “Are you okay?”

You nod after a moment, eyes heavy with exhaustion. You know that you’ll be sore to the point of immobilization after all the aches and pains settle in. You twitch and roll off of Jax now that you are clean, groaning when you curl up on your side, and it makes pain twitch up your spine from your backside.

“I thought we agreed that Tig’s too big?” You rasp and send them all looks of betrayal. Only Chibs has the decency to look even the slightest bit apologetic; Tig just grins, smug, while Jax shrugs one shoulder, trailing the tips of his fingers along your back.

“I wanted it,” Tig rumbles and crawls up the bed. He settles in behind you, tossing an arm around your waist as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, “Wanted that tight little ass around my cock. Don’t tell me it was too much for you, sweetheart.”

Jax scoots up the bed and rests against the headboard, taking the offered cigarette when Chibs taps one out where he has taken up space at the end of the bed. Jax sits back, one arm behind his head, toned body on display, and takes a long drag, the cherry glowing bright.

“No,” You grumble and roll so that you can bury your face in Tig’s chest. Chibs wraps a hand around your ankle, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your flesh, “Some warning next time would be nice, though.”

Tig just huffs and kisses the top of your head, rolling his eyes as the other two snicker at your pouty behavior.

“You love us,” Jax teases from her perch and nudges you with a foot, lips twisted up in a smirk, “Admit it, baby.”

You sigh heavily and roll back to your back, eyes meandering from Jax to Chibs to Tig before you huff and smile, eyes soft with affection.

“Yeah,” you murmur, and smile when Tig buries closer, “Yeah, I do love you guys.”

End

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