Still looking for roleplays because my maladaptive daydreams are getting worse and I refuse to use AI bots which are unethical and horrible for the environment.
Going thru it man.
(':
My discord: zaneisback_
I rp:
Sons of Anarchy
Stranger Things
Hamilton the musical (don't judge me)
Sinners
Interview With The Vampire (have not watched it fully but I feel a lil more confident in plotting with the characters at least)
When the average heterosexual family man complains about his family not respecting him, it is almost always because there is absolutely nothing about him to respect and he has made no effort to connect with any of them and he considers the slightest pushback or lack of affection a sign of ‘disrespect’. When the average heterosexual family woman complains about her family not respecting her, it’s usually because her 14 year old son keeps calling her a bitch and throwing things at her while her husband laughs. The difference is so fucking stark.
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.
Honestly FUCK Jax for the way he treated Tig because when the clubhouse was about to blow up who was it that got Tara and Thomas away safely and shielded them from the explosion??? DEFINITELY NOT ONE OF THOSE OTHER MOTHERFUCKERS JAX LOVED SO MUCH
Nope.
It was Tig.
The man Jax Teller tried to kill not once. not twice. but three times after taking the gavel.
THAT'S who stayed with his wife and infant son and made sure they were safe.
hey howdy fuckin' hey! so unfortunately i have fallen back into my sons of anarchy phase and also remember the uncle!billy trope some of us brain worm infested PRINCESSES loved on here. and thought about how much better it works for tig. (MDNI UNDER CUT PLEASE)
you're JUST shy of jax and opie's age, late 20's. been in and around this club for ages started hanging around more and more, especially after you left college—your dead father was a deadbeat and you were mostly left to fend for yourself, tig being one of his close buddies, took care of you when you needed. it's a found family type thing. you now help gemma run invoices at teller-morrow and when you finish with that, you're a mean bar back for these fucking ANIMALS.
you've hooked up with tig countless times, nothing beats it, he's rough, but there's passion, you can tell.
never a solid relationship tho, he can't do that. he's your uncle tiggy, he's just taking care of you. nothing more; nothing less.
you're standing behind the bar, popping caps off of beer bottles, pouring liquor into shot glasses, and passing them down the bar from memory.
tig says nothing, just observes. watches his pretty little thing doing her job so diligently. dishing back what shit the other men give her; half tuned into what chibs is prattling on about, a wicked grin growing across his face as he hears you shut bobby down, quick and full of sass.
—
you start to grow impatient, you just want to take care of him. you wanna be an ol' lady. you know you fit the bill, gemma always reminds you.
you're pouring him a cup of coffee, nothing but a pair of panties on with one of his samcro shirts on like it's a fucking wedding dress, "not a fuckin' kid anymore." you'd grumble.
tig just grins and he slides his palm across your stomach as he pulls you to an embrace from behind, letting his hands wander slightly. "believe me, i know." his raspy voice is grunting in your ear as you hand him the cup of coffee.
fucking bastard.
—
and when you've had a long day at the club, just ready to go home, you meet him outside on the bench, and stand between his legs, grabbing his cigarette and bringing it to your own lips for a drag. "take me home, uncle tiggy." you blow the smoke away from him as you're leant down to beg in his ear.
a low chuckle erupts from the back of his chest. "say it one more time, baby, say it just like that." his hands are holding your sides steady as you're in his ear.
pervert. (🥵)
—
and moving onto the bedroom with tig is nothing short of a wild ride.
he's holding your head down on his throbbing, uncut cock. (tig is not cut you cannot change my mind on this, sorry.) you're gagging so hard you're ready to puke, you're tapping his legs as you desperately suck air in through your nostrils. "c'monnnnnn sugar, you can take it all. lemme paintyer belly with my fuckin' babies."
—
THE END FOR NOW—gave foxie my fuckin' hulu to watch this show with me so i can yap about it again and now it's everyone's problem, sorry!!!!!!! no i am not :))
i will write for pretty much ANY of the sons! i have not seen mayans so i am unable to write for them! but if you have requests feel free to send em in! this show is my HEART!
thank you for looking! and remember YOU are responsible for your media content. if this is not your bread and butter that's cool, just scroll on!
more random ass eddie headcanons because i’m bored mdni
oh eddie loves you to death. he worships you and the ground you walk on. if you told him to kneel and kiss your boots? guess what eddie munson is doing?
he brings you everywhere, talks about you to everyone, and i mean EVERYONE. wayne is SO happy for him, but absolutely tired of eddie always finding someway to switch the conversation to something about you..
he takes you on dates to record shops where you two could spend HOURS discussing your favorite songs/bands. you two usually go back to the trailer, smoke weed, and have sloppy makeouts for like an hour.
he doodles you when practicing with the guys if he’s bored. always signs it with a smiley face + you and his initials. he always shows you, even if it’s not good. your heart melts everytime
when he brings you to tuesday nights at the hideout, you always get a front row seat (barely anyone is there) and you always cheer him and the guys on. the night usually always ends with you and him smoking in his van, then him ripping your tights open
he is either a complete virgin or he’s a whore because he knows he’s got bomb dick.. there’s no in between i’m sorry. either way he’s still got bomb dick and still gets pussydrunk 0.4 seconds into sex
he can and will follow you around like a lost puppy. he hates the mall but if you wanna go he always goes with you, like if he doesn’t he can’t breathe oxygen. will also say things like that if you’re going somewhere without him like “oh so you don’t care if being without you will make me stop breathing i see” sarcastic asshole he is i swear
he WOULD get your name tattooed on him even if you told him not to. also makes a joke like “well now you can’t leave me you’re stuck with me”
he likes watching you sleep, he loves how peaceful you look, how the stresses of the day don’t bother you in the moment. he enjoys taking care of you in any way he can too. whether it’s running a bath, making you something to eat (he burns it and orders a pizza), or just holding you while watching a movie.
speaking of holding you? this man HAS to have his hands on you 24/7 a hand on your waist, shoulder, holding your hand, sometimes he puts his hand in your back pocket while walking together.
loves letting you paint his nails, and loves painting your nails.
he’d 100% let you set in his lap and do a full beat of makeup on him then ask ‘am i a pretty princess?’
Eddie fucking you so good that all you can mange to say is ‘thank you’ repeatedly😫
Oh you KNOW he’s a little shit about it too.
“What’s wrong, angel? Cat got your tongue again?”
Your lips part, a series of whimpers claw their way out of your dry throat. You want to speak, you really do, but your head is lost somewhere between his mattress and the piece of heaven he’s making you see with every drag of his hips.
Eddie chuckles, and without stopping his movements, he leans forward. His hand cup your neck from behind, lifting your head just enough to place a kiss on your forehead. The gesture is so sweet it makes you break even more.
“Come on, give me something,” he drawls, “you know how much I love those pretty sounds, but use your words, sweetheart. How are we doing?”
He highlights his question with a particular harsh trust, a contrast to the way his ring clad fingers rub soothing circles on the sides of your soft skin. You finally bring yourself to look at him, wild curly hair and those impossible brown eyes that reflect not only mischief, but his undying adoration for you.
You all but exhale, knowing you won’t be able to conjure more than the two words circling your head in that moment.
“…Thank you.”
Your words are so soft, yet they hit him like a truck. He stalls only for a second, before that devilish grin spreads wide across his face.
“Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart, you can’t give out on me now,” he shakes his head, fastening his pace. “Not when you’re so fucking pretty like this. Look at you–all dumb on me.”
Your head falls back, and his mouth gladly finds the side of your neck. Dragging his teeth teasingly over the skin before closing his lips around it.
“Come on, you’ve been doing so good for me. So goddamn good,” he praises between kisses. “Gotta give me one more. One more, and I’ll tuck you in and sing you a lullaby after, yeah?”
You can’t answer at this point, but your body does. Eddie sees it in the way your breath hitches, the way your hips tilt even closer to him, the way your nails drag across his back, all of it says yes, yes, please, Eddie.
“Say it again,” he orders against your skin, when he feels your walls clenching around him. “Say thank you. Say it while I make you come on my cock.”
“Th-thank–“ you gasp, unable to finish the sentence before your whole body snaps.
He laughs, before his own movements become erratic as he spills thick, hot ropes of cum inside you with a groan.
Once the waves of pleasure are over and you stop seeing stars, your lashes flutter but your eyes can barely stay open, your breathing still shaky and uneven. You couldn’t get up even if you tried.
Which is why the bastard is thriving.
“Well look at you,” he teases, brushing a finger down your jaw, tracing the edge of your lips. “Not a single thought behind those eyes, huh?”
Authors Note: Hello, hello beauties. I’m rewatching Sons so I’m back, for now. Hopefully longer this time!
Warnings: AGE GAP!! Legal age ofc. Unprotected sex. Teasing. Begging. Basically smut and as always, 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI!
Tig was known for getting himself in trouble. He liked women and they liked him.
He stepped out of his house, his helmet in his hand. He knew today would be shit, in the garage all day and then up all night for club business. He glanced up, immediately noticing your bright pink bathing suit that hugged your body perfectly. He couldn’t take his eyes off the sight of you rubbing lotion on your chest. He felt his pants get tighter as every second passed. “Fuck.” He whispered to himself.
He knew he’d be in trouble the day he met you. Your beautiful body, beautiful face. The way you talked to him like you’d known him for years, flirting away. He just didn’t imagine it would be so soon.
You look across the street, noticing him standing at his door. You smirk, knowing he’d been watching you. You wave at him and motion him to come over. Like a dog in heat, he sets his helmet down and rushes across the street.
“Hi Tig. What are you into today?” You ask, adjusting yourself on your chair, making sure your body was in full view for him.
“Uh. Yeah. Going to work. Not much fun going on.” He’s trying not to make it obvious how turned on he is, but the bulge in his pants tells you all that you need to know. You smile, pulling off your sun glasses.
“That’s a shame. I was hoping I’d have someone to keep me occupied in this pool today.” You shrug, putting the sun glasses back on and looking into the sky. Tig could kill Clay for making him work on Gemma’s SUV today. “Oh. Actually, I did wanna ask. Do you know anything about water leaks?”
“A little bit. What’s up?” He asks, trying to think of thoughts to make his friend in his pants go back down.
“Would you have time to check it out?” You ask, standing up and getting close to him. You put a finger on his kutte and smile. “I can make you something to drink while you’re checking it out.” Tig couldn’t say no, especially with you looking like this.
“Yeah, I’ve got time. Let’s go.” He follows you into the house, his chest feels tight. He enters your home, it’s decorated darkly. Horror movie decor placed on the walls, skulls and coffins. He’s a little shocked seeing as you were always dressed brightly and beaming. You notice he is looking at your decorations.
“What? Didn’t expect it?” You ask, getting on your knees infront of the sink to open the doors that cover the pipes. He can’t believe this, he’s seen many pornos start out this way but never lived it out himself. He watches you open the cabinets and lean under the sink, once you confirm the leak is still occurring you come back out. Still on your knees, you look over to him. “There’s a lot of things you probably wouldn’t expect from me.” You say, he’s trying to focus but he just keeps thinking of how good you look on your knees, how good you’d look with his cock in your mouth. You stand up, he walks over to the sink, getting down to examine what’s going on. He hears you getting into the fridge as he examines the pipes. He hears you come back over, pushing yourself up onto the counter.
“So Tig, how old are you?” You ask, you knew he was older than you. This sat off an already raging desire for him. He pops his head back out and stands up, closing the doors. He takes the glass of lemonade from your hand.
“Old enough to be your dad probably.” He says, taking a drink from the cup. You smirk, turning your head to the side. “I’m 41.” You chuckle, crossing your leg over the other and leaning forward.
“I knew you were an old man.” He shakes his head and leans against the counter.
“And how old are you? You’re like 20, how did you get this nice house?” You take a sip from your drink before talking.
“I’m actually 27 and I’m a nurse. I’ve saved up a while to get this house.” You grab his hand as you notice the bruises on his knuckles. “Your hand hurt? Looks like you’ve got in a fight or two.” You set his hand on your thigh, looking more at the bruises. He feels like he’s gonna faint and knows he needs to get out of this house.
“Maybe two. Uh. I can fix that leak or if you wanna hire someone. But I do gotta go to work.” You smile, knowing he’s right where you want him. You spread his hand apart onto your thigh.
“I think I’d rather have you fix it, if we’re being honest.” You grab the other hand and place it onto the seam of your swim bottoms. Tig usually is the one making moves on women, he’s not sure how to act right now. “But,” You start, moving his hands down your thighs and back to his body. “I know you’re a busy man. I’ll let you get to work.” You get down off the counter, your body against his. He knows he can’t fight it anymore, he pulls you in and slams his lips onto yours. He grabs you, setting you back up on the counter. You feel his warm hands run under your bottoms, quickly jerking them down. You run your hands onto him, removing his kutte and setting it on the counter beside of you.
“You know,” He whispers, you lean back as you feel his fingers touch your clit. “I’d never imagined that sweet little face of yours would be practically begging to be fucked.” You gasped, feeling him slide his fingers inside of you, moving them slowly. “I think I want to hear that sweet mouth beg me to fuck you.” Your whole body is tingling, it’s almost unbearable how turned on you are.
“Tig.” You whisper out, running your hands up the thin shirt he wears. “I want you.” He stops moving his fingers and smiles.
“Want me to what?” He needs to hear you say it, he’s holding back from ripping off his jeans and fucking you senseless. You move your hips, trying to bring yourself some pleasure. He uses his free hand and holds you in place.
“What’s wrong? You talked so much before?”
“Tig. I want you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me. Please, right here. Right now.” You let out shakily. “I’m begging you.” It’s all he needed to hear. He removes his fingers and hears you sigh in disappointment.
“I really gotta go to work.” He sees your eyes widen, in shock that he’d leave you like this. “Maybe we can finish this later.” You pull him to you, taking his still wet finger and running it to his lips making him taste you.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” He smirks, undoing his jeans as fast as he can. Before you can get another word out, he pulls you to the edge of the counter and slides himself into you. You feel yourself adjusting to him. He starts off slowly, watching how your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“Fuck.” You manage to breathe out. He’s treating you like you may break. You feel his hands grab your hips.
“Tig, go a little harder.” He widens his eyes, slamming into you. Your head leans back in pleasure. He feels you clinching around his cock.
“You’re so fucking needy, aren’t you?” He asks as he continues thrusting himself inside of you. It feels like you’re intoxicated. You’d fantasized about this since the day you’d met him, but never imagined it would feel this good. “I’ve spent all this time watching you when I could have fucked you this easily?” The words make you feel dirty, but even more turned on. He pulls the top of your swim suit down, exposing your breast to the cold air. He watches as your nipples harden as the cold air hits them. He smirks, moving his lips against your neck and then to your ear. “You take this cock so well.” He feels you tighten around him, knowing you’re close.
“This is what you wanted, so finish for me.” That’s all you needed to hear. You grab onto the counter and throw your head back, feeling your legs shaking.
“Fuck! Fuck!” You scream out, letting the pleasure over take your body. “Holy fuck!” Watching you scream in pleasure is enough to send Tig over the edge, he thrusts rough and hard into you. The two of you breathe heavily, making eye contact. He grabs the papers towels that sit on the counter and hands them to you. Once the two of you are cleaned up, he helps you down as your legs are weak from the orgasm. He puts his kutte back on, running his fingers through his hair. You grab a blanket from the living room, covering yourself up as if you weren’t just totally exposed on your kitchen counter. He smirks, shaking his head.
“You don’t have much to say now?” You feel your cheeks turn red, he grabs his keys and shoves them in his pocket. “I’ll get the stuff to fix your water and come back tomorrow, deal?” You shake your head in agreement as you watch him finish off his lemonade. “I’ll see you later.” You watch him shut the door behind him. You lean against the counter, still in disbelief of what just happened.
“Fuck.” You mutter out, as you catch yourself hoping it happens again.
Half of the room was painted when you and Tig arrived at Jax's house. Abel was coming home soon and since Clay fired all the professionals you volunteered to help out over the weekend, spare him and the prospects the time and money.
Tig didn't necessarily agree, but after your lecture about him needing the practice, he yielded. You're a lot scarier now that you're pregnant yourself.
You had Gemma clear out with a coffee and a kiss on the cheek. She'd been there before Jax got out of the hospital, you could tell because her car was in the driveway more than his Harley.
"So," Tig said, shifting his hands to his hips. "What do you want me to do?" No enthusiasm, just acceptance.
You smiled knowing he wasn't gonna volunteer himself. "Get out."
His faux smile dwindled into a frown. "I don't understand."
You scoffed playfully, snapping a rubber band from your wrist. You gathered your hair up, twisting it into a steady knot and turned to the paint. "I need the room."
With no further explanation, you reached for the brush slushed in blue and started slow strokes against the manila colored wall. He didn't ask you to elaborate again, unsure if this was a test or if you were certain, he backed out tensely, bracing for when you changed your mind.
It didn't come.
Not in thirty minutes, the first time he checked in. Probably unnerved by the lack of command. He lingered around the room. Ranted about the blue, the shade being "breath of fresh air" as if that was a color. Then he left. Not before deciding the almost pastel color complemented the carpet more than the dull tan.
Not fifteen minutes later when he came in asking if you wanted anything from the store.
Not in the next hour when he came in, saw you perched against an unpainted patch, one hand over your stomach, the other holding a white sprinkled donut he bought you, crumbs sprinkling over the mouth of the sprite he bought you.
"Want a massage?" He offered randomly.
You stopped mid-chew, eyes flicking up to him. He leaned against the door frame, dressed like he had dropped by rather than spent his morning tied up with Stevie Nicks and indecisive Jax.
Your back ached a little, but your ankles weren't sore and you still had some buzz from earlier. You shrugged.
"Did I do something wrong?" He asks after a minute.
"Not that I know of."
He nodded back, but his eyes said otherwise. Still, he didn't push, he looked down at your donut and then back at you. He smiled.
You offered one back, letting your hand fall into your lap before you extended your limp wrist. "Help me up?"
"Course'," he muttered under his breath, stepping toward you. He stepped between your legs, cupping your elbows in his palm, he pressed only slightly to steady you as he guided you forward.
You huffed, pushing up against him, your premature bump rubbing up against his shirt. "Need anything from me?" He asks, arm slithering around your back, pulling you closer.
"This," you leaned up, pressing your lips to his. Your kisses were usually warm, sweet, like gentle sparks on skin. This one wasn’t that. It was fire. Heat rolled through your chest as your fingers tangled in his kutte, gripping, pulling him closer, anchoring yourself to him. The clash of teeth was eager as you captured his lower lip between yours.
Your body leaned into his, raw and hungry, almost feral. Every motion felt like claiming, a deep, urgent possession that left you dizzy. You growled low, vibrating against him, letting your primal desire slip. With hands locked, lips fused, and breaths tangled, it felt like you were binding yourselves together, lassoing him to you until there was no space left between two bodies.
When you finally drew back, your forehead rested under his chin, chest pressing against him. Your arms circled him tenderly, the fierce grip on his vest loosening as you exhaled. For a moment, you thought about the donut on the counter, and how absurd that felt after what just passed.
At 29 weeks, you hadn’t experienced any weird cravings. No onions and vinegar like your mother once shared, no caramel and pepperoni like your best friend with twins, no chicken nuggets and syrup. You’d refused anything that wasn’t sugar or dairy. But this… this almost primal need to have him close, he was smoking hot, a little kicked puppy vibe, goofy, ambitious, had eclipsed it all.
“Am I weird?” you murmured, head still resting against his chest, voice barely above his heartbeat.
“What makes you say that?” he asked, fingers running up and down your back, rolling the rings along your spine in a soothing rhythm.
“I haven’t had any cravings,” you admitted, letting a small sigh escape. Your thumb brushed absentmindedly against the curve of his ribs, a quiet nod to the heat that had just passed.
“What do you mean?” His gaze flicked down to meet yours, subtle amusement dancing at the corners of his mouth, though his touch stayed gentle.
“I mean pregnancy cravings. The craziest thing I’ve tried to eat was marshmallows and strawberry jelly,” you said, and for a fraction of a second your lips quivered, a shadow of insecurity passing over your features.
“Aw, sugar, I’m happy I don’t have to make you brussel sprouts and honey. You should be too,” he teased, and the corner of his mouth twitched up, a small smile in his eyes as he nudged you lightly with his shoulder.
You let a laugh escape, leaning into him anyway, closing the distance without hesitation. “Yeah, I guess.”
“What do you say I get us out of here? We’ve been here long enough.”
“I have to finish,” you said, glancing back at the almost-done wall.
“You will, just not that,” he offered playfully, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. His gaze softened for a heartbeat, catching yours and holding it.
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.
<dinner tonight?>
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.”
