#like knotless braids | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

todosdream · 2 months ago

Text

stress relief | ony

15k wrds. strangers to friends? to lovers. slow burn. plot with smut. fem black oc. see the moodboard.

warnings: MNDI! lots of profanity, usage of n word, pet names, mentions of weed; smut: unprotected sex (PLS BE SAFE), edging, a spank or two, naaasty talk, degradation? more like brat-taming, dacryphilia for two seconds, ony rightfully has a bbc, begging, ony’s a talker (duh), choking? really just a hand necklace, pussydrunk ony, lowkey d/s but not explicitly mentioned

additional #: oc needs to get laid fr. kt needs her headphones. becca needs a new job. author doesn’t box. shout out mrs. etta. ony is chalanting with a girl for the first time. (and he’s vibing with it.) oc really needs to get laid. oc is a bit bratty… sorry. ony needs to get off his ass. oc is actually very bratty, damn. oh hell, oc gets laid!

“girl, I��ma be real with you… you need some dick,” crystal’s best friend tells her through her screen. kt’s giving a look, an interesting mix of pity and annoyance. her knotless braids are framing her face, mocha skin radiant as always but lashes looking quite barren. “yeah, and you need a lash refill, ho,” crystal snorts. since she’s bringing up needs and shit. it’s unfortunately been a while since they’ve hung out, kt now visiting family in colorado for about a week.

being the type of friends they are, the both of them have no issue communicating through tiktoks and sending pictures of silly things. just yesterday kt sent a picture of herself holding up a peace sign with a joint between her lips. she stood next to a 'no smoking' sign, the ‘no’ smudged. she thought she was just so clever. crys in return sent a saved picture of an unimpressed squidward, a typical exchange between the two goofballs.

“yeah, okay, ho. I’m just saying. maybe you’d be a little nicer to me if you got some,” she rolls her eyes, giving yzma. her rescheduled lash appointment can’t come quick enough. “says the girl getting some every day and still being mean to me,” crys scoffs.

kt’s living with her boyfriend, expecting his title to change to fiance after feeling a certain anticipatory energy from the man. her time consists of working and chatting with friends, and being with and posting videos with her partner. crys, however, explores her free time in many ways. picking up hobbies that have about a 50% chance of sticking, trying different restaurants, teaching her dog funny tricks, and the occasional friend hangout. it’s friday night and she’s doing her own nails just for the hell of it. although the uninhibited girl’s words trigger an automatic negative response, crys knows why she’s speaking them. when the phone call ends, kt will turn over and cuddle up to her man, maybe ‘get her shit rocked’ as she likes to so delicately put it. crys, however, will be left with her dog, her empty home and bed, and whichever toy she vibes with for the night.

she likes being alone, it’s an accomplishment for her to feel confident and comfortable being single after wasting her time with people that don’t care, men that don’t even actually like her. but when it’s all said and done, people are meant for connection. of course platonic, family, community… but that pull? that yearning? it can’t be replicated, no matter how many times she rewatches bridgerton or insecure.

it’s been a while since she just let go with anyone other than those already close to her. the last time she let someone new in, he showed her exactly why ‘niggas ain’t shit’ is such a popular phrase. it was a situation that didn’t make any sense, and in retrospect, she cringes. the embarrassment, the useless attempts at communication, the settling… never again. however, that’s a part of her life that’s being fully neglected. no dates, no late night rendezvous, no flirting, no sex.

one word: cobwebs.

“why are you more worried about my coochie than I am, anyway?” crys jokes as she fixes her gel polish, deflecting the conversation. it’s not something she wants to discuss or harp on. that’s just life for her right now. she’s tired of people wasting her time, so she became unavailable. simple. plus, she knows kt’s nosy ass man is lying next to her and listening because that girl never wears her damn airpods. “you think that’s an insult? girl. that only makes you look bad, not me,” she sasses. crys hears a soft snicker in the background. “oh, fuck you,” the girl mumbles in response. “and will you please put headphones on the next time you decide to go talkin’ bout my coochie? cause I’ll happily tell all those stories about yours, pimp.”

“stories?” crys hears in the background of the call. “ain’t no way she just called you that. what the hell that mean, crystal?” the bestie purses her lips and squints at crys. she watches as the brown skinned girl tilts her head, making her curls flop to the side with a ‘gotcha’ look. “I know where you live, you know that, fo’head? have a good night with your vibrator, ho,” she speaks lowly. shuffles are heard as she drops the phone onto the duvet next to her. “she don’t mean that, pookie, she’s just all pent up.” kt’s middle finger is all that’s visible on the screen before the phone echos a tone a few times, indicating the end of the call. crys snorts in response and sits her phone to the side. she sighs, looking over her nails for any imperfections as her mind echoes her words.

she wouldn’t be opposed to a night in the sheets. it’d be nice to dust off the cobwebs. get some head, maybe get her shit rocked like she hasn’t had in a while. part of her wants the slow and sensual, romantic sex with someone special. the kind of sex that touches her soul, that you can feel on every level. the other part… well. that part stays right in the cage where it belongs. that part likes to drown in frisky pleasure even if the one giving it is a life source draining leech.

it’s normal to want pleasure, it’s human. but the thought of all the bullshit that comes with dealing with another human, let alone a man in this day and age is enough to make her reconsider taking that step. so like usual, she brushes the words off and refocuses on her spa day so that she can be at her best for the work week.

ᥫ᭡

despite her best efforts, the next week is particularly irritating. mercury must be doing her shit, maybe all the damn planets, because so many people have had wack ass attitudes and it’s rubbed crys wrong. terrible interactions with customers, coworkers called out and left her in a busy store with little help, and she broke a nail doing something very much so not in her job description. on top of that, the amount of random things outside of her control that have gone haywire is deeply irritating. her tv crapped out and decided to just stop working out of nowhere, her wifi is out for local renovations, and her trash can is missing.

again.

it’s a wonder she hasn’t either had some type of crash out or just cashed in her pto for a fucking break. instead, she decides to get dressed for the gym and puts on a purple workout set. if she wants to be cute and sweaty she damn well will be. she grabs her favorite gym shoes and her essentials. she leaves her curls alone for now, but takes a scrunchie to put it up later. when she gets to the gym at a completely different time than she’s used to, it’s practically empty, save for a young and obviously bored receptionist that’s glued to her phone and a middle aged woman power walking into her destiny.

seriously, crys will have some of what she’s having. the woman is on fire.

sighing to herself, the frazzled girl goes to scan her member qr code, only for the damn scanner to decide to stop working. the blonde receptionist behind the desk sighs as if doing her job is the last thing she wants to do. crys usually wouldn’t blame her for that, but the way she’s popping her gum has the curly headed girl imagining a modern re-enactment of that one scene from that madea movie. the receptionist seems to be in absolutely no rush to fix the scanner, completely oblivious to the metaphorical cloud over crys’ head that’s growing by the minute. she fights the urge to furrow her brows and take a week’s worth of irritation out on the worker, deciding to take a deep breath instead.

the brief look up that the girl gives in response has her immediately regretting her decision.

before she can even think of something to say, the door opens behind her. she’s in no mood to look at the person, figuring they’ll both be waiting in line. she doesn’t want to seem open to small talk because she’s just not. however, the receptionist— becca, her nametag reads— looks up like the sun just graced the sky for the first time in centuries. she stands up straighter, obviously trying to make herself look like she’s doing the job that she’s been failing at, and calls over crys’ shoulder. “hey, ony, technical difficulties. you’re free to go ahead you don’t have to wait, I can check you in once this is fixed,” she smiles. that lucky bastard. it’s the first smile on her face in the entire time the bristling girl has been there. crys swears if this was a cartoon scene, the blonde girl would be fluttering her lashes with hearts in her eyes.

there’s a deep chuckle from behind. “thanks, becca. they should give you a raise,” a low, raspy voice responds. crys’ eye twitches. the hell they should, she thinks. hand me the damn performance review form cause I got shit to say. becca, now looking as if she’s on cloud nine, waves him off dismissively. “just doing my job. leg day?” she questions, trying to sound as casual as possible and not like her drool is threatening to ruin the damn scanner beyond repair. “mhm,” the stranger hums. “nice kicks,” he mumbles.

crys is too busy zoning out and imagining herself tap dancing on the broken pieces of the scanner to realize that he’s talking to her. the way becca’s eyes shift gets her attention. “oh. uh, thanks,” she murmurs, looking up. all she sees is a muscular back walking towards the men’s locker room. she doesn’t have time to look him over because ms. becca decides she actually can do her job and calls out to her that the scanner is fixed.

it just needed to be plugged up again.

ain’t no fuckin’ way.

becca doesn’t even seem embarrassed. she’s holding the scanner lazily and looking around, probably for that ony guy. the blonde doesn’t realize that crys is holding her phone out, and she’s still popping that damn gum. instead of saying something to the girl like she really wants to, she grabs the scanner from the “worker” to check her damn self in and quickly heads to the locker room. the girl doesn’t deserve her week’s worth of anger.

after some time, she’s finally out on the floor to stretch out. soon after the warm up, she’s at the punching bag. it’s not her usual choice of workout, but she took classes when she was younger and knows it’s a great way to release all that irritation from the week in a more physical outlet.

crys quickly wraps her hands and soon she’s throwing punches and listening to rico nasty, an artist who has several tracks on her ‘temper tantrum’ playlist. she gets into her groove, trying to remember the important tips from the classes she attended years ago. it’s hard to recall all the basics, but she gives it her best shot. not too long after, she notices a shadow of someone’s frame behind her. it must be that lucky asshole from earlier, probably here to be a bother. or maybe becca decided to do her job and came to tell her to move her bag off the floor. she sighs, taking out her headphones and turning to look. it’s the stranger. the man’s arms are crossed as he watches, showing his sleeves of tattoos.

crys wishes she could say he was ugly, but he’s definitely not. he’s fine as fuck, actually. his skin is dark and healthy, making him look like he actually has a skincare routine and not just 100-in-one soap. he has an athletic build visible even through his clothes that makes her want to drool like dear old becca. he’s tall, maybe 6’4 or 6’5, so she has to look up at him, even being on the taller side herself. his black durag matches his all black workout fit and she wonders what exactly lies underneath considering the size of his arms.

his demeanor is calm and steady, confident in a way that’s quiet, as opposed to many other gym bros™. his face is calm and there’s barely any tension in his body. crys thinks she’d like to make him bothered, just to get a rise. see if he’ll hold ip or bite back. but no, that’s rude, and she doesn’t know this man at all. his eyes are looking at her intently, and she despises how beautiful they are. why do men get to have natural lashes that look like that? it’s not fair she has to get extensions when his are so long with an almost perfect curl. and the color of his eyes make it worse, the light brown contrasting his dark skin so prettily. and his lips? full, perfect for kissing, among other things.

lucky bastard.

“you gone bite my head off if I suggest how to fix your form?” he asks with a simple raise of his brow.

ᥫ᭡

ony’s a hardworking man. he likes to handle business but have some fun on the side too. he’s chill. everyone would describe him as that. he’s the levelheaded friend, usually the calm in a storm, and not one to be all over the place physically, mentally, or emotionally. he’s a steady beat and he likes it that way. life is peaceful and secure, challenging in certain ways, but calm in others. he has a good paying job as a personal trainer, proper work life balance, and a good head on his shoulders. he doesn’t do too much, honestly, but that doesn’t mean that his life doesn’t have some interesting twists and turns. his boys always seem to need rescuing in some form, sisters all a whirlwind of their own. his mom is always a source of entertainment, although his dad is much like himself. he likes his life, simple as that.

but things have been becoming monotonous lately. his clients aren’t having any interesting developments and his social life is steady but uninteresting overall. his family group chat is going through a quiet spell and his boys are actually not up to anything stupid like they somehow always are. he’s been particularly unfulfilled by the game and there’s no sport he wants to keep up with as of late. it’s all kind of… blah. he’s grateful that nothing’s going wrong. he could be having a bad week as opposed to a boring one, but he aches for a spark, something different to bring a bit more color to his life. maybe he should get a pet? maybe some little fish couldn’t hurt. he thinks over the new idea while he follows his usual routine to pack up and leave for the gym.

and then he sees crys.

he notices her form as she stands at the check in desk, interest piqued. he’s never seen her before, and he comes to this gym at least five nights a week. he knows names and faces, especially since there’s usually no more than five people when he comes. her figure catches and keeps his eye, his gaze taking in the woman’s long legs, thick thighs, and plump ass, seeing how her afro falls around her shoulders. his excuse for where his gaze is centered is that it’s all he can see from where he’s standing, but it’s not much of an excuse. she’s just fine as hell. her workout fit is cute and colorful, contrasting his dark and bland one. her hand is in on her hip that’s popped out, accentuating her form.

his interest is definitely piqued.

he gets to see more of her when he comes around to speak to becca. pretty almond eyes, soft looking lips, the bottom currently being chewed with vigor. she’s beautiful… but one look at her profile and the flames in her eyes tell him all he needs to know: look the other way. ony grew up surrounded by strong black women in his life, his mom, sisters, aunts, cousins… learning to read body language and— well, the room, was something he learned quickly and he’s applied that lesson everywhere in life. everything about her body language and that cute, barely contained frown screams bad day. so he greets becca— who’s really a sweet girl, just unbothered— compliments her shoes, and moves on about his routine.

it’s like clockwork. he puts his stuff away, makes sure his chain is safe and secure, fills his water bottle, waves at mrs. etta on the treadmill, stretches, locks in, and gets the workout started.

he’s getting into his mode and enveloping himself in the feel of the workout, but he can’t help the way his eyes are pulled back to crys. the way she stretches, the way she adorably bobs her head to the seemingly… aggressive? music. she’s gorgeous and new, which has him feeling like every routine move he makes is just a little different. her and her angry pout and her curves and her curls…

she approachs a punching bag, which ony can admit he didn’t expect. the outfit convinced him she’d be power walking with mrs. etta, or doing pilates in the corner. his mom always told him what assuming does to someone, though. he looks away as he tries to focus on anything other than her. he counts his reps like usual, trying to submerge himself in his music. it doesn’t work. as soon as she takes her first swing, his eyes are back on her, taking notice of how she punches.

hm.

he can see she knows a bit more than someone just randomly choosing to throw a few hits, but he isn’t fond of some of the habits she has that could actually hurt in the long run. he debates approaching, but he’s always been one to help others in the gym. attitude be damned, he’s a personal trainer. he knows the importance of doing things correctly. after watching for a while, he decides to walk over. he knows that if she doesn’t fix her punch, she’ll be angry all over again tomorrow because of sore wrists. she turns, obviously annoyed, but he’s not scared. she looks him up and down, her facial expression barely shifting. he wonders what she’s thinking, wants to hear her voice. when she finally looks up at him with those eyes, he almost tilts his head.

how can someone be so fuckin’ pretty?

she’s a vision with her bare face. eyes he could get lost in, features he wants to admire for moments on end. he would actually guess that she’s quite sweet behind the haze of her frustration. obviously a multifaceted person, and he’s interested in the idea of learning all those facets. who she is, maybe what she likes, what she doesn’t like. maybe even what makes her happy, what would put a smile on the adorably scrunched up face. for some reason, he wants to see that happy expression. actually, as a matter of fact, he wants to see all her expressions. smiling, confused, relaxed, aroused. she’s caught him with a simple gaze and he’s confused about it.

“you actually know what you’re doing?” she asks. it’s not meant to be a jab, truthfully. she’s been hit on by guys that try to “help” just to flirt, but ultimately make a fool of themselves— and her for giving them the opportunity. she doesn’t have the patience for it today, it in fact might be the straw that breaks her back. she can see amusement tickle at his expression, but no signs of him being offended.

because he’s not. he can tell she isn’t asking in a facetious way, she just seems… tired. like she doesn’t want her time wasted. he can respect that. “I promise you, I do,” he says with a slight smile. just a little one, unable to contain his utter enjoyment in her sass, and still having that almost sickening feeling of attraction.

crys hums, her gaze sweeping over him again briefly, taking in his calm but confident demeanor. the little smile on his face is lowkey pissing her off, but she has enough sense to know it’s because she has a lot of stress to work out. he’s fine as hell and now’s really not the time for all that. even still, he’s bold to come over with the metaphorical storm still rolling above her head. bold… or stupid. who walks towards a burning house? but she knows if he could tell her form was off from so far, she could really be messing herself up with how she’s going at the punching bag. she wants to just kick and punch it randomly, similar to what her ‘temper tantrum’ playlist suggests, but she knows that’s no good. and again, he’s fine as hell.

all the same, she’s still irritated and frustration-filled. “sure, yeah,” she mumbles as she turns back to the bag.

ony’s quite intrigued, interestingly enough. he knows a person close to the brink when he sees one. he can see the irritation in her eyes and in the way her shoulders are set. her movements are stiff and her brows are still pinched, gorgeous even with the possibly dangerous amount of upset toiling in her. despite her tense demeanor, he can tell she’s still at least trying to be respectful. and he appreciates it.

“what’s your name?” he asks, shifting to stand next to her. she’s staring at the bag, itching to just punch. “crys,” she answers, sparing him a glance as she fixes the wrapping on her hands. she’s pulling it tight, her movements swift. she can feel him watching her intently and she doesn’t know how she feels about it.

he nods. “ony. I’m no expert but I can share a few tips to keep you from gettin’ hurt. mind if I touch you?” he asks, the question second nature from dealing with his clients. he knows better than to start without given permission, and he definitely knows he doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of her irritation. “s’fine,” she answers, ignoring the very inappropriate response that her brain comes up with. not now, brain. nasty ass. she really just wants him to hurry up so she can go back to punching, but she supposes she can hold back for a few more minutes if it’s him that’s going to touch her. plus it’s important to do it right, and even through her upset she knows that and is grateful for his help. if he could just be a little faster, though, that’d be wonderful.

he approaches, gently taking her hand in his as he unwraps her binding. “it’s a good wrap, but they shouldn’t be too tight. you gone hurt yourself that way,” he mumbles. his hands move slowly, demonstrating to her as he explains. it’s not in the show off-y way she expected, but direct and intentional instead. she’s glad he’s helping but a part of her is focused a bit too much on how his hands feel, how calming his voice is. “you should be able to spread your fingers. this’ll save your wrists and then some, yeah?” he murmurs, gently tapping her hand. still upset, she hates how soothing the contact is. she doesn’t need soothing, she needs violence.

that… might be dramatic. she knows it. but the week’s frustrations have all built to this moment and she plans to take full advantage of the punching bag in front of her. if he doesn’t pick up the pace, he might just take its place, handsome or not. “gotcha,” she mutters. “can I hit the bag now?” ony chuckles, and she’s mad that she really likes the sound. “sure. do a couple jabs.”

she takes a deep breath, her focus zoning on the bag. his presence fades slightly as she begins going at it, a bit overzealous. he lets her take a few punches, seeing how she obviously needs it. his gaze sweeps her form, watching her hips swivel slightly as she swings. her hits start with a decently healthy form, but the more she gets into it, ony can tell her focus is slipping. “okay, hold,” he murmurs. she doesn’t hear him and continues punching. her breathing is picking up and the cute scrunch between her brows is deepening. “hold,” he says louder, getting her attention. she huffs and raises out of her stance, blowing a stray out of her face. she steps forward and holds the bag to stop its movements, looking over at him.

ony could almost laugh at the way the curl flops right back into place. swears he could almost see her eyebrow twitch. damn, who pissed her off? “you got some good habits and some bad habits,” he mumbles, standing parallel to her now. “need to swing your hips more, not push through your arm. pop the bag, don’t push your punch.” he moves slowly as he speaks, demonstrating his words with his movements. it’s easy to follow, but his muscles are stealing the show, to crys’ dismay. “I was doing that,” she mumbles in response because she indeed was. “mhm, at the beginning. the more you put in, the less you focus on your form,” he says as he returns to his earlier position, arms crossed. “go again,” he nods. “bossy,” she mumbles. she likes it. he’s giving proper tips and doesn’t really care about her attitude, seeming unaffected.

ony chuckles, seemingly knowing there’s no actual anger in her tone, at least not completely directed at him. crys supposes he’s right. when she gets in the flow, her mind focuses less on her form and more on the happenings of the week. she definitely could’ve weakened her stance, and his words bring memories of her previous instructor. he might not be an expert, but he knows what he’s saying for sure. she gets back into her stance and takes a few more hits, more focused on her form this time around. she can’t quite lose herself to the exercise with the newfound focus, and she doesn’t like it. “better,” ony calls out. “keep goin’.” so she does. she follows his instructions to a t, feeling a bit more comfortable with the continued form as she practices.

“nice, real nice,” he murmurs, shifting to hold the bag from behind. he notices the hesitation in her movements as she focuses on her form. “come on,” his deep voice encourages. “where that fire go, huh? tellin’ me you can’t fight and focus?” crys, probably feeling goaded, looks up to him for a moment. ony could laugh again at the look in her eyes, but he doesn’t. “don’t look at me, look at the bag. you mad, I know it. let it out,” he nods his head to the bag in his hands. he doesn’t have to tell her twice. she starts to hit with more vigor, putting more into her punches. “mhm, yeah. control that shit, stay tight. swivel your— there you go, exactly,” he encourages. she’s picking it up, movements smoother and becoming more confident by the minute.

shit’s sexy as fuck.

crys is actually starting to fuck with him more, feeling herself in the workout. the way he’s talking is having an affect on her, and she knows she’ll be thinking back on this very moment tonight. his voice is deep, and slightly raspy as she keeps at it, and the encouraging makes her wonder if he’s like that in… different circumstances. she can feel her breath picking up for several reasons. “had you mad as fuck, huh? had you fucked up?” ony questions, pushing her a bit more. “let that shit out, ma. ain’t doin’ you no good to hold it in.” they both know that he’s telling the truth. she was just about bursting at the seams and his encouragement is helping her tap back into that. she punches harder, small grunts falling from her lips. the week’s frustrations are pouring out of her now and she’s pushing herself so that she can get him out of her head.

the way he’s talking to her in her amped up state just shouldn’t be legal. she’s pretty sure he’s the type to talk his girl through it, probably tease and taunt to get a reaction. damn, she needs to get laid. “form,” he reminds as her focus slips. she gives a quick nod, readjusting herself quickly before taking another shot. ony likes how quickly she responds to his guidance. “hell yeah, you got that shit. keep goin’, mama. ain’t nobody fuckin’ with you, that’s for damn sure.”

damn his fine ass with his deep voice and his face and his pet name.

she keeps going until every ounce of upset is drained, listening to his encouragement and occasional shit talking at a particularly weak punch or slip of focus. she’ll be honest, she feels good. great, actually. she feels as if she actually knows what she’s doing, confident in her moves. the upset has trickled away, but its absence is leaving too much space to think about the man in front of her. his fine ass is pushing her in the way she likes and needs, encouraging but taunting just the way she likes it.

after several more minutes, she steps back, panting. “killed that shit,’ ony mumbles, double tapping the bag. she really did, the difference between her earlier attempts and now is stark. and all because of just a few pointers. he watches as she catches her breath and unwraps her hands. “you done?” he questions. he wasn’t expecting her to finish so soon, she was just getting in her groove. he was honestly expecting a few more rounds.

“yeah,” crys answers as she nods. “thanks for your help, really. just needed to blow off some steam.” feeling better now, she decides that she should finish out with her regular workout. the less angry she is, the more she focuses on that damn smirk on his face, the way his muscles move with each shift of his body, the birthmark she’s spotted on his jaw. she’s trying hard to resist the pull she feels as she catches her breath. she gets another chuckle from ony. “could tell. I almost didn’t even come over. bad day?”

crys gives a sheepish smile, sliding her wrap in her bag. ony likes the smile a lot, but he wants more. “my bad. bad week, actually,” the woman responds. ony shakes his head, uncrossing his arms. “no harm, I get it,” he responds. and he really does, most of the time people’s attitudes really have nothing to do with you. “you should keep at it though, you got good form. at least when you’re focused. with some more practice, you could easily make it muscle memory.” and I’d like to see you more, he thinks. crys smiles and nods. “think I will. thanks again for your help, woulda been pissed if I hurt myself.”

ony’s eyes trail over her features. with the metaphorical cloud gone, she’s shining brighter. her smile is gorgeous, revealing a small gap in her teeth and a crinkle by her eyes. yeah. fuckin’ beautiful. “course. can’t have you gettin’ mad again, yeah?” he laughs, the sound deep as it rumbles from his chest. crys playfully rolls her eyes. “whatever, ony. actin’ like I’m godzilla or something. you can gone back to your workout.”

the two separate, continuing their sessions. but their eyes continuously meet as they sneak glances at each other and they exchange flirty quips. crys questions the amount of weight ony chooses for his sets, teasing that she’d thought he’d lift more. ony calls her out for a weak rep, telling her she should start over for half-assing. they just can’t seem to get enough of each other, teasing and poking at one another like crushing kids in school.

crys is definitely eating their interactions up. he’s fun in a way that isn’t childish, regardless of how he makes her almost giddy like a teenage girl. he’s not afraid to go along with a joke, but it’s obvious he’s not one to be messed with. no matter how many shots she takes, no matter how much she teases, he never breaks a sweat. it’s almost as if he’s welcoming the challenge and crys is more than willing to indulge.

ony likes her fire. it’s invigorating and it keeps him on his toes. he’s used to women being like becca— fawning, overly sweet, and obviously interested. the push and tug he gets from crys is different, and he’s enjoying every interaction, every tease, every glance at that ass. she just draws him in and he can’t get enough. where the hell has she been and why are they just now meeting? he could’ve shown her a lot more than boxing tips by now.

for her cool down, crys decides that since the gym is pretty much empty, she can take some extra time to do some yoga and meditation. she zones in and takes a plethora of deep breaths, regulating her nervous system and releasing tension. grounding herself in the present moment and releasing stress, anxiety, and frustration. it definitely helps as a follow up to the punching bag. she’s always appreciated how centered she feels after even just a few minutes of reconnecting with herself, tending to her mind, heart, and soul and not just her body. she should definitely do yoga often to stay balanced, but shoulda woulda coulda.

the second she starts to stretch, ony’s eyes are stuck on her like glue. she stretches for a long time, he notices. it seems like some type of meditation, the way she holds her hands together and closes her eyes, highly focused as she takes deep breaths almost audible where he stands. it’s interesting how he can notice the shift she makes from her earlier demeanor. she’s much calmer, locked in in a way unexpected to him. of course he knows how to calm himself, how to regulate. but those stretches… not only is he sure he could never replicate them due to lack of flexibility, but he can see the intention in each move, seemingly in each muscle and breath.

it’s weird to him how pulled he feels in her direction. he just wants to know her and is curious if she’d give him the chance. and of course he wants to know her body too… he could definitely help her relieve a lot of that stress. over and over again. probably until she couldn’t take anymore. something about her just keeps pulling him back in. maybe he’s just interested in her newness with his life currently feeling a bit more dull, but he knows he’d be just as interested if it wasn’t. she has spice, a good sense of humor, sweetness, she’s undoubtedly beautiful with all her little quirks, and that ass is the kind that a man would go to war for.

seriously.

especially with the way she’s sitting and stretching with her legs wide, chest flush against the floor. it’s making ony have thoughts, and a lot of them. after a while of being unable to stop looking, he decides to walk over. he stands above her with his arms crossed, head tilting as he looks down at her. “how the hell you even doin’ allat?” he murmurs quietly, almost to himself. and what else can she do? he wonders.

crys laughs in response, still enjoying the feel of the stretch. “I do it often. years of youtube videos, I guess,” she responds. she raises, intentionally moving slow for the practice. it’s just a bonus that she can feel his eyes on her ass. “sit down,” she grins, looking up at him with mischief in her eyes. he had his turn helping her, and now she’s going to do the same. whether he likes it or not. plus, it’d be real nice to spend some more time with him. she likes his presence and his laugh and his little jokes. his looks, his demeanor, the way he’s not scared when she nips at him instead either remains unaffected or nips right back… kind of everything about him, so far at least. “huh?” he asks, eyebrows raising. “nigga, if you can ‘huh’ you can hear. sit down and stretch with me,” she laughs.

ony likes the sound. a lot, he realizes. and her sass really tickles him. so why not? he shrugs, plopping down on the floor next to her.

“yoga’s more than stretchin’,” she begins. “yeah, it feels good for the body, but it’s good for the mind too. it’s a lot deeper than I can explain. it’s one of those things that’s been taken from another culture and kinda wiped of its authenticity.” he watches her as she talks with her hands, her caring a lot more about it than he expected. but he’s interested and following along with her words. “I try to respect it, y’know? it has a lot of benefits. can I touch?” she asks with a tilt of her head. he appreciates how her curls bounce with the movement and gives a simple nod of his head. “sit up straight,” she adjusts his back. “and keep your focus on your breath, keeping an awareness of your body as well. stay mindful of the present moment.”

the moment her hand touches him, he sits up. not because of her words but because of the feel of her hands on him. she’s gentle with her guidance, her touch almost hesitant and her voice has softened in a way that sends a slight chill down his spine. “sorry, are my hands cold?” she asks apologetically. “as fuck,” he answers with a laugh. “keep goin’ though.” crys laughs and pinches him softly. “aht, aht, I’m the teacher now, I give the directions. straighten out your legs.” ony rolls his eyes in response but follows her instruction. he mumbles a soft “yeah, aight.”

she gently bumps her shoulder against his at his sass. “lean forward and reach for your feet, curving your back. take a moment to center yourself, focusing on your breath and how your body feels. don’t think about anything, not even me,” she teases slightly. ony can’t help but smile at that. “you make it difficult, sweetheart,” he mumbles. her stomach flutters in response. he takes a deep breath before closing his eyes, reaching for his feet. “don’t forget to breath, nice and deep. relax your mind and let your thoughts fade away,” she mutters softly. “relax. really feel the peace and the stretch.”

oh, ony feels something, alright. but he focuses his mind on the way his muscles feel. he’s used to stretching, but the mental part has never been the most important aspect. he likes how quiet his mind is, how the peace envelopes him like a warm hug.

she guides him through several more positions, helping him to stay centered mentally. her voice is so soothing, her touch as she adjusts him doing things to him. he feels good. really good. the combination of the practice with her presence is something he intends to make sure he gets more of. she’s so cute with her little chides. a “stretch deeper, ony” here, a “you’re not even trying” there. and her obvious favorite, “you know you can do better than that”. actually, no, her favorite thing to say in reprimand is his name. it’s a pleasant hint of flirting and teasing mixed with gentle guidance and words of calm.

by the end of the night, ony’s hooked. before she can walk to the locker room, he gently grabs her wrist to get her attention. “hey, wait, ma,” he murmurs softly. she looks up at him with those eyes again and he’s suddenly parched. “can I get your number? you know, I can send you some boxing tips.” crys tries to fight a smile but fails. “oh, really? boxing tips? sure, long as I can send some yoga tips.” he laughs a bit, smiling at her tone. “yeah, send ‘em. gotta be on my namaste more, shit was nice.” crys tilts her head back slightly as she laughs. “boy, whatever. here.”

ᥫ᭡

crys is folding. real bad.

at first, she thought she’d just do some light flirting, maybe just tease and taunt and go on about her merry way. she didn’t have any intentions on really following through with the man because he just seems like a threat to her safe, protected little bubble of diy nails and chilling alone at home. but as time goes on, she realizes that she’s in a quicksand situation. swapped informational videos of boxing and yoga are just the beginning. soon, they’re texting back and forth. funny videos sent at way too late at night, a range of questions exchanged as they get to know each other, random voice messages that make her stomach tingle… she looks forward to speaking with him, even changes his text tone so she knows when it’s him.

he’s just so funny in such a simple, straightforward way. sometimes she bites at him and he doesn’t budge a bit, not giving her the satisfaction of a reaction. sometimes they go back and forth like a tennis match. he’s not afraid of her sass and she loves when he actually bites back. he’s just… attractive. in a lot of ways, on so many different levels. she ends up going to the gym late more often because he’ll be there, spotting her while she lifts and helping her with her boxing. ms. becca at the front desk seems to really not like it, but her non-working ass can move on somewhere. crys and ony start a routine that whenever she comes to work out with him, they grab food and sit in one of their cars to goof around. they even decide to power walk with mrs. etta every now and then.

it’s insanity to kt, though. she doesn’t understand why they haven’t ‘fucked each other like bunnies’ already and she reminds crys every time they talk. they’d scrolled his instagram together several times and he’s a popular topic between the two of them, three including kt’s boyfriend. he, of course, has a front row seat to these conversations since ms. kt never wants to use her damn headphones.

one particular night, crys is just really not feeling the workout. she’s more tired than usual and ony can tell. she’s not her usual, witty self. not a single jab has any bite to it, and it’s the same with her words. he doesn’t like it. she’s not supposed to be quiet or sad. he doesn’t like the distant look in her eyes and how she gives a weak smile at his teasing. “hey,” he murmurs. “go get changed and get your stuff.” he watches as she looks up at him with a furrowed brow. “you’re obviously not feelin’ up to it. we’ve done enough, let’s grab sum to eat.”

crys was going to push through, get her workout regardless. “nah, I’m good,” she shrugs him off. “no, you ain’t. quit playin’, it’s not a suggestion,” he grumbles back. that surprises her, but she guesses it shouldn’t really. one thing that she’s noticed is how good he is at reading people, and he’s really good at reading her now. he knows when to push, and has learned how to in several different circumstances. she guesses this is one of them. his tone is different than usual though. it’s set, no room for negotiations, no joking around. his eyes are focused and sharp in a way that almost even she doesn’t want to argue with. “…right. yeah, okay. I can go by myself though, you can finish your workout,” she mutters softly.

“what I say?”

crys didn’t need to be told again. his whole demeanor is looking more immovable than ever, eyes and tone telling her to get her ass to the locker room, basically. if it were anyone else, she would’ve fired back and asked who the hell he thought he was. but at this point, she’s too tired and she really doesn’t want to poke the bear. so she sighs and nods, grabbing her bag as she shuffles back to the locker room to get her stuff. she’s grateful, honestly, because as soon as she sits in the passenger seat of his car, she feels like she’s been hit by a bus but it’s really just a wave of exhaustion.

“you pushin’ too hard, ma,” he murmurs, his eyes on the road as he drives. he’s seen her energy decreasing over time, the spark in her eyes dimming. he’d slide a comment in or two about taking a break only for her to brush it off like it was no problem. she’s stubborn and he knows that, but fully capable of taking care of herself, which is why he wasn’t expecting it to get this far. she’s drained and he’ll be damned if he just stands by and watches her continue down this path. especially with the way her head is leaning against his window. usually he’d say something about her hair products getting on it, but he couldn’t give a damn about that.

“you been slackin’ and you know it. wassup?” he questions as he spares her a glance. she sighs, her eyes closing as he makes the familiar trip to their usual spot. “stress. I’ve just been stressed,” she answers. that much he could tell. it’s not really the information he’s looking for though. “mhm. why?” he presses. his voice is a mix of tenderness and concern but also firmness. he’s not going to let her brush this under the rug. “just a lot of shit goin’ on, ony. work’s a mess, they can barely do anything without me there they’re always arguing and never getting anything done. I’ve been looking for another job for months with no luck and it’s really starting to become a problem because I want to leave soon. and I don’t know, I just want to be in a different situation than I am right now.”

ony hums, rolling her words over in his head. he knows she’s been trying to leave her job, even sent her resume out to a few people he knows just to help out. he can understand her frustration, he was in a similar boat before he started his own thing and became a personal trainer. he gets it, the stress from working in a place that drains you and how so many job rejections can affect a person. “it’s alright, ma. I know that don’t mean much to you right now, but it’s gone work out, aight? I’ll put some pressure on my folks, help see what’s out there. you still got some pto right?” he asks. she sighs, rubbing her forehead. “yeah, but I’ve been saving it for a rainy day.” he could almost chuckle.

“it don’t seem like it’s rainin’ to you?” he pushes slightly. “take some time off. rest and relax so you can come back better. do yo yoga and shit, smoke some, whatever. you need a break, babygirl. no positive change is gonna come from you stressin’ and burnin’ out. it’s a three day weekend coming up, take the couple days before that off too.” she looks out the window as they pull into the drive thru. he’s right and she knows it. it’s just so easy for her to get swept up into the stress and lose herself a little bit more and more until she realizes just how close she is to burning out. she can feel tears gathering in her eyes from the stress.

“oh, pretty girl,” he mumbles, seeing the emotion in her eyes. he pulls off to the side and parks in the back of the lot instead of getting in line. “c’mere, crystal,” he croons, reaching an arm around her to pull her close. she sniffles and her shoulders shake as she cries into his shoulder, letting out what she’s let build up for so long. “s’okay, ma. you really doin’ good shit, providin’ for yourself and workin’ hard. it’s gonna work out, you gotta believe that,” he presses, squeezing her tighter. “but you can’t do this, okay? you can’t wither away like this. your health is important and if you neglect it, it’ll affect everything. I don’t like seein’ you upset and tired and drained. wanna see that pretty smile, get a taste of that sass that irks me so much.” she laughs slightly in his arms, her own wrapping around him as he gives her the most comforting hug she’s had in a while. “you’re right or whatever. big headed ass,” she mumbles.

“there she is.”

ᥫ᭡

after that night, she did exactly what he suggested. she took those extra days off and just recovered. smoked, slept a whole bunch, had a self-care day, and even booked a massage just for an extra treat. of course she talked ony’s ear off, and texted him and her best friend a bunch too, but it was necessary in her eyes. she knows they love her presence, even if they call her annoying. by her last day off, she feels rejuvenated.

she feels less stressed. she has a revamped resume, a mini twist out that’s cute and lets her leave her hair alone, new nails, and a new attitude. but… crys is running out of excuses to give as far as her and ony. his support that night meant more to her than he probably even knew. the way he held her, calmed her down, and comforted her… it’s something that’s been plaguing dancing in her mind. he’s shown that he can handle her full range of emotions no problem and can support her regardless of how strongly she feels. at this point, even she’s started to wonder why they haven’t done anything. she hasn’t made a move, no, but neither has he. he seems perfectly content with the way things are and is starting to become bothersome.

she can’t get him out of her head. his voice, his laugh, his features. every time he encourages her while she’s going at the punching bag, she wants to push the damn thing out of the way and just tackle him. when she can feel his eyes on her while they stretch, she wants to show him exactly what she can do and how her flexibility can blow his fucking mind. she wants to kiss him, touch him, hear those encouraging words that he gives her in an entirely different setting.

but his lack of action is causing her to overthink. is he not as affected as she is? does his heart not pound in her presence like hers does in his? how the hell is she the only one gnawing her lip at the thought of more? maybe it’s because she hasn’t had sex in so long. maybe that’s it. she’s just like this because of her wack ass sex life.

contrary to crys’ perspective, though, ony is losing his shit.

he definitely would’ve made a move by now if these were usual circumstances. he’s just so thrown off by how much he likes her, how much she makes him feel. she’s so much more than that pretty face and that mouth watering body. she’s funny, witty, and she packs a nasty ass punch both with her words and her hands. he likes the full range of crys. mouthy and annoying, intentionally trying to get a raise out of him. flirty and teasing, sensual in the way she draws him in. sweet and serene, almost like an oasis of calm and tranquility. oh, and he can’t forget how expressive she is with every emotion. her anger when her order’s wrong at the late night burger place they frequent, her excitement and joy when mrs. etta tells her about another good scan at the doctor, her sadness when she sees a sad tiktok during rest periods.

he just doesn’t get it. how can one person be so damn enthralling? how can someone’s quirks and flaws be so beautiful? he’s never felt pulled like this, but you know what? he’s fucking with it. she’s done nothing but add color to his life, a great addition that he felt like he was waiting for without even knowing. he loves her presence. she makes him smile and belly laugh, she pisses him off, she lights him up. he can be goofy with her, serious, sensitive even. he just wants more and more of crys, and even when he thinks maybe there’s nothing left to surprise him about her, she whips something new out of her arsenal. it’s just crazy how she has him by the throat but he’s happy to be along for the ride.

but he’s really wanting that ride to go somewhere. he’s always thought that it was crazy that crys is single, he just doesn’t understand it. in his eyes, she’s everything great in a woman. confident, sensitive, hardworking, sweet… annoying but in the best ways, enthralling, sexy as all hell.

when he’s ranting to eren about her for the nth time, the brunette raises an eyebrow at him and asks what’s taking him so long to ask her out. ony blinks. he thought they were… well, something already. but the sense that’s been chasing him for quite a while now finally catches up to him and hits him like a truck. he has to say something. do something. the unspoken thing doesn’t work for adults, and definitely not if he actually wants to keep her. is he an idiot? he wants to say no to his own question so badly, but he knows he would be delusional if he did.

so he quickly decides to get his shit together. the next time he sees crys, he’s asking her on an actual date, and that’s it. this whole thing could’ve been at a different point if he’d taken his head out of his ass and asked her out that first night he saw her in the gym. but it’s too late to try to change the past, and he can fix his mistakes in the present.

ᥫ᭡

unfortunately for ony, crys has a nasty attitude the next time they meet. her answers are short and snippy, and not in the usual, fun way. they had plans to go shopping together to buy mrs. etta a congratulatory something for completing her treatment, both having become extremely fond of the lady and being supportive of her on her journey. ony picks her up, being the gentleman he is (he hates her driving) and it takes no time at all to notice the bitter air around her. he actually realizes it the second she closes the door to her townhouse too damn hard. she huffs and puffs as she gets settled in the passenger seat.

crys doesn’t really know exactly why she’s so mad. it’s another one of those days where the stress has built up so quickly without her noticing, something that happens when her head isn’t fully in the game. she doesn’t want to take it out on ony, never means to, but something about knowing that he can handle that shit keeps her from being as mindful as she should be. “hey,” he speaks, his eyebrow raising at her lack of greeting. “hey,” she greets blandly. “what’s wrong, ma?” he asks, looking from her to the road as he pulls off. she just shakes her head. “thanks for picking me up,” she murmurs. “of course,” he responds.

he’s eyeing her every once in a while, trying to pick up on whatever he can. she’s fiddling a lot, tapping her fingers as she looks out the window. antsy? irritated? what is it, he wonders. but he’s not super fond of playing the guessing game, by now she should know that she can talk to him about any and everything on her mind and in her heart. he’ll listen, he’ll care, and he’ll support. hasn’t he shown that? “you lyin’ to me, ma. don’t like it,” he mumbles. she doesn’t answer and he really doesn’t like that. “what’s the issue, crys? talk,” he presses, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. this isn’t anything he’s used to from her. mouthy sometimes? sure. that’s nothing he can’t handle. but the silent treatment mixed with the tense attitude is not how he was planning to spend this time with her.

“nothin’, just tired.” she murmurs. his eyebrows furrow. “we can reschedule if you want,” he responds, understanding. “nah,” she says simply. she can’t explain it, she doesn’t really want to act like this. she’s just not exactly happy at the moment and the two seem to have very different vibes. guess that’s the theme, huh? she thinks. “mama, you not bein’ fair. tryna talk to you,” he mumbles. she rolls her eyes, looking out the window. “yeah, talk. your favorite thing to do,” she mumbles.

ony pauses, but only for a moment. “and that’s supposed to mean?” crys sighs, as if she’s really just over him. “nothing, ony, m’sorry. are we goin’ to macy’s or ross first?” she’s trying to deflect, and although ony’s not stupid, he lets her. maybe she just needs time, she can be like that every now and then. carrying around irritation from an earlier incident until it eventually fades and she’s good to go. sometimes she just needs to process her emotions, and ony’s cool with that. he’s cool with anything with her, it seems.

they end up at ross first, mrs. etta’s favorite store that she talks about when they power walk with her. they get her random things, little trinkets that remind them of her, lotions and candles, and a few decorative pieces for her house. they move to macy’s to get her a perfume she likes, and a few other random things that draw their attention. last is dollar.25 tree and a couple other craft stores, the mission being to grab a big basket and additional stuffing to make her a custom gift basket with a congratulatory card from both of them. crys is quieter than usual the entire time, but not necessarily agitated. it seems like shopping for mrs. etta is cheering her up.

seems.

once they get to her house, ony can tell by the way she groans as she flops onto her couch that she’s not a hundred percent. at this point, he’s confused and maybe a bit worried. what is it that has her so upset? he doesn’t like when she’s quiet, much rather her be loud and expressive with whatever emotion she’s feeling. it’s eerie when she’s quiet and ony can’t tell what she’s thinking or feeling. he doesn’t like to be in the dark.

“c’mon, ma, let’s go ahead and get this assembled. we can talk and smoke after,” he mumbles, moving to set the stuff down on her dining room table. he wants to sit and smoke, get her to shake herself out of whatever fucking funk she’s in, but he figures it’s a good idea to finish up mrs. etta’s gift. he really wants it to be perfect. he’s known mrs. etta for a while, she was even one of the people that encouraged him the most when he first started training, and he’s extremely happy that her treatment is done. a bratty sigh is heard from the girl on the couch and ony has to close his eyes to center himself. “we can’t take a break? all that shopping. m’tired.”

ony licks his lips and lets out a breath. “sure, ma, take a break. imma get started on this, I’ll chill after,” he responds. crys doesn’t like the little breath he takes, his tone coming across patronizing to her. “you tired of me? cause I can really do that shit by myself,” she responds lowly. she swears she can see a vein appear on ony’s forehead, but only momentarily. “nah. just want this gift to be good,” he mumbles. crys sits up to look at him. “it’s good already, we put a lot of thought into everything. what, you think I can’t assemble it myself?” her head tilts. because she could make the prettiest damn basket all on her own, really. she’ll prove it if she has to.

ony’s on the brink. he’s been patient all day— he’s always patient with her. it’s usually no issue, but today she’s really pushing it. mrs. etta should be the focus right now. “you don’t hear me talkin’ to you?” she asks, her eyebrows beginning to furrow. “yes, love, I hear you,” he murmurs. “just focused.” he’s really trying to keep it together.

crys scoffs, “yeah, well, you can focus and talk. you wouldn’t have to focus as much if you waited on me.” ony wonders what he did to be in this position. he hasn’t done shit to her, hasn’t said anything disrespectful, and he knows that she isn’t usually one to take her shit out on him, so he’s just thinking. wondering what has her so mad. “there you go again, not fuckin’ responding,” she huffs, standing up and crossing her arms. “you can just get the hell out forreal, I can finish this mysel—“

“sit the fuck down.”

crys blinks. and then blinks again. “excuse me?” she asks. she couldn’t have heard that right. he wouldn’t talk to her like that, he’s not insane. but the look he gives when he turns to her gives her second thoughts on that theory. “you heard me. sit the fuck down. I’m not leavin’ and you’re about to act like you have some fucking respect instead of poppin’ off at the mouth. I’ve dealt with your shit ask damn day, trying to be patient and understanding— like I always am with yo lil ass. I’m not playin’ crys. sit down,” he demands. and he really means that shit too, she can tell.

crys’ jaw is damn near on the floor by the time he finishes talking. “who you talkin’ t—“ she starts, only to be interrupted by a slow approaching ony, having put the materials he was working with down. “crys, I swear, if you don’t get some act right—“ he starts, trying to keep his breath even and his body calm. tired of being interrupted, crys decides to give him a taste of his own medicine. “what? what you gone do? talk my ear off? stand there and look at me with your arms crossed? I ain’t scared of you, ony. you don’t do shit and won’t do shit to me.”

“nah. I’ma fuck you,” he answers as he steps into her personal space. if crys’ jaw was on the floor before, it’s in hell now. there’s no way he just said that. “fuck that nasty ass attitude right outta you. you playin’ in my face, ma. you know I don’t like that shit. I’ve been so fuckin’ understanding with yo ass, somethin’ not every nigga is willin’ to do, by the way. you push and you push and I let yo ass. is that the problem?” he tilts his head, chest almost touching hers as he looks down. his eyes are dark, his jaw tense. the vein she thought she saw earlier is bulging now, almost angrier than ony himself. “is the problem that I let yo lil ass keep pushin’ me? cause I swear it don’t mean that I’ll just let the shit slide. and I’ll prove that shit too.”

ᥫ᭡

“fuck,” crys pants, tugging on the sheets in front of her. “please,” her voice breaks. “just— just lemme come. I’m so close, ony, please!”

she’s been on all fours for a while now, face buried in the bed as ony works her with his tongue and fingers. she’s in a pool of her own arousal, thighs wet and pussy drenched from the several times she’s been close to the edge, only to be disappointed each time as she’s denied her orgasm. her bottom lip is bitten raw, toes almost permanently curled and eyes finding a home in the back of her head as she pushes her hips back again and again to coax ony to at least let her have one. if she knew this was going to be the result of her attitude today, she would’ve just asked him to fuck her before they even left to go shopping. she’s waited enough for this, and even now when she’s so close, she’s getting denied.

there’s a harsh but absolutely welcome smack to her ass and she whines so damn pathetically that ony almost laughs. pulls his full lips from her clit with a pop and massages the cheek. “you want me to stop?” he asks, his voice low and raspy in a way unfamiliar to crys. she quickly shakes her head and grips the sheets tighter. “no, please! keep going, wanna come on your face,” she begs, pushing her hips to meet his lips again. the sound and sight of her is addicting, ony thinks. he likes the way she seems so desperate for his touch and tongue, craving that release that he’s been building up for so long. “you wanna come?” he asks, his fingers sliding back into her soaked pussy. he can feel her clench around him almost instantly. fuck he’s going to enjoy tonight. “yes! yes, wanna come!” she pants, rocking her hips to meet the thrust of his long fingers.

“then shut the fuck up and let me have my fun,” he murmurs, diving his face back in as his tongue meets her clit once again. “ah, shit,” she whimpers, her eyes rolling back again at the pleasure that washes over her. “yes, yes, just like that. fuck, you eatin’ my pussy up,” she moans. she’s never been so mad but so pleased at the same time. he’s torturing her and she doesn’t know how much longer she can last before she releases all over him without his say so. she’s already been through so much, she doesn’t want to find out what else he’ll do , even if it’s his fault. “my fuckin’ pussy,” he pulls back to murmur, flicking his tongue quickly over her pearl as his fingers continue to pump. she’s so wet, his fingers move with ease, and the sound that’s made is delicious. “say that shit.”

“fuck, I’ll say whatever you want,” she whines, back arching and toes throwing up gang signs. “s’your pussy, baby! take it take it take it,” she moans, throwing her ass back over and over. she’s so damn close, so damn close. she can almost taste it. her tummy feels like it’s about to burst and her poor pussy is sobbing. he pulls back once again to her dismay, reading her body like a book. “you betta not fuckin’ come,” he murmurs, fingers moving faster as they stretch her. how the hell is she not supposed to come? is he insane? “you fuckin’ kidding meee?” she whines, her head falling down onto the sheets. ony likes how spent she looks already, and he hasn’t even fucked her yet. “you know damn well I ain’t,” he grumbles, smacking her ass again. “arch that shit. it’s gone be a long night if you don’t listen to me, baby.”

in a turn of events, ony’s pussy drunk. he’s enjoying himself way too much, taking in her moans and slurping up what’s now his to pleasure. he’s just drowning in her, hands exploring everywhere he can touch. caressing, appreciating, adoring this beautiful woman falling apart on his tongue. he could do this all day and be grateful every second of it. he’s absolutely aching in his shorts, but something about bringing such a normally mouthy girl to babbles is too hard to turn away from. he didn’t even mean to take it this far, he just doesn’t want to stop. he wants her to keep feeling good, and the way she begs and reaches back for him to bring him closer lets him know that he’s doing his job

“please, I can’t,” she begs, back arching but breath deepening. “ony, I caan’tt, m’gonna come,” she whines. she’s trying, really she promises she is, but it’s just become too hard to hold out. it’s too good, she wants it and needs it. if he doesn’t stop or give her the green light, she’s gonna make a mess of both of them, and she’s not going to regret it. ony groans at her whines, basking in the sound of her begging and pleading. he can feel how she’s clenching, hears the desperation in her voice. she’s gone, melting into a pile of goo at his touch, and he’s never felt more satisfied. not only are they both having the times of their lives, but that attitude is just about gone and she’s actually acting like she has some fucking manners.

he reluctantly pulls back and removes his hand from her, licking at his fingers like a man starved. “flip over,” he huffs, standing and palming his aching dick. she seems to be too out of it, raising her head full of messy curls to look up in his general direction. “w-what?” she questions. ony doesn’t have time for her shit, so he grabs her hips and flips her over his damn self. the way he looks down at her is downright sinful and crys flutters simply at the sight. “fuckin’ bratty ass. you did this to yourself, crys. was gonna take you on a nice ass date, make love with your pretty ass, do shit the right way. but that fuckin’ mouth of yours,” he grumbles as he grabs her by her ankles, pulling her to the end of the bed. “is too damn bold with me. gotta fix that, sweetheart. you gone be my good girl after tonight, I can promise you that.”

she whines and grinds against his hand as his thumb traces circles on her puffy clit. looking down at her, he realizes that this is one of his favorite sights now. her eyes are blurry with tears from the constant denial, her face scrunched in a cute and sexy pout of pleasure, her tits shifting with each movement. ony could watch her like this all day, bringing her to the edge over and over just to see those pretty tears fall and hear that voice of hers crack. that’d only be torture for himself as well because he feels like he’s about to burst. “you so damn beautiful. you want this dick, sweetheart? tell me, I’ll give it to you,” he murmurs, licking his lips as he lets his shorts fall. crys whines and nods, unruly curls all over the place. so damn breathtaking.

“gimme it, please. wanna come all over it, baby. paint it for you,” she begs. her arms reach to hook around the back of her knees, pulling her thighs back slightly to open up for him. her words only serve to rile him up more. “you a lil freak, huh? mmm, you can do better than that, baby. stretch them legs like I know yo lil freaky ass can,” he grumbles, pulling his underwear down and off, his cock hanging low between his legs. crys knew it— she just knew it was big, and she was right. it’s long and thick with a minimal curve, and if she wasn’t so deprived she’d get on her knees and pay him back for the teasing. she whimpers and bites her lip, sliding her hands to hook behind her knees instead. she pulls her thighs flush to her chest and keeps going, extending her legs.

“fuck, yeah, baby, show me that pretty pussy. fat pussy all mine,” he grumbles. he lessens their distance, letting himself rest on her as he takes her in. what a fucking vision of a woman. he takes his dick in his hand and lightly taps it against her before her rubs himself all in her wetness. “look at ‘chu, baby. so fuckin’ sloppy. this all for me?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks back to her face. she goes to speak, but ony considers her next words unimportant in the grand scheme of things. before she can speak, she feels him start to press into her. she lets out a breathy moan, her grip tightening on her legs. “f-fuck,” she moans at the same time ony lets a groaning “shiiit,” pass his lips.

the two pant, looking each other in the eyes as he continues to press forward. crys is seeing stars, feeling the stretch of him. her face scrunches and her eyes begin to close. “mm-mm, keep them pretty eyes on me,” ony‘s breathing heavy , his hand coming to lightly wrap around her throat. “sexy ass. you bet not deny me that shit.” crys can only lick her lips, forcing her eyes open to meet his, clenching at the way he speaks. his words add to the growing fire within her. “there you go, baby. love that shit,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press his lips against hers in a nasty, sloppy kiss. crys is upset at the fact that this man is really bringing her to her knees. “so damn fine. don’t know why I waited so long to be in yo shit. too fucking good,” he groans, pulling out just slightly before pushing back in. crys gasps, pulling her legs closer just to have something to grab, but it just makes him go deeper.

“feels so good, onyyy,” she moans, keeping the eye contact as much as she can. ony’s hovering over her now, watching her with his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyebrows together in concentration. he’s moving slowly, letting her adjust to him and just taking in the view in front of him. “onyyy,” she moans, clenching around him as her pussy flutters. he’s so damn fine and it’s been so long since she’s been touched. he’s deep in her shit and she’s on cloud nine. she wants more, so much more, and she wants it all from him. she hates it took so long to get to this point and hates that she the fact that she stopped herslef from persuing him. she wants this, needs all of him. “fuck me,” she chokes out. “c’mon, please.”

“relax,” he mutters, his free hand rubbing up her thigh. “just keep that pretty pussy open for me. I’ma always give you what you need, sweetheart. always.” and he means it. he’s never going to play with her, not her heart or her mind. but he’ll play with her pretty pussy until the sun comes up, until the cows come home. he’s never felt anything so good, seen someone so beautiful while they take his dick. she’s everything to him in this moment, her curls sprawled around her like the sun’s halo, face showing all the pleasure she’s feeling. her breathing is deep, her eyes staying on his just like he said.

he’s fucked. shit, he might just be in love.

“ooo, fuck, ony,” she keens, her nails slightly digging into the skin of her thigh. “so big. oh my God, baby.” she’s having the time of her life. he’s stretching her so well, and he feels so damn good digging into her like that. ”yeah, yeah. been waiting for thisss,” she pants, unable to keep her mouth shut. it’s just so good and it’s hitting that spot. would could blame her? “give it to me,” she moans. ony groans above her, his hips starting to meet hers sharper and sharper. she’s still so vocal, and he’s eating it the fuck up. “mhm,” he breathes, his hands moving to rest on hers, helping to hold her legs as she falters. “take that dick, babygirl. s’all for you. swear it is,” he groans. she doesn’t know it, but she could ask for just about anything right now and he’d give it to her.

her eyes scan over him, her hand reaching out to lightly scratch down his abdomen. “fuckin’ me so good, ony.”ony groans at the touch of her nails, his gut tightening at the way she’s looking up at him. he pulls out, reaching down to tap himself against her again. she’s too much, her voice, her eyes, her touch… the way she keeps clenching around him. “you fuckin’ dangerous, mama,” he pants. “can I beat this pussy up, baby? lemme take it.” crys bites her lip and nods, looking up at him in a way that makes him grip her thighs a little tighter. fucking minx. he’s beating himself up for not doing this sooner. he adjusts himself on the bed, leaning down to press his lips to hers as he slides back in, the two of them moaning into each other's mouths. he immediately picks up the pace as he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling slightly as he presses more of his weight onto her.

crys starts to gasp with each thrust, toes curling and a squeak escaping her when she feels his hands on her clit. “w-wait— fuck, wait, m’gonna come quick,” she moans, fingers gripping ony’s shoulders as he pins one of her thighs to her chest. she wants to come with him, but her earlier pleasure is coming back with a fucking vengeance. ony chuckles— actually chuckles, and rasps down to her, “that’s the point, sweetheart. give it to me.” if she wasn’t on the brink of a mind blowing orgasm, she’d be pissed and annoyed at that fucking smirk. but instead she pants and pants until her breath stops. her orgasm washes over her in delicious waves, and she’s just frozen in pleasure, unable to do anything but come and come, pulsing around ony.

“breathe, mama. come on, breath through that shit,” ony guides, pressing kisses up and down her neck. right, breathing. she forgot about that. crys lets out a long moan, her eyes rolling back as she tastes her sweet release. sweet isn’t even the word, though. the denial and delay just makes things ten times stronger, her orgasm wracking her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. she’s holding onto ony tightly as he talks her through it, breathing heavy as she just takes it. “yeaah, there you go. breathe, baby, I got you. gonna take real good care of you just like I said,” ony grumbles, nipping at her skin here and there and slowing his thrusts and his assault on her clit. he has to pant at the way she’s so tight around him, and he’s just so strained holding back good open release. “you deserve that shit, baby.” more kisses and nips than either of them can count are placed on crys’ neck as crys comes down and tries to calm down as well.

his hand reaches to gently caress her cheek as he presses soft, sweet kisses to the other. “you’re so beautiful, babygirl. you feel okay?” he asks softly. okay? she’s riding down a fucking rainbow of happiness and bliss. okay is an understatement. crys figures that would boost his who a bit too much, so she just tilts her head to rest on the side of his. “mhm,” she hums breathlessly. “so good,” she murmurs. ony’s glad, pressing more kisses to her sweet face. he’s happy he can make her feel good, especially considering how she was sarlier in the day. “good enough to gimme another one?” he asks. he just can’t get enough, so he has to ask. he wants this night to last as long as it can.

crys lets out a breath, wondering just what the hell is wrong with the man. she’s been through the wringer for a good while now. but it’s felt amazing every step of the way, so the answer is yes. of course it’s yes. she nods. “just one more, sweetheart,” he croons, looking down at her dazed face. he pulls out, turning her over onto her stomach, much gentler this time. he guides her on all fours and reaches to rest his hand on the headboard, his other hand positioning himself once again. once he begins to push inside, his arm wraps around her torso to hold her tight as they both moan. his hips start to move again, this time with a slower pace as he braces himself on the headboard.

ony can’t help but feel the shift on the room. it’s much more intimate than before, crys sensitive from one release already. he wants to be so many things for her. he can be a little aggressive, knowing she likes when he bites back. he can be goofy and unserious. and he can be soft. he can be serious with her and about her. that’s what he wants. “wanted this for so long, baby. wanted you,” he murmurs into her ear. the sound makes her pussy flutter, causing him to chuckle again. “sh-shut up,” she mumbles, her hands slowly tightening around the sheets below them. the combination of his intimate confession and his thrusting into her is a double whammy that she didn’t see coming.

“mmm, I’m serious babygirl. want you, been wantin’ you,” he presses, eyes falling shut as his hips continue to move. she feels so good, it’s ridiculous. he’s going to be in it every day if she lets him. “gotta make you mine, ma. I’m forreal.” and he is, because what kind of idiot would he be to let her slip through his fingers? crys let’s her head fall back in a moan as he starts to gently work her clit. everything about this is just insane. who knew what today was going to bring? “y-you never… ah,” she cuts herself off with a moan as he curves his hips, fucking her in just the right way in such an intimate moment. fuck, what was she saying? “I never said anything, I know. s’my fault, no excuse. I was just too busy enjoyin’ bein’ around you,” he murmurs, moaning as he holds her tighter. his hips are starting to move a bit faster and crys is starting to meet his every thrust.

“but you mine now, right? I’ma do— fuuuck, I’ma do right by you, mama. always,” he groans. he means every word. it’s like she has a spell on him and he doesn’t care. if she wants his heart, she can take it. he leans back from the headboard, sitting up on his knees as he keeps her back against his chest. gosh, crys’ heart just flutters. “yeah,” she moans. “yeah, ony, m’yours. f-finally.” that puts a tired smile on ony’s face, his already racing heart squeezing. with one hand massaging her clit and the other now on her hip, ony begins fucking into her faster. “that’s right, baby. and I’m yours. can’t get rid of me, can’t push me away, sure as fuck not scarin’ me away,” he groans. i’d important to him that she knows that, with her lil stubborn ass.

crys reaches back behind her, grabbing onto him. “yeah, j-just like that, ony. me and youuu,” she moans, feeling that familiar sensation again. her body’s almost tired of it after so much teasing and edging and repeating. “gonna come for you, baby,” she groans. she has no fight left, it’s going to rock her and she knows it. “you gonna come for me?” he asks, his voice coming out breathy as he continues to thrust into her. he doesn’t remember the last time he felt as good as he does in this moment. he doesn’t want it to end, but he can’t hold anymore. she’s tight around him, pulsing as her release approaches once again. “paint my dick, baby, just like you said. then I’ma give you this nut,” he huffs, working his hips more and more. crys is a moaning mess, her head dipping as she feels another strong orgasm approaching. “keep breathin’,” ony croons. “want you to feel all that shit, mama.”

she breathes as even as she can, breaths deepening as she quickly approaches that line. “ohhh, ony!” she cries out, her eyes squeezing shut. ” let it out, baby, give it to me. give me that shit,” he groans to her, working her clout faster and faster as he keeps pumping into her. it’s all too much and it brings her over the edge, her toes almost cramping and hips moving without her knowledge. “there it goes, keep breathing. fuck yeah, mama, take that shit.” it’s an intense feeling and she’s chasing it, breathing like ony directs and it makes the difference. she feels the shit down to her toes. her eyes are crossed and she can’t even fucking speak, just taking whatever comes as her eyes shut tight. “that’s it, baby, feel that shit. know you feel good, I know,” he pants.

ony’s fucking into her faster, the way she’s clenching around him making his head spin. his grip tightens on her hip as he chases his own high, watching her fucked out face. she looks so good like that, spent and satisfied and his. “fuuuck, you so gorgeous, crystal. gahdamn you feel good as fuck,” he rambles, praising her over and over just because he can and she deserves it. soon, he’s pulling out and pumping himself all over her ass, groaning as his body jerks. “yeah, ony,” crys coos with a raspy voice. she’s giving a tired wiggle of her hips, encouraging him to spill all over her. “fuckin’ perfect.”

the two pant, spent from such a lovely day together. it’s silent as they just back in the afterglow of their impromptu endeavors. eventually, ony starts to press sweet, calming kisses to her shoulder and back. he appreciates the small marks on her skin, random beauty marks and freckles. “perfect, mama. you were perfect,” he rasps. as far as he’s concerned, today couldn’t have been more successful. crys is… well, crys is out of commission at the moment. her mind is fuzzy in her post orgasm bliss, and she’s catching her breath as she basks in his kisses. “fuck…” she mumbles. that was very unexpected but completely welcome. the wait was more than worth it, and now she can have that again and again and again. “yeah,” ony chuckles tiredly. “yeah, that was crazy. damn.”

the two laugh together, gross and sticky, but so happy with the situation. that line was finally crossed, and there’s no going back. not that either of them would want to, anyway. ony glances down at crys as she rests for a moment, eyes closed and lashes tickling her skin. the earlier tensions are gone, nothing but fondness and connection in it’s wake. he reaches to caress her cheekbone, tucking a curl behind her ear and out of her face. “sorry for earlier,” crys mumbles into the quiet. she really is, she doesn’t like when she projects her upset like that. she nevers wants that for anyone she’s connecting with, especially not ony. he’s been understanding with her in a way that she’s learned to deeply appreciate. “but I’m glad we did this.”

ony hums, pressing another kiss to her shoulder. he can deal with a little push from her, especially since he gets to keep her. she’s a sweet girl, and she invigorates him. he appreciates her expressiveness and range of emotions, and understands that sometimes she’s just human. he’s okay with that. but now that they’re together, he has the ability to take a different approach. sometimes she needs him to snap back at her, and that’s what he’ll do with absolutely no hesitation from now on. there’s a mutual respect and understanding, and ony really fucks with that shit. “just needed some attention… and dick,” he murmurs. and he’ll give it to her whenever, wherever.

crys groans and starts to fuss, turning to weakly slap at his chest. “oh, shut up! go get me a damn towel!” here he goes saying some slick shit, right when the moment is good. he’s such an idiot sometimes, but it never fails to put a smile on her face. ony lets out a bellowing laugh, backing off of her and standing on his only slightly wobbling legs. he hopes she didn’t see that, but she’s already talking shit again. “yeah, pussy got you walkin’ crazy,” she sasses as he starts his trek to the bathroom, watching his sweaty but oh so fine figure walk away. ”better act right or you’ll never get it again,” she huffs. ony laughs again, shaking his head. “don’t make me start this shit all over, crystal,” he calls over his shoulder. she rolls her eyes but nuzzles her face into a pillow as she grumbles under her breath. she’s not scared, she’s just still recovering, is all. “yeah, that’s what I thought,” he laughs.

soon, they’re all cleaned up and on fresh sheets, crys refusing to sleep in the crusty bedspread after everything was said and done. they get into a spat about who gets to sleep on which side of the bed, and then over whether they should sleep with some time of light on. ony also demands to cuddle, but crystal fusses that she’ll get too hot and won’t be able to sleep. for that brief period, it’s war.

eventually, though, after bargains and begrudging compromises, crys is on her back on her usual side of the bed and ony is half-sprawled on top of her, head buried in her neck and hand softly rubbing her outer thigh. a random sitcom plays with no sound and the room is a nice, cool temperature with the fan blowing on the both of them. crys caresses ony’s back gently with her nails, eyes closed as she enjoys the weight of him on top of her. the pleasant feeling is like a weighted blanket, lulling her to sleep. ony is holding crys close, enjoying her warmth and presence. he’s taking full advantage of being able to cuddle with her. they fall asleep like this, wrapped up in each other, and wondering what the next day will bring.

hoooooly moooooly. this was not supposed to be this long. was hoping to post this sooner, but the words just kept coming omg. pls excuse any mistakes lmao. hope you like it! feedback welcome and wanted 🫶🏽

#this was supposed to be 5k words #how did we get here #aot onyankopon #attack on titan #onyankapon #onyankopon smut #black oc #aot x black reader #aot x reader #ony x black reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x you #writings — fic

416 notes · View notes

secretlysamcro · 3 months ago

Text

Black female reader x Jax teller PLOT SPOILERS! smut, explicit language & violence If you're under the age of 18. haven't finished the show or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request: Jax x black reader where reader is his old lady and deals with imas or Tara’s jealously/flirty comments and puts her in her place by beating the shit out of her in front of the club and Jax supports her control over lady’s business and ends with smut or not

Backstory: Jax Teller had always been a man of fleeting connections. Casual hookups and one night stands, that is until y/n came into his life. She was the little sister of T.O, the former Grim Bastards president, now turned SAMCRO. It wasn’t long before y/n became known as Jax’s old lady. Jax and Ima had a brief history. Meaningless encounters that were more convenience than connection. Even with y/n in the picture, she continues to flirt and beg for Jax’s attention, being the trifling whore that she is.

Jax strolls over from his bike as he began to approach the bar which was once the heart of the Lodi chapter of the Grim Bastards. With the former president T.O now a member of SAMCRO, an agreement has been made. The bar was now going to be used as a front, a place to launder any dirty money rolling in from future SAMCRO dealings.

“You lost, white boy?” T.O calls out to Jax as he strides down the side path of the bar. He lets out a laugh, Jax joining in. They pull each other into a tight embrace, Jax taking a moment to look T.O up and down, his gaze fixated on the new kutte he now wears.

“Looks good on you, brother” he says, a sense of pride from within, he’s proud to now call T.O a member of SAMCRO. The Grim Bastards had always been there when needed. Having their backs in ways that other clubs never did, their loyalty running deep, proving time and time again that they could be trusted when it mattered the most.

They step into the bar, Jax noticing a few familiar faces amongst the sparse crowd. Even the faces he doesn’t recognise, seem to know who he is, their respect clear in the way that they acknowledge him. As Jax continues to scan the room, he notices the GB memorabilia being taken down from the walls and carefully packed into boxes.

“What’s happening with all the old club stuff?” Jax questions, leaning against the bar beside T.O, he takes in the scene with a sigh.

“Sending it to the South Gate charter” T.O replies, slipping off his signature black shades and setting them on the bar “I'm sure them mother fuckers’ can find somethin’ to do with it all”.

They continue their conversation, discussing the future of the club, T.O’s new role within SAMCRO and the logistics of setting up the bar. They talk through how things will work and how they’ll manage everything moving forward. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Jax notices you.

You walk towards them, your knotless braids moving softly with each step. Jax’s gaze is immediately locked onto you. The lights above catching your perfectly lined lips, brown liner paired with a slick of clear gloss - chef’s kiss. The sound of your knee high boots grow louder, drawing T.O’s attention. He glances over, following Jax’s stare. The moment he clocks its you his jaw tightens, he turns back just as quickly. “off limits” he mumbles under his breath with an eyebrow raised, almost as if he could read Jax’s mind.

“Where the fuck you goin’ dressed like a ten dollar hooker?” T.O snaps, his eyes narrowing at the little black dress hugging your curves and your long leather jacket draped over your arms. “Fuck you, bald ass” you fire back with an unapologetic smile.

Jax leans back, arms crossed, holding back a laugh as he watches the interaction unfold. his curiosity getting the better of him as he tries to piece together the dynamic between the both of you.

You move around the bar, pouring yourself a drink without any hesitation. Jax cant help but notice how comfortable you seem, though inside your heart is racing. The man sitting with your brother is so damn fine its almost infuriating.

“You know you gone’ pay for that right?” T.O mutters, keeping a close eye on you.

“Put it on my tab” Jax cuts in smoothly, a grin tugging at his face as his eyes linger on you just a little too long, ignoring T.O’s first warning.

“Jax Teller” he says, extending his hand, the playful smirk never leaving his face as he eye fucks you just a little. No introduction was needed from him. You already knew who he was, even if he didn’t know you.

You place your hand in his, the slight squeeze of his grip sending a wave of tension between the two of you. Both of you have rings decorating your fingers, the soft clink of the metals meeting each other breaks the silence between the locked stares.

“y/n” you reply, maintaining the eye contact without faltering. “so... you're my brothers new boss?” you ask, a slight teasing in your tone as you throw a look towards T.O.

“Brother?” Jax repeats, his brow raised slightly, now understanding why you were off limits.

“Yeah, this my little sister” T.O confirms, giving Jax a stern look, that says everything without even saying a word.

It was the night of Jax’s birthday and despite his insistence that it wasn’t a big deal, his brothers couldn’t let the day go without a celebration. The SAMCRO clubhouse was alive, filled with laughter, music and conversation. Everyone affiliated with the club had shown up for the Presidents birthday, from patched members to close friends.

You were sat beside your brother at one of the central tables in the clubhouse. At the table with you were a few of the other patched members you had become more familiar with over time. Opie, Happy, Chibs and to your left, was Lyla. She was Opie’s girl, and although you had spent most of your life around your brother and his MC world, this club was different. There were new dynamics alongside a new set of rules. Lyla had been quick to help you when it came to any unspoken codes that came with being a part of this new family.

“Ugh” Lyla’s eyes flick to the entrance as she lets out a sigh. “I thought she wasn’t coming” she remarks, her voice portraying a hint of disgust, as she takes in the woman who just made an entrance.

She walks in confidently, as if she was familiar with the place even though you’d never met her. The boys glance at each other, their own irritation proved by their faces, especially Opie's. The way he looks between Lyla and the blonde, there’s definitely a history there, just one you weren't aware of.

You glance around, noticing the less than thrilled expressions on everyone’s faces, “Anyone gonna fill me in?” You ask, confused by the tension.

“That, my friend…is Ima, one of the Diosa girls” Chibs starts, only for Juice to cut in with a grin as he joins the table.

“Did anyone actually invite her, or does she just crash wherever she wants?” He jokes, finding her brazen confidence somewhat awkward.

“Word probably spread around Diosa” Happy adds, a man you’ve discovered, of very few words. You catch Opie fidgeting, avoiding Lylas gaze. When you meet eyes with her, she gives you a look, one that clearly says, I’ll tell you later.

“Well, that’s Jackie’s birthday ruined” Chibs chimes in with a chuckle, fully aware of how Jax will react to her presence. Juice nudges him to shut up as Ima confidently strides past the table, not acknowledging anyone sat at it.

The boys begin to disperse, leaving you alone with Lyla. She leans closer, the scent of alcohol evident on her breath.

“So.. you two have beef or what?” you ask, eager to get to the bottom of the tension. Lyla sighs, draining the last of her drink, “A while ago, me and Ope had a stupid argument. He never came home that night...” she starts, your face screwing with disappointment, already guessing where this is going.

“With her? are you foreal?” you interrupt, eyebrows raised. She nods, her expression now dim. “Yeah, I mean, you know... I wasn’t always behind the camera at Red Woody. I used to be in front of it...with Ima” she cringes. “When me and Ope first got together it put a lot of pressure on us” she sighs deeply, her eyes becoming distant.

“Girl, please tell me you beat her ass” you say with a sly smirk, your attempt at lightening the mood. Lyla lets out a soft laugh. “Not my style” she admits, her tone now sounding defeated.

“So why is the bitch still around?” you ask bluntly, the frustration creeping in.

Lyla shrugs, “The clubs dealing with a lot right now, you know and she’s the main attraction at Diosa. She brings in the money, and the club really needs it” Lyla, being a members old lady obviously knows a lot more than she’s letting on. However, you nod your head in understanding even though you think she still should have caught a beating someway or somehow. “and... her and Jax?” you try to sound casual, not wanting to sound too concerned.

“Ima and Jax?” she laughs, shaking her head. “that’s not been a thing for a while. They hooked up back in the day, on Jax’s terms obviously, but to be honest I don’t think he can stand her now, especially after the Opie thing. He doesn’t get involved with her Diosa stuff either, Nero handles all that. Its like he does whatever he can to avoid her”. She chuckles softly, gesturing with a tilt of her head “see what I mean?” you glance around and spot Ima following after Jax like a lost puppy. He’s clearly uninterested, his body language screaming avoidance but she’s relentless.

“Damn” you drag the word out, as you use your hand to discreetly cover your laughter. “It's giving desperate”. The two of you burst into laughter, leaning into each other and bumping shoulder’s as you can’t contain your amusement any longer over Ima’s shameless antics.

You haven’t actually had a chance to talk to Jax tonight, he is of course, a popular guy and always in demand. And when things did finally quite down, Ima was stuck to him like a fly on shit. None of that stopped either of you stealing looks at each other all night, just like you always do when you’re in the same room. It’s funny though, and not in a conceited way, but you’ve always known you were pretty, and so did everybody else. But being T.O’s little sister, none of the men around you would dare try anything. None of them, that is, except Jax.

This time, when you locked eye contact, he looked around to make sure no one was watching, motioning for you to come over. As you approached, you noticed he already had a drink waiting for you. “Happy Birthday” you say with a smirk.

“Thank you, y/n” he replies, his lips curving into a smile, raising his arms to pull you into a hug. It’s not the first time you’ve hugged Jax, but just like the first, it stirs something warm in your stomach, and lower. Igniting a feeling you cant quite ignore.

He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes, as usual, lingering a little longer than they should. He takes in every detail, biting his lip softly as he catches his distorted reflection in your chunky gold hoops as they sway with your movements. “I like what you’ve got going on there” he says with a small smile, lifting his beer to his lips as he casually twirls a finger in the air, gesturing towards your hair.

You slide onto the stool beside him, settling yourself into the corner. “And what’s that?” you respond, your voice teasing and your eyes holding his with a slow taunting glare as you sip your drink.

“Your hair” he says, his tone confident and eyes locked onto you.

“My hair?” you echo, raising an eyebrow as you cross one leg over the other, leaning back slightly, your upper thigh now exposed.

“Yeah, the twirly bits” he says with a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s embarrassed. You bite back a laugh, nodding in response to him. “You mean my baby hairs” you add, nudging him gently with your shoulder, a silent reassurance that you’re not offended.

“If that’s what you call them” he grins, his laugh more relaxed now. “How’d you do them?” he asks, genuinely curious now. “It’s an art”, you tease, tracing your nail around the rim of your glass “Not as easy as you’d think” you take a slow sip, giving direct eye contact.

“Ahh, so you’ve got to be good with your hands?” he says, his voice dipping into a more playful tone, his eyes scanning over you in a way that mirrored the first time you met.

“You got that right” you reply, your smile widening as you shift slightly on your stool, trying to ignore the heat building inside of you.

“And are you?” his aura more serious now, like he’s asking for something much deeper than what he’s letting on.

Your tone, now matching his “Wouldn’t you like to know” a knowing smirk on your lips. You can feel Ima’s eyes burning into the side of your slicked back bun, but you really couldn’t give a shit.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no” he chuckles, his face flushing slightly as he looks away for a moment, trying to mask the slight excitement.

“Hmm, not sure your lil’ friend would like that” you say, looking in Imas direction. You knew it was a cheap shot bringing her up but you can’t help yourself, you want to see how he’ll react.

He lets out a quick laugh, shaking his head. “Nah, I’ve learnt my lesson with that one” The way he says it, makes it clear there’s nothing left on his side and he really does regret it.

You giggle softy, “Post nut clarity and all that” you tease, giving him a knowing wink “happens to the best of us” you add.

“Wouldn’t happen with you though” he replies smoothly, his eyes lifting slowly to meet yours, waiting to see how you’d react, so he could work out if he should make his move or not.

Before you even have the chance to respond, Jax’s attention shifts to someone standing next to you. You turn to your left, of course. it’s Ima. You look her up and down, already bracing for whatever drama she’s about to start.

“I’ve got that birthday present for you, Jax” she says, twirling her hair and giving him a look dripping with lust. You hold your glass in front of your face, doing your best to not laugh at her mere desperation.

“Nah, I’m good” Jax shuts her down instantly, not even sparing much attention. You don’t miss the way her posture stiffens, her body language switching to frustration. She turns her attention to you instead, it’s obvious she’s got an attitude. “Sorry, and you are?”she asks, her tone irritable. It’s clear she’s annoyed that Jax’s attention is on you, and not her.

“y/n” you answer, giving her a sharp look before cutting your eyes back to Jax. You catch the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, I’m Ima” she says, trying to assert her dominance.

“Good for you” you reply casually, finishing off your drink with a deliberate sip, refusing to give her the reaction she’s looking for.

You rise from the stool, adjusting your skirt as you do. Just to get under her skin, you lean in close to Jax, your lips brushing his ear as you whisper “I wouldn’t say no either, by the way” A sly smile spreads across your face as you pull back, sharing that same eye contact again, before you stroll towards the bar, a purposeful sway in your step.

“What’s her problem?” Ima snaps, watching you walk away with a scowl.

“She doesn’t have a problem” Jax responds flatly, his patience already wearing thin. He looks her up and down, silently willing her to leave him alone.

“Seriously Jax?” She scoffs “she was a total bitch to me. You’re just gonna let her talk to me like that?”

Jax raises an eyebrow, his expression a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “Let her? Ima, what the hell are you even talking about?” He hangs his head down.

“She disrespected me!” She insists, raising her voice slightly. Jax exhales sharply. “And why would I care? You’re not my problem” he retaliates. His voice steady but covered in irritation. Ima freezes, her mouth pressing into a thin line “I was just saying-”

“Yeah, well, dont” he shakes his head, turning and walking away from her. Clearly done with the conversation.

Jax then bumps into Juice, slapping him on the shoulder. “You good brother?” He asks, noticing Juice’s glazed over eyes as he tries to form a coherent response.

Jax chuckles, shaking his head “damn, you’re out of it man… hey you seen y/n?” He adds casually, but Juice just laughs, too high to fully grasp the question.

“You’re walking a fine line there, Jax” Tig cuts in, appearing at Jax’s side. His tone amused but the raised eyebrow says enough. Jax smirks, brushing off his comment “come on, Tiggy I can handle it”

Tig sighs “she stepped out not long ago” he says pointing his head in the direction of the door. Then, with a slight grin, he adds “Guess I better go distract big brother” Jax laughs, patting him on the shoulder. “Good man” he says, before heading for the door, already set on finding you.

Jax steps outside, discovering you tucked away in a quiet corner near the clubhouse door, the orange glow from the joint in your hand giving you away. “So this is where you disappeared to” he says with a smirk, his usual teasing tone present.

You take a slow pull from the joint, then hand it over to him gracefully. “Needed a breather from all the desperation” you let him know, he laughs, knowing you’re talking about Ima.

You watch him take a drag, exhaling the smoke smoothly. He presses his lips together, tasting the sweetness left behind from your gloss.

Wiping his thumb across his mouth, he tilts his head with a smirk “Vanilla?” He questions, his voice low and teasing. You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Coconut, actually” you say, biting your lip, daring him to disagree.

“Nah” he says, standing firmly. “That’s definitely vanilla” he says, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“Why don’t you come and make sure?” You tease, your voice dripping with challenge, forcing him to make the first move.

He steps closer. His stride slow but the confidence impossible to ignore. His hand brushes your cheek, the warmth of it sending a shiver down your spine. Then, without hesitation, he leans in, kissing you deeply.

His tongue explores your mouth and yours doing the same to his. He pulls back slowly, catching your bottom lip gently between his teeth. He deliberately runs his tongue over his lips, “Vanilla” he says, smirking knowing he’s right.

You chew the corner of your lip slightly, unable to hide your grin. “Vanilla” you admit, you knew all along, you just wanted to see if he’d take the bait. He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t believe he fell for your game, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes though.

Suddenly, the air shifts. The silence between you both speaks louder than words. The weight of the moment settling in. It’s a rare moment for you both to be alone like this. No distractions, no eyes watching, just the two of you. Both of you knowing it will most likely be a while before you find yourselves like this again, so why not make the most of it?

He pins you against the wall with an urgent intensity, his hands moving over you with a hunger that speaks of all the times he’s had to hold back. You lean into his neck as his lips find your skin. Your fingers fumbling with his belt buckle, making your intentions crystal clear.

“You okay with this? Out here?” He asks softly, between kisses. His voice still low and full of concern, making sure you’re certain before he agrees.

“Why not?” You smirk, biting your lip just enough to drive him crazy. He leans back slightly, glancing past the wall towards the clubhouse “anyone could come out” he warns, though the hunger in his voice proves he’s more than willing.

His eyes flash with mischief, “gimme your leg” he says, gripping your thigh as you lift it, bending his knees and manoeuvring himself so he’s placed exactly where you want him to be.

You moan softly throwing your head back a little in pleasure as he unfastens his jeans. He places his throbbing cock between your legs, sliding your dampened panties to the side with his hardness.

Gathering your slickness with his tip just before he pushes himself into you. He bends down slightly, adjusting his stance as he scoops you up, holding you securely against him now.

You let out a loud whimper as he finds his way inside of you, his hand instinctively covering your mouth, loosening his grip on you. “If…you…want…me…to…keep…fucking…you…shut…the…fuck…up” Jax murmurs in a low hush, the words punctuated with each thrust.

He lets his hand fall away, wrapping his arms around you tighter. His movements are a bit uneven, caught between holding you steady against the wall, keeping you quiet, and giving you everything you’ve been craving. He can tell that you’re loving it though, the way you keep whispering his name and how your hands grasp at his hair like you never want to let go, lets him know that he’s doing just fine. The sounds of your pleasure pushing him further, making it harder for him to hold back.

The sudden creak of the clubhouse door startles you both, freezing you mid motion. Your breath catches, your body tense as you feel him still pulsing inside of you. Jax’s hand flies to your mouth, covering it firmly. His own breathing heavy as his eyes dart towards the sound. Your dark brown panicked gaze locks with his, like a deer caught in headlights, both waiting to hear who it is.

Gemma steps out with Nero, their laughter filling the quiet night. “Not bad for an old man” Gemma teases, covering her cigarette from the wind as she lights it.

Nero grins, pulling Gemma in for a kiss. “Old man, huh? I didn’t hear you complainin’ a minute ago mama” he says, pulling her in for a kiss. Jax cringing, shutting his eyes in disgust as your laugh bounces off the palm of Jax’s hand.

As they talk, you move ever so slightly, one of your gold hoops sliding from your ear, clinking softly against the pavement. Both you and Jax instinctively follow it with wide eyes, as it rolls just out of reach.

“What was that?” Nero asks, his head snapping in the direction of the sound. Jax clamps his hand tighter. “Don’t move” he mouths silently.

“Probably nothing” Gemma says, not paying much attention. “This place is falling apart” she takes another drag from her cigarette, looking upwards to the ‘Teller Morrow’ garage sign.

Nero tilts his head thoughtfully. “That girl, y/n, that's T.O’s sister, right?” Gemma nods, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Yeah, why?” she questions.

He clears his throat. “Nothing, you know just saw her whispering somethin’ in Jax’s ear. Ima was standing there too... looked pretty pissed” Gemma smiles knowingly, flicking ash from her cigarette. She had sensed something brewing between the two of you though she’d kept her observations to herself, Nero’s comment now confirming her suspicions.

“I thought something was happening there” she tells Nero.

“and how do you feel about that mama?” he asks, now holding Gemma by the waist.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing. I know she’d keep my boy in line, that’s for sure”. She smiles gently, thinking about it.

Nero smiles in response, nodding his head slowly. “She’s got that fire, huh?” he laughs, guiding Gemma back into the clubhouse as she finishes her cigarette.

The clubhouse door closes behind Gemma and Nero. Jax finally able to move, pulling away from you and adjusting himself back to normal. You smooth out your clothes and fix your hair, doing your best to look innocent.

Jax’s grin still plastered on his face. “Think my mom’s ready for some caramel grand babies” he jokes. You laugh shaking your head and smacking his chest “Shut up, Jax” you say, trying to hold back your own smile.

“Go on” he gestures towards the door, motioning for you to head back inside first. “Don’t wanna make it too obvious”. His dick is still hard, being restrained behind his jeans. He fidgets slightly waiting for it to settle, as you turn to leave, he suddenly calls out your name. You glance back, seeing him holding your hoop. “Don’t forget this” he says, handing it back.

“Thanks” you mumble, noticing ever so slightly how he’s shifting back and forth.

As you turn to leave, you raise your skirt just enough for him to see your ass cheeks, slipping out from the bottom.

“Not helping y/n” He laughs, biting his ringed knuckles. you giggle as you head back inside, that ‘I just had sex’ sway in your step.

As you step back into the clubhouse, still fiddling with your earring, T.O spots you immediately. His gaze sharpens, tracking your every move as you slide into the space next to him.

“You good?” You ask, keeping your tone light as you twist the hoop back into place. “Where you been?” He asks, his voice calm but a hint of curiosity there.

“Needed some air, just went for a smoke” you reply, looking around the room, as if you weren’t just getting sloppily fucked by your brother’s president.

He nods, almost convinced, until his eyes catch Jax, walking in through the doors minutes after you. Pulling at the waistband of his jeans, his expression relaxed, maybe a bit too much.

T.O’s jaw tightens, his teeth gritting together as he glances between the two of you. “You and Jax been breathin’ the same air out there?” He questions, the suspicion shining through.

You shrug pretending not to notice the obvious tension. “Didn’t see him” you reply before taking a sip of your drink. Your brother doesn’t respond, just leans back and keeps a sharp eye on Jax as he moves through the room. “Aight” he mutters, but you can feel the heat of his doubt.

Lyla slides into the seat opposite to you, her easy smile offering a welcome distraction from the tension with your brother. “Hey, where you been?” She asks, noticing you’ve been absent for a little while.

“Just stepped out for some air and a smoke” you smile in her direction. She leans closer, lowering her voice as if she was telling you a secret. “Ima’s pissed about whatever happened at the table earlier, with you and Jax”.

You open your mouth to respond, but your brother interrupts, his tall frame casting a shadow over the table. “Scuse me” he says, his voice deep, waiting for you to move your legs aside so he can step out. You do as he asks, your eyes narrowing as you watch him head straight for the bar where Jax is currently standing, another beer in hand.

“Oh shit” you sigh under your breath, your heart racing as the tension follows T.O to Jax.

“You and y/n outside together? What was yall talking about?” Jax chuckles, trying to play it off “Nothing serious, just talking” trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but he knows T.O can sense the truth, he narrows his eyes slightly analysing Jax’s words.

“Look,” Jax says, finally meeting his gaze. “Id never disrespect you, or your family. You know that, brother” he’s telling the truth, sort of anyway, fucking his sister against a wall minutes away from him, could be classed as disrespect. T.O nods slowly, his stance now softening.

He trusts Jax, and knows that Jax respects him and wouldn’t do anything to purposely hurt you. In a way, he wouldn’t even mind if you and Jax became a thing, Jax is a good man and T.O sees that.

“It’s not about disrespect, brother” T.O replies, his voice calm. “It’s about her being my little sister”

“Yeah I get it” Jax nods, fully understanding. He’s your big brother of course he’s gonna do what he can to look out for you, and the idea of you being with any man is probably the last thing he wants to think about.

T.O gives him a long look before finally letting out a small laugh. “Just don’t make me regret trusting you with her, man” Jax smirks, slapping T.O on the shoulder. “You won’t, brother”.

It had been a few months since you officially became Jax’s old lady. To your surprise, the relationship was treated with total support and respect from the moment you both announced it. Even your brother, who you suspected might have a hard time with it, embraced it without hesitation. In fact, it seemed to have brought him and Jax even closer, solidifying their bond in a way you never expected.

The air in the room was a mixture of tension and banter as the sons sat around the table, the club meeting in full swing. Despite the serious matters at hand, everyone couldn’t help but notice how Jax seemed particularly cheerful today.

“So, what does T.O stand for then?” Rat whispers to Happy, his voice low. Happy glances at Rat, knowing that if T.O catches wind of the conversation, he’s going to be pissed. “Taddarius” Happy responds, hushed and with no emotion.

Rat laughs, thinking happy is just messing around. “Wait, you’re not joking?” he asks, slightly sceptical.

Quinn then pipes up, “Call him that and see what happens”.

The others, T.O included begin noticing the quiet conversation. He narrows his eyes “what are you guys whispering about?” he asks, in a low tone.

Happy and Quinn exchange a brief glance, a silent warning, which Rat, does not pick up on. “Nothing...Taddarius” he says aloud, almost proud of the newfound information he has discovered.

Chibs, overhearing mutters under his breath “Jesus Christ”.

T.O’s expression hardens. “Unless I came out of your goddamn womb, don’t ever call me that, ya dig? Lil indie biker boy” he snarls.

Chibs has his face hidden in his hands, shaking his head trying not to laugh, whilst the others chuckle.

Opie, leaning back in his chair, and a smirk on his face tries to break tension. “Alright, man. Spill it… why do you look so damn happy this morning?" He taps his pen against the mahogany table, pointing at Jax when the word 'you' leaves his mouth.

Jax tries to keep a straight face, leaning forward his usual unbothered demeanour. “Can’t I just be in a good mood?” He tries to deflect, though his mind briefly wandered back to this morning, his head buried in your perfect pussy.

He catches a faint trace of you still clinging to his upper lip. Every so often, he slyly brushes his tongue over his lip, reliving the taste and the way you left him wanting more.

Tig also leans forward now, grinning wide. “Come on man, we all know what’s up. Chocolates good for the soul” he gives a small wink.

T.O groans, “watch it” he warns, pointing a finger at Tig, though the small smile tugging at his lips shows he’s only playing.

“Don’t look at me brother” Tig interjects, with that signature smile on his face. “We all know what’s got him smiling like that. Ain’t it true, Jax? the darker the berry-” he raises his hand as if he was conducting an orchestra.

“The sweeter the juice” the others finish for him, as the table explodes into laughter, everyone expect T.O.

Jax shakes his head, trying to hide his amusement as he looks over at T.O “you gonna let em talk about your sister like that?” He says, sarcastically, making light of the awkward situation.

T.O finally looks up, shaking his head in disgust. “Man, I don’t even wanna know” he says, though he couldn’t help but laugh along with the rest of them. Jax raises his hands in a false surrender, flashing a knowing grin towards T.O. “All love, brother, all love”

On the other side of the chapel doors, y/n and Gemma sit sipping coffee and chatting casually. Gemma noticing a little glow about you, too.

“How's Jax holding up?" She asks, curious about her son “coping with the club okay?” she follows up. You let her know that Jax is doing okay. Of course he has his moments but that comes with being the president.

She soon shifts her questioning, her tone turning more curious. “and you? how are you adjusting to the whiter side of the biker life? You doing okay sweetie?” Before you can answer, the door swings open, Ima walking in, dressed in next to nothing, she struts in like she owns the place.

Gemma looks to you, her coffee cup in front of her face “what the hell is porn princess doing here” she retorts.

Ima flips her hair, getting closer to you both “I’m here to talk to Jax. My Diosa check hasn’t cleared” she says, leaning against the bar.

“Jax doesn’t deal-” Gemma starts, standing from her seat, you cut her off before she can finish.

“Jax doesn’t deal with your Diosa shit” you say firmly, staring her down.

Gemma gives you a quick look, her expression proud, clearly impressed with how you're standing your ground regarding Jax. Ima, however, doesn’t seem fazed and folds her arms. “Well, Nero hasn’t answered my call and I need to get paid” she insists.

You shake your head, voice sharp. “Then call him again, Jax ain’t handling shit for you” you say, rising from your own seat.

Ima still, not backing down, takes a few steps closer towards you “Ill just wait for him in the dorm” she begins taking off her coat.

You grit your teeth, letting your eyes trail slowly over her. Sizing her up as you weigh your options. The frustration simmers beneath the surface, your mind racing between keeping your composure or flipping the fuck out.

As the tension between you and Ima reaches boiling point, Juice is peeking through the blinds, his eyes widening at the scene unfolding. “Uh...” he stammers, unsure how to handle what he’s seeing.

“Jax...T.O...” he calls out, unsure of who to summon, your brother or your man. Everyone in the room looks over to Juice with puzzled expressions.

“Looks like things are about to kick off between y/n and Ima” he says, everyone now intrigued.

“What is that gash doing here?” Chibs questions Ima’s presence.

Jax, who’s been expecting something like this for a while now, exhales deeply, rubbing his hand over his face. Without a word, he gets up and the rest of the guys follow. Filing out of the room one by one.

As the door opens, Ima immediately zones in on Jax. She wastes no time, sliding up to him and grabbing hold of his arm, her voice dripping with forced sweetness.

Jax locks eyes with you from across the room, his expression apologetic. It’s Ima's next move that pushes things over the edge. She leans in closer to Jax as if she was about to whisper something only meant for him. T.O, who’s standing just behind Jax, immediately clocks the shift in your expression. The familiar fire in your eyes and the way your jaw is currently set. “Here we go” he mutters under his breath, bracing for the inevitable.

You lunge towards Jax and Ima, grabbing a fistful of her hair and wrapping it tightly, twice around your hand. Without hesitation, you drag her backwards just a little before throwing her to the ground, the back of her head hitting the concrete with a sharp slam. T.O starts to move forward, ready to pull you away, but Jax steps in, holding him back. “No” he says calmly, getting comfortable against the wall with his arms crossed. “She’s got this” he says unfazed and fully confident you can handle yourself.

You give Ima a moment to steady herself as she stands, but instead of backing down, she sneers “stupid bitch” she throws herself at you. Her bloody hands grab at your necklace. Snatching it clean off, shattering to the ground.

The sound of your chain hitting the floor fuels your anger. You grab her wrist, shoving her back against the bar, trapping her. With no hesitation, you start swinging, each punch landing, forcing grunts of pain to spew out of her.

Blood trickles from the corner of her mouth, smearing across her lips as she spits a crimson pool onto the floor. Her teeth flash red when she tries to speak. “stop” she manages to say, through her swollen trembling lip.

You don’t stop, in fact you carry on, each punch connecting harder than the last. “She’s gonna kill her” Gemma says, turning around to glance at Jax, both concerned and impressed. “I know” Jax replies with a proud grin, his eyes fixed on you.

T.O watches on, torn between pride and caution. “Jax, you know she really gone’ kill her right?” he mutters, agreeing with Gemma’s unease.

“Jax!” Gemma shouts, louder this time. She’s not defending Ima, but the last thing she needs is to help clean up after another dead body.

Jax glances over at T.O, who gives him a look that confirms Gemma’s right. With a heavy sigh, Jax pushes himself off the wall. “Fine” he grumbles, striding towards you.

He forces his way between you and Ima, grabbing your fist just as its about to land. “Enough!” he shouts, his voice firm. You struggle against his grip, trying to break free but he tightens his hold. “I SAID ENOUGH!” this time, his tone carries authority and it cuts through your anger.

“Look at me!” he demands, gripping your face. Ima’s blood splattered across your skin. Jax’s eyes meet yours, calm but commanding “Thats enough” he echoes. He steps back, pushing your arm gently towards your brother and then gesturing towards the dorm “T.O, take your sister in there” he orders. T.O nods, his face unreadable as he guides you away before things escalates even further.

As T.O pulls you away by your arm, you manage to twist and break free, charging back to Ima. Your fist connects with her face one last time. “That was for Lyla, Bitch!” You shout in her face, Jax pushes you back, but you just laugh. T.O finally getting hold of you again, and forcing you back to the dorm.

The guys watch Ima for a moment as she slumps against the bar, hand pressed against her bloodied face. A few mutter amongst themselves, shaking their heads before heading back into the chapel, leaving her alone with Gemma and Jax.

Gemma stays back, her expression cold as Jax steps forward. Ima, looking up at him, not wanting y/n to have the last laugh. “you should learn to control your whore” she sneers, spitting her dirty blood directly onto his kutte.

Jax’s expression darkens, a snarl curling his lips as he grabs the back of her head, slamming it against the bar with brutal force. Ima lets out a sharp cry, but that doesn’t stop him. He spins her around, pressing her back against the bar as his hand tightens around her throat. “You ever bring that rancid pussy near my club or my family again...” he growls, his voice venomous. “I’ll kill you. You understand?”. Ima doesn’t respond, too stunned to speak, but Jax doesn’t care to hear her answer.

He curls his tongue, gathering a mouthful of spit before forcefully spitting it back straight into Ima’s face, pointing a finger directly at her, his voice drips with anger as he growls “Whore!”.

He shoves her face hard as he lets go, giving his mom a small nod, silently telling her to ‘deal with it’. Picking up a cloth from the side, he casually wipes Ima’s spit off his kutte, his movement calm but deliberate.

Chucking the cloth to the side, and without looking back, he strides down the hallway, his steps heavy with purpose. He has a swagger in his walk, but the rage is still unmistakable.

The anger fades slightly from his face, replaced with concern as he approaches the dorm door, making it clear his only focus is making sure you’re okay.

Gemma, tasked with the job of getting Ima out of here, picks up the same cloth, tossing some ice into it before shoving it into Ima’s hand.

Leaning in slowly, she locks eyes with her, the eye contact sharp and unforgiving.

“She’s not his whore” Gemma hisses, her voice filled with poison.

“She’s his old lady” She drags out each word, making sure Ima fully understands her place.

Photos & gifs do not belong to me, just edited them together.

Honestly, I fucking loved doing this one. I had so much fun writing this, literally played out in my head like an actual episode. Hope you all love it just as much. I also always try to write from a perspective so that multiple readers can connect with the story, so like not to describe skin or hair colour/texture etc. However this story is looking through the eyes of a black female reader. I, myself am black. So please don’t take anything said, described or done as a generalised or stereotypical view. I was literally writing as if it was me in the situation (which I always do, duh) but yes, I hope it portrays well! Oh and also I am from the UK which is why sometimes spellings are a little off depending where you’re from lol.

Jax Teller Masterlist

xoxo secretly samcro

#jax teller x black reader #jax teller #samcro #sons of anarchy #charlie hunnam #jax teller one shot #jax teller x reader #secretly samcro #soa #jax teller imagine #jax x reader #Jax teller smut #black reader x sons of anarchy #secretlysamcro #juice ortiz #rat boy #chibs sons of anarchy #black!reader

404 notes · View notes