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moondirti · 9 months

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DEE IK THIS IS SO OFF THE BAT BUT IMAGINE RIDING MIGUEL’S ABS??!;!;?:?:? WHATS UR CRUMB ON THAT BCS IM LITERALLY ASCENDING INTO HEAVEN JUST BY THE THOUGHT OF IT😩☝🏼

SUMMARY: after the events of DOUBLE RAPTURE, we follow Mig back home and explore his less than ideal relationship with his world's version of you.

explicit (18+) | 1.5k words

part one / can be read as a standalone! WARNINGS: smut, ab-riding, handjobs, codependant relationships, submissive (?) miguel, ANGST, fear of commitment (on the reader's part), implied parental issues, drinking, anxious/avoidant attachment styles NOTES: did this take me forever to respond to? yes. have i been thinking about it every day since i received it? also yes. please have a little drabble as a sweet treat for your genius mind, anon. sorry i took it too far

This is how it is with Miguel.

Buttressed on a leather couch that isn't so much leather anymore, but cotton dotted with the flakes of black suede that've managed to hold on through the years since you bought it. It's old, unstable – somewhat an apt metaphor for your relationship to the man – and stands situated across a television with no cable. He shows up at your door on any unannounced night, where for once you wish he'd catch you with plans pre-made, and intrudes on your vain attempt to connect the old screen to your neighbour's internet.

And it's ironic that you should end up watching dated cartoons anyway, stuck inside your apartment that is a fraction the size of his, because he always opens on some variation of the same line – the very thing that woo'd you all those years ago, when you were younger and prone to any man's charm:

What's a pretty thing like you do in a place like this?

It's dark outside – night-worn inhibition being one of the main constituents to poor decision making – and his skin gleams golden in the dim lamp light. You can't refuse him for all your rationale on why, so he comes in and you pour a strong drink whose hangover tomorrow will take precedence over your guilt. He drinks too, perhaps to make your eventual rejection easier, and the two of you make-out on that tumbledown couch until your lips turn blue.

Sometimes, he comes up for air – only when he gathers enough courage to break away from you – to whisper filthy nothings and little promises on the shell of your ear. Neither are empty, you know. Miguel’s good at making good of every word when it comes to you. The push and pull gets to him, fuels his gears until he’s pouring proper work into making you happy. From what you can physically face – gonna have you creaming on my cock, cariño – to prospects that remain ever-frightening – wanna stay like this forever, you on my lap, sharing our home.

You’ve never had a reference to ‘our’. Commitment remains a fickle thing for you, instilled by parents who didn’t have the mind to give it. He knows as much, but you don’t think he understands just what keeps you around regardless. What keeps you at the door, waiting for an acknowledged three-knuckle knock. None of the in betweens, flowers, nor the heights you reach spread-eagled underneath him. It’s always just been exactly that – his return, done every time without fail.

(And there’s the ever-negging fear that one day he’ll grow sick of the cycle.

On one hand, you hope he does. It hurts him more than it does you, and you hate to watch him leave. Yet on the other, more volatile hand – you pray he fucks you so well you forget your reserve, that he breeds and carries you away from this hole you’ve dug yourself in.)

For now, though–

For now, you lift the shirt off his frame. He’s let his chest-hair grow since you met him last, and if you strain to remember, he’s gotten bulkier. Abs more pronounced, with pecs that bounce when you graze your nails down his side. It’s refined, a look that makes him appear older. You swoop down to lick his neck, moaning hotly once you reach his mouth.

“You been working out, Mig?”

“For you, hermosa. Figured you’d like me better like this.” He groans, kneading the flesh of your thighs. His fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, snapping it on your skin in an explicit plea to take it off.

“And who told you that?” You say, acquiescing, working the lacey strip off your hips. Your cunt sucks at it, belligerent in letting go now that it’s soaked the fabric through.

“A couple I met. They remind me of us.” His head follows yours when you draw away from an attempted kiss. It’s unintentional, done to stand off and strip completely, yet his reaction to it sends little tremors of pleasure to your core. “Of what we could be.”

“Shhhh.” Once you’re completely bare, tits freed from your tank top, you straddle him again, a little higher this time. His waist is cinched enough to allow you to do so with little fuss, tendons at the top of your thighs aching only slightly. “Make me feel good, please.”

“Of course.”

His thumb presses down on your swollen clit, holding it in place while you arch your back and trap it underneath you – sandwiching it between your mound and his midriff. The pressure is electric, charged to fervency, buzzing as it lights every nerve ending from your waist below. And three thrusts forth and back see to it that he’s slick, lubed with the juices that gradually seep from your needy slit.

The sight, the sensations, the thought that he’s putting effort outside of this room for you – they all make you exceedingly weak. Your legs wobble, practically jello, spine made out of sand and unable to support you fully. Miguel stays firm, one large paw squeezing your breast and the other at your pelvis. You’d ask him to help, to move you against him until you see stars, but a stone lodges in your throat and prevents the words from finding clarity.

It’s guilt, of that you’re familiar, but for a number of things; the fact that he would help you seek pleasure in spite of his own – his erection left abandoned under the confines of his pants. The idea of desecrating his hard work, those muscles made pronounced, with your filth without fully appreciating it first. For everything, everything, and it’s so crushing that you stop moving altogether.

“No, no. C’mon, pretty. Keep going.” He begs, pelvis thrusting up with need. You shove your arm behind you, seeking out the zipper keeping him from you, palming his hard length with clumsy assurance “Don’t worry about me. Wanna feel you cum on my abs. Gonna lick you clean after. We have forever if you’d let me. There’s no rush.”

No rush. It’s far from the typical Miguel sentiment, and you blink in perplexed contemplation. But he just grins, brows knitting up with reverence.

“Did these people also teach you to take your time?” You struggle to say patience, because he’s always been patient with you.

“Something along the lines.” He mutters, suddenly sheepish. His fangs always intrude when his tone is quiet, like they’re intentionally making him difficult to understand. He knows he’s special to you when you try to decipher it nonetheless.

“Don’t be making me jealous, now.” You taunt, dipping to bite his lip. It’s fun to pull up, up, until he whines and shoves you harder onto him. Achingly empty and close to cumming on his abdomen alone. Slowly, you start to gyrate again, riding unrelenting sinew. And in the meanwhile, you manage to get his zipper undone, sneaking your hand beneath his briefs.

“I’ll explain lat… later, p-promise.”

“I don’t doubt it. F-Fuck,” Somehow, the pleasure is simultaneously heavenly and not enough, this little game you decided to engage in tiptoeing the line. He’s good even when he isn’t trying, just laying there, pinching pebbled nipples with enough callousness that it aches in the best way. On your first date – which wasn’t really a date, but a happenstance meeting at your father’s shady bar – he’d been hesitant to hurt you like you wanted. The best he could do was pepper your neck with sore hickeys, pocketed in the back alley, touch kinder than any you’d experienced before. “Oh my god.”

“Y-You’re so soft. My gorgeous girl. So soft and… and pretty when you do that.”

“Mig.” You wail, useless in properly pumping his pulsing cock. It’s all you can do to palm the head, smearing prespend all over his velvet tip. And it’s hard, like smelted iron, throbbing hot and heavy. It’s been so long since you’ve had it in you that you’re sure it’ll take some effort to fit. The abstraction fills you with desperation so poignant that you start moving faster, rougher, seeking an end where you’re stuffed full yet doing nothing to actually achieve it.

That is, until–

“What do you need?” He asks.

Your hole clenches. Your guts knot together. Your orgasm gathers, full and sloshing wet, trapped behind the wall he’s been breaking down since his arrival.

“You!” You finally admit. “You.” Softer.

And when you cum, soaking his middle with shameless indulgence, all he does is flip you over to settle beneath him. The couch rocks with the sudden upheaval, threatening collapse, so he keeps a firm hold of your shoulders, kneeling between your quivering thighs. His breadth bobs from over his pants – you don’t recall taking it out – purple with restrained pain and just waiting for your cue to allow him entry.

“I’ve got you, cariño.” Miguel hums, positioning himself onto the divet of your cunt when you give a frail nod. “I’ve got you.”

And you know, of course you do. He’s never backed away from a promise before. Because that is how it is with Miguel.

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corruptionofteller · 6 years

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26. Secrets Unlocked

Jax fished in his front jeans pocket for his burner as he jogged down the concrete steps leading out of the San Joaquin Sheriff Department. Flipping it open his thumb swiftly punched in the numbers needed to get him one of the Prospects. Someone had to pick his ass up since his Harley was still sitting back at the lot. It was probably a good thing; he was in no mood to be driving. He’d have his Dyna punched down at a hundred miles an hour headed back to TM. The thoughts raced through his mind, recalling everything Jarry had just enlightened him with. He knew Scarlet had a dark past, they had touched briefly on it nights they spent lying in bed, just talking usually after a long, hard fuck. She wasn’t the kind of girl to just spill her entire life to someone, that was perfectly clear to him. But bits at a time he was pulling the real Scarlet to the surface, at least the one she had to been in the past.

“Itchy, bring the van and come pick my ass up. Pronto. I need to get back and now.” Jax relayed his demands only to get an ‘Okay boss’ on the other end of the line. He was silently thankful Itchy had answered back at the clubhouse, at least he was a potential for a full patch. The nickname was a bit off; Jax couldn’t help think the kid had fuckin’ crabs or some kinda STD shit the way the motherfucker always was scratching his junk. Really wasn’t his problem though as long as the fucker did what Jax needed.

Slapping the phone closed Jax slipped it back to the pocket it came from before reaching to his inner pocket for his smokes. It would be a wait before the Prospect arrived. Finding a vacant park bench just outside the station Jax took a seat and waited while he enjoyed his Marlboro. With each inhale the biker thought about the images he saw. The names Chris and Andy Avery now etched in his mind for future reference.

Kicking his feet out in front of himself Jax crossed his ankles and leaned back on the wooden bench, his arms resting on either side of the back of it. His cigarette pinched between his fingers, taking one drag at a time as he considered the discussion him and Scarlet were now going to have. He was sure the conversation was not going to be an easy one, especially when he had to tell her they now knew who had been the mastermind behind Otto’s murder. She would, without a doubt, go off the rails and Jax wasn’t taking that chance. Not with her carrying his baby.

Pulling back on the final drag of his smoke just as the vibration began in his denim pocket, he retrieved it quickly. He was sure the boys had made their way to meet the Irish and with Chibs heading the meet he knew things should go over smooth. Once again flipping open his burner he placed it to his ear.

“Yeah?” Jax replied, not expecting to hear Chibs on the other end. The urgency in his voice made Jax sit up straighter, dropping his finished cigarette to the ground beneath his feet.

“Jackie..I.. ahh...we need ta meet at TM.” The Scot had a tone that wasn’t sitting well with the biker prez.

“What the hell? Shit go down with the Irish? Where the hell are you?” Pushing off the seat where he had been perched, Jax rose to his feet and began to pace.

“I’m wit’ Scarlet brotha. She’s okay jus’....she needs ta talk to ya.”

“What the fuck? What happened? Is she alright?” The pounding of Jax’s heart against his chest was now throbbing in his ears.

“She’s a’right, but she needs ya. That fuckin’ DA called ‘er in. Gave ‘er Otto’s remains fer her time. It was a setup Jackie…”

“WHAT?” The growl that followed he was sure rumbled in Chibs’ ear. Fuckin’ bitch calling Scarlet in while distracting him with the bullshit he had just been pulled in for. He turned his head, eyes narrowed on the window that lead straight to Althea Jarry’s office. A bullet right through, he thought, just one. “Get her to the fuckin’ clubhouse. NOW.”

“Jackie…” Chibs paused, almost as if he didn’t know how to relay the next part of his sentence. “Scarlet….committed murder, brotha. A guy..Chris Avery. Ye know dat name, Jackie?”

Suddenly Jax couldn’t breathe. The dismembered body he had earlier seen pictures of flashed in his mind. And the name. The name was on a constant loop in his brain and now he felt like he was fighting for air. How? He knew Scarlet was a wild one, knew she could handle her own shit but that? The way that fucker was mutilated it was hard for Jax to believe she was able to pull that kind of shit off. That was something he would do if needed but not his Scarlet. Grabbing the neck of his flannel shirt he tugged it forward, trying to somehow get some air into his lungs before answering his VP.

“Yeah, I know that name. Get her home. Now please.” His voice was diminished to a softened tone. All kinds of different scenarios now danced around in his fucked up mind. Why did Scarlet kill this fucker? Did she do it because of Otto? Had she known information about Otto’s killer that she kept to herself and didn’t tell him or the club? And most of all, did she perform this act when she was pregnant? The mere thought of her putting herself and the life she carried inside her in that kind of danger ground his gears. He was sure the more he thought about it the vein near his temple was pulsing in anger. Mixed emotions. That’s what he was experiencing in that moment. He wanted and needed to keep her and his baby safe but at the same time he wanted to yell and scream at her for being so stupid and not trusting him to help her.

As Jax closed his cell, the black van pulled up alongside of him with Itchy in the driver’s seat. Hopping in, he took a sideways glance at the Prospect.

“Get me back to TM. And fuckin’ fast.”

Scarlet

Scarlet was escorted inside with Chibs close to her side. There was a thickness to the air as he walked her to the sacred room. She felt the eyes of the club follow her as they normally did upon her entrance. It was clear something with the MC was going on and like numerous times before it had to do with Scarlet. The thoughts of all the reality shows that made their way on TV somehow now made sense to her, everyone wanted to know her every move. It became somewhat of an annoyance for her. To be so closely watched; had the feds watched her like the club did she would have been put to death long ago.

“Jackie is on ‘is way. Ya need ta tell ‘im ev’rything.” Chibs said as the tall black padded doors shut behind him. He pulled out a seat next to the head of the table for her to sit down. A soft sigh fell as she sat back in the seat looking down at her bump. “I don’t want to fight with him, he is going to come in here guns blazing and I am not ready.”

“Aye, ye let me deal wit’ ‘im. We will git this sorted an’ fixed” Chibs sat next to her, putting a strong arm around her shoulder, tugging her into his embrace.

They sat in silence in the room while one by one the other members filed in. Otto’s remains had been placed on the center of the table. Not a word was said as they took their seats, eyes on the box and not a clue of what kind of bombshell Scarlet was about to drop on the club.

Her hands stayed folded over her stomach while she waited to hear the church doors fly open. Normally she would be ready for a fight, normally she would be wanting it. Not today. Today she wanted no raised voices, no rude heartbreaking comments. All she wanted was to make it all go away and have some time alone with Otto but that wasn’t going to happen.

The room was deafening quiet as she watched as each member of SAMCRO eyes would find Otto and become emotionally filled. Sitting there was torture to her, the tears that fell were not for the lost of her father but the lost of the brother of the men before her. How would she sit there and tell them that a man they knew by far better than her was now a pile of ash due to her behavior?

She began to wonder what his last few moments had been like; was he told he was dying because his only daughter couldn’t walk away from the abuse without getting even? Could it have been a surprise to him? Did Otto die not knowing why it was happening to him? And finally how did Andy know she was related to him? Searching her brain she tried to figure out if maybe she had seen him but not register it was in fact Andy. His mugshot seemed like he had changed and she never spent a whole lot of time with her ex’s brother.

Clearly there were more questions then answers. Scarlet had always thought putting a name to the act would somehow heal her but all it had done was tear her open, filling her heart with more sadness.

She was brought back to reality when she felt more then one hand on her shoulders. She hadn’t realized the tears turned into boulders rolling freely down her cheeks. The club had gathered around her for support, the very same support she knew she didn’t deserve. She was about to tell them she was okay when the doors opened and Jax walked in clearly looking for her. His anger was evident until he took in the scene of his brothers gathered around Scarlet with Otto’s remains before them on the table.

Jax

By the time Jax had arrived back at TM his blood was boiling. He found it hard to keep that shit contained, especially as of late. Slamming the van door after jumping out, he strode towards the clubhouse doors, his stride definitely relaying he was pissed.

“Jackson?” The sound of his mother’s voice combined with the heels of her boots on the pavement made his molars grind in the back. He had enough shit on his plate at the moment, he didn’t need her need to feel worshiped and loved today. Without even turning back he continued on his trek to the door.

“Jax!” Gemma once again called out from behind him.

“Jesus Christ. What?!” Jax snapped, his body turning to take in his mother now right behind him.

“What’s happened? Why was Chibs with Scarlet? Where were you? What the hell is going on?” Gemma’s questions were coming at him faster than bullets leaving one of the AK’s they purchased from the Irish.

“Mom, I ain’t got time to deal with your worry, right now I got more important shit goin’ on. Just stay out of it.” Turning back to the door, he knew anything he just said would go in one ear and out through the other.

Stomping through the hall leading to the room behind the closed padded doors, Jax clenched his teeth more as his arms swung, making his way to where he could only assume Scarlet was waiting. The problem was he was now at his boiling point after letting the information simmer all the way back to TM.

Pounding the door open Jax forced his way into church where he found his brothers gathered around Scarlet. He hadn’t even noticed the small, unmarked box placed in the middle of the reaper table. He had one thing on his mind. How she could do such a thing when she could have gotten herself and their unborn child killed? And now, if shit went sour, he could be planning on meeting his child for the first time with his ol’ lady behind fuckin’ bars.

“Get out!” The MC president snapped, meaning all the leather clad men. Everyone except Scarlet.

“Jackie…”

“GET OUT!” His temper now flared even more, his eyes narrowing in on Chibs as he stepped up in front of him to contain him if needed. Jax’s fists clenched turning his knuckles white.

Before Jax knew it, Chibs had grabbed his kutte by the opening and pushed his back against the wall, the rest of the members rushing to the scene unfolding. His blond hair fell into his face as he stared down his VP and his nostrils flared as he narrowed his now dark blue eyes across from him, his mouth curling in a snarl. Grabbing his left bicep, the Scot gave Jax no choice and pushed him back outside of the room. The last thing Jax heard was Scarlet’s soft whimpers of a cry.

“Wha’ the feck is yer prob’em Jackie?! Tha’ woman in d’ere is cryin’ ‘er eyes out cause ‘er father is layin’ in a feckin’ cardboard box. An’ ya come in here like a raggin’ bull seein’ red ye feckin’ gobshite!” Chibs then clasped Jax’s face laced with coarse whiskers between his thumb and fingers, giving him no choice but to breathe and calm down before once again approaching the woman he apparently loved.

Jax pushed his brother’s hand from his face, exhaling a heavy breath as he pushed his straggly hair back from his face. Shrugging his shoulders to adjust his kutte he nodded his head towards Chibs, his expression now more calm and at ease. Patting his VP’s shoulder he brushed past him and re-entered the room where his ol’ lady sat waiting.

Scarlet

The moment Jax burst through the door Scarlet stood up with actual fear in her eyes. Chibs had caught the look she flashed over towards Jax and took charge of the situation. The room was echoed with Jax’s back slamming into the wall, making Scarlet step towards him, only to be pushed back and behind Tig who shook his head telling her to stay out of it. She watched in panic as the two vanished from the room. It wasn’t her intentions to create even deeper drama for anyone in the club. She only wanted Jax to hear her out and understand how much this is taking over her soul. The guilt from the information that was shot at her today was eating her alive.

“He is only mad because, like us, he doesn’t know what is going on. So sweetheart what /is/ going on?” Tig had turned to face Scarlet when the two left the room. Her eyes were fixed on the door, Chibs anger cracked through the opening of the door making her worried for the safety of both men.

“Scar...” Happy spoke up grabbing her hand to gain her attention. “How did you get Otto’s remains?”

“I.. the... I... I did this. Otto is in a cheap box because of me. I didn’t know you guys. I didn’t know that Andy would somehow find Otto.” She paused taking a deep breath. All the men seemed to step back horrified by her confession.

“Before I came here I was involved with a man named Chris. We dated for about 2 years. The first 3 months I thought we were falling in love. I thought I found..My prince. Then one night he got drunk and slapped me for dropping his glass and breaking it. After that for a year and nine months it was a nightmare. He was so much stronger than me, I didn’t have have anyone but him. Aedan had left for Ireland, I know you don’t know about him but he is a good friend of mine and David was in New York and dealing with a lot of shit for his club.”

The doors opened as a much calmer Jax walked in with Chibs falling behind. She continued even though she was afraid she would be seen in a light that would change her image to the club but most of all the feelings for Jax.

“I became more of a slave to him, cooking, cleaning, doing whatever he said to avoid a trip to the hospital. Then there was a night that Chris.. he brought some friends over. I knew from the start of the night it felt weird. There were no other females. It was a bit quiet to start. I knew it was different but I never thought....” She again paused, fighting back an endless supply of tears she seemed to be having today.

Her eyes dropped away from all the men staring at her. She had the room’s full, undivided attention. What she was about to say was something she had buried deep down inside. Her secret was locked away never to be visited again until today. “Chris called me into the livingroom. Had me sit on his lap and began saying how beautiful I was, the other agreeing. He started to kiss my neck and I went to stand, becoming uncomfortable. It pissed him off. I was thrown to the floor stripped, he um….he raped me in front of them and when he was done he spit at me and told them to have fun. They all took turns. I couldn’t look myself in the mirror for months. He wouldn’t look at me. He started to bring other girls home. One day I woke up and thought, this is not who I am. This is not the life I wanted. I was raped at 16 and I killed that man. Well, Aedan did most the work, I took my anger out then Aedan did the rest. Something snapped, I didn’t plan. I had gotten so mad. I went to his job and I was just going to break up with him. We argued and he dragged me home and I lost it. So yes it true, I murdered him. They found his body and somehow his brother must know because he had Otto killed. Imagine that? My whole life Otto was afraid he would bring me pain or this life would get me hurt and I was the one to hurt him.”

She covered her face, turning away from everyone. The guilt she held onto was evident everyone in the room felt her pain and not a single one could do anything to take it from her. No one even moved, no one even let out of breath as they stood there taking it all in.

Jax

As Jax stepped back inside the room where Scarlet and the rest of the MC were gathered he heard her voice shaky and low and his eyes fixated on the woman he was falling madly in love with even if some of the shit she did pissed him off to no end. But as he stood there and listened to the words that spilled out of her, his heart was now falling to the pit of his own dark soul. His eyes scanned her flushed cheeks, watching as one by one the tears rolled down and fell from her chin and landed in her lap. Each word driving a knife deeper and deeper into Jax Teller’s heart and in that moment he knew just what a pompous asshole he truly was.

His steps carried him to Scarlet as she sat shaking in the leather chair that was usually filled by Chibs, the one man that had thankfully brought her back where she was safe and where she belonged. Her hands clasped together laid precisely in her lap as she replayed her story to the brothers. How could he have been such a jerk, barging in like a fuckin’ animal when all he had was assumptions? He sucked his lower lip into his mouth when the mention of what her ex did to her, allowing other men to do the unthinkable to the woman he now loved.

The palm of his hand smashed down on the carved mahogany table to release some of the anger he was feeling, causing Scarlet to jump as he dropped to one knee in front of her. His head bowed as she continued, not willing to let her see the emotion that was now consuming his expression. The tears welled behind his lids as he took her smaller, dainty hands in his and pressed the back of them to his face, just needing to in some way relay to her that she would never endure that again. Not ever. He’d spend his last breath making sure of that fact. He pressed multiple kisses to the back of her soft hands, the ones that were tainted with blood just as his were. He didn’t want that kind of life for her. Not anymore. That was his job, not hers. To protect her and never let her feel hurt again. Placing her hands back in her lap he reached out, resting each of her palms on her belly where their unborn child was growing. Finally he allowed himself to look up into her swollen, tear filled eyes.

As their eyes met, the rest of the MC began to exit the room, each one showing Scarlet a small, yet significant sign of affection, whether a squeeze to her shoulder or a kiss to the top of her dark hair. She was quickly making her mark in the life they knew as the queen to their king. As the double doors fell closed Jax reached up and brushed the back of his knuckles against her warm cheek. In a low, husky voice the silence was finally broke as Jax told Scarlet something very important.

“Baby, we will figure it out. Your old man loved you and this isn’t your fault. It’s not. And I’ll be damned if you are going to let yourself think otherwise. Your old man is damn proud of you, how could he not be? He’d never blame you for this shit ever.” Raising to his feet, her hands back in his he guided her to her own feet. He allowed his body to wrap her up in a tight hug, flattening his palm to the middle of her back as she molded against his chest, and what he could only assume to be soft sobs against his flannel.

“I love you Scarlet.’ Jax held her tighter, whispering softly and tenderly in her ear. His eyes finally averted to the center of the carved table, taking in his first glance of the box resting in the center. Silently in his head he made a vow to Scarlet’s old man and his former MC brother.

‘We’ll get them, brotha. We’ll make them pay.’

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