Whispersinthepines

𝗝𝗮𝘅 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

You’re straddling him in the back of his dorm room, hands braced on his chest, hips grinding hard and fast. Jax is fingering you from below, his rings cold and rough against your soaked heat — it’s perfect, filthy, everything.

But suddenly, his hand stills.

“Babe... hold up,” he says, eyes narrowing in confused concentration.

You slow down, breathless. “What’s wrong?”

“I think… my fucking ring’s stuck,” he mutters, trying to pull his fingers free and failing.

You freeze. The moment becomes half-hilarious, half-mortifying.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, smirking despite himself. “You’ve got a death grip down there.”

You both burst out laughing, your forehead falling to his shoulder.

He gently works his hand back, easing his fingers out with slow precision, all while whispering dirty little things in your ear to keep you calm and turned on: “Gotta get you used to the rings, sweetheart. Or maybe you’re just trying to keep me inside, huh?”

Once he’s free, he looks down at the glistening ring with awe.

“Damn... I might marry you for real after that.”

𝗢𝗽𝗶𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

His fingers are inside you while you’re splayed out on the bed, hips rolling up to meet each thrust. The thick band on his middle finger adds extra pressure, just how you like it.

But then he pauses, eyes going serious.

“Baby,” he says, voice low and calm, “I think my ring’s caught on something.”

Your stomach drops — you tense instantly, but he lays a hand on your thigh.

“Don’t panic. I’m gonna get it out real slow.”

He stays completely focused, like you’re a puzzle only he can solve.

“Just breathe with me, alright? In… and out.”

Every motion is deliberate as he angles his fingers, carefully navigating the tight wet grip around him.

When he finally pulls free, he sets his hand on your stomach and leans down, kissing your forehead.

“Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Still. No rings next time.”

…But secretly? You’re a little disappointed. That stretch had you seeing stars.

𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

You’re bent over the table in the garage, moaning into your arm while he pleasures you with slow, brutal precision. You love the feel of his rings dragging inside you — raw, metal and power — it makes you wetter every time.

Then, mid-thrust, he freezes.

“Wait.”

You glance over your shoulder. “What?”

“My ring’s stuck,” he says casually, like it’s just another Tuesday.

He doesn’t look worried. If anything, he looks… intrigued.

“Damn, girl. You really don’t wanna let me go, huh?”

One slow finger at a time, he tries easing it out, watching your every twitch and moan.

“Keep breathing. Don’t clench.”

He’s careful — surprisingly gentle for a man who usually wrecks you.

When it finally slips free, he licks the ring clean without breaking eye contact.

“You wanna keep it?” he asks, cocky grin on his face. “Or should I lose it inside you again?”

𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗯𝘀 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

You’re draped across his lap in the clubhouse chair, panties pushed to the side while his skilled fingers work you over. He’s whispering in that thick Scottish accent, praising how tight you are, how soaked you are.

“Aye, look at you. All fucked out and it’s just my hand…”

Then he pauses.

“Shite. Wait a minute, love.”

His brow furrows, and he leans in closer, trying to keep things calm.

“I think my bloody ring’s caught in there. Christ, it’s wedged tight.”

You tense, but he quickly strokes your thigh.

“Easy, now. We’ll sort it.”

He gently rotates his fingers, using lube from your arousal to slip free.

When he finally gets it out, he chuckles to himself.

“That cunt of yours nearly ate my ring. Greedy thing, aren’t ye?”

Then, of course, he kisses your inner thigh and adds:

“You’re not gettin’ off the hook that easy. Now I have to make you cum again.”

𝗧𝗶𝗴 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

You’re laying back on the couch, legs spread wide while Tig’s on his knees, two fingers working you mercilessly. His rings clink every time he thrusts, and you love the feeling of his jewelry dragging along your walls.

Suddenly he stops.

“Oh shit.”

You blink through the haze. “What?”

“My fucking ring is stuck inside you. Baby, are you trying to swallow me whole?”

You burst out laughing. He looks equal parts amused and aroused.

“This is honestly kind of hot,” he mutters, biting his lip. “You’re gripping like a champ.”

He could fix the problem, but he keeps playing with the angle, gently twisting his hand just to hear the wet sounds and feel the resistance.

“You’re fine, right? Good. Then I’m not stopping.”

When he finally frees himself, he holds the dripping ring in the air like a trophy.

“I should put a leash on you. You’re dangerous.”

𝗝𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

It’s the middle of a lazy morning, the two of you still tangled in the sheets. Juice is fingering you, slow but confident, his rings adding that extra spark you begged for.

Then he gasps.

“Ohmygod.”

“What?” you ask, heart racing.

“I think... it’s stuck. My ring is stuck in you.”

You freeze, then start giggling. He’s mortified.

“I didn’t mean to! Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, Juice, I’m fine…”

“Shit. Shit. Okay. Don’t move.”

He’s concentrating so hard, carefully easing his fingers out, breathing like he’s defusing a bomb.

When he finally gets it free, he just stares at the glistening ring and blushes bright red.

“This is the weirdest and hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Same.”