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[kaftan4545562]

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[onestopfashion1]

Shop Blue Printed Cotton Nighty Online From Onestopfashion in India. Give yourself the best possible night's sleep with this Blue Patterned Cotton Nighty from the Shop Now collection. This nightgown, which is made of cotton, will keep you cosy all night. The round neck, half sleeves, and solid design on this nightgown give it a stylish appearance.

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[sollsmith]

In The Middle Of The Night

Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

Words: 1.5K

Warnings: SMUT, smut with no plot (my speciality!), fingering (f receiving) , sex w/o a condom, breeding kink 

Summary: A sleepy Prince of Dragonstone has needs after a long day.

The warmth of the arms enveloping you wakes you up enough to see that the once roaring fire is now in decay, and the room is now plunged in darkness. You moan softly in content in the warmth radiating from his body, pushing yourself back into him. Daemon positions his head, chin nestling into the curve of your shoulder, lips chaste against your neck.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon?” He mutters as he settles himself next to you. You know what he wants. You have followed this same route for moons now, ever since his appointment and your arrival at Dragonstone. Daemon being named heir had shocked you, both of you happy to live in Viserys' shadows, reaping the benefits of being a second son of the realm and his lady wife. But with Viserys and Aemma struggling to conceive, and the arrival of your sweet son, the pressure to name your husband heir had increased, and for the stability of the realm, Viserys had no choice. 

So Daemon took his place at Dragonstone, spending his days over seeing the running of the castle, preparing to become King, and when the hour of the ghost hit, he would slip into bed beside you, with wandering hands and his hard length pressed up against your ass. 

“Mm?” You hum back to him. Sleep is still lingering in your body, just about to pull you back into the darkness. But you know deep down, if you��re being completely honest with yourself, no matter how tired you might be when he slips in beside you late each night– you’ll ever be too tired to feel him…to be used by him. You were his. Whenever and wherever he wanted.

Daemon's arms dip beneath you, pulling you closer to him, his nose running along the side of your shoulder, his hand softly pushing at your upper thighs parting your legs. His fingers run up your inner thighs, pushing up under your gown, fingers edging up to find the growing wetness between them. A small whine escapes past your lips, and suddenly he is delving his middle and pointer fingers between your folds, spreading your wetness, causing you to clench softly around nothing. His breath is hot against your neck and shoulder, his lips leaving wet kisses sporadically along it. 

“My perfect little wife, hm? Getting herself ready for me.” He breathes out as he mouths your neck, amusement dripping from the low words. His free hand moves from your stomach, reaching to your knees and pulling up the soft cotton gown up ensuring you were entirely available to him. “Getting herself all ready for her husband, hm?” 

You gasp when one fingers that had been circling your hole finally dips in. In your still slightly sleepy state, your body reacts involuntarily, instantly overstimulated. Your legs are moving to clench together and jerk away, but Daemon knows your body better than you do. He quickly slots his large knee between your legs so he still has access to your increasingly fluttering pussy. His free hand moving back to your stomach to keep you in place.

“Mm, Dae,” The movement is involuntary once again, your hand shooting to his wrist as your thighs squeeze his knee, trying to shut at the feeling of him pressing another thick finger into your slick hole, pumping them at slow steady pace, hitting the spot inside you that has you beginning to clamp tightly down on his thick fingers. 

“Come on, don’t you wanna be good for me? Be a good wife for your future King?” He is teasing you, and loving every second. Daemon’s teeth graze against your earlobe, nipping softly at it. Before you can respond, all words die in the back of your throat when a third digit makes its way inside of you, and he begins pressing the ball of his palm to your small bundle of nerves.

The added pleasure causes a whine dies in your throat and your eye to squeeze shut, falling over the edge quickly. Your body tensing, pussy spasming, as he makes sure you ride out the high on his hand. His hand stills, kissing in between your shoulders tenderly as he removes his fingers, letting his hand slot out from between your thighs. His hand raises to your lips, three wet fingers gently pushing past your lips, making you taste yourself as you lick and suck them clean. 

Once his hand is clean, he pulls it from you. You shuffle to turn over to face him, get a good look at him, having missed his face all day, missing your typical super together for an emergency meeting about the merchants that were illegally docking on the shores of Dragonstone. But he stops you, hand landing on your upper arm, gently pushing you forward slightly, keeping you turned away from him and on your side.

“Want you like this tonight.” He mutters lowly, and you’re unable to tell if he’s talking to you or more so himself.

He presses his chest against your back, settling himself against your back, hands fixing your thighs into position so that he has full access to your weeping pussy. You moan at the feeling of him rubbing his thick cock between your swollen, glistening folds. He grunts softly as he lets his tip dip into your hole, before removing it and allowing it to catch on your throbbing clit, making you push yourself towards him, desperate for more of him.  

“I know, I know.” He murmurs, and your eyes roll back and moan escapes your lips when he slides into you, mixing with the sound of his deep groan that emits from him behind you, as he softly trusts into you, stretching you nicely. 

“There you go….gods, you take me so well.” 

The adjustment period ends quickly, the stress of the day quickly surfacing and suddenly Daemon is trying to split you open on his cock. His thrusts somehow tread the line of both sleepy and deliberate, soft yet rough, the pace causing your head to bury itself into the pillow below you, teeth biting down to drown out your moans. 

“D-Dae, fuck.” You mewl, feeling his tip run against that soft, spongy part inside of you over and over again just as his fingers had just done. Subconsciously, once again, your body jerks away from him, the intense pleasure becoming too much. However, Daemon has other plans for you, hands  tightly wrapping around your waist, fingers digging so deeply that bruises will litter them in the morning.

“No-no, stay on my cock pretty one. take. my. fucking. cock.”

Your body tries to move from him again, causing Daemon to grunt in displeasure, hand running down to your thigh and hooking your leg over his, locking you in place. A high pitched moan leaves you, the new angle allowing him to reach impossibly deeper within your warm, wet heat. Your arm moves up to his hair, gripping tightly at the roots long silver locks, your other other hand moving to gripping between his large thighs and ass. 

Your walls flutter, throat now dry and raw, you can already feel the coil in the pit of your stomach tighten. You’re so close and Daemon knows it; the hand not keeping your leg in place finds the space between your thighs, playing with your, now very swollen, clit.

“Fuck– please, I–,” You can’t form a coherent sentence, only mumbles of pleases leaving your mouth, not with the amount of stimulation you’re receiving, and the filth that he’s spewing in your ear. Him telling you he’s going to breed again you like you deserve? Because you’ve been so good to him? Let you carry his babe? Make you nice and swollen? Swollen with another heir? 

His filthy mouth is stopped by the sound of him letting out a guttural moan as his hips smack against the flesh of your ass. You're so far gone at this point, you can barely register the sound of your squelching pussy echoing throughout the silence of the dark room, but Daemon can. Daemon can hear it, and all it does is make his balls tighten.

Daemon loudly groans as your pussy clamps down on him,which only eggs him on to pound into you harder. He can’t stop fucking you because it feels too good. You feel too good. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, trusting quickly, telling you he is going to fill you up, as your pussy clamps in waves around him, back arches and whines die in your throat. 

Your eyes are so glazed over that you can’t even see properly anymore. You’re too focused on the post-coital high you’re riding, that you barely register Daemon grunts and moans as he coats your walls and begins to still within you.  

Daemon keeps himself buried inside of you, the mix of your essences most certainly leaking out from your hole and along his cock. His hands run gently along your thighs up to your waist, before softly landing on your stomach, thumbs softly rubbing the skin, his head position itself behind yours. You shuffle back into him, head finally turning to look at him, leaving sweet kisses along his jaw. 

“Goodnight, Ñuha jorrāelagon.” 

Authors Note:

A little soft, sleepy smut in honour of Matt’s perfect lil dilf belly that I got to see in person this week, and now I will never stop thinking about the fact that it’s under all that Daemon armour ✨

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Taglist: @yn-jackson , @ilikechocolatemilkh

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[bobfloydsbabe]

eccentric professor bob floyd (historical romance version) sneak peek

Encouraged by my wonderful friends @withahappyrefrain and @ryebecca, I present you a sneak peek at the historical romance AU fic I'm working on for Eccentric Professor Bob and Imogen. I shared the beginning of this for a tag game a couple of days ago, but I've added more to it since then. Enjoy ✨

“Who’s there?”

The flickering candle comes closer, and slowly, the holder’s dark doe eyes come into his line of sight, along with long wavy hair and soft-looking skin.

“Lady Imogen,” he says when she stops a few paces away. 

“Professor,” she greets, one brow quirked. “What brings you here at this time of night?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Her breathy chuckle fills the quiet library. “So you could,” she agrees. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get something to read.”

“I had the same thought,” he admits. He’s trying not to look at her state of undress, but his eyes travel down to her simple cotton nightgown, and his breath hitches. She’s not wearing a dressing gown.

Imogen seems unfazed by his wandering eye.

“Did you find something advanced enough to challenge your mind, Professor?”

He drags his gaze back to her face. “Not yet,” he says. “Perhaps you have a recommendation?”

In the candlelight, her mouth turns up in a smile that makes her keen eyes sparkle. Humming, she scans the shelves he’s standing in front of, inspecting the titles and writers, and he wonders, not for the first time, where she’s been hiding all his life.

Knowing of her is one thing, but knowing her is something else entirely. He longs to touch her. To feel her skin against his, the taste of her tongue, the sounds she’d make when he gives her pleasure. He wants all of it but is entitled to none of it.

He aches in a way he’s never done before.

“Ah,” she says, having spotted something interesting on the shelf. She reaches past him, her breast grazing his chest as she stands on her tiptoes to reach. Despite the fabric separating them, every cell in his body’s on fire, and the blood that first rushed to his head now travels south to his cock.

If her breast through cotton does this to him, he’s afraid of what would happen if he touched her bare skin.

Unaware of his internal crisis, Imogen grasps the book she’d spotted and settles back on her feet. She studies the leather-bound book for a moment. “I’m surprised the Countess even has a copy of this. She does not strike me as someone with a vested interest in the subject.”

“Perhaps the Earl added it to the library,” he says without knowing what book it is and takes a step away to put some distance between them.

“The Earl is a dear friend of my father’s, but he is not an intelligent man,” Imogen explains. “The Countess is a brilliant woman. I am quite certain it was she who acquired it.”

Imogen offers the book to him. He snatches it out of her hand quickly, hoping she won’t look at him too long and notice the extra limb throbbing in his trousers.

He opens to the title page, brow furrowing when he realizes the book she’s recommended to him. His head whips up.

“I’m sure you’ve already read it,” she says, looking uncertain for the first time since she joined him. “Darwin makes a compelling argument. I wrote him a letter with a list of questions, but never received a reply. I’m sure he thinks me a feebleminded woman who won’t understand the complexities of his theory.”

Robert closes the book. “If Darwin thinks you feebleminded, he is a fool.”

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TAGLIST: @bobgasm, @attapullman, @kmc1989, @bluezraven, @seitmai, @roosterforme, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @auroraseddie, @cherrycola27, @keyrani, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @sio-ina-bottle, @hangmanapologist, @bradshawsbaby, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @bcarolinablr, @xoxabs88xox

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[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Twenty Four - Dagger

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Masterlist

The sun isn’t brightening the sky yet, but you’re awake. 

Laying on your side in the magnificent bed, the plush covers tucked up around your chin to ward off the morning chill, you let your mind wander.  

With bleary eyes, you stare out of the window across from the bed. Mourning Doves coo softly just outside the glass. 

Frost lines the panes, it crackles against the heat coming from inside the room. 

Both you and Seungmin were so tired when you arrived last night that when the house staff showed you to your room, you both collapsed into bed without a second thought. 

Truly, you didn’t even have an opportunity to gawk at the single bed in the room. But, at this point, part of you was desensitized to it. 

It seems the only place you don’t share a bed anymore is back in Miroh; and that’s becoming a rarity too. 

Not that you were complaining; it was nice having another presence to wake up to. It had been too many years of sleeping on your own.

There’s some shuffling on the bed behind you as Seungmin turns over in his sleep and readjusts the blankets. You keep still. 

He settles again and his breathing evens out once more. 

His soft puffs through his nose are barely audible over the sound of the fireplace in the room on top of the Mourning Doves, but you can hear it if you really focus. Out of all the men you’ve slept beside, he’s definitely the quietest. 

Jeongin, on the other hand, was definitely the loudest. There was one morning you contemplating shoving cotton in your ears to block the snoring; or shove a pillow over his face. 

But like he is in his everyday life, Seungmin is silent. His sleepy calmness rubs off on you so you bask in it. 

And in just a few hours, you were going to be whisked away by ladies maids to get you primped and pressed for the masquerade. 

Another first for you. 

A part of you wants to balk at the idea of getting dressed up and squeezing into that gown; it wants to puff out your chest and say you’re a warrior, you don’t need to do any of this. 

But the other part— the much larger part— is giddy beyond belief. Your whole life you’ve read stories about girls getting ready for balls, dancing the night away, eating and drinking fancy foods and wines and you’ve pined for it. 

You can still remember one particular book where the main character ate oysters with champagne strawberry mignonette. For weeks, your mouth watered just thinking about it. 

Will they have food like that here? 

Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you let a smile split your face as you curl into the covers more. 

You fight the tiny giggle that tries to bubble to the surface. 

Just a few more hours until you can pretend to be a lady for an entire night. 

Lady Sigyn Reylar. Engaged to Lord Skye Heivan.

Carefully, you turn and look behind you at the sleeping lump of blankets that is Kim Seungmin. 

Like you, he’s laying on his side, his cheek pressed into the pillow, puckering his lips a bit. His hair is tousled and sticking out in different directions. 

His eyelids twitch and his throat bobs with a swallow. A soft puff of air comes out of his nose with an exhale. 

Smiling, you turn slowly to face him more. 

Your eyes scan all over his sleeping face. He looks like a slumbering baby like this, not a hardened rogue who slinks around in the shadows. 

Before you can stop yourself, your fingers come up from under the blanket and up to his peaceful face. 

With a featherlight touch, you brush his bangs from his eyes. 

You don’t even get to complete the gesture, your hand is snatched up in a tight grip like a cobra striking out. Seungmin’s eyes snap open, obviously alarmed and still confused. 

His other hand slides under his pillow just as quickly. 

“Seungmin!” You hiss between your teeth before he can do anything. 

If a rogue reaches under his pillow, you can only guess what he was about to pull on you. 

Recognition lights up in his sleep heavy eyes and he pauses his jerky movements to stare at you. His breathing now heavy. 

You both stare at each other for a long moment.

“It is just me, Seungmin.” 

The grip on your hand unclenches, but he doesn’t drop it completely. He keeps your wrist held in his long fingers and brings both of your hands back down to the bed. 

While keeping your eyes on him, you’re watching his brain come back to life. Obviously, you ripped him out of a very deep sleep. 

Seungmin blinks a few times, eyelids getting heavier and heavier each time. His brain pulling him back to dreamland. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, it comes out slurred. 

“It is quite alright,” you whisper back. “I apologize for startling you.”

His eyes close. “Do not fret. I am just not used to sharing a bed with anyone.” He face nuzzles into his pillow. 

“I was not trying to kill you.”

His fingers lace with yours and he pulls them under the warmth of the blankets. 

“I have heard that one before,” he teases. A pause. “I have said that one before, too.”

You snicker quietly and keep your eyes trained on his face. 

“Go back to sleep, Y/N, the sun is not up yet.” His voice is weaker as he drifts off again. 

You respond with a hum. 

After a few moments of watching the rogue fall asleep, you feel your own eyes begin to close. Seungmin’s hand is still wrapped around yours, twitching every once in a while. 

With a smile, you drift off again.

------------------------------------------

Oh, you could get used to living like royalty. The scented bath you relaxed in for a bit was just the beginning of your pampering journey. 

Various lotions and tonics were slathered all over your skin, making every inch of you soft and perfumed. 

Unfortunately, that meant that eyes were all over your naked skin.  

“Oh! My lady, what happened?” A chamber maid asked, pointing to your leg wound. 

“Ah,” you swallowed, mind reeling with possible excuses. “I had asked one of my father’s guards to train me in swordplay. It did not go well at all.”

The three helpers cooed and continued their work, being very careful of the wound.

Layers of makeup covered your face, two sets of hands worked on pinning your hair up in an elegant style. Various braids of all sorts of length and thickness are pinned up and around your face. A hod rod curls more of your hair before it's pinned up as well.

By watching the mirror in front of the vanity, you’re able to see the entire process of your transformation from start to finish.

“That lord of yours is easy on the eyes, hm?” One of the ladies giggles down to you while working on your hair. “I saw him in the hall earlier, I had to look thrice, I thought my eyes deceived me.”

“I saw him earlier,” another adds while she rubs more blush onto your cheeks. “The mysterious type.”

You smile softly to yourself. Might as well play the part, no? 

“Aye, he is rather good looking, I sure know how to choose them.” Partaking in their gossip makes you feel a tad bit giddy. 

Sitting on the stool in front of the vanity, you’re only wearing underclothes and a plush robe. Slipping into the dress is the last step of the process apparently. 

“Is he good to you?” The third asks, she’s more in front of you, curling pieces of hair that frame your face.

“Oh, he is very good to me.” You watch yourself in the mirror, allowing your eyes to study your own face. “He is always looking out for me, he makes sure I eat well and that I am taking care of myself.”

The ladies squeal and giggle.

“That type of man is so rare to come by these days,” she sighs dreamily. “Maybe one day I will find someone like him.”

“He seems like he is nothing like that ambassador.”

Your interest peaks immediately. 

“Is the ambassador bad to his women?”

The lady doing your makeup rolls her eyes. “Not necessarily bad, no. He just only cares for himself and his needs, let us put it that way.”

“He is a selfish man.” Another says blatantly. You look up at her; both of her eyebrows are furrowed and her lips are pursed angrily.

“Be careful,” the one closest to her hisses and smacks her arm.

“It is alright, I will not say anything,” you reassure them. 

“It is true, though. The ambassador moves from woman to woman so fast I can hardly keep up! The new one in the house has only been here for a few months and any day now, I am telling you, there will be a new tart walking the halls and giving us orders.”

The other lady smacks her arm again, this time it’s a bit harsher. “These walls have ears and unless you want to lose your job I suggest you be quiet .”

A bored, flirty, insatiable man is the perfect target for you tonight. It almost seems too good to be true. 

“Fine, fine.” She looks down at you with wide eyes and mouths: “ It is true, though. ”

You giggle to yourself and look back in the mirror.

Everything just looks so… perfect. Down to the very last detail. Every twist and bend to your hair is calculated and gorgeous, the paint on your face highlights every beautiful contour of your face.

You’ve never felt this confident about your appearance before– never cared to, either. 

“Alright, then,” the one lady says happily, leaning back to admire her work on your makeup. “I think we are ready to get you dressed then.”

Your heart leaps in your chest and you look behind you at the gown on the mannequin, everything laid out around it. You suppress the urge to bite your lip nervously, not wanting to ruin the makeup that was just painted on it.

------------------------------------------

Okay, maybe corsets were not everything you thought they would be.

It took two of them to get you laced into the deathtrap while you held onto the back of a chair for dear life. 

Aren’t you supposed to be able to breathe? It feels like something you shouldn’t have to sacrifice in order to look good for a gala. 

One of the ladies carefully adjusts the mask over your eyes.

The only thing missing from your outfit was the holster on your thigh. That was going to have to wait until you had a moment to yourself to put on. There was no way you would be able to explain that to the ladies that were helping you. 

“I know we spoke about how you were lucky to have Lord Heivan, but…” she trails off and takes a step back from you, looking over your appearance from head to toe. “I think that he is the lucky one, no?”

The other two ladies maids watch from behind her with easy smiles on their faces. They both nod in agreement. 

As if on cue, a sharp couple of knocks hit against the hard wood of the door.

“Come in!” you call out. 

Seungmin’s voice enters the room before his body does. “Is my lady ready for me to steal her aw–?”

His voice catches in his throat when he sets his eyes on you in the middle of the room. You’re lucky you weren’t mid sentence either otherwise you would’ve done the same thing. 

Chan had mentioned that your dress was going to match Seungmin’s suit, but you didn’t quite grasp how much he was going to match, or how well the suit was going to be tailored to him.

A majority of the suit was all black: the jacket, pants, and undershirt. But the vest was made out of the same dark purple material that your dress was, his tie as well. A purple pocket square was folded neatly near his lapel. 

Hanging from one of the buttons was a long silver chain that ran down to his pocket, most likely connected to a pocket watch.  

A mask identical to yours– just a bit more masculine– sat on his face. His bangs brushed out of his eyes and styled just as perfectly as your hair is.

With wide eyes, Seungmin stares at you for a long few moments, his hand still holding the handle on the door. 

His grip tightens on the brass door handle, you can see the tendons in his wrist flex a bit before he finally lets go. Slowly but surely he’s trying ro regain his composure. 

“She looks gorgeous, right, my lord?” One of the girls teases.

Seungmin clears his throat quickly. “Aye,” he answers quickly, his voice is hoarse and taught. “Gorgeous is… an understatement.”

By The Six, he’s laying it on thick, isn’t he?

“Well,” one of the ladies maids says, her tone is teasing, like a mother would talk. “We will leave you two to make any… last minute adjustments before heading down to the masquerade. I am sure the festivities have already started.”

The three of them make their way to the door. 

You’re still holding intense eye contact with Seungmin. 

“It was a pleasure, Lady Sigyn.” They all curtsy at you. “Lord Heivan.” Another curtsy.

Seungmin steps out of the way as the three of them exit the door. Once they’re out in the hallway, he shuts the door behind them. It settles in the frame with a resounding click .

Holding your gaze, Seungmin steps closer to you, the heels of his shoes click against the stone floor of the room, reverberating off the stone walls. 

Fidgeting with the dress beneath your fingers, the velvet slides around under your touch.

He stops right in front of you, looking down through his mask with stormy eyes.

You drop into a small bow-like curtsy, “My lord.” You tease, your gaze dipped down to the floor.

Seungmin gently reaches out and places a finger under your chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze. “You look breathtaking, Y/N.”

Sheepishly, you try to look away from his intense, dark eyes, but his hold on your face is strong. “Thank you, Seungmin.” Your eyes venture down to his suit once more. “I have to say, I rather like your suit as well.”

He smirks. “Does it suit me well?”

“Aye, the color purple does wonders for you.”

He hums with a smile and drops his hand. “Why thank you, my lady.” He holds out his arm to you. “Shall we?”

You hold up a hand. “Ah, there is one last piece I need to adorn before we can go down to the ball. I could not have the ladies' maids help me with this, I am afraid.”

Stepping away from him, you walk over to the large chest and rifle through the inside, pulling out the thigh holster.

“I may need your assistance with this, I cannot really move in this blasted corset.” 

“Of course.” Again, his voice sounds strained. But, you decide not to think anything of it as you walk closer to him.

You hand the holster over to him, he takes it gingerly.

“Maybe you should take a seat so that you can bunch up the skirts?” He proposes looking down at the gown. 

“Oh,” you start and look down. “No need.” You run your hand down the fabric and pull the slit aside to reveal your leg.

Seungmin makes a choking noise in the back of his throat. Your head snaps up to look at him. A prominent blush covers the bridge of his nose and spreads up to his ears. If it weren’t for the mask, you’re sure that you would’ve seen an entirely new expression on his face. 

“Is everything alright?”

Before you can get the entire question out, he nods sharply and toys with the leather holster in his hands. His throat bobs with a gulp.

“The slit was clever, no?” You look back down at it, your fingers running down the split and toying with it. “It was Minho’s idea, it is for a dagger.”

Another hoarse hum comes from the rogue. “Aye, it is very clever, indeed. Remind me to give Minho my thanks when we return to Miroh.”

Slowly, Seungmin kneels down in front of you. His gaze stays on your leg. 

“I owe him… many, many thanks, it seems.”

It’s not until his knees hit the floor that you fully grasp what is about to happen. 

He reaches up slowly to move the fabric away from your leg. An involuntary shiver leaves your lips at the intimate action. He brushes it away with featherlight gentleness. 

With one hand, he reaches forward and wraps his fingers around your knee to pull your leg forward a bit. His touch sends goosebumps right up your skin.

Your jaw clenches. 

Leaning your balance on one leg, you let Seungmin pull your foot up to rest your fancy shoe on his clothed thigh. To stabilize yourself even more, you grab onto one of his shoulders for support. 

His face is so close to your exposed skin, you can feel his slightly shaky exhales all over. It does nothing to get rid of the goosebumps plaguing your entire body. 

Nimble fingers reach up and wrap the holster around your thigh. His fingers brush against your leg entirely more than you think to be necessary. 

He adjusts the height higher and higher, his knuckles brushing against every inch of exposed flesh.

Seungmin buckles the holster around your thigh, the leather strap sliding into place and sitting comfortably on your skin.

You can’t help but stare down at him while he fastens the holster to your body.

A shiver runs up your spine like a zipper when he lets out a particularly deep exhale. He licks his lips and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. 

From the floor, he looks up at you and meets your searing gaze with his own. One of Seungmin’s hands is still on the side of your thigh, the other slides down the entire expanse of your leg, memorizing every curve and bump until it rests around your ankle, fingers wrapping around it and squeezing gently.

“How is that?” he whispers up to you with bright eyes and pursed lips. “Secure?” His breath is so hot on your already searing skin. He tugs on the holster slightly. 

Gulping, you nod down to him. “Aye, it is perfect.”

Seungmin hums and looks down at the holster, still empty. He cocks his head to the side. “Almost.” 

In a fluid motion, he reaches into his suit jacket pocket and pulls out his own dagger. It’s simple in design with a silver handle. It’s beautifully clean and classic– like him. 

The grip on your ankle tightens a bit.

Painfully slow, Seungmin drags the dagger up your long leg. You can hear the sound of the metal scratching lightly against your skin. The coldness of the blade is a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. 

He slides it up the entire length of your leg and to your thigh before sheathing it into the holster.

By the time the dagger is put away, your entire body is flushed and quaking with an unknown want. 

“There,” he says under his breath. “ Now it is perfect.”

Every inch of your skin feels like it's on fire. 

He looks back up at you from the floor, the hand by the holster splays out over your entire thigh, fingers pressing into the flesh, like he wants to brand his very fingerprints into your body.

You reach up and brush away one of the strands of hair that had fallen down over his forehead.

Absentmindedly, he leans into your touch.

The way he’s looking up at you through the holes in his mask leaves your mind in shambles. 

“You are too good to me, my lord,” you murmur down to Seungmin. Your fingers card through his styled hair.

His grip tightens once more. 

“Nay, my lady.” He squeezes your thigh. “I am simply treating you how you deserve.”

His hand runs down from your thigh to your knee, helping you find your balance on the floor once more. Fuzzy feelings still wrack your nerves as Seungmin stands to his full height above you once more.

Like before, he holds out his elbow for you to take.Your hand slips through his arm, Seungmin brings you closer to his body.

“Are you ready, my beloved Lady Sigyn?” He smiles down at you. 

“I was born ready, my darling Lord Skye.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #i.n x reader #stray kids fantasy au #skz fantasy au #animals without direction

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

Episode ten - paper

Jack Dawkins x fem reader.

Jack's eyes opened slowly, the room around him was dark. He was on the ground and pain clamped at his chest.

"What's going on?" He asks into the darkness. Footsteps tapping against the damp stone floor.

"Oh weren't sure if you'd wake up, you're losing a lot of blood. My lad hasn't quite learnt how to stab and not kill just yet." The voice felt familiar to Jack.

"Bill?" He says. The man laughs. The rope around Jack's wrist tugs and begins to lift him until jack's feet barely touch the floor.

"No, no my brother is well and truly dead, that Oliver Twist really got him good. Still, little toff is in prison himself now. Sweet justice." He laughed again.

"What?" Jack was finding it hard to keep up.

"Oh, I'm just here getting a little payback. You're collateral damage as they say." He laughed again. Jack felt him come too close, the stink of his breath assaulting his nostrils.

"I never did anything to Bill or you!" Jack strains against the pain from his knife wound.

"Oh I ain't got problems with you, but you dying sure as hell will hurt the people I hate." The man laughed again, slamming his fist into Jack's stomach.

*_*_*_*

"lady y/n, what on earth do you think you are doing?" Sneed questions entering your room.

"I have to help Fagin find Jack" you say, pulling your dressing gown on over your nightdress.

"Find Jack, he only just got back, what happened to him?"

"He was kidnapped, last night. It looks like he was hurt. We have to find him." You say taking your sister's arm.

"And you were just going to let her run off? Y/n has just had heart surgery!" He asked Belle. She tilted her head in a shrug.

"Do you think we could stop her?" She shot back at him.

"At least put on some clothing. If you insist on charging around Port Victory your corset will help keep you together." Sneed sighed. You held his hand.

"thank you, thank you Rainsford."

Belle helps you into a simple white cotton dress, forgoing the hooped crinolines. The corset felt foreign after being in bed for so long. Though you had to admit it was making your chest feel a little easier. You don't bother to put up your hair, choosing instead to simply tie back the front.

When ready you make your way down to the morgue where Fagin waited for you. Aputi, Flashbang, Tim and Red are with him.

"Do we know anything yet?" You ask.

Fagin shakes his head.

"We've heard nothing. Not a dot." He admits.

"That isn't true." You spin heating your father's voice behind you.

"Father?" You take his outstretched hand.

"It appears this is all my fault." He says, leaving a folded slip of paper in the air. You snatch the paper from his hand.

"Governor Fox, you may recall Lord Branwell. You have debt with him and I have come to collect. Arthur Sikes." You read aloud.

"Sikes?" Fagin turns white, "Oh that family is like a bad smell, they always come back."

"Father what did you do?"

Edmund sighs, "Many years ago during my military days I had command of Lord Branwell's son. A fine chap really if not a little wild. Branwell always blamed me for his death"

You put your hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright father, we will deal with this. Surely he will want money and we have plenty." You say.

"No, if I know the Sikes this isn't about money."

*_*_*_*

Jack pulls against the rope holding him up. His fingertips were already beginning to turn blue.

"If killing me is the point why not just do it?" He coughs out.

"Well no need to be boring. We all like to have a little fun in our work. Plus seeing old Fagin's face when he sees your mutilated body will be fun." Arthur bit into an apple as he talked.

"So it is a little about him then?" Jack says between heavy breaths.

Arthur kicks his foot, knocking the tied rope. It uncurls and skids until Jack hits the floor, face first. Blood quickly starts dripping from his forehead. Joining the wounds that now littered his body. Stomping across the room Arthur grabbed Jack's shirt and shoved him onto his back. Crouching over him.

"You know, it isn't really you that I want, I just know having you will bring one Fox's kids here. Then he'll learn what it is to lose a son."

"Fox doesn't have a son." Jack says.

"a daughter then. I hear one of them is quite taken with you." He laughs again. "now how about we choose something to send to them? A finger? The whole hand? And ear? A foot? Hmm? What about your baby maker?" He laughs again, showing his rotten teeth and twirling a knife between his fingers.

"No, please" Jack began to beg.

"a toe then, we'll start small." Arthur pulled Jack's shoe from his foot, sliding the blade between his toes.

"No."

A door opened somewhere behind Jack and a voice called to Arthur. He grabbed Jack's face around the jaw.

"I guess this will have to wait. See you soon, Jacky boy." He shoved Jack's face before rushing away.

"What is it?" He growls at the smaller man.

"the whole town is looking for him. We're done for."

*_*_*_*

"Where has she gone?" Edmund bellowed through the hospital.

"We don't know. She was looking at the paper and then she just took off!" One of the recoats explained.

You had slipped from the hospital and we're making your way through the streets of the town. The dirt scratching against your bare feet. Your sister knew very much about the body, Jack was impressively good at surgery but you, you knew about paper. Seemingly dull to many but upon arriving in Port Victory you had familiarised yourself with each type of paper available to you. Only one was made within the town limits. A basic sheet, thicker than that shipped from England. It had little wooden flecks throughout it, picked up from the sawdust that littered the factory floor. This had to be where they were keeping Jack and you knew exactly where to go.

The cut on your chest pulled at your skin as you walked. You had to ignore it and find him. If you told anyone else your theory they would send an army to the door and that ran the risk of Jack being killed.

You hear a bell being rung and know they have discovered your absence, leaving you little time.

The factory was not a large one, and was connected to a boarding house. You knew it would be stupid to walk in through the front door. Looking around you see a window on the upper floor. You climb the wooden steps on the boarding to balcony and climb onto the railings. You slip, catching your dress underfoot. Grumbling you unclasp it and let the garment fall to the ground, leaving you in just your bloomers, corset and short chemise. Able to move more freely you climb back up and throw yourself across to the small ledge under the window. The bump catches your breath and you're sure you feel something catch below your corset. You pull yourself up and slip into the window, there is an old wooden platform that you stand on. It is filled with old boxes. You hide behind them, doing your best to move quietly. You see Jack lying in the ground and your heat breaks.

A fast sweep of the room tells you he is alone so you slowly make your way down the steps and across the floor.

"Jack?" You touch his face, then check his body. The wound on his chest looked angry.

"Jack, Jack come on you have to wake up." You whisper to him, tapping his face to rouse him. When his eyes finally open he looks up at you. Fear crossed his eyes.

"No, Y/n you shouldn't be here! You have to go. Now!"

You ignore him and u tie his hands.

"can you stand?" You ask. He nods and the two of get up.

"Wait, y/n you have blood on you." He says pressing his hand to your chest.

"Perhaps it's yours." You say, once again ignoring the sting of pain below the corset, "come on we have to go quickly." You pull his arm around your shoulders and start to direct him towards the doors.

"This was silly, you should not have come here." Jack chastised you.

"No she definitely should not have." Arthur's foot kicks into the back of your knees sending both you and Jack to the ground. He drags you backwards by your ankles. No matter how you claw at the floor you cannot stop him. Jack struggles to move as two other men grab at him.

"Here you go my Lord. Just in time for you to watch it." Arthur grabs you by the hair and yanks you back. You meet eyes with a pompously large man who laughs, pouring a glass of wine.

Episode eleven

@fandomfan-102 @darasloves @afalls14universe

#jack dawkins x y/n #jack dawkins x reader #jack dawkins #the artful dodger x reader

[tumbleweed-writes]

Death and the Lady: Chapter Eleven: Chibs Telford X Reader

TAG LIST:

@youngadult9016  @mrsfilipchibstelford @mamawiggers1980 @ravennaortiz @liveinsteadofdreaming @redwoodmaya

PREVIOUS CHAPTER FOUND HERE

TW: Description of Decay, Smut. 18+

CHAPTER ELEVEN: REASSURANCES

-------

She was barefoot in the cemetery; the ground cold, damp, and mushy below her feet. She frowned at the realization that she had no shoes on in a place where it very much seemed as though she should be wearing shoes.

Being barefoot outdoors, especially in such a public place in the dark, seemed to be just asking for a foot injury. She was certain this was a tetanus shot waiting to happen. She didn’t even go barefoot in her own yard. Why was she without shoes right now of all times? 

She didn’t have much time to focus on this realization nor this question though, the strong grip on her hand and the Scotsman ahead of her pulling her forward. His movement seemed far too quick for her; his legs were much longer than her own which meant that he moved forward at longer strides than she felt capable of. She was almost certain if he moved any faster she’d trip over her own feet…especially in the wet ground. Her lack of shoes seemed to give her no traction in the damp bit of mud mixed with grass below her feet. 

She thought to protest the swiftness in which he was pulling her forward, but had not a chance as he spoke, not even turning back to glance her way. “Jus’ a wee bit further. We’re close now.”

“Where are we going?” She dared to ask confusion washing over her as she struggled to keep up with his pace. She wanted to stop and force him to face her. She wanted to demand that he explain what was going on. She was sure if she stopped though he’d risk yanking her forward and making her fall to the ground with as quick as he was moving.

“You’ll see. We jus’ got a wee bit further to go. Trus’ me, we’re almos’ there.” Chibs replied his answer far too vague.

She parted her lips, tempted to prod him for more information. However, she remained silent; something about the pace in which he was moving and the demanding pull of her body behind him telling her he was the one calling the shots at the moment.

She stared down at her clothing, a greater sense of bewilderment washing over her. The knee length white nightgown she wore was not at all what she’d been expecting. The nightgown was sleeveless and sat loosely on her body; the fabric almost flowing as she moved. The delicate straps and the thin cotton of the gown seemed as though it would do so little to warm her in the cold night air. 

She was certain she owned a nightgown similar to this one. She owned quite a few nightgowns; most of them vintage pieces she’d acquired at thrift shops during her years in New York and a few vintage pieces that had once belonged to ancestors of hers. She had quite a few of her ancestors' old clothing sitting in a closet in one of the spare bedrooms. She’d always had a love for vintage pieces. Even if she didn’t wear some of the more delicate vintage pieces in her closet she still had an admiration for them. 

She preferred nightgowns when she slept, but didn’t quite understand why she was wearing a nightgown in the middle of a cemetery. This was never something she would wear outdoors, especially in such a public place. 

Chibs was dressed as he usually always was; jeans, a dark top, and his leather kutte. She could barely make out the reaper on his back in the dim light of the night. 

She glanced around her at her surroundings as Chibs continued to pull her forward. She didn’t recognize anything around her and she had a feeling it wasn’t just because it was so dark out. 

She could barely make out her surroundings from far away, but up close she could spot a few distinctive features. The cemetery felt old. The grass felt overgrown as though the grounds had not been maintained in a long while. She spotted none of the usual sightings of a cemetery; no flowers left out by mourners, no maintained trees and carefully landscaped plants, no sign of care. 

To her, cemeteries had always felt peaceful. She’d always been able to find some beauty in them. She wasn’t sure if it was just that she spent so much time in cemeteries due to her job, but she’d always been able to appreciate them. 

This place held no beauty though. It felt almost lifeless; like a caricature of a cemetery that one might view in some old black and white horror film.

The tombstones around her felt grand; towering obelisk monuments, old magnificent crypts, and worn gravestones whose inscriptions had long since faded. Everything seemed so gray and dreary. 

She was sure that she couldn’t possibly be in any part of Charming’s local cemetery, not even the older sections.

She was certain if she was in Charming’s cemetery then she’d recognize her surroundings. She’d been all over the property with her job. She knew every section of that cemetery by heart. She remembered the name of the first person buried in that cemetery and how many available plots remained in each section. 

This cemetery was nothing like the one in Charming, To be honest, it resembled a few of the older cemeteries she’d been to during her time out in New York when she’d first begun to work as a funeral director. She’d had to go upstate once or twice for a burial and a few of the cemeteries there had been filled with tombstones that dated back to the original colonies when the USA was still under British rule. 

She peered up at the night sky, the realization hitting her that it must be cloudy as the moon was barely visible. She could barely see a sliver of moon behind the dark clouds. The stars were not visible at all, the lack of moon and stars made her surroundings devoid of any natural lighting.

She frowned as she felt a light drip of wetness against her skin as the dark clouds above her started to release just a hint of rain.

She parted her lips to mention the rain to Chibs and request that they seek shelter indoors in order to avoid being caught in an incoming storm, but the comment died on her lips as she heard a distinct rustle of movement behind her.

She turned struggling to glance behind her as Chibs continued on his path, yanking her behind him. She peered through the dark of the night straining her eyes struggling to see just what was responsible for the noise, but spotting nothing.

The noise sounded out again close enough for her to recognize it as the shuffle of feet somewhere out in the pitch black of night. She couldn't shake the sense that she was being watched like prey by someone or something that was just waiting for a chance to pounce. 

She spoke, her voice faint and fearful. “Filip, there’s something out there. I think it’s following us.”

She earned no response, turning back to face the man who’d just moments ago been dragging her along her stomach dropping as she realized he was nowhere in sight.

She turned searching her surroundings for him seeing only the dark of the night and the shape of the tombstones around her, her voice growing frantic. “Filip? Where are you? Filip?”

She was met with silence, her arms wrapping around herself both trying to protect herself from the cold night chill and the sudden realization that she was alone in a strange place with something clearly stalking her out in the darkness.

She called out again her heart slamming in her chest she moving forward hoping she’d just gotten separated from him and would catch up to the Scotsman soon. “Filip? Where are you?”

She heard the shuffle of movement behind her, the sound close enough that she was sure she could reach out and touch whatever was responsible for it if she were to turn around and face it.

She turned to face it praying against odds it was Chibs. Bile rose in her throat at the sight in front of her. 

She recognized the man. It was one of the deceased men she’d allowed SAMCRO to borrow. He was mostly recognizable by the suit he’d been dressed in for his funeral…the suit he’d not been buried in as his body had been loaned out to the Sons prior to the funeral. Instead bags of concrete had been buried in his place…bags she’d placed in weighing them out carefully to imitate the feeling of an occupied closed casket. The unoccupied casket had not been found until later the bags of concrete missing compliments of SAMCRO. Not a soul other than the Sons and she knew this man had never occupied that grave. 

Decomposition had begun to set in to the man’s features. The man’s skin had taken a somewhat green tone and begun to split as bloat had set in; gasses from his decaying organs clearly releasing. She was confused by the sight as she had embalmed him, puncturing his organs with a trocar. There should be no gasses remaining in his organs. How were there still gasses to make him bloat? Black purge leaked from his orifices and insect life had begun to settle in. She could spot flies buzzing around him and maggots wriggling in a few pockets of his split skin. One of his eyes had gone a milky white and the other had rotted away completely leaving him with an open empty black socket.

Despite the advanced rate of decay the man managed to shamble forward his hands reaching out towards her his nails black a few of the nails having already fallen off his fingers.

She snapped out of her shock and disgust moving backwards barely escaping his grasp. She turned struggling to move forward the muddy ground below her and her lack of shoes caused  her to slide and struggle as she attempted her escape.

She heard another rustle of movement to her left, another body appearing to start a slow shamble in her direction.

She recognized this body easily. It was the very first deceased she’d been solely responsible for burying back in New York.

The young woman looked exactly the way she’d looked when Y/N had first stared down at her on that embalming table years ago before she’d gotten started on trying to make her look presentable for the modest funeral her family had paid for. 

She could remember how young the woman had looked laying there lifeless on the embalming table. They’d been close in age and Y/N remembered thinking that they could have gone to school together at one point. Y/N could also remember thinking to herself that it could have easily been her on that embalming table had she remained in Charming with Gunner and SAMCRO. The thought had been a sobering one especially for her first official solo embalming job. 

The dead woman was just as thin as Y/N remembered her being, the drug addiction she’d struggled from in life making her almost skeletal. Her skin held no sign of color to it. The skin was pallid aside from the pooling of purple where blood had settled on her right side. She’d been lying on her right side when she passed and once the heart had stopped pumping blood it had all settled to the lowest point in the body. Livor mortis truly was a fascinating thing, or at least Y/N had always thought it was interesting to consider. The dead woman’s long fair hair was stringy and greasy lying limply against her scalp. She wore the same stained yellowed white sundress Y/N could remember cataloging when her body had first been rolled into the funeral home back in New York. Her long nails were dirty and chipped bits of red polish still remained on them. 

Her eyes were a pale shade of blue, any sign of life behind them long gone. Those lifeless eyes were fixed on Y/N and as strange as it sounded Y/N was almost certain she could spot a sense of hatred in them despite the lack of light behind the dead woman’s eyes. 

Y/N continued to move forward struggling in the wet ground as the rain above her fell harder making the mud feel sticky and thick below her. Her nightgown was drenched quickly, the fabric feeling heavy on her form as she tried her hardest to escape.

She fell to the ground, the slickness of the mud far too difficult to maneuver through at such a quick frantic pace. She cried out the deceased pursuing her, growing closer and closer by the second.

She felt a strong pair of hands grip her upper arms, her heart lifting hoping it was Chibs. Perhaps he’d returned to rescue her.

Her blood ran cold as she was roughly pulled back upright meeting the eyes of who she’d foolishly hoped would be her savior. 

Gunner smirked down at her his grip on her arms growing harsh as he spoke a sense of glee in his voice. “Hey, Girl. Did you miss me?”

He turned her around to face the deceased who were still shambling towards her his voice was cruel but so amused. “Here she is, guys. Come get her.”

She cried out begging to the dead to leave her be and spare her. “No, please, no. Stay away from me, please. I’m sorry, please don’t.”

A familiar voice sounded out among her panicked cries, the Scottish brogue soothing and gentle. “Hey, Hen. Yer havin’ a bad dream, Lass. Come on, wake up.”

The voice continued, sounding out over the horror in front of her and her cries of panic and pleas for forgiveness. “Come on, Love. It’s okay. Ya can wake up now, Hen. Yer safe. I’ve got ya.”

Awareness kicked in rapidly; she shot up in bed, her breathing labored. She gazed around the dark of her room, her heart slamming in her chest.

She struggled to comprehend that none of the horror she’d just experienced had all been manufactured in her mind. She struggled to accept that she was in fact safe and sound in her bedroom, her concerned boyfriend staring up at her through the darkness of her room.

Chibs felt her shoot up out of his embrace. He reached out blindly in the unfamiliar room, it taking him a moment to find the lamp on the nightstand at the side of her bed he’d fallen into the night before.

He finally located the switch turning the light on giving the room a dull pleasant glow in an otherwise stressful situation. He sat up alongside her, reaching out hesitantly to place a hand against her lower back. He was almost sure touching her too quickly would send her into an even more frantic state. It seemed as though she was locked in a panic attack whatever she’d dreamed about horrifying her. He was almost certain that touching her too hastily would send her into fight mode. 

 He rubbed soft soothing circles into her back trying to give her some silent reassurance while she sorted through whatever had just occurred in her sleep. 

He’d woken when she’d begun to thrash beside him the murmured words leaving her lips more and more rapidly by the second. No, please, no. I’m sorry. Please don’t. Please no. I’m so sorry. Please no. 

She struggled to catch her breath for a moment, it always feeling like this when she woke from one of the nightmares that had become frequent since she’d agreed to help out SAMCRO. She always struggled to pull herself out of that sense that she needed to fight for her life or run screaming. It always took a moment for her to reassure herself that she was safe in her bedroom and not in danger of losing her life and her soul to the dead who pursued her so relentlessly. 

The only thing that seemed to be different this time around was that she was not waking up all alone to deal with the aftermath.

Chibs continued to rub her back, uncertain of what to say. There were a thousand things he wanted to say to her but none of them felt quite soothing nor good enough.

He was tempted to bring up his own experience with nightmares. Lord knows he’d had a few of them all about how Jimmy O’ had attacked him back in Belfast. He was tempted to reassure her that he’d experienced the same sense of panic she was currently locked in. He was tempted to promise her that it would all be alright. 

He kept his hand pressed to her back, his eyes scanning the room feeling dazed, worried, and exhausted.

He’d not had much of a chance to really take a look around the master bedroom before they’d gone to bed the night before.

He’d been more focused on stripping down to his boxers and undershirt and getting into bed beside the woman he had been imagining having the privilege of sharing a bed with probably from the moment he’d realized that his liking her went far beyond just lust.

He’d folded up his kutte and clothing leaving them on a red velvet living chair in the corner of the room by the closet. He’d placed his gun and his knives between his clothing and the kutte uncertain how Y/N would feel about the weapons being out in plain sight.

The room was larger than he’d anticipated. 

The room was a bit cluttered but nothing compared to the rest of the house. The clutter felt more personal than any of the family heirlooms in the other parts of the house. The belongings spread throughout the space made it feel cozy and welcoming. It seemed to reflect the woman who rested here. 

The walls were painted a deep navy tone though he had a feeling that may have been her father’s choice given the room had once belonged to him and several ancestors prior. 

Chibs took notice of the old vanity table sitting directly across from her side of the bed studying the bottles of perfume set out on it alongside a surprisingly large wooden grandiose looking jewelry box, and a large collection of makeup that was all neatly sorted in an organizer. 

A soft looking purple rug sat out in front of the vanity table; it seeming far less intimidating than the exquisite looking persian rugs throughout the rest of the upper portion of the house and downstairs in the funeral home portion of the house. 

Her closet appeared large from what he’d seen it looking more like a walk in closet than anything. Two dressers sat in the room and a few items sat spread out over the tops of them; a few small framed photos from Y/N’s childhood. There were a couple of crystals sitting out; a large piece of rose quartz and another amethyst, this one much larger than the one he’d spotted out in the living room.

A few small framed taxidermy butterflies were mounted on the wall alongside a couple of paintings that looked to be antiques. The paintings featured delicate flowers and songbirds. 

There were several books on gardening stacked on a dresser showing Y/N had a love for the hobby. He found it kind of amusing. His Hen who worked daily with death and who everyone knew as the town undertaker loved a hobby that was all about nurturing something that most people associated with life. 

The queen sized bed held a heavy looking tall ornate headboard made out of dark cherry wood. The headboard was something Y/N had casually mentioned, the night before, that she’d gotten in a thrift shop back when she’d been living in New York. it had been a steal she’d claimed as it was old and obviously had been well cared for. 

Her bedsheets were a soft mint tone and they felt comforting and soothing to his mind. A heavy gray comforter and a handmade colorful quilt covered the bed making it feel cozy and safe.

The houseplants had caught Chibs' attention. There were several of them; all well taken care of sitting throughout the room. Those that needed bright light sat along her window seal and others sat throughout the room in ceramic pots. The plants made the room feel fresh and full of life. 

The room felt like a nice escape from the sensory overload in the rest of the living quarters portion of the house and the dreary knowledge of what happened on a daily basis in the downstairs funeral home portion of the house. 

Chibs easily realized he could grow accustomed to spending his nights in this room if she allowed him the privilege. It felt far more comforting than his bed in the dorm at the Sons clubhouse or the pathetic bed he kept in a small studio apartment he rented for when he wanted to take a rest away from the noise of the Sons clubhouse. 

The gentle rub to Y/N’s back was enough to break her out of the panicked sense of dread she’d been locked in; she was surprised as tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes.

She turned to face Chibs, scooting close to him, her arms wrapping tight around him. She allowed the tears to fall more rapidly. She was too exhausted to bother attempting to wipe them away or hide them the way she usually might when she had to cry in front of someone.

She’d never felt 100 percent comfortable crying around people. She had to wonder if it was just because she’d grown up in an environment where there seemed to be a constant stream of crying mourners coming in and out of the home. She’d always associated crying as something that was only meant to be done in front of others in serious situations like the death of a loved one.

As she’d gone into the funeral business she’d learned to hold back tears even more. It was inappropriate to cry in front of the mourners you were meant to serve. She’d adopted the concept that their grief was not hers so she had zero right to cry. She had learned to keep her emotions locked tight close to her chest. Crying was only done in private and never in front of anyone else. 

She’d found that crying in front of anyone just made her feel awkward and embarrassed. Her tendency to compartmentalize her emotions on the job had seeped into her personal life it seemed. 

Chibs wrapped his arms around her, rocking her against him, his voice soft and soothing. “It’s all okay now, Hen. I’m here, I’ve got ya.”

She gripped down onto his undershirt, her face burying against his chest wanting to be surrounded by the familiar scent of him. It was a scent that had soothed her to sleep the night before; a hint of cigarettes and the faintest hint of his cologne. 

He ran a hand up and down her back continuing to rock her his words soft and soothing reminding her that he had her and that everything was okay in this room.

He found himself repeating the phrases I’ve got you. It’s okay now. It’s over now. You’re okay now. You’re safe. 

His soothing managed to calm her enough to stop her tears but she remained locked in his embrace. They both found themselves holding on to one another tightly both seeming to seek reassurance and a sense of peace. 

He dared to speak though he already knew the answer to his question. “Nightmare, Hen?”

She nodded her head wordlessly. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, he quick to speak again. “You want ta talk bout it?”

She let out a heavy sigh, a cruel voice in the back of her brain telling her that if he knew about the content of her nightmares he’d write her off as being unstable and therefore a risk to SAMCRO. 

She shushed the voice, choosing to give him a brief summary. “You, me, some cemetery…the dead I’ve buried stalking me in the night. You disappeared this time around. Usually you let them drag me away screaming. You actually usually seem pretty thrilled when they drag me away, kind of like you were in on it…almost like it was a trap and you were an accomplice. This time Gunner was there too…he offered me up to them gleefully. One of the bodies I loaned to SAMCRO and the first body I ever embalmed all alone were the dead who were after me this time around.”

He spoke absorbing this information the need to reassure her sliding from his lips. “You know I’d never let anythin’ happen to ya, Lass. I’d sure as hell not let anyone drag ya away from me. As far as Gunner goes. Ya never gotta worry bout him again. We’ve already established I’ll fuckin’ break his legs and arms if he comes near ya ever again.”

He paused, clearing his throat knowing the exact incidents that had been the culprit behind these dreams. He felt an awful sense of guilt claw inside of him digging its nails in making him feel anguished.

He spoke wanting badly to fix this for her even if he was uncertain that what he was offering to her was even possible. “If…if ya doin’ favors fer the club, if it's hurtin’ ya like this. I can get ya out of it…I’m sure Skeeter would be happy to pick up yer end of the deal even if he’s tryin to quit gamblin. As long as we still got a funeral home connection ya shoul’ be in the clear.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure my backing out on my end of the deal and handing the responsibility over to Skeeter will be just fine and dandy with the MC. I won’t be seen as knowing too much and being a risk at all.” She snarked back, unable to hide the venom from her voice.

She cringed parting her lips to apologize for her harshness but she didn’t have a chance as Chibs spoke, sounding surprisingly certain of his words. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt a hair on yer head…not even my club.”

She sighed wishing that taking the solution he was offering was that simple. She could distinctly remember her talk with Clay just last night though. 

SAMCRO’s Pres had urged her to keep making both Chibs and the Sons happy. She was certain backing out on her end of the partnership she’d offered to develop with SAMCRO would not make the Sons happy at all. Chibs might forgive her for backing out of the deal she’d made, but the rest of the Sons most likely would not be so understanding. 

As much as she trusted Chibs, she was quite certain that even he couldn’t protect her from the wrath nor the suspicions of Clay Morrow. If she backed down and handed over the responsibility of the bargain she’d made with SAMCRO to Skeeter, she’d be written off as a threat to the MC. She knew too much. She would be viewed as a loose end that they could easily snip off. 

She was certain that Chibs would be powerless to fully provide her protection if she was viewed as a threat to SAMCRO. Even if he tried to protect her, then who was to say he’d not be given the same treatment; treated as a threat. They would most likely view his attempts to protect her as a sign of weakness and disloyalty to the club. 

She spoke her voice soft but determined. “I made a deal with SAMCRO. I intend to keep up my end of the bargain.”

“Even if it’s torturin’ yer mind, Hen?” Chibs countered he scooting back just enough to peer into her eyes.

She let out a soft sigh averting her eyes from his, the words soft. “The nightmares are not happening as frequently as they did at first. The nightmares are probably just picking up because of all of the stress of tonight. I had a nightmare the night after I was practically interrogated by Hale. I think stress and anxiety triggers them. My brain is just a jerk who can’t process guilt and taunts me with things I don’t feel so awesome about…the guilt of what I’ve done along with the fear of being caught.”

She let out a shaky breath feeling safe enough to say the words out loud. “I can accept that what I’ve done means I’m an awful person who deserves hell. I betrayed the profession I swore to uphold the ethics of. I have caused immense pain to the bereaved. I disrespected the dead that were entrusted in my care. I could and should lose my license for what I did. I deserve any suffering that comes my way. I know that. I’ve made my bed and I need to lie in it”

“Ya ain’ an awful person. What ya did fer the club was…” Chibs started to say before she spoke, interrupting him.

“Morally repugnant, abuse of a corpse, an insult to decent society, a sin.”

He spoke again, rolling his eyes somewhat at her comments. “Ethically…questionable. Yer far from bein awful and deservin any torture. The world ain’ that black and white, Hen. Ya gotta realize shite is more of a shade of gray…at least in our world. Jus’ focus on the fact that ya made sure those bodies did get a final rest when SAMCRO was done with em. Ya weren’t responsible fer what we did with em. We didn’t tell ya why we wanted em. What happened after ya agreed to help us, that’s my sin to suffer fer, Lass. I’ll take hell fer ya. Those families will never know the truth. They didn’t blame ya fer the version of events they were given since ya didn’t get sued. They don’ know what ya did. Only SAMCRO does, and we ain’ judgin’ ya. The bereaved and the rest of society know nothin’ bout what really happened, and they never will. What they don’t know won’t hurt em.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple as he spoke again. “ I want ya to think bout what ya did fer those bodies we had ya cremate…ya cared nough to give em a final restin’ spot. Ya buried em with care under that rose bush. Ya made sure they found peace somewhere beautiful to rest, even if ya didn’t know what they’d want. Ya gave em that care in the end. Someone truly morally repugnant wouldn’t bury cremains of lasses she didn’t even know with such care. Someone who was so awful wouldn’ care bout what happened to those cremains. Ya cared though. Yer carin means ya ain’ so bad.”

She sighed, wanting to argue that she was just as responsible as him as she’d agreed to loan out the bodies in the first place even if it had been for much needed money. 

The fact that she’d sold her morals for money made her feel even worse. She knew the debts she’d inherited had been crushing her, but she also knew she’d had other options. They’d just not been options she wanted to take. She’d been selfish and greedy. She’d been impulsive and dived face first into danger. She had proven she hadn’t changed as much as she’d claimed she had when she exclaimed she was nothing like the girl she’d been almost a decade before. She was still prone to run towards danger like a moth to the flame. If she was feeling the burn of the flame then she had no one to blame but herself. 

She held her tongue though knowing that this was one argument she had zero chance in hell of winning. She knew enough about Chibs to realize that his stubborn streak was equally the width of hers.

She dared to speak, bringing up something that had been troubling her. “What am I supposed to do if anyone ever asks where the money you guys gave me came from? I paid those bills in cash…they were large payments for cash…cash that I just seemed to get out of nowhere. Suppose someone ever looks into my financial records if the police keep looking into those empty graves.  What do I do if anyone ever asks me just where I got so much money out of nowhere?”

Chibs sighed, wracking his brain for a reasonable answer. He spoke as an idea crossed his mind, hoping it was a reasonable solution. “Ya tell em ya did some funeral plannin fer Gemma…Tell em she wanted to make funeral plans fer Clay an her…ya know plan ahead of time fer the future. Say she paid ya in cash fer it all. Clay and she got nough investments in all sorts of legit shite. It’d sound reasonable to think ya got paid in cash. Ya can throw some bullshite plans together as evidence ya planned it. Gemma and Clay would cover fer ya and collaborate yer story if anyone ever asked.”

She sighed knowing that counting on Gemma Teller Morrow or Clay Morrow to be an essential alibi for her wasn’t ideal. She had a feeling that it would work in a bind though. They wouldn’t just be protecting her after all. They’d be protecting the misdeed she’d done for the club and therefore protecting the club itself.

She nodded her head, unable to stop herself from voicing her fears. “I always worry that one day what I’ve done for SAMCRO will lead back to me and I’ll lose everything. I love my job, Filip. I’m where I was meant to be, working here. This is essentially what I was born to do. It’s my legacy and I’ve finally gotten to a place in my life where I want to accept it. I’m good at what I do. I can’t lose that. It’ll be like losing part of my identity. I won’t know who I am without my job.”

“Ya ain’ goin’ to lose a thing, Hen. That fuckin’ case in Lodi is cold and the local PD there have given up on it. We’ve been havin’ Juice monitor shite gettin intel from a connection we got outta the San Joaquin county department. They’re able to call in and see what’s goin in all the departments in the county without it soundin’ suspicious. Those empty graves and that staged crime scene are old news in Lodi. Cops there got bigger fish to fry. The case ran cold and leads ran dry. I think yer in the clear.” Chibs reassured her she frowning slightly at the mention of this connection in San Joaquin. She would never cease to be amazed in how long the arms of SAMCRO reached.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, he fast to speak again. “I love how much ya love yer job, Hen. Yer righ’, yer fuckin incredible at yer job. Ya ain’ losin’ yer legacy. Ya ain’ gotta worry about losin that part of yerself, not fer the club and never fer me.”

He pressed another kiss to her temple, his words soft. “Trus’ me Mo ghràidh. I’m not in the habit of lyin’ to pretty lasses.”

“What does that mean…Mo ghràidh?” She dared to ask as she soaked in his reassurances, this not being the first time she’d heard the unfamiliar words leave his lips.

He spoke, managing to pull back just enough from her to press a soft kiss to her lips as he spoke. “Scottish Gaelic, Hen. It means "My love.”

If her heart hadn’t already overflowed with devotion for him at least a dozen times tonight she was certain it would have in this moment. Her lips pressed to his cheek, her voice soft and filled with a sense of fond adoration. “Oh, Filip. How are you this sweet?”

He chuckled, shaking his head at the comment not helping but to lean into the press of her lips to his cheek. “I’m only sweet to ya, Hen. Don’ tell no one. Gotta keep up my reputation, especially with the prospect. Can’t let em know I’m this soft.”

She smiled, wanting to point out that he was far sweeter to more people than he realized. She held it in though, pressing another kiss to his cheek.

Her lips ran across his skin adoringly, Chibs not helping but to sink into the affection. He was certain he’d never grow accustomed to someone kissing him with such tenderness and he knew for a fact he’d never be entirely convinced he deserved such warmth. He was eager to soak it up all the same.

He managed to turn his face, his lips sliding along hers with ease. The kiss easily grew impassioned, his tongue finding no resistance, she parting her lips.

She let out a soft moan as he slid his tongue along hers, easily dominating the kisses she sank into his affections.

She reluctantly parted her lips from his an idea crossing her mind. She smiled at him, her voice soft as she reached out toying with the collar of his undershirt. “So, you said that tonight was all about me…making me feel good?”

“Aye, it was.” He insisted his heart rate picking up, he trying not to get his hopes up on what she might be about to offer him. He was quite certain he’d eagerly take anything she was willing to give him. 

She leaned in her lips brushing across his so lightly; the kiss was not nearly enough for him. She smirked as she pulled away, he leaning forward chasing her lips.

She gently shoved him back to rest against the bed, her voice teasing. “So…it’s around three a.m…I could argue that last night was just about me. It’s technically a new day.”

“Aye, it is.” He agreed a heat spreading to the lower region of his body, his heart beating all the quicker.

She laid down beside him, her lips sliding along his cheek down to his neck. “So, can this morning be about you?”

“Aye, Hen. I wouldn’t say no to tha’ offer.” He insisted a low moan leaving him as her lips moved along his pulse point, pressing soft sucking kisses into his skin.

He was certain she might leave a mark behind and he couldn’t help but to love the idea. He knew he’d wear any lovebites from her proudly. 

She ran a hand down his torso teasingly her lips focused on his neck, his head falling back soaking up the attention.

She ran a hand under his undershirt caressing his warm skin, a small sense of anxiety building ever so slightly within him. He was almost tempted to attempt to suck in his stomach. He knew his midsection was far wider than he’d prefer.

She didn’t seem to notice that he was a little heavier than he’d like her hand caressing his skin, her touch soft and teasing.

He turned his head, her lips pressing to his, the kiss growing deep as her hand ran down his torso far too slowly. Her fingertips passed over his hips gently running along his thigh, a groan leaving him.

She ran her hand back up his thigh, sliding it over his abdomen, a groan leaving him the lower region of his body perking up almost as though it was trying to tempt her into touching him.

Another groan left him as she gave in her hand pressing over his boxer clad member a soft moan leaving her as she spoke. “Can I touch you, Baby? I want to stroke this cock and make you feel so good.”

He eagerly nodded his head, the words becoming jumbled up on his lips he wanting to say a million things.

She spoke teasingly, almost parroting a phrase he’d murmured to her the night before in pursuit of pleasuring her. “I need words, Filip.”

He groaned, nodding his head. “Fuck, Hen. Aye ya can do whatever ya want to me.”

She giggled at the comment the action making his cock twitch. She spoke, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “That’s a dangerous offer to make, Handsome.”

“Never been one to shy away from danger, Lass.” He remarked his heart lifting at the word handsome. It had been so long since anyone had called him such a thing.

He whined as she pulled away all too suddenly. She smirked, shaking her head at the whine that left his lips. 

She pressed a reassuring kiss to his cheek, her voice soft. “I need to grab something that’s going to help us out.”

He furrowed his brow as she turned in bed reaching for the drawer in her nightstand. He smirked understanding as she rolled back over holding up a tube of lubricant. 

He spoke nodding his head at the tube, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Ya keep lube in yer nightstand, Hen?”

She returned the smirk as she spoke. “Yep, it can be helpful especially when I’m a little too eager to really work myself up and get as wet as I want before I make myself cum with my vibrator.”

He groaned the words making his cock throb. He closed his eyes for a brief moment overcome with imagery of what she was describing. He could so easily imagine her lying back in this bed, a toy buried so deep in her wet center. He could imagine her writhing against the bed as the toy buzzed away moans pouring from her lips. 

He spoke daring to open his eyes as he watched her open the tube squirting a healthy amount of lube into her hand. “Fuck, Hen. I think I may need a demonstration some time.”

“You want to hump my vibrator?” She teased a giggle leaving his lips , he shaking his head.

“Nah, think we already established I wanna give ya the humpin round ere. I wouldn’ mind seeing ya play though, Love. Bet it’s a fuckin’ beautiful sight.” He insisted his cock throbbing at the thought.

She spoke knowing just what to say to make him moan. “Last time I did it, we’d just ended a phone call. The sound of your voice was enough to make me want to make myself cum. I think that accent of yours is a kink I didn’t even know I had.”

“Christ, Mo ghràidh.” he moaned, his reaction being exactly what she’d envisioned.

She spoke, a surprisingly dominant tone entering her voice. “Get rid of those boxers for me, Filip.”

He groaned, shoving the bed sheets and comforter down with zero shame as he frantically reached down practically ripping his boxers off his movements a little clumsy. 

His boxers were kicked off somewhere off the side of the bed, she gazing down at his cock a soft moan leaving her as she spoke. “Fuck, Filip. You’re way more impressive than I’d hoped.”

He groaned knowing this wasn’t the first time a sexual partner had made a comment about his dick. In the past though, when a croweater thought to comment on his size he’d always assumed it was absolute bullshit. The club sweetbutts tended to just say whatever they thought whichever Son they were with wanted to hear.

Talking about how huge a guy was seemed to be a favorite line among the croweaters no matter what size their bedroom partner might be.

With Y/N though, he had the sense that her words were genuine judging by the sense of lust washing over features.

She stared down at him, her clit distinctly throbbing. She wasn’t lying. He was thicker than she’d hoped for and longer than she’d thought he might be. He was just above average enough to pack the promise that he’d feel good without it being too much. 

He wasn’t so huge that she was certain he’d just be painful buried inside of her. She knew some guys were deluded enough to think that the bigger the more pleasurable. She knew though that too big could just be uncomfortable. Some guys seemed to think that a woman’s body was unending but that was not the case at all. She’d found in the past that too big meant less inside and a sense of discomfort. There was a fine line between being thick and long enough to provide a pleasant stretch and being so brutally huge it felt like you were being ripped in half.

She had a feeling that Chibs favored the pleasurable stretch side of the coin.

She pressed her lips to his, the kiss growing deep without any effort. Chibs groaned into the kiss as she wrapped her lube slicked hand around his cock.

She stroked him slowly, his head falling back moans of pleasure spilling from his lips. He rocked against her touch she pulling her hand back a frustrated whine leaving him.

She spoke her voice so teasing. “Stay still and enjoy it, Filip.”

He groaned gripping down onto the bedsheets nodding his head frantically, having to wonder when he’d become so submissive. 

There was something incredibly erotic about letting her take control though. It was not something he’d thought he’d be willing to do with any bedroom partner.

He found that he was all too eager to lie back and let her take control for now at least.

She wrapped her hand back around him stroking him so slowly a groan leaving him he resisting the urge to rock against her to increase the pleasure. 

She spoke her voice soft and sweet. “So beautiful, Filip. You’re so handsome.”

He spoke his voice thick with lust. “We gotta get ya glasses, Hen. Fuck.”

He paused, shaking his head a giggle leaving him as he spoke again. “Actually nevermin’. Don’t wanna get ya glasses. Ya migh’ see what an ugly bastard I am if yer vision gets better.”

She spoke pressing an adoring kiss to his lips, he moaning against her lips. She spoke as she pulled from the kiss far sooner than he’d hoped. “Shush, you’re not ugly. You’re the sweetest, the bravest, and the most handsome man I know.”

He groaned as she sped up her movements, her voice teasing. “If you weren’t handsome I wouldn’t have worn out the batteries in my vibrator thinking about you.”

He grunted the words leaving him. “Fuckin jack off too much to ya, Love. Livin’ with my hand down my fuckin’ boxers every nigh’ since we met.” 

She moaned her clit throbbing at the confession. She spoke, reaching forward with her other hand massaging his balls, the action making his eyes practically roll into the back of his head, a loud moan leaving him.

She spoke pulling her hand from his balls all too soon but he didn’t have time to focus on the loss as she spoke. “What do you imagine, Baby?”

“Takin ya in every position, Love. Makin ya moan my name. Makin ya cum over and over again. Makin ya cream all over this cock. Cummin in that pussy, lettin ya know it’s mine. How tight yer pussy woul’ feel. Yer fuckin tits.” He moaned his eyes gazing down at what she was doing to him wanting to commit the sight to his memory.

It was the hottest thing he was sure he’d seen in a long while; her lube slick hand sliding over his cock, pre cum desperately seeping from his redened tip, her nails that soft pink, her hands so delicate wrapped around his thick length.

She spoke, reaching out with the hand that wasn’t occupied placing it over one of his. She pressed his hand to her breast over the silk of her nightgown “These tits?”

He groaned at the action, his cock throbbing painfully. He massaged her breast over the silk of her nightgown, a moan spilling from him. “Aye, fuckin perfect breasts. Perfect handful. Stared at em too much when we firs met. Couldn’t wipe em from my brain.”

She smiled a soft moan leaving her at the words and the feel of his hand working her breast. No guy had ever managed to make pleasure course through her so rapidly just by touching her breast alone.

She was tempted to lower her nightgown and let him have all the more access, but held back stroking his cock more rapidly, the action making his resolve break his hips rocking.

She did nothing to stop him, allowing him to help her chase his orgasm. She spoke her voice soft and adoring. “Want to make you cum, Handsome. You deserve it. Such a sweet brave man, trying to protect me tonight, promising to keep me safe.”

He groaned, nodding his head frantically, the words spilling from him. “Gonna protect ya with my life, Hen. Always gonna be safe with me.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, her voice sweet. “You’re going to be safe with me too, Filip.”

He groaned the words making his heart ache with adoration. She continued to stroke him, her lips pressing along his neck. “You made me feel so good tonight, Filip. Never had a man eat my pussy so well. Never had anyone make me cum from that alone.”

“Fuck, gotta treat ya how ya deserve.” He grunted the comment making his balls ache hinting that she would soon be successful in getting him to his end.

She spoke continuing to stroke him he chasing the sensation with rapid thrusts helping her please him. “Want to treat you how you deserve too, Handsome.”

He moaned as she nipped at his pulse point his balls throbbing pulling closer to his body the end so deliciously close.

He twisted the bedsheets in his hands unable to form any responses to her words he devolving into moans and groans as she continued to stroke him her lips and tongue soothing the nip to his neck.

He grunted his cock twitching his orgasm hitting him harder than he’d anticipated his head falling back his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head. He felt her name spill from his lips his accent growing thicker praises spilling from him as ropes of cum spilled from him coating her hand and his stomach. “Fuckin’ shite, oh, Hen. My Lass. Fuck, yes. Fuckin’ perfect, makin me cum. Wish it was in ya, fuck.”

She stroked him through his release a moan leaving her lips at the sight of him so lost in pleasure and the evidence of that pleasure spilling onto her hand.

He whined as he came down from his end the light stroke to his oversensitive cock too much.

She reluctantly pulled away he panting towards the ceiling his body shaking and damp with sweat.

He turned his head, meeting her gaze a groan leaving him as she brought her hand up to her lips, her tongue peeking out to taste the release coated along her skin she moaning at the salty taste of him.

He groaned at the action, his hand pulling her fingers from her lips, his lips pressing to hers.

He kissed her deeply, his hand pressing to the back of her head keeping her there. He reluctantly pulled away from her his voice drowsy. “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me if ya keep bein this perfect, Mo ghràidh.”

She giggled at the comment not helping but to tease him. “Good thing I have caskets downstairs huh?”

He rolled his eyes, his hand reaching down to her backside giving it a playful swat. She gasped, jumping slightly at the action. She spoke her voice a mix of scolding and playfulness. “Filip.”

“Don’ bury me yet, Love. Still got life in me.” He remarked his body feeling heavy and relaxed.

She shook her head giving his shoulder a playful nudge. “You better go clean up before you pass out. Buddy. I am not sleeping pressed to you if you’ve got dried Chibs juice on you.”

He snorted at the comment a huff leaving him. “Aye, things I do fer ya.”

She shook her head, reaching out to find a tissue to clean her own hand as she watched him pull from her bed.

She smirked lust washing over her as she admired his backside as he disappeared into the master bathroom shutting the door behind him.

She was pleased to find that his backside was just as much of a gorgeous sight sans clothing.

She relaxed against the bed tossing the tissue into the wastebasket by the bed satisfied her hand was clean enough.

Chibs cleaned himself up as thoroughly as he could, losing his undershirt as it hit him; he'd definitely spilled his release far enough to hit the article of clothing.

He left the room not ashamed to be completely nude not helping but to look forward to any hint of lust that might be on her features at the sight of him totally bare.

He was only somewhat disappointed to find her fast asleep as he reentered the bedroom. He felt a sense of comfort hit him at the sight hoping that she would find a more restful sleep than she had moments ago.

He found his boxers within the bed sliding them back on before he slid back into bed beside her.

He scooted close to her his arms wrapping around her torso, his head resting close to hers. He spoke a surprising statement leaving his lips as sleep began to sink in. “I love ya, Hen.”

He was too exhausted and far too satisfied with what they’d just done to consider the statement that had left him too hard.

His heart screamed though that he was certain of his words. He loved her.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chibs rolled his eyes at the low whistle that left Juice’s lips at the clear love bites pressed into Chibs’ neck. Y/N had not been subtle about her choice in placement of hickies and he knew he had not entirely been subtle in his choices either.

Juice leaned in examining the darkened marks visible under the collar of Chibs’ black shirt and his kutte. “Y/N did that?”

“Ya shoul’ see her neck.” Chibs commented knowing he would not go into any greater detail than that.

He sat back at the bar satisfied enough with the little bit of bragging he’d done. He knew he’d never share any of the details about Y/N. He was quite sure she’d embalm him alive if he got too vocal about their bedroom activities. He figured he could get away with bragging about his own sexual prowess though. 

“If she didn’t scare the shit out of me, I’d ask if she has any sisters or cousins.” Juice commented Chibs smirking at the words as he sat back at the bar in the Sons’ clubhouse.

He spoke, raising a brow. “My lass scares ya? Sweet wee thing like her scares ya?”

“She told me where the blood goes in an embalming, dude. Shit is spooky,” Juice shuddered remembering the conversation that had happened at the fairground the night before.

Chibs smirked, eager to respond, making Juice shudder all the more. “Aye into the sewer.”

Juice groaned, shaking his head. “Shit, I do not want to be a fly on the wall in you twos private conversations.”

Chibs smirked all the more tempted to prod Juice all the more but held back as Jax Teller entered the clubhouse.

Chibs sighed pulling from the bar knowing a serious talk was needed between his vice pres. and he.

He spoke nodding his head. “Jackie Boy, can we talk?”

Jax nodded off towards his Chapel having the feeling Chibs wanted to talk about something that he didn’t want Juice’s ears lingering around to hear.

The Scot followed Jax into the room, the doors shutting behind them giving them a sense of privacy.  

They both sat at the reaper table in their usual spots, Chibs letting out a sigh knowing he had to jump into this right away. “Gunner ran into Y/N at the fairgrounds last night.”

“Shit, fucking asshole. How’s she doing?” Jax dared to ask his jaw tensing at the news. He’d been dreading this possibility the moment Y/N had become once again entangled with SAMCRO. 

Chibs shook his head, his fists clenching. “As alrigh’ as she can be. Fuckin terrified her seein him.”

Jax cringed at the comment he daring to speak. “I’m guessing this wasn’t just him being his usual shithead self in front of a woman. From your reaction, I’m guessing she filled you in on the background with him?”

“Aye.” Chibs snapped, taking a deep breath, his eyes crossing over the sign proudly displayed on the chapel wall. Brains Before Bullets.

Jax shook his head, a heavy sigh leaving him, he pulling a cigarette from his kutte pocket lighting it. “Shit was awful. They were this destructive force together. I tried my best to keep him away from her and to talk her out of being stuck to him…but you know how stubborn she is. She was even worse at nineteen.”

“She told me everything.” Chibs blurted out reaching into his own kutte pulling out a cigarette of his own.

Chibs spoke again gripping down onto his cigarette so tight it almost snapped in half. “He fuckin violated er more than once back then. Did ya fuckin know bout that?”

Jax grimaced, shaking his head. “I knew the sex was rough. Gunner loves to brag. If I’d known she…If I ever knew he forced himself on her, I swear I would have killed him.”

Chibs was tempted to say the words What about now? Would you kill him now? I would.

He kept the statement in not having a chance to say the words as Jax spoke. “Shit back then was a blur, Chibs. She was a mess…shit with her brother. I think she was in self destruction mode. She was so young…she loved her brother and he loved the hell out of her. He complained about how much she followed him around, but if anyone else said a word he’d beat their face in. The accident took him from her mentally at least. I felt like I owed it to her and him to let her work shit out. I enabled her. I’ll own up to that. I felt guilty. Ope and I are the ones who encouraged her brother to get that Harley, more me than Opie. After the accident, I blamed myself as much as she blamed me. In my own fucked up way I thought letting her work out her pain in the clubhouse was the right move. If I had been able to predict Gunner, then I would have told her to get the fuck out of my face that very first night she showed up blaming me for her brother’s accident.”

Chibs spoke, taking a long drag of his cigarette, the words harsh. “I want to fuckin kill Gunner. I know I can’t. Shite would bite me in the arse.”

Jax sighed nodding his head in agreement. A member of one charter murdering a member of another charter would likely result in a Mayhem vote towards the killer. 

If Chibs killed Gunner and it was found out, Chibs would most likely be killed in retaliation. 

Chibs spoke venting out loud talking more to himself than to Jax. “What kind of fuckin man am I if I let him live knowin he violated the woman I love? I don’ care how long ago it was or how fuckin determined she was to destroy herself. I know he hurt her and I know he’d do it again if he was given the chance.”

Jax widened his eyes not missing the word love.

He chose not to address it quick to speak trying to break Chibs out of his vocal inner dialogue. “Then we don’t let him ever be alone with her. Anytime he shows up in Charming, we’re going to make sure those two never cross paths…not without you or me around. The rest of SAMCRO will look out for her too. Her being a business association of the club protects her alone…you being with her guarantees it.”

Chibs let out a shaky breath, his words tense. “I can’t promise I won’t beat the shite out of him on sigh’ if he’s even in the same room with her Jackie. I see him an all I see is red. All I can think bout is him violatin’ her…He bruised her damn wrist at the fairground…if he was willin to do tha’ in public…If I didn’t know wha’ he did to her in private…I’d shudder at imagining it.”

He gazed down at the lit cigarette in his hand remembering his statement to her when she told him about Gunner. If he’d known her back then…he had not finished the sentence yet he knew what he’d say.

His heart screamed he would have protected her had he known her back then. She would have been cherished by him. He would have appreciated her and shown her how to channel her pain without harming herself. He would have fallen for her.

A more sensible part of him knew he was damaged by his past so thoroughly when he first arrived in Charming. That sensible part of his mind told him he would have been so lost in his own misery he might not have had it in him to take on hers. He would have been in no shape to play protector. Perhaps they would have destroyed one another due to their own fear and anguish. Perhaps they would have just used one another to avoid facing their misery. Perhaps they could have been toxic for one another.

His heart battled that thought though the over romantic organ insistent she would have been good for soothing his misery and he would have been good to her. He would have worshipped her making it known mistreatment of her would be met with violence against anyone who laid a finger on her. They would have not destroyed one another the way his mind insisted but instead would have healed each other.

Being by her side now felt so healing. He felt lighter than he’d felt in years. She didn’t make him feel like the dirty damaged outlaw. He felt like Filip who loved deeply and protected those he trusted.

Jax was fast to speak, providing reassurance. “If it comes down to that, you’ll have my support. I think you’ll be justified to knock him out for what happened at the fairground alone. You throwing any punch his way is going to be seen as you defending your ol’ lady.”

The comment about Y/N being his ol lady only brought a small sense of warmth to him, his anguish and rage towards Gunner casting a shadow over what should be such a delightful statement.

“Aye, I’ll defend her. I’d kill fer her Jax. I offered to kill the prick las’ nigh’ and ya know what she said?” Chibs blurted out, taking another drag from his cigarette.

He spoke again before Jax had a chance to reply. “She tol’ me that me killin him would bite me in the arse. She fuckin’ knew how that shite would go down with the club, without even havin to be told. She jus’ knew how our world works.I hate tha’ she’s righ’. She’s too damn clever…makes too much sense even when I’m pissed off.”

Jax shook his head fast to speak. “She’s always been clever.”

Chibs cringed knowing he needed to say the words. He wouldn’t be able to push it from his mind until he cleared the air. “She mentioned her past with ya.”

Jax cringed at the comment knowing that it the conversation was unavoidable. He’d known it would come up the second Chibs started to get close with the local undertaker.

Jax spoke knowing he had to lie it out on the table. “We had fun…when we weren’t arguing…which was most of the time. We argued about everything. I was a prick and she was mouthy. She was angry and I was nursing a broken heart. It wasn’t love, you don’t have to worry about that. We were a good distraction for each other. I never meant for it to go in that direction. At first I just wanted to let her vent about her brother. She seemed like she needed a friend or at least someone who let her talk without judging her.  I think we were both caught up in our own problems…our grief over her brother, our mixed feelings about our legacies, and other bullshit. We worked shit out on each other. The sex was good, but we weren’t committed to anything deeper than just fucking each other. I wasn’t looking to make her anything more than a friend who I occasionally hooked up with and she wasn’t looking to be my ol lady. I’m sure my mom would have loved her to be my ol lady…but I wasn’t interested. I’m still not. Trust me, brother. I know she’s yours. I have zero interest in pursuing anything with her and I know the feelings are mutual on her end.”

Chibs let out a shaky breath, his heart lifting at the words I know she’s yours.

He couldn’t ignore the possessive little voice that piped up in the back of his head. Yes she is.

Jax spoke again, a sigh leaving him. “She leaving Charming was what she needed. She was going to wind up dead if she stayed here…especially with Gunner. I worried about her getting so deep back into SAMCRO. She doing okay?”

“I’m takin care of her. I ain’ goin to let nothin happen to her.” Chibs insisted not wanting to spill his guts about her nightmares or the sense of guilt she felt over what she’d done for the club.

That was not his secret to share. Sharing that would be a betrayal of her trust in him. 

He spoke needing to say the words he knowing that what he'd said to her the night before as she slept was not just his orgasm talking. His heart screamed that he meant it. “I love her."

He cleared his throat he fast to speak again. "I'm crazy bout er, Jackie Boy. I will make sure she never has the need to leave Charming ever again.”

Jax nodded his head, Chibs almost certain he spotted a hint of relief in the younger man’s eyes.

He spoke a heavy sigh leaving him. “I know she’s not my biggest fan…but I do still care about her as a friend. I know she’s in good hands with you. I’ll do what I can to help you any way I can when it comes to Gunner.”

Chibs let out a sigh of relief nodding his head. “Aye, I appreciate that.”

He stared back up the sign on the chapel wall. Brains Before Bullets.

He knew just putting a bullet in Gunner’s skull was not the answer. 

He would have to be smarter than that. 

==============================================================

If anyone had told Y/N just a year ago that she would find herself walking arm and arm with a member of SAMCRO down Main Street, sharing a bag of candy, she might fear she had encountered someone who was quite delusional.

Here she was though walking with Chibs arm linked with hers a bag of chocolates in her hand they shared them as they strolled past shop windows.

Chibs spoke, popping a piece of candy into his mouth. “I use ta steal chocolates from the petrol station when I was a wee lad…that and dirty magazines when I firs realized jus how appealin lasses were.”

She chuckled at the comment, it taking her off guard. “You had sticky fingers?”

“Aye, Christ. If my poor Ma had known she’d have skinned me alive.” Chibs commented a chuckle leaving his lips.

“I imagine so, especially with the titty mags.” She remarked a shaking laugh spilling from his lips.

He spoke, shaking his head. “Aye woulda been drug down to the local Priest by my Ma. Woulda been given so many Hail Marys I woulda had to have been raised in a confession booth.”

She replied to this comment giving his hip a playful nudge as they walked. “So I’m taking it you weren’t a good Catholic boy?”

“I tried…I maybe lied a wee bit in confession sometimes though. Figured some shite is better off between me and God alone…Father Anderson didn’ need to be part of that conversation.” Chibs admitted knowing he probably was considered to be a poor catholic as an adult. He’d not been to confession since he’d lived in Belfast.

He spoke a small sigh leaving him. “My poor Ma…both er kids went astray. She was a good Catholic lass. Cait was less bad than me. She was a wee bit more obedient. Her son though…he’s all his Uncle Filip.”

“You have a nephew?” Y/N dared to ask not helping but to soak up every story Chibs told her about his immediate family though she’d always got the sense it brought up a hint of sorrow in him.

“Aye, Padriac. He adored me growin up. I used to visit Cait and him…make the trip out with some cash and we’d have a wee party, good food and drinks. His da…my sister’s ex, fuckin bastard was a wee bit too much like our Da. Cared more bout the bottle than his family until he disappeared. My Da was older than my Ma when they got together…too damn old to be messin round with a lass er age. My Ma was sweet as can be, loyal heart and tender. She was a saint. She was stern with me and Cait when we needed it but she had a soft soul. She put up with too much from my prick of a Da, and when he left no one missed him. He was a fuckin brute. We were glad to see him leave. Our Ma died a few years after Padriac was born…Cait and I were the only family each other had. After I patched into SAMBEL I visited more. Padriac  followed in my footsteps ya know? Prospected fer SAMBEL. Pretty sure he’s been patched in now. He’s bout twenty seven now. He was a teenager last I saw him but he was a handsome lad. Got those Telford genes, tall and dark headed. He’s got that Telford mischievous spirit. He’s a good lad. I love him to death and miss him more than ya know. Made me proud when I heard through the grapevine that he patched in to SAMBEL jus like me.” Chibs recalled, she not helping but to adore the fondness in his voice as he spoke about both his sister and his nephew.

She picked up on the comment about his father and his mother. She guessed that explained some of the sorrow that she sensed when he discussed his mother. 

She spoke not helping but to tease him. “So, from what I’m hearing…there’s a younger Telford out there? Crap, I could have gotten a younger model.”

He let out a huff giving her backside a swat not caring if they were in public a laugh leaving her along with a slight squeal.

She buried her face against his arm, a little embarrassed as her squeal caught the attention of a passing man.

Chibs smirked, wrapping an arm around her waist, his voice low, a hint of husk in his voice. “Ya weren’t complainin bout my age when I ate yer pussy the other nigh? Think ya were too busy cummin on my tongue to say much of anythin legible.”

She felt her cheeks flush all the darker as she gazed up at him, his lips pressing to hers he tasting like chocolate and a sense of adoration.

She spoke her voice soft as he pulled from the kiss. “Don’t have any complaints about the older model I got.”

She paused, unable to stop herself. “I have always liked antiques.”

He snorted at the comment, giving her backside another swat, choosing to keep his arm wrapped around her waist as they continued to make their way down main street.

They were unaware of the eyes watching them from within a nearby diner.

Agent June Stahl watched the Scottish Son and the mysterious young woman with avid interest. 

She’d not been expecting to spot a Son walking down Main Street when she stopped for a bite to eat the Charming Police Station feeling far too stuffy and Deputy Hale feeling far too suffocating.

She watched the pair as they stopped in front of a shop window the Scot leaning down to say something that the young woman found humorous judging by how her head fell back she clearly giggling. Stahl studied the pair as the Son’s lips pressed to his companion’s they making it clear they did not shy away from PDA. It was an odd sight; the rough looking forty something year old biker and the young elegant looking woman wearing a black dress that could only be described as prim. 

She had a feeling judging by their interactions and the way the Scot was staring down at her with devotion that she was no croweater. She looked a little too polished to be a biker groupie. No, the way the Scotsman was staring at his companion screamed ol lady.

She spoke as her waitress refilled her cup of coffee. “Who is that young woman over there? The girl in the black dress across the street?”

The much older waitress who wore a name tag stating her name was Pearl rose a brow, she looking hesitant to speak up about anyone walking hand and hand with a member of SAMCRO.

Stahl resisted the urge to roll her eyes, having taken notice of the residents' hesitance to say much about SAMCRO. The MC had a hold on most of the residents of the town.

Pearl apparently decided her need to gossip was more tempting than the need to stay mum about SAMCRO. “That’s Y/N Y/L/N. She owns Y/L/N and Sons Funeral Home. Her dad died a few months back. She inherited the family business. It’s a good thing she took over since she is the only available heir to do so. She has a brother but the poor dear hasn’t been the same since his motorcycle accident about a decade ago. He’s out in some institution in Lodi allegedly. Poor dear just isn’t right in the head, such a shame. Y/N came back to town for her father’s funeral and stayed. She was living out somewhere else for a while…out east somewhere. I don’t like to gossip but she had a wild streak about a decade ago…got into a lot of trouble, gave her poor dad a time. She seems to have cleaned her act up though…not her taste in men it looks like, but she’s grown up a lot…to be honest, she’s always been a peculiar girl…never quite fit in and didn’t seem to even try to, but she’s running the funeral home now. She seems good at her job at least even with as strange as she’s always been. She made the funeral home look real nice.”

Stahl raised a brow at the information. A funeral director who just happened to be walking down main street with a known criminal?

Stahl frowned, tempted to point out that this Y/N didn’t seem to have cleaned up her act too much if she was buddying up to a member of SAMCRO.

She held in the comment though making a mental note of this young woman.

If she had a wild streak there might be a police record there. Stahl was interested to find that she might just have another SAMCRO ol lady to look into. 

#chibs telford #sons of anarchy #chibs telford fanfiction #chibs sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #chibs #chibs telford smut #chibs x reader #chibs telford fanfic #chibs telford x reader #filip telford #death and the lady #chapter eleven

[b00kdiary]

An Old Flame (Part III)

Aemond Targaryen X Targaryen reader

Where two old flames meet again after 6 years and now as grown adults, their desires and feelings are in conflict with the civil war brewing within their families.

Warnings: Long chapters! Contains swearing, violence and smut ( mature content 18+)

Masterlist (Aemond Targaryen)

"You and Prince Aemond did what??”

I winced at the shriek that escaped Lyanna, slapping her gently in warning as my eyes scanned left and right through the gardens to ensure no spies lingered.

“Ly, god above do you want to say that any louder?” I hissed, shaking my head at the girl, but she merely laughed, utter bafflement at what I just told her present on her face.

Lyanna was my best friend growing up in Kings Landing, her mother served mine as a lady in waiting and thus, we grew up as thick as thieves, even keeping in contact when I’d left for Dragonstone. As soon as I arrived back I sent her a letter, formally asking her to be my lady in waiting.

“I’m sorry Y/N” She giggled, throwing a hay blonde braid over her scrawny shoulder “But you just told me that you and your uncle, THE Prince Aemond, had a very intimate night together last week, and you expect me to what… nod like a lady?” She deadpanned, her sea blue eyes narrowing as she beheld my snort.

“No not a lady but I hardly anticipated you squealing like a pig” I jabbed, though she merely rolled her eyes in response. “And do you have to specify that he is my uncle?” I groan, eyes shuttering in a mixture of embarrassment and confusion.

“Hey, I’m not judging you” She calls, laying a soft creamy hand against my thigh “The House of the dragon is not the only family to marry within their own bloodlines- there’s a reason it’s still something that happens today.”

She was trying to be comforting, but all I could hear echoing in my ears was that word.

Marry.

“I’m not going to marry Prince Aemond” I lament, shaking my head as a thumb presses against my brow.

“You don’t want to or you think it could never happen?” Ly asks, her red simple cotton dress bunching as she crosses a leg over the other, readjusting her skirt. I sit up, straightening my back, my own hands fiddling with my purple gown, my finger picking at the dark embroidery.

“Our families despise each other, no matter how much they fake civility. Gods, Luke took Aemond’s eye!” I exclaim, sighing at the crazy familial dynamics and even Lyanna winces at that very big calamity.

“And even if by some miracle my brothers didn’t hate Aemond and he didn’t hate them and our families did not want to tear each other’s throats out every chance they got… I don’t know if what this is, what we are, whether marriage is even in the realm of possibility.” I frown, frustration filling me at the complicated situation I’d unwittingly let my lust lead me into.

“You don’t think he wants to marry you?” Lyanna asks, too softly, that weary kindness etched onto her lovely face. I laugh bitterly, quickly standing as I notice a group of ladies meandering closer to where we sat. Lyanna swiftly joined me and I clasped her at the elbow, ignoring her warning glance at it.

I knew she would scold me later, yet again claiming that a Princess should not be so benevolent and close with her lady-in-waiting.

I hated all that hierarchy nonsense.

“It’s been four days” I grit out, scowling as we walk “Four days since he bid me goodnight with a kiss, a kiss so tender I thought I’d pass out as I left his chamber and then… nothing! Nothing besides the most cordial of greetings and the occasional glance at dinner or as we cross paths around the Keep.”

“Is he ignoring you? Or is he trying to be inconspicuous… to not let either of you be caught up in your attraction and be too obvious in court?” Lyanna suggests, her thumb soothing my wrist to ease the scowl now seemingly permanently marred against my face.

“He can be inconspicuous all he so bloody desires, I’m not asking for a declaration of love, the least he could do is acknowledge what happened, I’m starting to think I’d imagined it” I muttered bitterly, my eyes darting to and from the flowers adorning the side of the walkway.

But I knew it wasn’t a dream.

Not from the ache that sat between my thighs when I’d woken the next day and certainly not from the way my lips and neck had been scattered in light bruises from the passion of his kisses.

“Y/N if you’re going to start fantasising about that night in the middle of the damn garden, please let me escort you to your chambers to spare everyone the torture of that disgustingly ravenous look on your face” Lyanna pleaded, her tone mocking as she laughed. I slapped her away, a laugh breaking my facade of irritation even as I truly did feel myself relax.

“Come, let us not talk of silly boys any further” Ly smiles, rocking as she pulled me to enter the Keep. I nodded, a smile beaming across my own face as I resolved to ignore the situation.

If Aemond didnt care, then nor did I.

***

We leisurely made our way through the Keep, our laughter and chatter echoing through the empty halls and suddenly, it felt as if I’d never left, as if we’d never grown up, still 9 years old and wreaking havoc on the place.

“And what of you?” I ask, wiggling my brows as she grimaced, pushing me away “Come on, Ly- I’ve told you every gaudy, embarrassing minute detail of my romantic life, now it is your turn!” I giggle as she rolls her eyes, a faint blush heating up her neck and cheeks.

“There is little to tell,” She says but quietly sighs in defeat at the determination on my face “There was a boy, well man I guess now, a while ago. He worked as an apprentice for the blacksmiths. Back when I’d worked at the bakery I’d deliver bread and pastries to his master and well, I suppose we became rather close.”

I gasped, my eyes wide at the news “You never told me this!” I accuse and she rolls her eyes, swatting impatiently to dismiss it.

“There was nothing to tell” She swears, that light fading slightly “Last year, he left Kings Landing after having completed his apprentice work, he had business of his masters a while away and would be gone for a good few years.”

“Was marriage not on the table?” I ask, quiet and soft, my hand holding hers in silent comfort. She shook her head, eyes full of sadness and what looked like regret.

“He would be gone too long and well, he was onto better things not exactly beneficial to essentially abandon all he’d worked for to marry a lowly baker's girl,” She said bitterly, shaking her head with self-resentment.

“Hey” I chided, already halting her to a stop. “You were not merely a bakers girl just as you are not now just a lady in waiting. Ly, you are incredible.” She scoffs out a laugh but I don’t relent. “Truly, you’re brave and strong, you are loyal to a fault and you work hard at what you do. No one deserves happiness and love as much as you do. And I don’t just say that as your friend.”

She sighs at my words, her eyes fogging slightly as she nods, silent appreciation lining her eyes.

“Gods” She giggles out, wiping at her eyes and pulling me along to walk, dismissing the vulnerability of the prior moment. “Who needs to hear of my soppy nonsense when your failed romantics are so much more entertaining?” She teases, poking at me as I chuckle, swatting her hand away.

“Oh please,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

“No, but c’mon- The story of your first kiss?” She snorts, laughing so hard she has to stop to lean against the wall beside the servant's quarters. I glower, folding my arms as she continues. “That boy, what was his name Timothy, Tommy something- not only did you bang teeth at the first attempt but you bit his lip so hard he bled!”

She croaks from amusement, the hand on her mouth and the other on her chest as she struggles to regain her composure.

“I was 12 and not exactly an expert” I defend, chuckling as I blushed. “Oh come on Ly, It’s not that funny” I pout as her humour begins to die down, quiet giggles now flooding out.

“No, I’d have to agree with her. It is exceptionally funny, Princess.”

I freeze, my body going taut as a bow at the raspy chuckle of words that are said just beside my ear. Lyanna’s eyes widen as she halts and immediately bends into a bow, her head down muttering an earnest greeting to the Prince and I hear his soft regard back.

She looks at me as if warning me that ignoring his presence is more telling than facing him head on and I grit my teeth in bitter agreement. I turn on my heel, face passive as I see Prince Aemond, a small smile gracing my lips.

“Prince Aemond” I nod, my hands clenching as his eye beholds me, a glimmer of amusement lighting in it. He nods back, one corner of his lips quirking up as he leans against the doorframe, probably having snaked in through the servant's quarter.

His usual means of fast and undetected movement.

“That was quite the story, I have to say I’m surprised… you don’t strike me as being so clumsy with intimacy” He said casually, but the tone of his voice and that infuriating smirk indicated that he knew I wasn’t clumsy, indicating that he had experienced it first-hand.

“Well, it was my first time, Prince” I smile cordially, batting my eyelashes and I notice Lyanna cringe in acknowledgement of the ire that usually follows that look. “Fortunately for most of us, we weren’t weaned on paid whores to gain early experience from.”

The jab hits home and I nearly leer at the darkness that invades Aemond’s face, his jaw tensing and lips thinning, even as Lyanna steps forward with anxiety. The silence enveloped us for a few moments, The Prince and I were in a silent battle as his eyes held mine and despite how furious I was, my body still tightened in remembrance and yearning of what had happened the last time we’d been in such close proximity.

His eye flared and his throat bobbed as if he too was remembering the same.

I flushed at that look and took a step back, the first to break away as I tried to recompose myself. Aemond frowned slightly and reached a hand toward me.

“Princess, perhaps we could-“

“Princess Y/N!”

My head snagged at the familiar voice and I swiftly turned from a now irritated Aemond, my head looking behind me to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy a few steps behind.

“Jamie Lannister!” I gasped, a laugh of surprise escaping me as I rushed forward a few steps, damning etiquette as I enveloped the boy in a tight hug. He laughed, deep and joyous as he too wrapped his arms around my waist and held me closer.

I pulled back, grinning as I took in his face. The tanned skin, the striking sky blue of his eyes and the slightly overgrown but styled honey-blonde waves that were neatly pulled back from his face. He was larger, much more muscular and taller than he had been six years ago.

“I heard you were back and had to come to see you” He beamed as my hands fell into his and held them tightly. I pulled at his rough, large hands towards where Ly stood, a similar grin across her lips.

“Jamie, you remember Lyanna,” I said stopping before her and she bowed slightly in greeting. Jamie merely shook his head and took her hand, raising it to his lips in a poised kiss, one that had Ly blushing and stuttering in response.

“Gods, it’s been years,” I said “What are you doing here? Visiting your father?” I asked but he shook his head, hand coming down to tap at his vigil with a toothy grin.

“You’re fighting in the tournament?” Lyanna gasped, clasping her hands before her as she laughed.

“My first year entering” He nodded, a charming and amenable smile on his lips.

“That is amazing… I usually despise tourney’s but if you’re taking part Jamie, then I shall be there front and centre” I teased and he snorted, his eyes washing over my face.

“Your beauty in presence would be greatly appreciated Princess Y/N, but perhaps you could gift me further with your favour?” He asked, a slight boyish and nervous twinge as he lowered his eyes to me. I blushed slightly, the compliment washing over me.

Indeed, we were not little children anymore.

But that compliment did not ignite even a single ember of want in my body, and that disappointment laced through me, even as I remembered the certain Prince still stood in the shadows, watching.

“Hm…” I contemplated, tapping my chin jokingly as the pair laughed “Ask me at the tourney Ser and you shall have your answer then” I shrugged, winking and Jamie scoffed, chuckling deeply.

But that humour soon cut off as his eyes strained left.

“Prince Aemond” He greeted, his smile faltering slightly as he turned to bow. “My apologies, I did not see you there.” I turned and beheld the face that had Jamie, who usually always wore a smile, to become grave.

Aemond was still leaning against that doorframe, arms folded across his broad chest as he stared at me and then at Jamie. His face was contorted in what can only be described as indignation, his jaw clenched and his eye narrowing down with scrutiny as he beheld the young Lord before him.

“Ser Lannister” Aemond purred back, the welcome sending an icy chill down my back. “I did not know that you and the Princess Y/N were such close companions” He states simply, his body marginally relaxing as a wicked sort of smile graced his face.

Lyanna glanced worriedly at me.

“We’ve known each other since very young, Prince, our mother's old acquaintances. We grew up good friends, I suppose that friendship did not die down with distance” Jamie smiled, looking toward me in earnest and my heart beamed at the nostalgia.

Even as Aemond snorted, his gaze scorching against my face.

“Well, you’ll be in for quite the treat then since I know quite vividly how the Princess warms to and reconnects with her close friends” He snarks out with a perceptive smile, his eye sliding to mine “Isn’t that right, darling?”.

I stiffen at his words, at the insinuation of that night we shared, the insinuation of me being just as ‘hospitable’ to Jamie.

He was calling me a whore.

And he was using his goddamned nicknames from the bedchambers to pour salt in the wound.

I seethed, even as Jamie looked towards me in confusion. I stepped forward, ready to slam his insufferable face into the concrete walls, but Lyanna was swiftly by my side, a hand subtly gripping my arm, her nails digging into the flesh to snap me out of the red that blurred my vision.

Aemond smirked, pushing off the doorframe and unfolding his long yet muscular arms. He nodded once to Jamie, who bowed back, still weary at what had just occurred before Aemond looked to me, his expression severe and unforgiving.

I held back my urge to spit at him as I raised a brow instead, though he merely stared, hard and unmoving, before stalking away, his feet ever silent on the ground.

We all stood there for a few moments after he left, my blood boiling with ire and confusion at what the fuck he just said and did.

He ignores me for four days and then attacks me with insults?

Bastard.

Utter bastard.

Lyanna tugs on my hand and I snap back to reality, biting back the fury coating me. I sigh, gathering myself before I turn to Jamie, an easy and faux grin on my face.

“Let’s go eat, I’m starving.”

***

“This is why I hate tourney’s so much” I seethed quietly, scowling as I looked towards Ly, who stood frowning beside me.

“Ignore them” She mumbled back, her eyes not meeting mine as she stood, hands clasped and back straight. “They want a reaction.”

Indeed, the endless Lords and Ladies that relentlessly stared and gossiped as they watched me, occasionally laughing or smirking when they caught my attention were clearly desperate for the bastard Princess to lose her shit.

And honestly, I was close to it.

“Princess Y/N, I am glad that you could join us for the event, particularly as our guest of honour” Queen Alicent called softly, a mother's smile on her face as she gazed from beside me on her throne.

Guest of honour- a bawdy and supercilious title that just meant being gawked at and paraded about like some kind of exotic creature.

“Of course, my Queen, it is an honour to have been chosen” I smile, holding back my retort that I would not be a ‘guest’ in my own home had she not lost her mind and attacked my mother six years ago.

“Are you supporting anyone in particular?” The Queen asked, a teasing grin on her face “Any male here that has caught your eye?” I blush at the remark, surprised by her forwardness but I merely shake my head in reply.

“No, not like that. I am here to see Ser Jamie Lannister, it’s his first tournament and we grew up very close” I say, my eyes glancing to where the boy stood, armour on, besides his black mount. “And you, my Queen? I didn’t suppose this your kind of sport.”

She shakes her head reverently with a small laugh “No, I can scarcely handle all the violence and banging” She states grimacing, before looking to me with a genuine smile “But Aemond is joining for the first time and I wanted to watch in support”

“What?” I gasp and her eyes flash to mine in surprise at my outburst. I blanche, clearing my throat before asking again, much quieter and genial “I thought the prince hated tourneys, why would he join this one?”

“You’re guess would be as good as mine, Princess Y/N. He merely came to me a few hours ago with the news that he was struck with the desire to participate and I was more than willing to indulge him.” I nod absently as she speaks, and when she turns to Ser Criston, my eyes snap widely to Lyanna.

She frowns, that knowing and worried expression marring her face too.

Gods Aemond, please don’t do something reckless and stupid.

***

The tourney was hectic.

Lord after Lord, Ser after Ser jousted, running at each other astride their horses before one would stab the other with the pointy end of the stick.

It was tedious as it was addictive.

Jamie was doing well, spectacularly well in fact.

I roared out a cheer, relief lining every inch of my body as his lance pierced the opposing Lord's shoulder. I winced as that Lord flung off his horse, his body rolling and bucking against the sandy ground as his horse fled away.

Jamie Lannister, in all his kindness and civility, climbed off his horse and helped his opponent up. The two shared a respectful handshake before the Lord was limping away and the crowds began cheering and chanting for Jamie.

I grinned, clapping my hands so hard they burned as he bowed and then returned to his tent, to prepare for his next match.

He had made it to the final.

And so had Aemond.

My heart had stopped when Aemond had first come out onto the ground.

 He wore completely black leather with his shining black chest plate adorned with his greenhouse vigil, sculpted perfectly against the broad expanses of his body. His hair had been braided back, loose and away from his face, starkly highlighting the boredom and disinterest there.

It was obvious he did not want to be here.

But he jousted like he was made for it.

Skilled, deadly and precise as he mounted his horse, foregoing any helmet to not obscure the vision of his one good eye. My heart hammered in my chest, my fear and anxiety making me feel like vomiting every time he would grab his lance to begin.

But every time he would prove that I needn't worry.

He’d charge low and fast, his body like death incarnate as he’d angle his lance, perfectly still and poised, right into the opposing man’s vulnerable points. Blood would ooze and bodies would fall and despite myself, I’d nearly cry with relief, my hands clapping along with the roars of the crowds.

I wrung my hands anxiously as the bell rang and the crowds began to mumble, their noises and speculation an incessant buzzing that set my teeth on edge. Lyanna hands me a cup of wine, her hand giving mine a reassuring tap and I smile gratefully, drowning back the contents in one full gulp.

Aemond and Jamie begin their descent to the centre of the grounds on their horses, silence enveloping the grounds as they stoically beheld one another.

Jamie looked passive, ready.

Aemond looked feral and challenging.

The two men stopped before the terrace and bowed to their Queen. I inhaled and exhaled in uneven puffs as I met Aemond’s eye. He frowned upon seeing the anxiety and tension on my face and I wished that I could tell him to not hurt Jamie like I knew he wished to and to not get himself hurt by being reckless.

I start as Jamie overshadows Aemond, his face directly in my line of sight, a huge grin spread across his handsome face. I smile, leaning forward, already knowing what he would ask.

“Princess Y/N” He called, and the masses hushed as they watched him stop beside the edge of the seats “ Would you do me the great honour of bestowing upon me your favour?” He asked and I chuckled at his faux innocence.

I stood as I grabbed the wreath from Ly and walked over to the barriers. With a gentle smile and steady hand, I lowered it onto Jamie’s lance and laughed as he bowed his head deeply, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

The crowds applauded and whistled loudly as I returned to my seat but my eyes remained on Prince Aemond, remained glued on the jealousy and anger that fuelled him now. He didn’t so much as smile as he trotted away to his corner, that lethal calm oozing from him.

I rubbed at my face, ire filling me as I tucked back the loose strands of hair that fell into my face. My body was on edge and my throat tightened as I keenly watched them raise their lances and as the bell rang, they charged.

I had wondered before who I wanted to win, whose injury would hurt me more- and had settled on both of them being of equal importance to me.

And yet, as Jamie’s lance tilted and aimed directly for a spot that would not only strike Aemond but that could seriously injure him, that could kill him.

I knew my answer.

“Aemond!” I cried out, my hands cupping onto my mouth as indeed, Jamie’s lance punctured straight through the steel of his armour into his shoulder and the Prince was thrown violently off his horse, landing on his back with a deafening thud.

I gasped, barely feeling the supportive hold of Lyanna as time seemed to slow down and darken. Aemond lay there for a moment, hand clutching his shoulder and blood soaking into the orange sand.

“Oh gods, please” I begged, tears welling in my eyes as he remained down and I could scarcely breathe. I released a huge exhale, shuddering wholly, as his body rose. I poignantly ignored the unyielding stare of Queen Alicent beside me, too desperate to ensure that Aemond was alright.

“He’s ok, look- he’s up and moving” Ly whispers, rubbing my back in comfort and I nearly sobbed in relief. Aemond’s face is contorted in pain, a grimace lining his lips as he bows to his mother, his eyes not once meeting mine before he walks away, back straight, face tight.

And shakes Jamie’s hand.

The two men express something amongst themselves before Aemond pats the boy on the back and returns back to his tent. I bit my lip as I watch his retreating figure, worry eating away at me as Jamie comes before the Queen, bowing and grinning at the cheering and adoring crowds.

My eyes meet his again, and he frowns, his eyes glancing to the tent I had been watching intently and a knowing smile, a sad smile, graces his face as he nods.

I smile back, remorse and sympathy on my face as I rise from my seat, ignoring the looks of the people around me as I rush down the steps. The crowds and court were far too encased in Jamie’s victory and with easy manoeuvres, I slip past the stands and gathered crowds, weaving in and out to get to the fighter's quarters.

I duck my head, my hair falling to shield my face as I stride past numerous tents for the competing Lords, looking for the one that was embellished in Green and Red.

For Targaryen and Hightower.

I wait patiently beside a dark brown mare, patting down its fur and allowing it to nuzzle against me in comfort as I beheld Aemond’s tent, knowing that I’d need to wait for the Maester to leave. Thankfully, within minutes he does, the dark-skinned and elderly man slips under the flaps of the tent and with his bag in tow, moves to enter some other injured males' tents.

My fear has me practically running towards Prince Aemond’s tent and I don’t bother with knocking or announcing myself as I slip in and close the sheets behind me.

I sigh in relief as he stands before me, eyes training on mine with a grim expression. The prince was now shirtless, his toned and creamy body on display and perhaps if it weren’t for the red-soaked cloth wrapped around his shoulder, I might have been inclined to blush.

“Aemond” I gasp quietly, stepping forward with an outstretched hand, though he merely dismisses it moving out of the way.

“I’m fine, Y/N” He grits out as he takes in my worry, his face hard as he turns towards his armour set on the table “I will save you the time and trouble, go fawn over Ser Jamie’s victory.” His words are venomous, lethally honed to hurt me.

I recoil, shaking my head as I march to stand beside him, staring at the side of his face even as he avoids my eye. “What the fuck is wrong with you” I spit, my blood boiling “I don’t give a shit that Jamie won, I came here because you’re hurt-”

He turns to me, fury lighting his face as he stares at me. “Was it not satisfying enough to watch the handsome, charming young ser knock me on my ass, you wanted to come to see the true extent of blood drawn too?” He hissed, scowling bitterly as he grabbed a cup of wine bringing it to his lips.

I seethed, my hand instinctively gripping onto that damned cup and throwing it across the tent, the grape staining against the cloth. His eye flared, the hand that had once held the cup now clenching in restraint.

“I don’t know who you think you are but you are acting like a pathetic child, right now,” I say, folding my arms “ Do you honestly think that I’d choose to celebrate with Jamie over coming to see if you’re alright? Do you truly have that low of an opinion of me, truly view me as the whore you implicated me as earlier?”

His eyes fell, that stoic expression hesitating as he beheld my anger, my sadness and hurt and concern all laced into one very sensitive expression.

“I didn’t intend to insult you, I just got…” He paused, sighing dejectedly, his head hanging in shame. “Jamie Lannister is an eligible and noble bachelor and you are a beautiful and well-desired woman of powerful blood- even my mother and Otto talked of how perfectly suited a marriage would be between the two of you.”

I furrowed my brows, my anger simmering into nothing as I beheld his frown, that quiet jealousy and insecurity hidden there. He continued, a strain in his voice as he lifted that one raw eye to mine “Seeing the two of you together, I knew they were right. Lords and Ladies like the two of you are meant to be together and I was envious of that reality.”

“Why? I never once stated an interest to wed Jamie, not with romantic intentions or political ones.” I said gently, my hand coming to rest upon his bare chest “ Did you not hear me scream for you when that lance pierced your armour? I was scared for you, not Jamie. You. I have never been as scared in my life as I was when you were on the ground” I said with a trembling voice.

He didn’t reply, his jaw clenching and eye averting as I stood before him, that invisible wall a barrier between us.

And I knew that this was more than just male ego and bravado at play.

“Jamie and I have been friends for many years, just friends.” I lament, my fingers moving to his chin and I grip it to bring his eyes to mine. “He is a lovely man and I’m sure any would woman would be lucky to gain his favour, but I’m not that woman.”

“The way you hugged-“

“ I haven’t seen him in six years,” I say, cutting him off, before scoffing a bit embarrassingly “and perhaps, I may have been a little more enthusiastic knowing that you were there to witness it.” His eyes widen at that and I smile as a small smirk graces his features.

“You wanted to make me jealous?” He questions, an incredulous tone lining his words, even as he shifts closer, a hand now settling on the spine of my back. I nearly purr under the feel of his touch, that warmth and electricity firing through every single atom of my being.

“You ignored me for four days” I remind him, my brow rising and lip curling into a sneer “I was confused and furious and… embarrassed.” His eye softens and his hand tightens around me at the slight quake in my voice.

“That night… we did something so personal, so wildly damning Aemond and if it meant nothing then you need to tell me now, please I can’t-“

He cuts me off by bringing his lips to mine. I thaw into him, into the tenderness of his lips as he carefully and graciously brushes them against mine, his hands holding my body against his, his fingers curving into the soft material of my gown.

The kiss is slow, deliberate and keen, an act of admission and action, an answer to the question I desperately needed. He pulls back after a few moments, resting his forehead against mine as we pant against each other.

“I do not regret it at all, it meant… god, Y/N, it meant everything to me. I’ve been fantasizing about that night, your lips, your body, fuck the sounds that I got out of you…” He ran his hand down my jaw and across my lips, my body lighting at the bare touch.

“I didn’t want to stay away from you, it physically pained me to do it but” He paused sighing “I didn’t want you to feel obliged… It is no easy thing to be with a man like me, and I did not want your first experiences of lust and intimacy to cloud your judgement and to push you into doing things that you will later regret”. I frown, my hand cupping his cheek.

“What do you mean by a ‘man like you'? What kind of man is that Aemond?” I ask, my lips pouting under the pain that his dark eye expressed.

“You know Darling” He laughs bitterly “I am no charming and handsome Lannister, not with this monstrosity on my face and certainly not by the standards of the people's opinion of me-“

“Do I honestly look like I desire a pampered and pretty Ser?” I question, brows furrowing even as he chokes on a laugh but I continue “ I don’t give a fuck what anyone else looks like or what anyone else says. I yearn for you my Prince, scars and all, and not just physically but spiritually, emotionally, we connect on a level that nothing, no one, else could compare to.”

I ran a shaking hand down his scar, racing it from his brow over the leather patch and to his cheek before resting it against his jaw. Aemond’s face was constricted and I could feel his trembling breath beneath my palm.

“You said so yourself Aemond, like a moth to a flame” I whisper the words back to him, a caress across his lips “I’m yours.”

His restraint snaps at my proclamation and soon, I’m whining into his mouth as he devours me, his lips feral upon mine. My hands lay over his chest, careful of his wound and I run them purposefully across his chest and shoulders, writhing at the feeling of muscle and flesh.

He groans, his hands slipping down my back to my ass and he kneads the flesh there with satisfaction as I yelp in surprise. Our tongues battle, fanning each other with reverence as his hands slide down from my ass to my thighs and with little effort he hoists me up.

“Aemond!” I giggle, my legs wrapping around his waist. He grins, peppering kisses against my cheek and lips as he turns to sit me on the table, standing between my legs as he does so.

I swiftly pull him back down to my lips, my hands tugging against the braid of hair that now falls against his back and he jerks against my thigh, growling low in his throat in appreciation. His hands roam, tracing down my neck and over the flesh of my chest and I shiver as he thumbs my nipples through the material, pinching and rolling the sensitive pebbled flesh.

I whimper as he pulls back from our kiss, chuckling darkly in amusement at my need but before I can chide him, he’s sliding down onto his knees before me.

Holy gods.

I pause, my breath hollowing out as I behold him on his knees, his hands gripping and spreading my thighs to stretch along the table and give him better access.

“Aemond?” I whisper uncertainly but he merely hushes me, a soothing hand rubbing my ankle as he trails my skirts up my legs before handing me the gathered material to hold. He smiles, feral and possessed as he takes in my white stockings and one by one, he slowly strips off the material, his trace scorching against my exposed legs.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about this cunt since last week, my darling” He comments, pressing a kiss against my thigh, even as I clench at the obscenity of his words. “I only got a little taste but now I’m ready to indulge myself… What do you think?”

His question is genuine, regard flashing across the Princes face as he stops, resting his hands against my thighs in uncertainty.

“I don’t want you to injure yourself further Aemond, your shoulder is already bleeding-“

“Trust me, there is no better remedy in the world than what lay between your pretty thighs, Princess” he purrs grinning, and again looks at me in inquiry.

I nod, knowing that he could do anything to me and I’d consent.

“Use your words darling” He reprimanded, smiling at the quake that travelled through my thighs at his lewd caress.

“Yes, I… yes, I want you to” I croak out, my cheeks heating. Aemond smirks, knowing that I couldn’t say the words but he doesn’t tease, instead, as if impatient, he runs his hands up to my underwear, tucking his fingers under the cloth and rips them clean off.

I gasp, hips bucking as he does so, astonished.

“Aemond, what the fu-“

I moan out in surprise as he licks a strip up the length of my pussy.

He pulls back, lips wet, eye wild and mutters “Fuck, you taste like heaven.”

His lips come back to my aching pussy, his attention solely on my clit as he sucks desperately at the nub, his lips pulling as his tongue lapped invariably against it. I gasp, eyes falling shut and my body tightening at the sheer pleasure that rushed through my body at the feeling.

So overwhelming, so all-consuming. It was so unfamiliar and yet so intoxicating.

He grins against me, as I pant out his name, my hand coming down to grip his braid between my fingers and as he grazes his teeth against me I yank, hard enough to hurt. The groan of pleasure that reverberates through him and into me has me crying out, my hips now jerking back and forth, riding his tongue.

“Hmmm” He grumbles in praise as his hands grip my thighs on either side of his head, his fingers digging into the fleshy meat there, holding me down like a captive as he has his way with me.

“Aemond, fuck, fuck” I chant, endless whimpers escaping me as he trails his hot tongue down from my clit and pushes it into me, that stretch of warmth and movement making me spasm and my eyes roll. He fucks his tongue in and out at a steady and building pace, his nose angling to rub against my clit.

The stimulation was too much and I jolted, thighs aching as he held me against him, even as I fought to run away from that devastation. I cry out, tears leaking down my cheeks now at the cruel pace he sets, his nose strokes and his tongue fucks me in tandem, that familiar peak nearing.

He growls as he quickens his speed, clueing on to how my body has begun to tremor, and tighten and my pussy is clenching around his tongue.

And as he runs his teeth along that sensitive bud I gasp out, my eyes screwing shut, “Aemond, Aemond, Aemond” I chant again and again, near sobbing as that feeling within me cleaves, my body at breaking point as undulated release rocks through me. I whimper loudly, legs physically shaking and writhing as I try to wrangle them to close around his head.

Aemond continues to tease me through my orgasm, kissing and sucking and biting and I almost have to beg him to stop, that mixture of pleasure and pain completely wrecking me. He pulls away after a moment, a lewd and wet sound as he pops off from sucking my clit and I sag at the feeling.

My eyes clamped shut, my chest heaving up and down in exhaustion as I heard him rise, his breath similarly jagged. His hand cups my cheek as he holds me against him and I slowly blink my eyes at his.

I groan at the wetness across his lips, the rose on his cheeks and the mess of his hair from my fingers combing through them to hold him close but also to rip him off. He grins, feline and pleased as he takes in my utter ruin and the intensity of my release.

He kisses me, allowing me to taste myself and I sigh against his lips, my hand coming up to run up and down his jaw and chest.

“Are you in pain?” I ask, my concerned eyes dropping to his shoulder, where the blood now dried into the cloth. He shakes his head softly, even moving his arm back and forth in proof and I relax at the confirmation.

“That was amazing” I whisper, kissing his neck and then near his wounded shoulder and he laughs, his hand fiddling with the damp strands of my hair.

“Good” He muses, humming “ I fucking live off making you cum. There is nothing as beautiful as the noises you make and the way your face contorts when I’ve pushed you over the edge” He mutters lowly, smirking at the effect his words have on me.

“What about you?” I ask, shaking my head clear of the daze.

He merely kisses my cheek, nuzzling into me softly “What about me darling?”.

“You always make me feel good, make me… cum” He grins as that word leaves my mouth and I roll my eyes with heated cheeks. “What about you?”

“Pleasuring and finishing you is enough for me” He shrugs, and he looks genuine in his answer “ I have no expectation of anything else, do not worry my Princess.”

“I’m not worried and it’s not about expectations” I frown, leaning forward to pull him in for a deep kiss “ I want to make you feel good too” I whisper softly and he growls deep in his throat at the need and ardour coating my voice.

“Yeah?” He questions darkly, brow-raising even as I eagerly nod “There is plenty of time for that, sweet girl, there is so much yet for us to explore.” I shiver at the promise in his voice and that dark, meticulous light in his eyes.

“Very well, My Prince” I grin, my hand coming to rest against his throat “ But don’t even think about avoiding me for four days after this.”

@uaze123 @lomllino @daddysfavoritesexkitten @backinwonderl4nd @mirandastuckinthe80s @zgzgzh

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[taintandviolent]

"Want to see what we can get away with before they come looking for us?" Prompt + Kit or Tate <33

Aaaah thank you anon!! I chose Kit, just cos it’s been a minute and I love me some asylum settings. Sorry this got a little long, it’s below the cut!!! Asdffghkkhajshshsk.

“Want to see what we can get away with before they come looking for us?” You leaned over the checker board, biting down on your plush bottom lip.

His dark brown eyes bored into yours, trying to find the joke. You stared back, assuring him silently that there was no joke, no teasing to be found in your suggestion. The asylum had an influx of new patients, the sisters had been busy with intake and you saw it as the perfect opportunity to have a little fun with Kit Walker.

You two had been flirting, on and off, for the past couple weeks but it was all playful. At least, he’d convinced himself it was. He hadn’t made any serious moves, just teased you here and there. The teasing drove him crazy, those few moments of intimacy in a world of frigid celibacy and isolation. Every night, he’d spend the first half hour after final checks fondling himself, beating off under the white cotton sheets. How could he not? He was a man after all, and you were… such a woman.

His gaze drifted slowly down the front of your gown, which was regrettably baggier than he’d like it to be. Of course, a lady has to keep her modesty, but there was something about the way that the standard issue gown hugged all the right parts of your body; your hips, your ample breasts, he wanted to know what was underneath. He’d wanted to know what was underneath it for weeks. It drove him crazy, if he was being honest.

Last week in the rec room, you’d intentionally grazed your hand over his dick and immediately made him hard No more playin’ it cool with that one, he’d thought. He had to sit at the one of the tables, tucking his groin as far underneath it as he could until the blood flow redirected back to his brain.

“What’s all this fah’?” He leaned to the side, sneaking a peek out the door as a sister pushed her way through it. The hallway she approached was desolate, much like the moral of this place. He repositioned himself, looking back at your pretty face, still plastered with that same mischievous expression you’d had when he looked away. “It ain’t nice to play with someone’s feelins’, sugah.”

“Feelings?” You echoed. You withheld a dreamy sigh, his heavy accent always went straight to your cunt.

Kit swallowed and leaned forward. “ Sweethaht, ‘ahm serious.” All this sternness was coming from a place of nervousness, because he knew that if got a taste of you, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. Aside from the brief moments with you, it had been weeks or months since he’d had any physical touch from a woman. But true intimacy? It had been too long.

His knees hit the underside of the table abruptly, his eyes widening. The tip of your shoe pressed into his groin, lifting upward slowly. A whimper tumbled out of your open mouth as you felt the weight of his flaccid cock.

“Shit,” he hissed, leaning his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. After a moment of the sensation, he straightened up and looked into your naughty gaze. “Sugah, please…”

“Please what, keep going? You want to do all this right here, in front of everyone?” You could tell, he was trying so hard to keep it together, to keep his cock from hardening, but as the seconds passed, you could also tell that he was failing. The trousers the men got were everything but forgiving. The slightest increase in length was easily spotted, and usually violently chastised by every Sister in the vicinity. Thankfully for Kit, there wasn’t a Sister to be found.

You pressed your foot harder against the rigidity once more before releasing the pressure and scooting the wooden chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. “C’mon. Let’s see what we can do before one of those stuffy old broads notices we’re gone.”

You didn’t wait for Kit’s response to start walking towards the door, with the casual air of one of the Sisters; you, like them, had an assignment to do, and walking out the door was the most normal thing in the world. Before you’d even reached the doors, Kit was behind you, pressing his groin into your backside.

“Whatta’ lil’ devil you are.” He said, planting his hand on the door above your head and giving it a firm push. It swung open, and you immediately headed towards a storage closet you’d seen last week. It was in the bakery, which would also be empty at this time. Lunch had finished, and the prep for dinner wouldn’t start for another few hours.

At the speed in which you both ran, it didn’t take long for you two to reach said closet. Kit opened it, and you slipped in, immediately spinning to face him. Your back was pressed against the half-empty shelves, and it smelled faintly of yeasty dough and flour.

“You sure ‘bout this?”

You took fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him in closer to you. Neither of you said anything, just exchanged heated glances of each other’s lips and eyes. Kit was the one to press his lips against yours first, but you melted into the kiss, sliding your hands on either side of his neck, and tangling your fingers behind it.

He moaned into your mouth, bringing the taste of himself deeper into your mouth, and you reciprocated that moan, giving him more of yourself. The thrill of being caught heightened both of your arousals.

Hurriedly, knowing that the moment could be snatched away in the blink of an eye, he dropped his hands to your tummy, ghosting over the soft flesh. You whimpered, breaking the kiss to watch. It didn’t take long for his thick fingers to find your cunt, where he immediately began thumbing your clit gently. Circling it, dipping down to pick up some of your wetness like an artist dipping his brush in paint before smearing it over the canvas.

You felt his hard-on through the thin fabric, poking into your tummy, and without another word, you reached in, wrapping your digits around the head. You squeezed it, urging more of the pre-cum out and Kit whined pitifully, delving two, thick fingers into your wet slit. As an attempt to stay quiet, your rolled your lips inward and bit down, moaning softly into them as you pumped his cock in and out of your hand, committing every ridge to memory. His skin was velvet soft and hot to the touch, and you desperately wanted to know what it felt like slipping past your lips.

Kit bucked his hips into your fist, demanding speed. You squeezed tighter, and he crushed his lips against yours, muttering words of praise into your waiting, open mouth. He bucked harder, and you felt the thick, sticky ropes of cum flowing over your finger tips. The sensation of that alone sent you over the edge, and you clenched around his fingers, hugging them tight in pulses.

“Sister Anna!”

With a second to spare, you thought. Kit clamped his hand over your mouth, watching as the light disappeared and reappeared from the crack in the door.

“We’re missing two patients. Sister Jude said that she was alerted, we’d better go find them. I’ll check their rooms.”

The voices faded along with the delicate wisp of their steps. Kit immediately moved his hand to the side of your face, cupping your cheek gently. He kissed you again, but not with the fiery passion that had been there before. There was an urgency, a worry.

“C’mon sugah, if they’re headin’ to the rooms, we’ll be back in the rec room before they get there.”

And, you were. You both separated, tucking yourselves into opposite corners. and pretending like you’d been there the entire time. You stared longingly out the window, watching the rain as it fell. Kit was leaning next to the jukebox, picking absentmindedly at his cuticles. The rest of the patients were none the wiser… except Lana. But she wouldn’t tell.

#mydrabbles #I’m sorry if this is ass I am at work aaaaaaaaa #Kit Walker #kit walker x y/n #kit walker x you #kit walker x reader #smut

[onestopfashion1]

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[blueshistorysims]

October 31st, 1923, London, England

Out of the parties the Porters were known for, it was their Halloween party they were infamous for, and anyone who was anybody was invited, not just friends and acquaintances. Byron thought it amusing, seeing everyone dressed up in elegant costumes that likely cost a pretty penny. They ranged from cute, like Wilhelmina’s ladybug ensemble, to well, his sister’s extremely accurate gown of Empress Elisabeth of Austria she’d made herself. He had not a clue where she’d gotten such a fine wig, nor did he want to know. 

Of course, Byron was less focused on the party, but rather the two women who were talking near his sister and her paramour. He’d never seen them before, but the woman dressed as a Greek god looked rather familiar, though he couldn’t place why.

“I wonder who those lovely ladies are.”

Montgomery, who’d been in a sour mood for most of the night, turned his head and looked generally surprised. “Oh, don’t ya even think ‘bout it.”

“What? You know Miss Dionysus?”

“That’s Miss Eleora Balass.”

“...Like the Richer-Than-God Baghdadi Jew Balasses?”

“Aye. I’m her father’s personal physician.”

“You? Salim Balass’ personal doctor? He’s everything you are politically against.”

“I think he likes havin’ someone who isn’t afraid to speak their mind. We get into such arguments, and I’m afraid I’ve pushed too far, and he’ll fire me, but then the next day he’ll invite me to lunch and we’ll laugh over it.”

The Balass family were one of the wealthiest families in the world—Salim Balass being the fourth richest man in Europe, and listed as one of the top twenty wealthiest men in the world. They had made their fortune as merchant and traders, rising to power in the Mughal Empire before moving their base of operations to India after being forced to flee Baghdad in the early 19th century, where they established control over the Indian cotton industry, moving to Great Britain as their home in the late 1880s. 

“Well, what’s Miss Balass like?”

Montgomery sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No.”

Byron couldn’t help but smirk. “Introduce me. I’ll force you if I must.”

Almost on cue, Miss Balass and her friend turned around, her face lighting up upon recognizing the Scotman’s face, and she waved. “Oh, Dr. MacGregor!”

“Well, I suppose you’ll have to introduce us now, Montgomery.”

“Fuck off.”

“You know the Porters, Dr. MacGregor?” Miss Balass asked.

“Aye, Mr. Porter and I were flatmates many years ago.” He sighed, turning to Byron reluctantly. “May I introduce his grace the Duke of Feldsbury?”

Byron smiled and nodded his head. “A pleasure.”

“A duke? My, my, I wasn’t aware you knew such people.”

The other woman turned to her friend. “I thought you said he was socialist.”

“Oh, he is, don’t worry. Dr. MacGregor is my late sister’s widower. We knew each other far before I was even aware of the Feldsbury title.”

“Oh, Feldsbury! You’re the former army captain one who married the Gardenhouse girl… and well, divorced her too.”

The way she said it was so amusing that Byron couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, I am unwed now.” He turned to Miss Balass’ friend, dressed as Anne Boleyn. “I’m sorry, we haven’t been properly introduced, Miss Boleyn.”

She laughed as Miss Balass blushed. 

“This is Miss Samira Patel. Our fathers were business partners when we were in India, and they still are today. Miss Patel is one of my closest friends. Dr. MacGregor you know is my father’s physician.”

Montgomery smiled at Miss Patel. “Lovely to meet ya.”

Once they moved past pleasantries, the conversation grew much more lively, and as Byron grew enamored with Miss Balass, he could tell Montgomery was quickly warming up to Miss Patel.

In fact, when the quartet took their leave, Byron looked over to Montgomery, Miss Patel holding his arm, and said he planned to spend the night with Miss Balass—in Gaelic of course so the women wouldn’t understand.

The doctor smirked and replied in English, “I think so too.”

“You speak Gaelic, duke?”

He smiled at her. “Would you like to find out what else I speak, Miss Balass?”

She rolled her eyes as she waved for a taxi.   

#the walshes #the walsh legacy #ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 decades #sims 4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 story #ts4 historical #sims 4 history challenge #history simblr #ts4 1920s #1920s #byron walsh #montgomery macgregor #samira patel #eleora balass #giselle walsh #francesca pace

[bobfloydsbabe]

LAST LINE TAG

Thank you @asirensrage for tagging me!

RULES: Share the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words you want.

from a historical romance au (eccentric professor bob x oc) aka au of an au lol

“Who’s there?” The flickering candle comes closer, and slowly, the holder’s dark doe eyes come into his line of sight, along with long wavy hair and soft-looking skin. “Lady Imogen,” he says when she stops a few paces away.  “Professor,” she greets, one brow quirked up. “What brings you here at this time of night?” “I could ask you the same thing.” Her breathy chuckle fills the quiet library. “So you could,” she agrees. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get something to read.” “I had the same thought,” he admits. He’s trying not to look at her state of undress, but his eyes travel down to her simple cotton nightgown, and his breath hitches. She’s not wearing a dressing gown. Imogen seems unfazed by his wandering eye. “Did you find something advanced enough to challenge your mind, Professor?” He drags his gaze back to her face. “Not yet,” he says. “Perhaps you have a recommendation?” In the candlelight, her mouth turns up in a smile that makes her keen eyes sparkle.

NO PRESSURE TAGS: @laracrofted, @rhettabbotts, @withahappyrefrain, @lewmagoo, @attapullman, @bobgasm, @blue-aconite, @sio-ina-bottle, @petcr3, @bradshawsbaby, @mothdruid, @sebsxphia, @sometimesanalice, and anyone else who wants to do it.

#helena rants #last line tag #last line tag game #bob floyd x oc #bob floyd fic #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #eccentric professor bob #professor bob #tag game

[wellmetmat]

Recreation

Over the weekend I went to a historical-recreation-society camping event for the first time in... too long. A year? And it was joyful and comforting and restorative. Three months ago I was sorry to be alive; today, all day, was happy. And the greater part of that difference does lie in physical health, even though I have comparatively little to complain about - illness lifted blessedly off like a break in the clouds in time for this festival - but the festival made the rest of the difference. Stepping aside into a magic kingdom of high trust, good will, dense human connections on a scale that makes sense to our social intuitions, agency in shaping one's immediate environment, a living oral culture, pride of craftsmanship, visual beauty and lightheartedness. And singing and candlelight, which science is eventually going to find to be vital mental nutrients, I bet. I become deficient in all these things, and physical touch to boot, when I stay too long out of the kingdom.

And I can't very well put their pictures here, but I wish I could convey firmly enough how handsome all my friends were. You'll have to trust me. I have dashing friends with spiffy doublets. One gigantically-bearded jovial friend bore nine plumes in his yearly-expanding hat. The landsknechts slouched around like mock-pugnacious rainbow scarecrows in their slashy pants and their fantastically individual coats. One friend was given a major award, and she'd made a gown which I thought was black (the ceremony was at night, on the open green with a chilly wind blowing out the torches almost as fast as anyone could relight them and all the banners snapping) but which turned out in daylight to be deep green, stamped with gold fleurs-de-lys, and a tall hennin (the cone hat you see on medieval ladies in picture books); and instead of walking sedately to kneel before the king and queen, as you might reasonably expect of somebody in that dress, she danced a galliard over the green to them, in the near-dark, with her cone hat staying on and her veil floating and the fleurs-de-lys flashing, and finished up at the queen's feet on the last beat of the music which we had by no means all managed to rehearse, because she's that good. It's good to remember that "splendid" is a way human beings can look.

(The next day she was playing dance sets next to me in a cotton-drill kirtle and gumboots. There's a time to dance, and then next morning there's another time to dance in different weather conditions and contra the prophet none of it is vanity and all of it is great.)

#talkative

[gojo-enthusiast]

Chapter Eight — Will You Make Love To Me? (Mature)

Master Zenin - Toji Fushiguro Series — Reblog & Like

Chapter Eight

“Please have these washed, and dried. For now, is there anything we can wear?” Toji says to the attendant. “Ah yes sir, we have this night gown for the lady, and we found these cotton shorts, unfortunately sir we have no undergarments.” The women bows, giving him the clothing. “This will do. Thank you.” He nods, shutting the bedroom door.

You stepped out of the shower drying yourself off. You hear a knock on the bathroom door, you hear the rough sounding man— “I was able to secure you a nightgown, but no panties.” You open the door, seeing the sheer cotton white gown. “Thank you.” You say, grabbing it and shutting the door. You pull the gown over your head, your curls loosely fallen over your shoulders, over your breast reaching down all the way to your lower back. You never really paid much attention to your hair, and were surprised to see how long it had gotten, the ends nearly at the crack of your bottom. You hear the bathroom door slowly open— “Hey, are you hung-“ toji begins to say, before his breath hitched in his throat, seeing the raw sight of you, freshly washed curls, skin not covered with anything, the slight acne scars that rested on your chin, with a light hint of redness but not to noticeable. And the way the gown was loose fitting, but he could see the color of your areola’s through the sheer white cotton, and as his eyes traveled down, he saw the hair of your womanhood.

He knew you weren’t one to keep up with that, because you just weren’t that kind of girl. You of course would trim yourself in your woman regions because you wanted to feel clean, but he was so used to the other women he had seen, completely taking off anything that could be considered dirty, hairy, gross, in the eyes of a man. While you, simply were yourself. He loved that about you, as he’s staring at you, admiring the beauty that you are, his heart was beating so fast. “Toji?” You interrupt his thoughts. “Hmm?” He hums, forgetting what he even was in here for. You take this as your opportunity to question him, “do you love me?” You ask, no hesitation. “Yeah I do.” He answers, looking at you through the mirror. “Why?” You continue to ask— “You are just you.” He says, clearing his throat. “Why do you want to marry me?” You ask this question with a shaky voice. “Because I don’t want to ever love anyone else but you.” He says, finally he can no longer hold himself back. He spins you to him, and pushes his lips onto yours, grabbing you by your waist, pulling you in. He swipes your bottom lip with his tongue, wanting to ask for permission to go deeper, you oblige. It’s almost as if you both were eating each other alive, the way you both deepened your passion, your lips, so much so, that you both were swallowing each other’s breath. You both pull away catching your breaths. In a swift movement, he’s is picking you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He is attaching his lips onto yours again.

“Fuck I love you.” He’s groaning, you felt yourself heating up, your womanhood tingling. “T-Toji?” You are breathing heavy, trying to catch your breath. “Y-yeah?” He questions, catching his breath as well. “Can you show me that you love me?” You whisper into his ear.

You had never been this bold, you knew where this was going, you knew that you couldn’t not love this man, the man who ordered hundreds of thousands of people to be slaughtered, so he could have power in this nation. You knew why he did it, you even understood, but it didn’t change the fact that it was wrong. Yet you couldn’t control how you felt, this was a man you had loved from the moment boys caught your eyes. You were 12, and had just started your period for the first time, that’s when you met Toji, and you swore he was the most beautiful creature you had ever seen. You were just a child, yet you blushed when he would pat your head and ask you how was school? Or when you were 15 and he took you to your school dance because no one asked you to go with them. Or when you were 17, and you were at his apartment while he was looking over files for a case he had in a couple of weeks. While you did your homework beside him, it was days like that where you would sit there after you had finished, and watched as he bit the inside of his cheek, or bit off the skin of his lips, so focused that he didn’t notice the hole on his face that had burned through from your eyes staring so intently. You had loved this man from the moment you saw him, he was your first love, and at this very moment, he was your first everything. You couldn’t push him away anymore, he was all you wanted, even if they meant wanting a man who when he dies, he would be in the underworld, becoming a demon. At least that was your beliefs.

“It’s okay to touch you?” He asks, staring into your eyes as he’s hovering over you. For such a big, aggressive, rough man— he was so gentle with you. “Yes. Make love to me Toji.” You say, kissing his jawline. He didn’t say anything, he smiled, and started sucking on your neck, leaving his love marks as a reminder of who you now belong to. He lifted you up, pulling the night gown that you have only had on for 10 minutes, right off of you. He began sucking down your neck to your breast, sucking your nipples, teasing the other one with his hands. “T-Toji.” You groan, trying to pull away. “Hmm? You ok?” He says looking up, still sucking on your nipple. “There’s not much there, th-that can’t possibly be something you like.” you moan out— “They are perfect to me, will you let me continue showing you my love?” He says as he lightly bites at your nipple. “Agh— y-yes.” You moan out, after a minute he starts licking down your chest to your stomach, feeling all your curves, he started lighting groping and pawing your stomach. He loved the excess skin, and the little belly you had started to get because he was feeding you well. He finally got to where you needed him the most.

“Toji- just put it in. I haven’t shaved.” You say covered yourself with your hands down there. “Mm no, I much prefer it like that.” He says as he rubs the little hairs on your womanhood. “Leave your fingers all you want, I’m tasting you.” He says, spreading your legs, and sticking his tongue in between your fingers, tasting your wetness. “Agh- To-jiii.” You moan out, throwing your hands up in defeat. He smirks, diving in deeper, sucking and licking every spot, wanting to know your taste, which he quickly got addicted. He muttered how sweet you tasted, as he pushed his tongue into your tight virgin hole, while his thumb lightly circled your clit. You felt the pit of your stomach tighten. You had never touched yourself or been touched so this new found feeling was strange. “T-Toji, stop stop stop.” You say pulling his hair, trying to pull him off. There was no budging, he was quickening his pace, knowing that your release was coming quickly. “Toji, oh my god! Pl-please stop. I’m gonna pee.” You’re inhaling air, feeling like you’re about to burst. “Mmm.” He moans into your cunt, sticking his tongue into your hole that he had stretched as much as he could, he was rubbing your clit at an ungodly pace, so fast but lightly pressing on it. It had sent shivers all around your body, you were shaking and almost convulsing in pleasure, bucking your hips without realizing it, and you snapped, you not only had your creamy juices leaking from your hole, but you had squirted all over his face. Throwing your head back, moaning loudly, almost as a yelp. “T-TOJI, I- AGH, I CANT.” The noises from your mouth were vulgar, erotic, disgusting. And Toji was loving every second of it. He was bathing in your juices, licking you from your hole, to your clit. Causing you to shake as you came down from your orgasm.

“Toji-to- I’m so sorry.” You cry out, he sees the tears coming down your cheeks. “Why are you sorry?” He questions, coming up to your face, planting soft kisses on your lips. “I pissed all over your face!” You cry out, “Baby doll, you didn’t piss. That’s natural, you squirted baby. Did it feel really good?” He says, kissing your cheek where your tears were going down. “It felt so-so good.” You moan out, as he’s slipping a finger into your drenched hole. “Good, I want my baby to feel good.” He says, thrusting his finger slowly into your heat. Stretching you out, causing a whimper to escape your lips.

“Hey doll?” He half questions, “mmhmm?” You moan. “I’m gonna put it in, but it’s gonna hurt. I need you to hold onto me, and just bear with me, aight?” He says, as he pulls down his shorts.

His throbbing cock had already had pre-cum dripping.