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redpoodlern · 3 months
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Every day, all the time @lexondeck
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redpoodlern · 6 months
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♥️♥️♥️
Sooo good! @lexondeck
You Send Me - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Reader
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Tagging:  @crazy4chickennuggets  @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @anime-weeb-4-life @chaoticqueenie98 @fanfic-n-tabulous @wakeama @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @kishie8 @msjava1972 @thelonewolfwillsurvive @thanossexual @nu1freakshow @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @jtelford @the-wandering-lunatic @darqchilddaydreamz @ankhmutes @goblinenby @just-a-girl-who-wrytes @lexondeck @adaydreamaway08 @keyweegirlie @poppyrose33 @belovedbastardremus @crimeshowjunkie @theeyesofthestag @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @ambassadortotrilliusprime @yvette22 @legally-a-bastard @thequeenoftheisleofavalon @joyfulfxckery @justreblogginfics
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Chibs doesn’t plan to attend the charity event at City Hall, at least not initially. However, it’s been a busy couple of months, with Galen’s death and the club’s transition out of the gun game, the fact you orchestrated it without any casualties…
It’s just another example of you going above and beyond for the club. Your intervention prevented a war, one that would have ended with bloodshed on both sides. He knows what it cost you to make that deal. He knows the victory is bittersweet. It’s another reason that he loves you, like him you make the hard decisions, the ones that benefit everybody.
The two of you are a power couple, Bobby had remarked last night, but it’s always on your terms.
Chibs hadn’t realised that until the other man mentioned it. He’s right, of course, he always is. You’ve been there for the club and for him, so now it’s his turn to be there for you.
He turns a few heads as he walks through the foyer. He cleans up well, he knows he wears the fuck out of this tuxedo, his beard is neatly trimmed, and his hair slicked back. That’s not the reason they’re looking at him though. He knows he has a reputation. Never in a million years, does he belong here with these people, but you do and that’s why he’s here tonight.
He didn’t get to see you before he left, he’d been tied up in Stockton but when he lays eyes on you right now, he can’t help but remember why he first fell in love with you.
You’re a fucking vision.
You’re wearing a nude-coloured dress that hugs your curves, the sleeves beaded with silver crystals that fall across your bicep, your hair is coiffed like a movie star from the fifties. You’re holding court like a queen, a glass of champagne in your hand as you discuss one of your cases. You’re in your element, your expression animated as you engage the three older men. He can tell the one on the left is attracted to you, it’s in the way he lingers in your proximity. When the other two drift back to the bar, he leans in close as he says something to you, and you give him a look that could freeze the devil in the very depths of hell.
It’s then that Chibs feels the urge to intervene, he knows how much you hate people in your personal space, it’s worse now since Galen and the fact the other man is crossing that boundary… It ignites something violent inside of him. He has no doubt that you can handle yourself but that protective instinct, it surges through every single one of his nerve endings. He strides towards you with purpose, his palm coming to rest on your lower back as his lips brush lightly over your temple.
“I’m sorry I’m late love.” He says in his thick Scottish lilt before he meets the other man’s gaze with ire.
His demeanour changes instantly. His eyes stray to the scars embedded in Chib’s skin before he swallows hard. He knows who he is, everyone here does. He may not be wearing his kutte or have his tattoos on display, but they know. You don’t keep your relationship a secret.
“My partner, Filip Telford.” You introduce him.
Chibs narrows his eyes just a little and the other man retreats, tugging at his bowtie as he disappears towards the bar.
“And thank you for scaring off that asshole.” You say, tilting your head up towards him.
That fucking smile. It gets him every time.
It’s like seeing the sun blossom over the horizon for the very first time. His thumb chases over the blush of your cheek, his lips brushing over yours. The kiss is heated and soft, filled with a tenderness that he reserves only for you.
“I know I haven’t been much of a partner recently; I’m trying to work on that.” He says gruffly as his forehead comes to rest upon yours.  
“I know how it is.” You tell him, your fingertips trailing along the back of his neck as he holds you close. “You’ve been managing a very volatile situation.”
The two of you are at the edge of the dance floor. The music shifts into Sam Cook’s ‘You Send Me’ and you find yourself swaying in time with it. It feels like you’re the only two people in the world right now, this moment, the sensation of being with Filip, it’s perfect.
“You’re the most important thing in the world to me love.” He tells you, his voice rough with emotion. “Don’t you ever doubt that.”
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redpoodlern · 7 months
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Beautiful 😍 @bullet-prooflove
Two Halves - Neron 'Creeper' Vargas x Reader
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Tagging: @est1887 @anime-weeb-4-life @creativitybeware @mortal--soul @spaghettificationandpretzels @creativitybeware @corruptedcoffin @redpoodlern @oureternalbond  @rubes2323 @lexondeck @librarian1002 @thanossexual @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @perverteddreamss @adaydreamaway08
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There is not a thing that Neron doesn’t love about you. He loves seeing you in his bed, laid out like a fucking dream, a patchwork of scars and tattoos that tell the story of your life. He takes his time to explore them, memorise them with his fingertips and tongue. He learns what makes your breath hitch, what makes you laugh, when to go harder, faster and when to slow it down.
He loves early mornings, hearing you bang around his kitchen trying to find shit. He loves the way you always greet him with a smile, that you are always happy to see him even when you’re distracted.
He loves the way you draw roses, and daisies and sunflowers when you're thinking, doodling different variations of the flowers over and over again until find a solution to the problem you’ve been tackling in your head. He collects each of the napkins you draw on and puts them away in a shoebox at the top of the wardrobe where he keeps his precious things. When you’re not around and he’s feels the darkness starting to creep in, he gets them out and he looks at them, tracing his fingers over each of the designs because they're beautiful and sometimes he needs a reminder that there’s light in the world.
He loves the fact you sing in the shower despite the fact you’re terrible. You’re bold and loud and have no fucking shame and he adores it. You laugh when he joins in, his arms wrapping around your naked form as the heated water rains down on the two of you. After a few minutes the singing usually stops because you’re both too pre-occupied with other things.
He loves the way you hold him at night, his head tucked under you chin so he can hear your heartbeat in your chest. It’s a comforting sound in the depths of the darkness, the press of your bare skin against his as you kiss the top of his head. Sometimes you tell him that you’re terrified this is all a dream, that one morning you’ll wake up to find yourself alone. He kisses away those doubts, his thumb ghosting over the line of your jaw as he reassures you that he’s real, that what the two of you have is everything to him and he’s never going to vanish from your side.
He loves the fact you don’t judge him for his mistakes, the past or the present. He doesn’t want to scare you off, to burst this perfect bubble that the two of you have created. It’s impossible you tell him, to get everything right the first time. You’re both human, you’re both learning to love again, so long as you're open with each other and honest you’ll work through it. He finds being with you surprisingly easy. He was on his own for a long time, his only intimacies transactional, to find someone that actually cares for him and not what they can get from him is a blessing.
You fit into his life as if you were always meant to be there. He enjoys cooking for you while you draw up designs for your customers on the kitchen table. He loves the expression on your face as you focus on the flow of the design, the flourish of it. Your brows furrow when you concentrate, you pout just a little when things get tricky and it is the cutest fucking thing.
He calls you Nena.
It means babe, the only term of endearment he knows with his mix of Spanglish.
He loves the way you eat ice cream on the couch, spoon pressed against your lips as the two of you curl up under a blanket and watch ‘Escape to the Chateau’. He does not understand how it became his favourite show, only that he loves how fucking judgemental you get when someone starts to try preserving antique glass by bashing the frame around it with a hammer.
He loves the way you give without an expectation of return. To him, your business, to the kids at the community centre. Sometimes he worries you’ll have nothing left for yourself. He tries to speak to you about it, about overstretching yourself but there’s no stopping you. You’re a force of nature, a relentless storm trying to do everything you can to ease the burden of those around you.
When it all gets too much he’s there, a port in the middle of a restless ocean because you are only one woman, and you can only do so much. The thing about Neron is he grounds you; he keeps you on your feet when the realities of the world are too harsh to deal with, he never says ‘I told you so’. He’s always there, holding you up, supporting you and despite how fiercely independent you are, you need it. You need him. You’re cut from the same cloth you and him, two halves of the same soul.
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redpoodlern · 7 months
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Again with the emotion 😢 it’s just so good and so sad. @bullet-prooflove
You’ve created a monster 👿 and because you told me to request you best believe I’m gonna %1000 come thru! So BETCH I am on my knees begging you to please do a part 2 or better yet even a full update 😆 of your Nero/Cam girl series please! I would love her reaction to him confessing his feelings for her and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WOMAN PLEASE GIVE US THE SMUT WE DESERVE FINALLY!!! You are literally torturing me with these two because every time I read an update you post of them Im left yelling in frustration because the sexual tension is legit torture when you leave us with just a tease of them!!!
So please put me out of my misery and don’t let me endure another moment of torture because I just might break
💛💛💛
Keep up the awesomeness and can’t wait for your next update Queen
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Companion piece to Day Off
This did not go the way I planned...
“I love you.” He tells you. “I’ve loved you since the moment we met.”
You don’t believe him; Nero can see it in your expression. You turn your head back towards the sky, your fingertips slipping from his so that your palm comes to rest upon your stomach. There’s a tension in your shoulders that resonates through your entire body.
“Is that what you say to all the other girls?” You ask him, your voice a rasp as you stare up at the clouds. “Is that why they sell themselves for you?”
“What?” He spits the word out like a curse because never in a million years did, he expect this from you.
There’s an agony blossoming in his chest, and he tries to shut it down, to be rational but truly you’ve shaken him. He can’t understand how he could have been so wrong about a person.
“I know when I’m being played Nero.” You say quietly, toying with the silver rings on your fingers. “I know what it means when a man says that he loves you, I know what’s expected in return.”
“That’s not what…” He trails off, his lips clamping together as he forces himself up into a sitting position, his elbows coming to rest on his knees as he inclines his head towards you. “You’re fucked up you know that?”
You lay there still sprawled on the grass; your arm thrown up over your head like in one of your boudoir shots on the website.
So fucking tempting and so fucking infuriating all at the same time.
“Do you think I’d be doing this job otherwise?” You ask him as you flick your sunglasses down from their place on the top of your head so that they cover your eyes. “Do you think I’d be selling myself if I was ‘normal’?”
Something happened to you, he feels it in his bones. Someone turned you out and once that happens you can never go back. You re-live the ways you’ve been used even when you step away from the life, it carves itself into your psyche. This he realises must be the compromise. The camming.
You don’t hook anymore, but you sell yourself in a different way and it erodes at your soul little by little until there’s nothing left but an emptiness right where it used to be. He thinks that’s what he’s looking at right now, that vastness. Someone reached into the depths of your spirit, and they tore it to pieces. He sees exactly who you are, and he loves you for it, the problem is your experiences have always been transactional, no matter what he says you’ll never believe him.
“I can’t do this anymore.” He tells you with a sigh. “It’s too much. I can’t be around you.”
There’s no way to win, he understands that now. In your mind, he will always be a pimp and you will always be a whore, trying to claw your way out from underneath him, even if it wasn’t him that put you there in the first place.
“Alright.” You say, your voice devoid of emotion. “I’ll get myself out of Diosa tomorrow.”
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redpoodlern · 7 months
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♥️♥️
@lexondeck 👀
@bullet-prooflove this is soooo good. I adore. I can FEEL their love for each other and even the club. 😍
Matriarch - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Reader
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Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @kishie8 @thelonewolfwillsurvive @thanossexual @nu1freakshow @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @jtelford @the-wandering-lunatic @darqchilddaydreamz @yourwinchesterbros @lexondeck @keyweegirlie @poppyrose33 @belovedbastardremus @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @ambassadortotrilliusprime @yvette22 @legally-a-bastard @thequeenoftheisleofavalon @joyfulfxckery @justreblogginfics
Companion piece to Punishment & Silver & Gold
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You’re sitting at your desk, smoking a cigarette when Chibs enters your office. You look at the clock on the wall and realise it’s gone past midnight, you’re not sure when that happened. Time’s been fluid since you watched the light die in Galen’s eyes. You remember something similar happening when you’d killed your ex-husband.
He looks down at the body on your floor and you see the way his jaw tightens, the muscles in his shoulders tensing. It’s his job to keep you safe but you’ve managed to do that all by yourself. He’s old fashioned sometimes with his thinking, he has no illusions about being a white knight, but he hates the fact you’ve been forced to take action.
“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer scumbag.” He spits on the corpse before turning to face you. His eyes come to rest on the gun that sits in the space between the two of you, the one he had given you just in case. He had never dreamed that you would need to use it.
You offer him a cigarette from the cardboard carton on your desk and he removes one before using the gold Zippo to light it. He takes a drag before leaning against the wall, his gaze straying to the blood pool underneath Galen.
“You’re going to need a new carpet love.” He tells you. “There isn’t enough bleach in the world to get that up.”
Realistically it would be simpler to burn down the entire office, eradicate the evidence but that would bring the police calling and he thinks they probably hate you as much as they despise the club. It was the downside to being good at your job.
“The place needs refurbishing anyway.” You remark, tapping the ash from your cigarette into a silver ashtray. “I don’t think it will take Allie much convincing, she’s been wanting to change things up for a while.”
“I can get Juice and some of the guys on it, get rid of the body and the carpet but…” He trails off and you know that the ‘but’ is. It means that news of Galen’s death, the manner of it, spreads around the M.C like wildfire. Nobody would believe that Chibs had done this, it’s too personal.
“They need to see that I take care of my shit.” You state, blowing a stream of smoke out of your mouth and watching it evaporate into the air. “That I’m still taking care of their shit.”
Secrets is what it all came down to.
The Club’s secrets.
Galen had wanted to pluck each and every one of them out of your head and twist them to leverage his position with the M.C. Not a single one had passed you’re lips during your time together. He respected that, he’d told you, your loyalty. You couldn’t buy that shit, it was born out of love.
You weren’t sure when that had happened.
There were moments though, ones that stuck in your mind.
The look in Tig’s eyes when he told you about his girl, how proud he was of her whilst the two of you hammered out his investment into Cara Cara. The enquiry he’d made about making sure she received his share of the business in the event of his passing. He’d worried about that, you remember, making sure that she was taken care of, along with the two daughters he barely saw.
The taste of Bobby’s banana bread as he told you that his kid was better off not knowing him, that he had always been bad news, which was why he was on his third divorce. You knew a thing or two about making bad choices, you’d reminded him. He wouldn’t always be unlucky in love, especially not when he baked like that. His smile had warmed your heart.
Tara’s guardianship and adoption of the Able after you’d helped facilitate her marriage to Jax. You’d been invited to both the wedding and the subsequent adoption party. You remembered standing in the kitchen, talking to Juice about his weed shop when Jax had passed you baby Thomas for a minute because he’d had his hands full with Able. You think that was the moment it dawned on you how much trust they had in you, that they’d come to see you as one of them.
All of these things they weren’t just legal affairs; they were snippets of people’s lives. Important pieces that meant something deep to each and every one of them.
Strung up in that barn you had known that you could never let Galen have that. To him the M.C was a device to be wielded, a tool to build up his side business but to you they’d become a part of your life.
It would have been easy to relent. To divulge how the M.C were diversifying, making more money with legit businesses like porn and escorts than they ever had with gun running, which was why they were starting to pull out of the trade but the damage of revealing something like that…
It would have been catastrophic.
Noone would have blamed you, Tig had told you in the aftermath when he was helping Tara see to your wounds.
I would have, you’d responded.
You’re distracted as Chibs removes his phone from his pocket. You see him hesitate, his thumb hovering over the buttons before he looks at you helplessly.
“This will bind you to them.” He tells you, tilting his head towards Galen’s corpse. “After this there’s no going back, they’ll start looking to you. You’ll go from their lawyer to their matriarch.”
You understand what he’s saying, you’ve protected them once, allowing Galen to take his pound of flesh. This thing that you’ve done will reinforce the action, you’ve taken care of something that was very much a Club problem. Before his presidency, before killing Galen, you could have been viewed as collateral damage, an affiliate of the Club who been caught up in their mess but now…
You know how this looks. That they’ll see it as you defending them.
“Right now, you can walk away from me, from the club…” he trails off when he sees the look in your eyes. The glint of steel underneath all of that silk. “That was never going to happen was it?”
You shake your head.
“I didn’t want this for you.” He tells you honestly. “When I kissed you that night at my kitchen table, I had no idea we’d end up here.”
You know what he means. Him with the presidency, you standing along side of him, a part of the Club’s bloody history. Nobody could have foreseen this, the course of circumstances that has led you to this moment.
“Maybe it was always meant to happen.” You tell him stubbing out your cigarette before casting a glance at Galen’s corpse. “This feels like the beginning of a joke. What do you do with a dead Irish Man?”
He laughs, he can’t help it because it does. He feels that pressure in his chest relinquish as the edges of your mouth tip up into a smile. Anyone else would be horrified by what had happened here tonight but you’re anything but. He senses the relief in you, you’ve slayed another of your monsters, you can sleep easy knowing that Galen can never touch you again.
“I love you.” He finds himself saying.
He means it. He always has.  He’s just never been able to vocalise it until this moment. He’s never doubted your commitment to him, but accepting the Club, that’s always been at the heart of his reluctance. You don’t shy away from the life he leads; you embrace it. You understand that it’s part of him and now it’s a part of you too. It may not be what he envisioned but it’s the future the two of you are stepping into and he treasures it with every fibre of his being.
“I know.” You tell him, clasping his hand. “I’ve always known Filip.”
Love Chibs? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
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redpoodlern · 7 months
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🙌🏻
Yesssss, I’m here for this strong Queen
Queen - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Reader
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Tagging: @corruptedcoffin @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @kishie8 @thelonewolfwillsurvive @thanossexual @nu1freakshow @oureternalbond @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @jtelford @the-wandering-lunatic @darqchilddaydreamz @yourwinchesterbros @lexondeck @keyweegirlie @poppyrose33 @belovedbastardremus @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @ambassadortotrilliusprime @yvette22 @legally-a-bastard @thequeenoftheisleofavalon @joyfulfxckery @waysbsgr @thanossexual @justreblogginfics
Companion piece to Punishment and Silver & Gold
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You’re working late when it happens.
The building has been empty for hours, Liza your receptionist had popped her head in to say goodbye somewhere around six and after that you’d lost track of the time, caught up in the scribble of your pen on the yellow legal pad and the crescendo of Bach playing on your speakers. There’s a glass of Highland Scotch, from the distillery Filip had invested in back in Scotland, placed neatly beside your cell phone.
When the door to your office opens you think it’s Filip, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s turned up to bring you home because you’ve gotten caught up in something.
You don’t expect to see Galen.
The Butcher of Belfast closes the door quietly behind him before coming to stand in front of your desk. There’s a moment where you don’t move, you can’t. You can feel your heart palpitate against your ribcage, the scars on your back scratching against the fabric of your silk shirt. He tips his head slightly to one side before the left corner of his mouth twists up into a smile.
It takes you right back to that moment, the one where his hand threaded in your hair, gripping it and yanking your head right back so that you were staring into those malevolent eyes of his. You thought you knew fear up until that point, you’d endured a man who’d beat you because of your success. You’d slayed your monster. Galen had proved you wrong, he’d taken you to new heights, you hadn’t tasted terror not until you’d met him.
“What do you want?” Somehow you spit out the words, you can taste the vitriol on your tongue.
There’s a rage somewhere deep down inside of you that fucking burns. It’s violent, the fire that licks up your bones, you can feel it flooding through you as your hand comes to rest upon the top desk drawer. He takes a step forward and you hold your palm up as if to ward him off.
“Don’t…”
“Come on lass, you know that word doesn’t mean anything to me.”  He reminds you as he places both hands upon the surface of your desk and leans in close. You can smell his aftershave and it makes your stomach twist because you remember the way it clung to your skin in the aftermath.
It’s almost intimate the way he holds your gaze. He’s seen parts of you that no one else has, not even Filip, and you’ve seen the depths in him. The joy he takes in extracting what he wants, the pleasure he feels during the act itself. There’s a bond between the two of you that no one in the world can understand except each other and you know that’s why he’s here tonight. You didn’t break in the barn. That presents a challenge and to a man like Galen, it’s like ringing Pavlov’s bell.
“The last time I had you I took exactly what I wanted.” He reminds you in a hushed tone. “I told you that I would keep doing it again and again and again and you would know every time that your man can’t protect you. That he’s nothing but a pawn on a chessboard and I’m a King.” His hand wraps around the glass of Scotch before he brings it to his lips. “Pawns can’t kill a king.”
“They can’t.” You agree, sliding open your desk drawer. “But a Queen can.”
The gun roars to life in your hand, the recoil vibrating through your arm as the first bullet strikes Galen in the chest. The glass slips from his hand, Scotch spilling over the front of his shirt as he stares at you in surprise. You fire a second time and his back hits the wall, his knees buckling from underneath him. You raise to your feet as he slides down it slowly, tsking as you shake your head.
“You underestimated me.” You tell him as you crouch down beside him and review your handiwork. Crimson stains grow across the white of his expensive shirt, his breathing is laboured and ragged, you can hear the catch in every breath, and you savour it. “You thought I would break but everything you did to me just put this fucking fire, right here in my chest.” You tap your finger against the space where your heart beats. “And the only thing that is going to sate that is watching the light die in your eyes, knowing that it was me that did this to you, the woman you spent hours torturing in a shitty broken-down barn in the middle of nowhere.”
“I should have killed you!” He snarls, blood staining his teeth as he bares them at you.
His pallor is already turning ashen, his skin taking on a waxy sheen. The stench of copper is in the air, you can taste it in your mouth as you survey the blood pool steadily growing underneath him.
“Your second mistake was leaving me alive to teach the man I love a lesson. I never told him what you did.” You say shaking your head. “I didn’t want that for him. He has enough to live with. I have to shoulder that burden, but I trust me it sits a lot fucking lighter knowing that you’ll never touch another woman again.”
You lower the gun, aiming it at his groin. His eyes widen and for a fraction of a second you think you see terror.
“You don’t have the balls…”
You pull the trigger, and he screams. It’s a hoarse sound, a strained bellow of agony that vibrates through his chest. You clap your palm over his mouth, stifling the noise, the same way he did to you when he fucked you.
“This is how it ends.” You tell him. “You and me in this room.  A Queen and a cockless fucking King.”
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redpoodlern · 7 months
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Ohhhhh crazy Jarry time 😬 🧡🧡
@lexondeck
Hi! How are you? I'd like to ask Taylor's prompt #83 "For you, I would ruin myself" with Chibs Telford, please. Thank you very much! Have a wonderful day! 💜
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When Jarry turns up at your house and asks you where Filip was last night, the first thing you say is that he was you. When she asks why he needed a lawyer at 11pm at night you give her a look and that's when she realises that the two of you are in a relationship.
You see the way her demeanour changes, the subtle shift in body language. You were merely the enemy before the encounter, now she looks at you like you're the God damn devil.
"All night?" She asks and you can tell that's it's more for her own benefit than for the report.
"Until 8am." You tell her and she looks at you like you've hit her.
It's only in the aftermath when you think about it that you realise that Filip probably never stayed overnight when they were together.
It was toxic, he had told you.
Now as she stands before you, you can see it. There's a possessiveness in this woman, she likes to own her lovers.
"Bad things happen around men like him." She remarks, tapping her pen on her notepad and you tilt your head to one side.
"Bad things happen all the time." You remind her. "It doesn't mean he's to blame."
"Do you know where he is right now?"
You shrug your shoulders.
"At work I imagine."
There's a flash of something behind her eyes, you know what crazy looks like, you've dealt with it often enough.
You watch as she turns her back on you and climbs back into her squad car. There's dread clawing at the pit of your stomach, it shreds through your insides like glass. It's so acute that you pick up the phone and call Teller Morrow.
Tig picks up the phone and you explain the situation.
"She's just pulled up." He murmurs."I gotta go."
The line goes dead and you know you've set something in motion, something that even you couldn't have predicted.
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redpoodlern · 8 months
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♥️♥️
@lexondeck
Hey 🖤😌 I love your writing, and I saw requests were open! I scrolled for a prompt list and love this one from a list you reblogged:
8. "I can't sleep without you here."
Is there anyways I can request that with Chibs? (That man owns me 😂)
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Chibs tells you as you lay across from each other wrapped in his navy sheets. His thumb chases over the blush of your cheek as he stares into your eyes. Your lips brush across his pulse point and he inhales suddenly at the intimacy of the sensation.
"I'm not moving in with you Filip." You tell him pointedly. "You don't have enough space."
"Aye lass, I know." He whispers, his nose trailing along yours until he reaches your lips.
"You could move in with me..." You suggest, clasping his wrist as you meet his gaze. "We could make a home out of my place."
"Do you mean it?" He asks you, his lips brushing over yours.
"You can have the garage, set up a little workshop." You murmur in between kisses. "Maybe host poker nights with the guys when I'm out of town so you don't get so lonely."
"Aye, I'd like that." He tells you with a smile, his fingertips tracing small Celtic patterns across your skin.
You give him that look, that sinful little smile of yours before your fingers thread in his hair and you draw him close.
"Why don't you show me how much?"
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redpoodlern · 8 months
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🥰🥰
I just wanna give him hugs
Hey! Was wondering if you could do "you've been trying to deal with this yourself?" with Neron or Nestor?
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You ask Neron as you pick up the glass vial of crack rocks between two fingers and tip it from side to side, you watch as the white chunks clack against each other before setting it back down on the table.
“I need you to take it.” He tells you, his voice hoarse as both his palms come to rest upon the table. “I can’t have it around me.”
You get it, you really do. You can’t be around that booze in any shape or form, as soon as the smell hits you get that craving, you can practically taste the bourbon on your tongue. That’s why you don’t go to bars anymore, why you don’t attend parties when you’re invited. Mateo had brought this into his brother’s house, left it in plain sight. To tempt Neron you think.
He’d underestimated how strong his brother was, how far he’d come since his last stint in rehab.
You pick up the vial and deposit it in your purse.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Neron breathes a sigh of relief before slumping back onto the couch, his palms running over the rough denim of his jeans. You watch as his fingers curl, grasping at the fabric.
“I need to go to a meeting.” He tells you, his dark eyes meeting yours.
He knows that he can be honest with you, that you’ll never judge him when he shows a moment of vulnerability. You pick up your car keys before raising to your feet.
“Let me take you.”
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redpoodlern · 8 months
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i feel like if more people understood that justified: city primeval wasn't justified, that it's not trying to be justified and instead is it's own show, one based off a book (which it is following pretty closely) and that this is supposed to be raylan 15 years after justified and that he's obviously not going to be the exact same person he was; a lot of these takes just wouldn't be happening because they would get why the show and the writing is like this.
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redpoodlern · 8 months
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@frattsparty
♥️♥️
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They may not be teenagers… 🌊 (sea turtles live to be 50+ years old) 
They’re definitely not mutants… 🐢 (they’ve existed for over 100 million years, mostly unchanged)
They don’t even eat pizza… 🍕🍕 (depending on the species, seagrass, jellies, squid, or sponges are more likely to be on their menu)
But these heroes in a half shell have some serious turtle power! 🐢 💪In fact, sea turtles are critical to maintaining the health of the seagrass beds and coral reefs where they live. 
When green sea turtles graze on seagrass, they increase the productivity and nutrient density of the blades. Similarly, by munching on sponges, hawksbill turtles provide space on reefs for corals to grow.
We think that’s pretty turtle-rific!
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redpoodlern · 8 months
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😂😂
@lexondeck
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redpoodlern · 8 months
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@lexondeck
One of my favorite scenes 😍😍
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Justified: City Primeval • 1x04 Kokomo
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redpoodlern · 8 months
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So good. I know I’m a broken record but I love how you get into Tig’s head. And you didn’t even really but you did here. This is just so perfectly him. So good @bullet-prooflove
♥️♥️
@lexondeck
Weak: Alexander 'Tig' Trager x Reader (feat: Clay Morrow)
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Tagging: @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @mortal--soul @yourwinchesterbros @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @nessamc @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @nu1freakshow @@oureternalbond  @the-wandering-lunatic @lexondeck @keyweegirlie @theplacewhereallthedemonsgo @poppyrose33 @belovedbastardremus @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @spngingerbread21 @@the-person-in-the-circle @thanossexual
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It’s the vote over Cara Cara that makes Clay realise that you’re a threat. It’s the first time in years that Tig has voted in the opposite direction to him, and it makes Clay stand up and take notice.
He knows that Tig has been fucking you, he hasn’t taken much interest in it, he never does when it comes to Tig’s conquests. His Tiggy is a magpie, he sees something shiny, he taps it and then moves on to the next thing. He’s not the type to get pussy whipped, he’s dependable that way. That is, until he isn’t.
Clay starts to look into you after that. He thinks you must be some premium fucking pussy to keep Tig on the hook. However, the more he discovers the more he doesn’t get it, because you are just so normal. You aren’t a porn actress like he originally thought, you don’t have a great ass or huge tits. You aren’t even much to look at.
It’s only when he sees the two of you interacting that something clicks in his brain. When Tig kisses you, it’s soft, his thumb caressing the blush of your cheek, those rings of his contrasting against your skin. There’s a tenderness in it and Clay fucking hates it. His Sergeant at Arms is a rabid dog on a leash, when he lets him off, he expects him to go feral.
Clay decides to fuck it up.
He wants to break the hold you have on his Sergeant in Arms. He wants the other man violent, reckless, untamed. He needs the other man at his worst. The more blood thirsty the better.
He picks a night when he knows Tig’s going to be at the clubhouse and he stages a little private party. He picks a couple girls, ones that are just Tig’s type and he pays them to do whatever the fuck the other man wants. In his heart he knows that Tig’s still the same deprived son of a bitch he’s always been.
When the blonde climbs in his lap, Tig isn’t having any of it. Six months ago, he would have given her the ride of her life, he would have fucked her until she didn’t know which was up, instead he simply leaves.
Clay feels like he doesn’t even know the other man anymore.
It’s clear you’re a bigger influence than Clay realised. Tig’s become a different person since he’s taken up with you and Clay can’t have that. He needs him unhinged; he needs him loyal. He needs to destroy the other man so badly that there’s no coming back from the darkness.
In short, Clay needs to get rid of you and he realises that Amir Ghazeni is the solution to the problem because the disappearance of both his brothers ties directly back to you.  
Clay remembers that visit up to Stockton four years ago, the one where Otto had asked him to get rid of a 22. and a shiny new red convertible registered to Omar Ghazeni. Nothing, related to the club, he’d assured him. One of Luann’s girls had had a problem with a Persian and taken care of it herself, Clay didn’t have to worry about the body but the car, it was distinctive. In exchange Otto had done a couple of favours for him, that had added a few more years to his sentence. Luann loved that girl like a daughter, and Otto would do anything for Luann. It’s not a leap to guess that that girl is you.
Clay has no doubt that Tig killed Kia. Jax had tasked him with cutting him loose after all that drama at the torture porn studio and he guessed that Kia must have said something Tig didn’t agree with because the next thing they know, the club are getting questioned about the younger Ghazeni’s fire engine red jacket floating in the docks.
He tries to confirm a couple of details with Otto but the other man is tight lipped. He thinks that maybe Luann wasn’t the only one, who saw you as more than just an employee. He discovers that you’ve been putting money in Otto’s commissary since Luann had been killed, and that you’ve been visiting him in prison as often as you can.
He meets with the remaining Ghazeni in secret. He keeps Tig out of it. After all he doesn’t want Amir coming after the club, just you. The terms are this, Amir can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, Clay doesn’t give a shit about the details, so long as your body ends up on Tig’s doorstep. That’s all he asks.
It goes wrong from the very fucking beginning because Clay doesn’t count on three things, the fact you carry a 9 Mil., that Tig has been teaching you how to shoot and that Jax is with you at the time.  
When the Persians try to snatch you up, you’re finishing up a meeting with Nero Padilla about expanding into the escort business. Clay’s made sure that Tig is as far away as possible, he has him up in Bakersfield, checking in with Packer about a nasty spot of business regarding some ex-cult members. What he didn’t factor in was Jax attending the meeting on behalf of the club, because Jax didn’t tell him. He’d kept his cards close to his chest because he didn’t know how viable to deal would be.
It ends up with three dead Persians, one of which Jax recognises from the torture studio leading them straight back to Amir Ghazeni. The whole fucking story plays out around the table that evening, when Tig, for the first time in his life comes clean about the whole fucking thing. He tells his brothers about what happened to you, about Omar’s death when he came for you a second time, about the video and how he lost his fucking shit when Kia rubbed his face in it.
Strip me of my rank, he tells them, take my kutte, but don’t tell me that any one of you wouldn’t have done the same thing if it was someone you loved.
In the end Tig loses his position but keeps the kutte because there isn’t a soul in the room other than Clay that can begrudge his actions. Of course, the story endears you to them even more. Prior to this you were just a business partner and the girl that they knew Tig was fucking.
Now he’s telling everyone you’re his old lady, that he’s killed for you. It makes you part of the family and just like that you have the protection of the club.
It infuriates Clay but he’s sure that none of this shit can lead back to him because they’ve already found Amir Ghazeni on his yacht with a bullet in his head.
Clay doesn’t realise that they’ve taken a vote until two days later. He’s done a lot of dirty shit up until this point, the waters are so muddied that even he can’t tell what’s in the name of the club or for himself.
When he comes to table that night, he sees Jax sitting in his seat at the head of it, the gavel grasped firmly in his hand. He recognises the hardened expressions on each of his brothers faces as they march in, one after the other.  
It’s Tig he looks to, the one he’s always been able to turn to in his time of need. There’s murder in those vivid blue eyes of his, he runs his tongue along his bottom lip as if he can already taste Clay’s blood in his mouth because he knows what he’s done, what he tried to do.
It’s Otto that blew him up. Otto that heard about what almost happened to you and put the pieces of his last conversation with Clay together. Otto, who summoned Tig and Jax to Stockton.
They find the recording on Amir’s yacht, the one that the Persian had made of the conversation between the two of them. Bobby thinks he was planning to use it as leverage in case the rest of the MC ever found out it was him that had taken you. The worst part Jax tells him is that he knew what Amir would do to you, that he looked at your history and decided to play it out all over again, that he told Amir to leave your body on another brother’s doorstep.
There isn’t a person in the room who doesn’t understand the implications of that, of what that level of brutalisation would do to another man, to someone that Clay was supposed to care about.
“For what?” Jax asks him. “What the fuck was all of this for?”
Clay turns his head to Tig and meets his gaze. There’s a moment of understanding between the two of them before he says.
“She makes you weak brother.”
“No.” Tig responds, shaking his head. “She makes me human.”
Clay throws back his head and laughs.
“Pussy can’t give you redemption Tiggy, you know that.”
It ends with Clay kneeling over an open grave on the outskirts of Charming, staring into the depths of the soil below him.
“Any last words?” Tig asks him as he jams the barrel into the back of Clay’s skull.
“She’s not right for you Tig, you know it and I know it…”
Tig pulls the trigger, splattering Clay’s brains into the earth before his body tips forward landing in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the hole. He stares down at the man he’s served for the majority of his adult life and wonders when the presidency started to twist him, when the power sunk it’s claws into his skin and shredded his soul.
“He’s wrong you know?” Jax says as Tig passes the gun to him. “She’s good for you.”
“I know.” Tig tells him, his gaze shifting back to the mass of flesh and bones in the depths of that hole. “That’s why he tried to take her away from me.”
“Go home.” Jax tells him, his gloved hand clasping Tig’s shoulder and squeezing tightly. “Tell your girl she can sleep easy tonight.”
Love Tig? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
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redpoodlern · 8 months
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🥰🥰
@withmyteeth I’m just gonna keep telling myself this is Creep’s true ending in this series. Happily ever after with me of course. ♥️ side note: I will be killing that houseplant. Sad but that’s what I do 🤷🏼‍♀️
joy, houseplant, tease with Creeper, pretty please! ❤️
I'm so sorry you had to wait so long for this. Also, was this, perhaps, inspired by your read of Butterflies in Leather 0.0 Enjoy!
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The jingle of keys echoes off the walls of the empty house.  It isn’t much, but never in your wildest dreams did you even tease at the idea that you could have all of this.  Sure, you have yet to move in so much as a houseplant, but that’s just details.  This is where you’ll spend the rest of your days together.  Looking down at the ring on your left hand, you can barely contain your joy at starting your life as Mrs. Vargas.
Strong arms wrap around you from behind, Neron’s chin hooking over your shoulder.  “Welcome home, wife.”
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redpoodlern · 8 months
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Creeper ♥️ just so attentive
Untouched - Neron 'Creeper' Vargas x Reader (NSFW)
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Tagging: @est1887 @anime-weeb-4-life @creativitybeware @mortal--soul @spaghettificationandpretzels @corruptedcoffin @redpoodlern @oureternalbond @lexondeck @librarian1002 @thanossexual @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989
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As promised Neron takes it slow with you.  
It starts with languid kisses in his bed, his back against the headboard as you straddle his waist, his face cradled between your palms. His body heat rolls over your skin through his black tank top as you press against him. His thumb chasing over the tattoo of a rose that creeps up along the curve of your throat.
“Show me what you like.” He whispers as his lips brush over yours. “The stuff you think about when you’re all alone.”
Noone has ever asked you what you like, what turns you on, what drives you wild. You feel too shy to say the words so instead you clasp his hand and guide it down over your shirt until his palm comes to rest upon your breast. He smiles against your mouth, his thumb lightly trailing over the shape of your pert nipple, bringing it to attention.
“You feel good nene.” He murmurs as he looks into your eyes. There’s more, he can see it. He knows how hard it can be to ask for what you want, to trust someone to give it to you. He hopes that you believe what he said back at the tattoo parlour that day when you told him your secrets. That he’s the person you can tell anything too and there’ll be no judgement, no pressure.  “What else do you like?”
A blush creeps across your cheeks and he thinks it’s fucking criminal that you’re so timid about your needs, that your history has taught you that you can’t ask for the things that you want. He toys with your nipple, an even pressure, his thumb simply trailing over it through the fabric, he can see how much you like it, and he has an idea of what else you’ll like but he needs you to say it. There needs to be an equilibrium between the two of you. The physicality of the relationship needs to be on equal footing. He knows that you’re rediscovering this part of yourself, that it can make you vulnerable, seem overwhelming. He wants to show you that pleasure can be an exchange, not something that is taken from you.
“I’d give you anything nene.” He promises you, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “Just tell me what it is.”
You haven’t shared your body with anyone else in such a long time but with Neron it feels right. You aren’t even sure what you like anymore. What you do know is that you love the feel of this man’s mouth on your skin, the heat of it as he kisses your throat, his tongue tracing over the ink of your tattoo. You’ve spent the past couple of weeks fantasizing about what he’d do with it when you’re alone in your bed.
“Your mouth.” You say softly, gaining a little courage. You reach for the hem of your top drawing it up and over your head before tossing it to the floor. “Can you?”
Yes, he certainly fucking can.
His palms coming to rest over the lace of your bra, cupping them. His thumb ghosts over the nipple he’s brought to attention before he guides it into his mouth. Your breath catches in your throat and you make the sweetest fucking sound as his tongue laps over it through the fabric.
Fuck it feels good, but it’s not enough…
“I need…” You trail off, your breathing ragged.
“What do you need nene?” He asks you as his fingertips trace along the underside of your breast. “What can I give you?”
The fact he’s checking in, warms something in your heart. You trust this man with your entire being, you know he won’t progress any further unless you want him to. He made a promise to keep things at your pace and he’s adhering to it. You reach behind you and unfasten your bra, drawing it from your shoulders and leaving you bare chested before him.
It takes a second for him to adjust even as your hand clasps his jaw and guides his mouth back to your breast.
“Please…”
It’s the use of that word that breaks him. The breathlessness of it, the desire in it, the desperation. There’s something so intoxicating about being wanted, about you showing him what you want. Despite the fact his dick isn’t working this time, he still fucking craves you.
His hands slide down to your hips, altering your position so that you come to straddle his thigh instead of his waist. Your sigh at the sensation, the friction of it as you arch against the unrelenting muscle. It’s a two pronged approach, his cock isn’t functioning but if you want to use him to get off he’s game. Also, this gives you complete control of your pleasure. Without his dick in the mix, you can focus on the sensation instead of getting in your own head.
“Neron, please just…”
He rubs his cheek across your breast, the scratch of his beard adding to your arousal. You whine as his lips skate over that needy little nub before he envelops it completely. Your head tips back as he pulls a ruinous cry from your throat, clit rubbing against his thigh. Already you can feel something powerful building inside of you, you feel him smile against your skin before his teeth graze you lightly. You lose your fucking mind.
It happens quickly. The ecstasy shooting through your synapses as you ride his thigh with abandonment. Your breathing reaches a fever pitch as your fingertips dig into his shoulders. Neron feels the crescendo coming and he welcomes it because there’s nothing sexier than a woman chasing her pleasure.
When you come for him, its fucking beautiful.  The starkness of the ink against your flushed skin, the way his name tears from your throat, it’s fucking everything. He loops his arm around your waist holding you steady in the aftermath. It’s a lot, being this intimate with someone, especially for you and he knows it. He keeps you anchored in the moment, peppering your chest with languid kisses.
Your eyes are wild as you start to come down, there’s an elation in you but he can also sense the darkness. He sees it coming as your hands move to his belt in an almost automated response. You’re checking out just a little and he thinks this is what must have happened every other time, there was always an expectation to return the favour whether you wanted to or not. His hands come to rest on yours stilling them. In a way he thinks that E.D can be a blessing, it helps him slow down, to take stock of the situation and understand what it needs.
“Not tonight nene.” He whispers as his palm comes to rest on the nape of your neck, guiding your gaze back to his. “That’s enough for now.”
Love Creeper? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
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redpoodlern · 8 months
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😂😂 that’s the only reason I sent it 😬
🌺💜SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING 💜🌺
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The skellllies tho!!!
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